Riots, violence, misplaced fervor, prejudice… Police Detective Beau Lassiter couldn’t take anymore. At least not today. The second he was relieved by Sergeant Nixon, he grabbed his hat and exchanged the police station for the wet summer night. Forget that it was 1944 and a world war was reaching its zenith in Europe: here in Los Angeles, citizen and immigrant attacked each other’s throats like savages. Why? It wasplex. As the story went, Mexican-Americans in the city refused to abide by cloth rationing regulations and continued wearing their traditional flamboyant “zoot” suits. This raised the indignation of everyone else, especially servicemen, and quickly escalated into street fights, vandalism of Mexican businesses and homes, and blatant racism.
Lassiter tried to sort it out. The scenes from the past weeks were stark and violent and stained his every resting thought. As he treaded his way through the streets towards home, hands in pockets, hat pulled low,pletely ignoring the rain, he wondered what the right course was. He wasn’t sure all the Mexican-Americans, sneeringly dubbed “pachucos” by angry jingoes, were guilty. And even if they were, did they deserve getting assaulted in the street? Were they playing the traitor by rebelling against rationing guidelines? To Lassiter, being a cop meant protecting citizens and upholding the law, and beating and arresting these people didn’t seem to fit that. But which side was right? Both seemed extreme. Some of the officers on the force had organized what they called the “Vengeance Squad” to deal with the Mexican rebels on their off time. Lassiter wouldn’t dream of joining them. But this was wartime and everyone needed to conform to the laws, inconvenient though they might be. If the pachucos weren’t obeying, they’d have to take consequences.
Glancing down an alley, Lassiter noticed a young couple, evidently Mexican by their clothing, walking slowly in the opposite direction. The man’s head was bandaged, probably a result of the riot last night. He leaned on the woman’s shoulder as she gently led him along. Lassiter let out a troubled breath. Then he settled his wet hat more firmly on his head and kept walking. All he wanted was home, and sleep. And Lydia.
The thought of his wife brought a softness to his eyes and a quicker rhythm to his gait. He hadn’t seen her since early yesterday morning. Good grief! Over twenty-four hours away from the most tender, beautiful girl on earth. Lassiter felt a sudden burning to take her in his arms and just feel her, warm and gentle and loving, close to him.
Lydia Lassiter was at the window overlooking the street, watering the fern in its blue pot, and saw her husbande up the path. A bright smile lit her eyes, and she hastily set down the watering can. A brief look in the mirror satisfied her that she looked all right. After all, she’d tried to make herself look nice for whenever her husband got home. Slim, with just the right ratio of muscle, long smooth legs that curved even more alluringly when she wore heels, wide-shouldered, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, Lydia could have won any man. She was just so glad that her man was named Beau Lassiter.
He stepped in the door just as she entered the hall, and he smiled at the sight of her. She returned the favor. Her husband was so handsome and strong, a quiet, thinking type of man with burnished light brown hair and curious green-gray eyes. Standing six-one to her five-two and possessing a trim, muscular, bronzed body, he always melted Lydia afresh when she took a good look at him, which she was doing now.
“Hello, darling,” were his first words.
“Hello, darling,” she smiled back,ing up and folding her arms around his neck.
“Kiss?” he asked.
Gladly she met his lips with hers, sensing his stressed muscles relaxing and his hands resting in contentment around her waist.
“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, and without calling you either,” he apologized.
She just shook her head sweetly. “It’s all right. I know things aren’t easy these days. How’s Captain Graves?”
“Oh, fine.”
“And how’s the detective I’m in love with?” she added, lowering her voice to something more seductive.
He looked down into her eyes again, read all the love there, and smiled. “He was very tired, but he saw this gorgeous girl at the apartment he called at and decided to stick around for the evening… maybe all night.”
“Ohh, he must be a devil! I hope he doesn’t do anything improper,” Lydia chuckled archly.
“Well… if I know him, he might try to get the girl to go to bed with him,” Beau continued in a slightly lower, more intimate tone.
“I know him too, and I don’t see how she could refuse him,” she answered. Then she laughed. “Oh, baby, you look so tired! I’ll be glad to go to bed with you. But you’ve been gone for more than a day and you need something to eat and a nap and a hot bath…”
“Take a bath with me,” he pleaded. “That’ll relax me for sure.”
She gazed up at him for a second with love in her eyes, plus some desire. “All right. But first a little supper. Come on, you handsome detective you.”
Once she’d watched him wolf down some warm chicken pot pie, she sent him to their room for a nap. He slept for two hours, then emerged for another bite of something. Lydia told him to take his time while she hurried upstairs to fill the bathtub.
After a snack, Beau hung the coat and hat he’d tossed onto the sofa neatly in the hall closet and thought about how blest he was to have this home nest and a wonderful wife. If he knew Lydia (and he figured he did), she was probably making the little bathroom a haven of delight for him. The weariness of the long day was still there, but thinking about his wife stripping down and stepping into the hot water with him made the blood surge in his body. A little more energetically, he climbed the stairs.
Lydia was nowhere to be seen, he realized when he poked his head into the bathroom. A couple of candles warmed the room with a golden glow, and he caught the very faint sound of music from the radio in the bedroom. He smiled to himself. This nook felt a million miles away from police headquarters.
He was shortly undressed and settled down in the hot bubbly water. In moments, he was relaxed, almost ready to fall asleep.
Then he heard the door open and peeked up. Lydia hade in, wearing only a slip. Her thighs swiveled lusciously with each step, drawing Beau’s eyes. She came up to his side. The expression on her face was soft, quiet and full of adoring gentleness.
“Mmm, this feels swell, baby,” he murmured. “But I thought this was going to be a double party.”
She smiled. “I had a better idea.” Moving behind him, she got down on her knees on the floor and touched his shoulder. He stirred, excited by her fingers. Then she began to massage him. He couldn’t help letting out a groan of contentment as she kneaded out his taut muscles, employing the hot water now and then.
“Baby, baby, baby, you know you’re the best wife a guy ever had?” he sighed. “I feel like a jerk, you doing all this for me when you’re probably tuckered out yourself. You worked at the library today, didn’t you?”
“Only this morning. I got off earlier so I could make dinner. But quit lambasting yourself,” she added with pretend reproof. “Me standing around checking books for people doesn’tpare to the crazy stuff a detective deals with. Besides, this is what I’m supposed to do. Take care of my man. And I love it.” She bent and kissed his ear.
“Stop it, Lydia. You want me pulling you into the tub with me?” he asked hoarsely, turning quickly in order to catch her lips with his.
“Better not,” she rejoined archly. “If I’m all wet, I can’t do the things I’ve planned for tonight.”
Her words aroused him. He could feel the tension growing in his pelvis.
For several minutes she continued softening out the knots in his shoulders, her fingers warm and deft. Then she reached for a bar of soap and gently washed his body, cupping her hands and scooping up water to rinse off the suds. Beau kept his eyes, restfully half-closed, fixed on her, allured by the soft curves of her arms and shoulders and intrigued by the plunging cut of her neckline that created a shadow between her breasts.
They got playful when she started washing his hair, since he wasn’t expecting a downpour in that region. But her hands were energetic, and soon he was toweling his crown dry.
“I’m awfully glad you stopped in, Detective Lassiter,” Lydia said at length. Her tone was low, steamy. “A girl without a friend in the whole city likes to, uh, cooperate with the police, that is, if they’re friendly in return. You get dressed—I’ve got some pajamas there for you—and then youe to my bedroom.” Her eyelids drooped a bit, only curtaining more erotically the lust Beau caught glinting in her eyes.
He swallowed and felt his heartrate pick up. This little game of pretending he was a lonely cop meeting a lonely girl at her apartment was fairly new and neverpletely acted out, so he was excited and decided to play along.
“Okay,” he answered in the sexiest deep tone he could manage. With a flare of her nostrils, she left, shutting the bathroom door behind her.
Once he stepped out of the water, he finished drying off and pulled on the pajama pants. There was no shirt. Did Lydia not bring one on purpose? Maybe, he grinned to himself with a glance in the mirror, she liked his naked chest. After all, he was pretty brawny, and he loved feeling her hands on his bare pecs.
He put on a robe but didn’t tie it, blew out the candles, and left the bathroom. Going down the hall to the master bedroom, he wondered excitedly what she was going to do. There’d always been something of an actress in her.
The door was just slightly open, so he tapped. There was no answer. He pushed it open, noting the lit candles placed on every flat surface in the room.
No Lydia. Unsure on what he should do, Beau stood there a minute. The bed was newly made with a set of silk sheets Lydia had splurged on for his last birthday and looked warm and smooth and inviting. Beau meandered over and sat down.
Then the door opened slowly. Beau turned to see Lydia in the doorway. She was dressed in her day clothes again, but her blouse was unbuttoned revealingly. She had a cigarette between her fingers.
“Evening, detective,” she spoke, her voice low, husky, sensual. “I thought you might like a smoke before… going to bed.”
“You mean you couldn’t find a match,” he answered with an arched eyebrow. His tone was also suggestive. The game had begun.
“I was feeling lonely. Besides, I don’t smoke.” With calculated movement, she walked towards him, her hips swinging. Though fully dressed, her figure still drew his eyes. His temperature was going up.
She lowered herself to sit beside him, making sure she was giving him a fine view down the front of her blouse. “I hope you don’t mind a little lipstick on this,” she said, placing the cigarette between his lips. “I had my hands full.”
His lower abdomen clenched. It occurred to him that she must have been touching herself just minutes before.
But he called up words so he could keep the act afloat. “No, I don’t mind. But I don’t smoke either, baby.” He was trying for the tough, Bogart-style dialogue. “It’s kind of late. And you’re a working girl. Why’d youe to my room?”
She smirked, her eyes moving down to his mouth. “You’re a detective. I’m sure you can pick up some clues. Or you could interrogate me. Isn’t that what police detectives do?”
“You like the idea, I can tell,” he answered crisply, though he was quite aware of her closeness and the erotic scent of her perfume.
“I told you earlier, Detective, I like to cooperate with the police. But if you’re just going to be an ice cube, I won’t waste my time,” and she rose.
Beau’s hand flashed out and caught her. She jerked, meeting his eye, a flame in her own.
“You have no right to grab me,” she said indignantly.
“You’d be right, except you walked in here wanting me to,” he rejoined, heat swelling his words.
“Really? I thought you were as lonely as I was, no one to go home to, nothing outside of your work, nothing to do besides exist in your empty cop’s world,” she shot back. “I’m not heartless, Detective. A girl wants to be something to a man. I… just wanted to do something for you.”
“You’re alone too.” Beau loosened his grip, at the same time drawing her down to him. “Give me the chance to make you not feel alone.”
Lydia breathed against his neck as he wrapped his arms around her. “It isn’t a fling, detective. Since that first time you dropped in, I wanted this.”
“So did I,” he confessed.
“Then let’s stop pretending it’s just lust.” Her voice sank as he kissed her neck with a long, slow kiss.
“It isn’t, Lydia. Never was. I want you all the way, for all time,” he murmured. “Get close. Let me feel you.” He guided her hands to his chest while shimmying out of his robe.
“Oh, Beau. You’re so handsome. I love your muscles. You know every time you drop in here, looking so classy in your crisp suit and coat and tie, I can tell how strong you are. I dream about you…without your shirt, without any clothes on.”
“Scandalous,” he observed, sounding as if he thought it quite the opposite. “What if I said the same thing about you?”
“Do you?” she asked, her heartbeat quickening as he pressed his lips to her throat and down her opened blouse.
He raised his head and met her eye, his breathing heavy. “Even with your clothes on you make me go nuts.”
“Take my clothes off. I want to make you more than nuts. More than… more than crazy. More than delirious.” As she finished the words, he kissed her, unable to keep away from her wet, satin lips. It was a ravenous, open-mouthed kiss. Lydia moaned. She loved feeling him take full control and devour her this way. Meanwhile, she finished unbuttoning her blouse and tossed it away. Beau helped her out of her skirt, crushing her back in his arms when she was left in only her underwear.
“Oh God, you taste so good,” he muttered, his mouth all over her.
“Why’d you wait so long toe see me?” she asked him.
“I’ve wanted to be here all day,” he declared, looking her deep in the eye and stroking the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “You’re always on my mind, Lydia. There’re so many things I’ve been longing to do to you.” His voice sank to a husky sensuality. Deliberately he removed her bra and silk panties, then pulled her into bed with him.
She stretched out seductively alongside him, loving the sensation of the satin sheets against her skin. His leg hooked over hers, latching her down and connecting her to him. But they both needed more. Their excitement was boiling over. She rolled onto him, pressing her bare thighs into his clothed ones, and began to rub hard on his stiffening shaft.
“Beau, Beau… it feels so good,” she whispered, the friction against her mound deliciously arousing. “I’m getting you wet. I feel it.”
“I love it,” he grunted. “Keep going.”
She did, dragging herself luxuriously along his body. She bent to kiss him, and their mouths joined in hot need.
“I can’t wait much longer, baby,” Beau gritted out. “You’re going to make me lose it.”
“Mmm, I like hearing that,” she purred. “You really want me, Beau?”
“More than anything,” and he pulled her off of him and climbed over her. “Be my girl, won’t you?”
Her eyes, fastened on his face, were glowing, the lashes gently fluttering each time she blinked. “That’s what I’ve been dying to hear you say!” she exclaimed joyfully. “Yes, Beau, I’ll be your girl.”
His hand glided down her smooth stomach to the bush at her crotch, and she quivered. When his fingers began playing with her sensitive, dewy folds, he sucked in air.
“You’re wet because of me?” he breathed.
“Always,” she returned, her eyes flashing with desire as they met his. “Please, Beau, I’ve waited too long. I want to sleep with you so bad.”
Beau clenched his jaw muscles. This beautiful woman was going to make him explode too soon. “I want it too. Let me just get you nice and ready for me. I want you to feel good when I enter you.”
“Oh God,” she whispered, both his words and his touch arousing her further.
They kissed deeply as he caressed and teased her, encouraging her body to flower for him. It was easy because she was so mad for him and her nectar flowed out to sweeten and slicken her body. He was hard as metal by now—had been for some minutes—and aching to sheath himself in this seductive girl’s wet heat.
Her fingers tugging at the waist of his pants got him going, and he quickly shucked them off before settling between her thighs.
“Baby, I love you,” he said tenderly, forgetting his role for a moment. Love for his wife was flooding him. It always did when he was just about to make love to her.
“I love you, darling,” she whispered back, touching his face.
He eased forward, his hard rod probing for her opening. Gently, he kissed her lips, then her chin, then her eyelids, all while patiently working himself into her warm flesh. When he finally pushed in, Lydia pulled in a breath, then let it out as she drank in the sensation of him filling her.
“So good,” Beau murmured, his mouth against her neck.
She couldn’t talk, but her strong fingers clutching his biceps telegraphed her pleasure to him.
Their very favorite kind of sex was a slow grinding, him moving his hips and kneading her insides as opposed to simply thrusting in and out. Thus both received great enjoyment from the pressure on their pubic bones. Besides, the close body contact was so intimate. Lydia always felt so loved, so cherished by the strong, serious, sexy man lying on her and making love to her.
Beau, too, reveled in the closeness. He could look right into his wife’s eyes as he deliberately ground into her, claiming her with every move of his hips.
“Yes, Beau, yes,” Lydia gasped. “It feels so wonderful… just how I imagined.”
“You’ve been imagining us doing this?” he asked hoarsely, loving the thought.
“Oh yes, all the time.” She linked her hands behind his neck. “When I’m here at home, I think of you…cthe strong, handsome detective at work… and I hope you’ll pay me a visit… so I can seduce you… and we can make love in my bed. Now it’s happening… I can’t grasp it!”
Beau tightened his buttocks and drilled a little more quickly. “If I wasn’t so busy, I’d spend all day and all night with you in this bed. God, I love being inside of you, Lydia!” A flush of hot blood spread over him as he heard his cock squelch in her wet cushions.
“I love that sound,” she murmured. “You know another sound I like?” Her eyelashes darkened her eyes erotically.
“What?”
“Your balls slapping into me.”
Beau could have lost it right there, but hemanded his rolling pelvis to stop its action and calmed himself down. “You want it harder?”
“Yes!”
He withdrew from her and got off the bed. Lydia took the hint, also rolled off, and lay down on the bed on her belly with her feet on the floor. Her beautiful bottom was on full display for Beau’s hungry eyes. He stroked his slick penis a few times, then lined up with her slit. In a moment he was inside her, and both gasped.
In this position, Lydia had the benefit of grinding her clitoris into the mattress while Beau thrust into her; almost instantly, she was moaning in delight.
Beau pressed his chest into her back, pushing himself deeply inside her and barely pulling out. The tiny thrusts kept his groin rocking against her butt over and over, making it jiggle deliciously. He filled his hands with the womanly flesh of those two shapely globes, pulling her against him. His breath was fast and getting loud.
“Yes…oh yes, yes, yes!” Lydia bit out. She lifted her upper body so they were both standing upright now. The new angle of Beau’s dick drilling into her made her legs feel like Jell-o. It was rubbing up along her inner front wall, where, she had read, was the female pleasure zone, the G-spot.
“Oh my God!” Beau blurted as her body gripped and milked him differently. His hands wandered around to her front and cradled her round, swaying breasts. His touch on her nipples made her shake.
They made passionate love, bodies tight together, Beau supporting Lydia as she became weak from his onslaught of fast, deep thrusts. Both soaked in the erotic sounds: Beau’s harsh, masculine breathing, Lydia’s feminine cries, the slap of sweaty skin on sweaty skin, and the plop of Beau’s meaty ball-sack against Lydia’s clit. His hands grasped her breasts almost painfully, and her hands covered his, while he pounded her and she moved back into him.
People in other apartments probably heard their intense coupling; it was impossible in such a building not to hear some noise from lovers. To Beau and Lydia, though, no one else existed. Neither cared how loud they got. They gloried in this married lust, knowing it was clean and good.
Finally Beau groaned in his wife’s ear, “I’m getting close, baby!”
“Yes! Me too! Don’t stop, Beau! Please don’t stop! Right there… it’s right there…” and she slammed harder into him while dropping a hand to furiously massage her clit and swollen labia lips.
Gasping, throwing out a curse word now and then in his mindless ecstasy, Beau at last crossed the Rubicon and let himself go. His balls pulsed and though he kept thrusting, his movements became a little irregular. He felt a simmering flood gush through his penis and erupt in Lydia’s cunt, and he yelled a hoarse yell.
Then Lydia came, too, allowing the pleasure to take control and release the pressure in her loins. With a long, high squeal, she clenched and unleashed a stream of wetness.
“Oh God! Yes! Oh baby!” Beau breathed heavily, feeling her tighten around him and then soak him with theirbined fluids. Creamy liquid began running down his shaft and thigh.
“Beau! Oh my… oh boy…” Lydia gasped, trying to hold on to him as her head whirled.
“You’re so beautiful. I love when you cum all over me,” he grunted out, kissing her neck. He held her upper arms, sensing she might pitch over after such an incredible orgasm. He, too, was feeling extremely drained.
Lydia slowly pivoted so she faced him, noticing that he slipped out of her and his semen was leaking from her body. She held onto him and just rested there. He stroked her hair. Then he laid her on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. She breathed deeply, enjoying the cleanse of afterglow.
When Beau came back, he had a damp cloth. Gently he wiped her clean, then himself, tossed the cloth into the laundry basket, and climbed back into bed beside her under the silk sheets.
“Well, detective, how’d I do?” Lydia couldn’t help asking cheekily, snuggling close to him.
He laughed, a contented, fulfilled laugh. “I’m going to be calling on you often, Lydia Lassiter,” he stated, kissing her forehead. “A guy can survive the crazy world out there if he’s got a girl like you toe home to. Oh boy, that was so good.”
“I’ll say. Thank you, darling, for always caring for my pleasure,” she said earnestly.
“I want to, baby,” he answered with the same earnestness. “Your pleasure is my pleasure. I wouldn’t enjoy it if you weren’t.”
“So, do you have to go to the station early tomorrow morning?” Lydia inquired.
“Nope,” Beau smiled. “I’m off tomorrow.”
“Oh! Well in that case, I think it’s going to be a long night,” and smiling archly, she caressed his chest and kissed it.
Beau pulled her close and pressed his mouth to hers. “As if I’dplain. Anything to stay in this home nest with my girl.”