Caught in the Crossfire Ch. 02

Once again, Jack sat in his car in a motel parking lot, this time waiting for his 'instrument of revenge' to arrive. It was a safe motel—at least for Jack—owned and operated by his cousin. They had a good arraignment, so the relation didn't ask any questions when he was told to be on the lookout for a short redhead and to give her a room in the back.

Brittany arrived a little before noon, carrying a brown paper bag and wearing a black dress as requested. Jack smiled to himself, happy to learn she could follow orders.

After she entered the room, Jack waited fifteen minutes to make sure she wasn't followed.

Brittany opened the door when Jack knocked, then quickly stepped to the other side of the room as he entered, standing straight and stiff. Only the nervous fidgeting of her hands suggested she was anything but a mannequin.

Neither of them spoke as Jack took his time scanning the room—old habits die hard. He ended his examination of the room by examining her with a long, hard stare.

Brittany's feet began to sweat and itch under his steady gaze. She quickly dropped her eyes from him, but continued to perspire.

There was a small table with two chairs close to the room entrance. The brown paper bag she brought was lying on the table. Sitting in one of the chairs, Jack picked up the bag, feeling its weight. The heft seemed right for a large bundle of cash. He took a quick peek inside to make sure it was money, then put the bag back on the table.

Brittany ask, surprised, "Aren't you going to count it?" Her words sounded loud and forced in the former quiet of the room.

"I trust you. Where did you get the extra thousand?"

"I borrowed it from a friend."

"Robbing Peter to pay Paul isn't going to work, Brit. What are you going to do when this friend asks for their money back?"

"I...I don't have to worry about that. It was more of a gift."

"I see, a gift from daddy. Correct?"

She didn't indicate anything, one way or the other, but Jack guessed it was true.

"Don't go to that well too often, Brit. I don't want 'Captain Daddy' getting suspicious. It's best you hock some of the fine things you own for the cash. It sends up fewer red flags to the cops in your life. Remember what I said would happen if I thought you're being followed."

She only nodded her head as a response.

"Good girl. Now why don't you be friendly and come over here."

Thinking this was the signal for her to perform her 'duties,' she started slipping out of her dress.

"No," Jack said, stopping her progress, "Leave the dress on for now, but come a little closer and stand in front of me."

Jack had her turn around slowly as he examined her. She had a flat belly, which surprised Jack, given that she's a mother in her forties. Her legs were slightly stocky, a common trait for women with short stature, but they still appeared proportioned to the rest of her body. Two very distinguishing features that Jack saw as a negative were her wide hips, which were accentuated by the two great, round globes of her ass. Her whole package noticeably stuck out, well backward.

"You have a bubble butt, but it isn't too outrageous, I guess. I know some guys who are really into big-assed women. Does Santos like to tap that bubble butt of yours on occasion? Grease that pole up of his and slide it between your plump cheeks?"

She didn't answer, but Jack saw that she was shivering. He couldn't tell whether it was from nerves or rage.

Putting a hand on her ass, he gave it hard squeeze, noting with satisfaction that the flesh was tight. "Big, yet firm. Not bad," he commented, absentmindedly.

Brittany continued turning.

When she was in profile, Jack marveled again at the size and apparent firmness of her breasts. They looked heavy, and even with support, they should sag under their weight, but they jutted seductively away from her body—just like her ass. They were her best feature, next to her emerald-green eyes. It was making him hard thinking about sliding his cock between them.

When Brittany finished her slow turn, Jack made her face him and bend down low at the waist.

"Hold your chin up so I can see your breasts better."

Putting her hands on her knees for support, Brittany lifted her head as directed. Jack could tell she wasn't liking his treatment, as she kept her eyes tightly closed and scrunched her mouth into a tight purse, making it look as if she bit into something sour.

Jack made her stay in that position for a while, drinking in the look of her heavy, firm tits, as they hung down, lusciously low and enticing, straining their flimsy, narrow bra straps.

"Stay as you are, but open your eyes. I want to see them as well."

Brittany half expected to see Jack with his member out, stroking himself, but he just sat calmly, with an elbow resting on the arm of the chair and his hand propped under his chin. A smile creased his lips, but it wasn't a lecherous grin. Rather, it was a friendly smile. One someone gives when they discover a long held secret in a friend, and are amused.

Brittany noted that all the rugged hardness of a man weary with the world and jaded from the hypocrisies of life were fully on display in his face. Yet, there was human warmth behind his handsome, rough facade; as if the vileness of life he had witnessed as a cop, though disturbing to him, never corrupted him on the inside. Like all cops, he had the eye for human weakness, but unlike most, he had the stomach to be near it without it damaging his soul.

Now that she was staring back at him, she realized her husband never exhibited that trait, and it disturbed her.

Shaken by her thoughts, she stood up, saying, "Can we just get this over with?"

"Patience, I want to get to know you a little better, first. Here, sit on a knee."

She sat as stiff and rigid as she had stood before when Jack first entered the room.

Tracing a finger down her bare arm, he noted her skin was cool, but a little tacky from dried sweat. There was a delicate scent wafting off her. It surprised him that she went to the trouble applying perfume for their first meeting. Jack assumed it was from force of habit, and nothing more.

"You have nice skin. I can tell you take care of it, and is that Dior you're wearing?"

"Yes," she answered curtly, yet surprised that he recognized the brand, let alone that he even noticed she was wearing any.

Jack moved a hand to her breast, tracing her nipple through the fabric of her dress with his fingertip. It was just a subtle massage, but one that usually caused the nipples to harden in the other women he'd known. Brittany's nipples remained unresponsive. Sliding a hand below her dress and up her thigh, he felt no warmth in her groin.

Her body flinched in apparent surprise and revulsion each time he touched a new area. Jack smiled to himself and mused,Yeah, she's not digging this at all.

That was the challenge for Jack, the real kick of it all. How quickly could he take all the reluctant wives he had and turn them into sluts who couldn't wait for their next rendezvous? The more reluctant they were at the start, the better he liked it, and Brittany was the most reluctant he'd known.

It was funny to Jack, but over the years he found out that the cheaper you made the wives feel, the quicker they came around to being a whore. In the end, he figured all wives had an inner whore to one degree or another, at least the cheaters, and he had the knack for bringing the Bitch-Whore Goddess out of them in full force.

Jack broke the long silence, "You didn't answer me the other day. Do you prefer Brit or Brittany?"

"Either one," she answered, weakly.

"What does Santos call you?"

"Brittany."

"Then I'll call you Brit. I don't like Brittany, anyway. It's a name usually associated with airheads, and I don't think you're an airhead."

Given her present circumstance—being pawed over by a lecherous rogue because of her foolish actions—a quiet, sarcastic chuckle escaped Brittany's lips.

Jack noted her small laugh, and attempted to soothe her, "Don't be so hard on yourself. Everyone makes mistakes, but the smart ones do what they can to correct the error and get out of trouble. You're doing that now, correcting the error." Then, gently smoothing back her hair, he added, "The smart ones also learn from their mistakes and make sure they're never repeated. You're a smart one, Brit, because I know you'll never make the same mistake by fucking Chris again. Correct?"

Her head flinched from his touch as she said, meekly, "Yes."

"Good girl. Now, tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"Like how many men you've been with, other than your husband and the boy toy."

"I don't know. I don't keep an exact count."

"That many, huh."

"No!" Brittney belted out, insulted.

"Then how many?"

She paused for a moment, and then said, "Two or three, I think."

"You think?"

She blurted, "It was three!"

"See, that wasn't so hard. You shouldn't be embarrassed. Three is a good number. It tells me you've had some experience, so you're not a total, tight-assed prude; but you don't have too much experience where you'd spread your legs for anyone with a pulse. Now, what did you like best?"

"What do you mean?"

"Sexually, when you were with those other men, what did you like best? Fucking? Sucking? Having your pussy eaten? And is it the same with Santos? For example, do you like sucking Santos' cock better than Chris', but prefer to take Chris' cock in the snatch?"

This was killing her. It was bad enough that she had to perform sexual favors like a cheap whore, but to be grilled like a suspect about her personal life was emotionally becoming a bridge to far.

Finally, she pleaded, "Please, could we just get this over with?"

"See, that was a mistake, Brit, assuming you're here for sex."

"I don't understand."

"Besides the money, maybe I just want to verbally humiliate you. Maybe that's my kink. Ask you some naughty questions. Make you blush and uncomfortable, but that's it. How do you really know what I want? My point is, go with the flow. Do what you're told and maybe things won't be as bad as you think. Understand?" When he saw her nod, Jack continued, "Now, it just so happens we're going to have sex, a lot of sex, and I'm a man of varied tastes. More varied than you, given what I saw between you and Chris. I'm going to ask you to do things that maybe you don't like, or that you would never dream of doing in a million years because they repulse you. It doesn't matter, though, because whatever I tell you to do, you will do without hesitation and with shameless enthusiasm."

The whole time Jack is telling her these things, he's squeezing harder and harder on the back of her neck. The pain was becoming almost unbearable, as she began to whimper like a tormented animal. Besides the pain, she felt the nagging sense of stupidity that she could have misjudged him so completely before. The vileness of life had wounded him deeply. He just hid the scars better than most.

She felt his grip slacken, but he continued to hold the back of her neck. Feeling his warm breath on her cheek as he brought his mouth close to her ear, he said to her in almost a whisper, "I'm sorry to be so rough with you. I will tell you that I'm not into physical torment, torture or sadomasochism, but I can be driven into those things if I don't get compliance. Are we clear?"

Brittany was weeping softly as she nodded her head.

"Now, answer my question. What did you like the best?"

Still sniffling, she answered, "I-I guess what I l-liked depended on the boy...I mean, man."

"That's a good answer, and an honest one. I get the impression, though, that giving blowjobs isn't high on your to-do list with a partner."

"I've done it before."

"But not on a first or second...hell, not even on a third date, I suspect. At least from what I gather from your video. How many dates have you had with Chris? Well over eight...ten...and I'm betting you never sucked on his cock once."

Brittany just shook her head. She was crying again.

"No, of course not," Jack scoffed at her, "A stiff prick feels too good in your pussy to waste it in your mouth. Doesn't it?"

She didn't respond as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Of course, you never gave up the chance to have the guy go down on you. It gets you off having him tongue your dripping cunt right before he sticks his cock in. I could tell. I saw it in your eyes, and in the way you pushed and pulled on Chris's head, rubbing your snatch all over his face. Then, only whenyou were good and wet and ready, did you get up on your knees, sticking your fat ass high in the air; so inviting that he just has to stick it into your pussy. I could tell there wasn't any way you wanted his cock in anything but your snatch. Awful selfish of you, don't you think?"

Brittany just continued to cry.

"So, you've given blowjobs before, as you say, but just not with Chris." Jack paused for a moment, waiting for a response. When he didn't get one, he commented, "I don't know, Brit, none of it rings true to me. I get the impression you never give head. That you like sucking cock about as much as you like getting a root canal. That's discouraging. It makes me wonder why I should waste my time with you."

Brittany heard the implied threat that Jack's growing weary of her, and that everything would be revealed to Santos.

Panicked, she began defending herself, but Jack cut her off by asking, "Speaking of Chris, I'm always curious about these things. How did you two get...entangled? What possesses some wives, who seemingly have it all, to start banging their daughter's boyfriends?"

His changing the subject put her off guard, "I didn't chase after him, if that's what you're implying."

"Well, maybe not, but you did make the first move. Didn't you?"

After a long pause, she nodded her head in response.

"Why? Was it because you found out Santos had another 'Chiquita' for his banana, and you fucked Chris out of revenge? And if so, why go after your daughter's boyfriend?"

"I don't know if Santos ever cheated on me. He's a good man..."

"Good to you maybe," Jack scoffed, and then added, "But if that's the case, why did you cheat on such a, quote-unquote, good man?"

Brittany shrugged her shoulders before answering, "I guess...Santos was spending a lot of time at the precinct...and I felt..."

"Neglected," Jack finished for her, "And Chris paid you a little attention," When he saw her nod again, he continued, "Don't feel embarrassed, Brit, I see it a lot in my line of work, basically descent wives who are bored in their marriage, stepping out on their hard working men. What I don't see a lot is them falling for their daughter's boyfriends. So I ask again, why Chris? Certainly, other, more mature men showed interest in you. Why not fuck them, instead of Alandra's boyfriend?"

She began to cry again out of embarrassment, and just shrugged her shoulders.

Jack knew the answer, or, at least, thought he knew, and so struck to the heart of the matter, "Tell me, Brit, in your romps with Alandra's boyfriend, did the thought ever cross your mind to include Alandra in your little 'sexcapades?'"

Her embarrassment quickly evaporated. The void suddenly filled with loathing. She snapped her head around to face him, as she spit out, "God, you have a disgusting mind."

"I don't mean going down on each other, but play little mommy 'sexpert' with her. Watching her fuck Chris and teaching her the arts of lovemaking, so to speak. Maybe demonstrating for her how to give a nut-busting hand job or how to correctly suck..."

"That's disgusting, please don't talk about it."

"You find it disgusting? I don't know. Granted, incest isn't my cup of tea, but during that time with Chris, you and he did an awful lot of pillow talk about Alandra. I found it odd that you would talk so long and openly about your daughter to her boyfriend, particularly having just fucked him. It's as if you were trying to put an association in his head, a suggestion, broadening the act of sex to include her. That is, verbally bringing your daughter into the bed with you, so that maybe later, the idea of the three of you together could become more acceptable...if and when the opportunity ever presented itself."

Brittany bolted off his knee. She didn't know what to do or where to go, but she had to get as far away from him as she could.

She tried to run to the bathroom, but he wrapped his powerful arms around her, lifting her feet off the floor. Suspended in the air like a ragdoll, she did the only thing she could and kicked at his legs trying to free herself.

He ignored her feeble kicks. Then pulling her head close to his ear, he said, "I don't know what's going on in that rancid little mind of yours, but there's something going on in it with your daughter. I can feel it in my gut, and my instincts are rarely wrong about these things. You are going to tell me, and if not now, eventually."

Crying uncontrollably, Brittany stopped kicking and went slack in his arms.

Given her reaction of flight, and now hearing the deep, unabated tenor of sorrow in her wailing sobs, Jack knew he had guessed correctly.

Sitting her down on the bed, he knelt on one knee in front of her, as if proposing. She slapped his face several times, but they had no effect. He just stared at her as she continued to cry.

After a long period of her sobbing, he finally spoke, "We all have secrets; deep, dark secrets that sometimes want to come out."

Through rending sobs she stammered, "I-I w-would n-n-never do t-that to her."

"Maybe not, but you have thought about it."

She nodded her head and wailed louder.

"And it turned you on when you did."

Another head nod and more wailing.

"You may think you'd never do that to her, Brit, but the trouble with these kinds of secrets is that eventually they want to become real."

Brittany screamed, "No! Never!" She tried to push him away, but her efforts were feeble, even for a diminutive person such as herself. Deep down she knew Jack was right, and it sucked the energy out of her. Eventually, all she could do was sob, uncontrollably.

Jack had seen this reaction a million times before in the interrogation room. Finally cornered by their own lies, the suspects eventually breakdown and resign themselves to their fate. As he always had done in these situations, seeing her sobbing remorse and penitence, Jack became more conciliatory in his attitude. Smoothing her hair with a gentle hand, he said, "I know it hurts, but it's good to get these things out in the open. It's healthy for you, and good for the soul. Now, look at me."

Through the prism of tears, her emerald eyes sparkled as she stared into Jack's face. He smiled at her. The same smile she saw in him from before, warm and friendly. He continued to smooth her hair as he spoke reassuringly, "I want to tell you that your secret is safe with me. I'll never use it against you, and this is the last time we'll speak of it."

This was another tactic he employed in his old profession, and with great effect, once suspects confessed to a 'smaller' crime, allow them a small reward by letting them 'get away' with it. In this way, he garnered increased loyalty and honesty from them down the line.

Brittany looked at him with confusion. She couldn't understand why he was being so forgiving now, when all he'd been up to this point was hard and unyielding. She looked down at her hands as she asked, "I don't understand. Why..."

She didn't finish her question, letting her voice trail off, but Jack knew what she was going to ask, and answered, "Because I'm not an evil man, Brit. Oh, I can be a hard-ass when I need to be, but I'm not evil. Not like some of the other men in your life."

She knew it was a veiled reference to Santos, and she wanted to ask him why he thought her husband evil. "You're talking about Santos, aren't you? Why do you hate him? Is it because he did something to you?"