Victoria

He grinned.

"You've got a real keeper there, by the way."

He told me a little more about what to expect, and then left. A few minutes later, Vicky came in with a bag from the gift shop.

"What'd he say?"

"I think you already know, don't you?"

"No, not for real. All he'd say is that you probably wouldn't be going back to being a detective again. That's what he told you, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Oh, he said I could ride a desk, but I'd go crazy doing that."

"Well, right now, you just need to think about getting well again. You can think about another job later. I'll sit here in case you need any-"

"Vicky, why are you here...and how did you manage it? They only let family into intensive care."

She grinned sheepishly.

"Getting here was easy. I, uh...I know a couple men pretty high up in the police department. I heard on the news a detective had been shot, so I called one of them to see if it was you. He told me it was and which hospital you were in. I know one of the men who run the hospital, too, so I called him and asked if I could get in to see you. He told them to let me stay as long as I wanted."

"But why?"

"That night...when I got hurt...when you came over that night, I didn't have anybody, but you took care of me and stayed until you thought I'd be OK. You called me the next day, too, just to be sure.

"When we were talking that night, you said you didn't have any family either. I just wanted to do the same thing you did for me. You're not mad, are you?"

"No, I'm not mad. Dr. Chong seems to think you're my girlfriend. How'd he get that idea?"

Vicky shrugged.

"I had to tell them some reason I wanted to be here, and being your girlfriend seemed a pretty good one at the time."

I chuckled.

"A cop and a hook...I mean, an escort. Now that's a pair and a half."

"I'm a former escort. You were right about it being dangerous, and besides, I'm twenty-eight. Most men like their dates younger, so it was only a matter of time anyway. I haven't been out since that night."

Vicky went home that afternoon, but she came to see me every day, and when I got in a regular room, she'd sneak in a burger and fries for me. A week after the surgery, they had me using crutches, and a few days after that, Vicky wheeled me out to her car and took me to my apartment. She was frowning as she fussed with the blanket she insisted on putting over my legs.

"I have to go out for a while. You don't have much here to eat, so I'm going out to get some food, some sodas and a couple of magazines. You'll be OK until I get back, won't you?"

"Vicky, I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"I know, but I want to be sure."

"Yes, I'll be fine."

She put her hand on my shoulder and rubbed it gently.

"OK. I put my cell number on the pad on your desk, just in case. Now, you rest and I'll be back about five. Oh, can I have your key? I don't want you trying to get to the call button to let me in."

The woman who walked through my door a little after five wasn't Vicky. Well, she was, but she wasn't. She wore a white blouse buttoned almost to her slender neck, a conservative grey skirt and matching jacket, and her heels were low and plain black. Perched on her nose were a pair of wire-framed glasses, and her hair was pulled back in a bun. Other than some pale lipstick, she didn't appear to be wearing any makeup. Vicky grinned as she went past with a couple of sacks from the local carryout.

"I'm not much of a cook, so I stopped at the Italian place down the block. Hope you like spaghetti, 'cause that's what we're having tonight."

"Vicky? What the hell...You don't look like you."

She just laughed.

"I'll explain after dinner. Now, our food's getting cold. Where's your plates and silverware?"

Vicky waited until I pushed back my plate.

"Full enough?"

"Stuffed. That was great."

"OK, you're wondering why I look like I do tonight, right?"

"Among other things, yes."

"This is how I dress at my office, that's all. My clients want someone who looks smart and honest."

"But I thought your clients wanted...I mean, the other times I saw you, you looked like a fashion model, but now..."

"Now I look like any other woman?"

"Well, not like any other woman, no, but you're a helluva long way from an escort."

Vicky smiled.

"The escort thing started my second year of college. It was a way to make money for my tuition and books, and it was fun being wined and dined. Some of the sex was pretty good too."

She grinned.

"Three years later, I had a degree, my CPA and ten-thousand in the bank. I got a job with an auditing firm. The job was OK, but I'd gotten hooked on the excitement of going out as an escort. That meant I had to schedule my dates around work and that got complicated. I quit and started my own accounting business. That was six years ago, about, and now I have all the clients I can handle."

Vicky chuckled.

"Not in the literal sense, though."

She took a sip from her soda, then wiped her lips.

"Anyway, I can probably increase your tax refund by about five percent unless you're very good at doing your taxes, and if you aren't happy with your 401K, let me take a look at it sometime. Mine's doing very well, if I may say so."

"I don't have one, but I might take you up on the tax thing. What's your fee?"

"Oh, you really should have a 401K. I can help you get started, and you don't have to worry about any fees. I don't charge my friends. I guess I can call you that, can't I?"

I laughed.

"So, you've gone from being my girlfriend to just my friend? I kind of liked it the other way. Dr. Chong said you were a keeper."

"I didn't think you'd be interested in...in anything serious like that, you know, because I was...well, what I used to do."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Vicky. It's just me. Women run the other way once they know what I do, and now...well, most women would want a whole man, not some guy with a busted leg. I guess we're in the same boat."

"Well, it's time for me to get you into bed. Dr. Chong said you need lots of rest."

"I can take care of my self, thank you."

Vicky giggled.

"Oh. And I suppose you'll just take off your pants all by yourself? That'll be some trick since you can't stand up by yourself. Come on. Up on your crutches and into the bedroom. You'll have to show me where you keep your jammies."

I did take off my own shirt, and started on my pants, but Vicky was right. I couldn't stand up without the crutches, and I couldn't lift my leg to get the pants down. I laid back on the bed and she slipped them down and off my feet.

I forgotten how it felt to have a woman touch me, but my body hadn't forgotten what it was supposed to do. When Vicky turned around after draping my slacks over the chair at the foot of the bed, my cock was making a tent in my shorts.

She chuckled.

"I guess you are interested after all."

"Sorry. It's been quite a while since I...well, you know."

"No, it's OK. I'm flattered, really. Now, where are your pj's?"

"I uh...I always sleep in my shorts"

"Hey, if that's your thing, I'm OK with it too. Under the covers you go, then."

Vicky tucked me in, said "nighty-night", and started to leave. Then she turned back.

"You know, I think I should spend the night here...just in case you need anything. You have an extra pillow and blanket for your couch?"

I told her that couch was pretty lumpy, but she insisted. She spent that night, and just sort of kept on staying over. She'd get me up for breakfast every morning, and then go back to her apartment to change for her office. I'd get a call about every two hours until she came back at five. When I was well enough for physical therapy, she helped me dress and took me to the hospital.

At first, I didn't like all the help. I had this idea in my head that I was going to get over this and get back to work, and I wanted to do it all myself. I did try. That first week, after Vicky left, I did some exercises to loosen up that leg. All I accomplished was causing myself a lot of pain and wearing myself out. I'm pretty stubborn, but I had to admit it was nice having Vicky around.

As the weeks went by, the other thing I finally realized was that Dr. Chong had been telling me the truth. The therapy was quickly putting some use back into my leg, but even if I got strong enough to walk without a cane, I knew I'd never be able to move very fast. I'd only be a liability to any officer or detective I worked with.

I'd have disability from the city, but I needed some way to make a living, if only to keep myself from going nuts sitting at home. Who would hire a former cop with a bum leg I didn't know, but I started looking at my options.

Those options came down to one as I was looking at the paper one morning. There, just under the story I'd been reading was an ad for a private investigator. When I thought about the P.I.'s I'd come across, they did a lot of the same things I'd done as a detective, except they usually didn't run or get shot at. That afternoon, I made a phone call to the state licensing agency.

Vicky seemed happy I'd decided where my life was going, or would be as soon as I could get around better.

"That sounds great, Jack. It's like what you used to do, and I'm sure you'll be great at it."

I watched a tear slide down Vicky's cheek.

"Vicky, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. I just liked how things are, and now they're going to change."

I didn't know if she felt like I hoped she felt, but I decided it was time to find out.

"Yes, they'll change, but it doesn't have to be a bad thing. It's hard for me to explain this, but...well, do you think you could go back to being my girlfriend again."

Vicky wiped her eyes.

"What does that mean, be your girlfriend again?"

I shrugged.

"Well, I guess it means you'd do what other girlfriends do...we'd go out to a movie or dinner sometimes. We'd do stuff together on the weekends sometimes. Maybe you'd stay over sometimes."

Vicky frowned.

"That sounds like what I used to do with my dates"

"No, not like that. Oh, dammit, I'm screwing this all up. I don't want you to leave, Vicky. I want you to stay...all the time. I can't imagine not having you here at night, not because you're taking care of me. I've been able to do that for weeks and you know it. I just want you to stay because I...well...I like having you here."

"I don't know. I'll have to think about it. Right now, it's time to put you to bed so you can rest."

"I don't need you to do that."

"Yes you do. You still can't stand up without a cane. Now hobble in the bedroom so we can get you under the covers."

Vicky tucked me in, just as she had every night since she brought me home from the hospital. She said her usual "nighty-night" and walked to the door. She turned out the light and I heard the door close in the darkness. I was hoping she'd decide to stay with me and kicking myself for the way I'd messed up when I tried to tell her why.

Maybe I should have said I loved her. I thought I did, but I didn't know how to be sure. If I said that now, she'd just think I was trying to convince her by saying it. No, saying it now would just make things worse.

I was rehearsing what I'd say if she said no when I heard the rustle of clothing.

It wasn't much, just the click of a snap, and the soft plop of clothing hitting the floor.

"Vicky, are you still here?"

My answer was the rocking of the bed as Vicky climbed over me and slipped under the covers. Vicky wiggled a little and then sighed.

"Um-m-m-m, this is a lot nicer than your couch. I could get used to this, I think."

"Vicky, do you know what you're doing?"

"Yes. I'm trying to decide what I'm going to decide."

"You needed to try out my bed to do that?"

"No, I needed to see how your bed would feel with us in it together and having sex."

"We aren't having sex."

Vicky rolled toward me and rested her thigh over mine. I felt her soft, bare breasts against my chest.

"If you're well enough to do your part, we will be. Now, shut up and kiss me."

Her lips were soft and warm and sent a tingle all the way down my spine. I hadn't felt that in a long, long time and hoped I remembered how I was supposed to kiss her back. When Vicky giggled, I knew I'd screwed up again.

"Gee, Jack, it has been a long time hasn't it?"

"I told you it had. I wasn't being a very good kisser, was I?"

"The kiss was just fine. It's this thing poking me in the tummy that made me laugh. It always took longer with my...with my..."

"It won't matter how long it takes unless you have a condom. I don't have any."

Vicky kissed me again, then breathed in my ear.

"I don't want to use one with you Jack. I've been safe for the last two months hoping you'd want to do this, and I want you to be the first without one."

I wrapped my arms around Vicky and kissed her again, and this time I didn't worry about if I was doing it right or wrong.

She felt so small in my arms, small and delicate...and soft. Her breasts pressed into me as she moved to straddle my thighs, and I felt her nipples swelling into my chest. She moaned quietly when I let my hand slide from her back to the side of her breast, and when I let the other slip down to her bottom, I felt her push her tummy into mine.

Vicky whispered, "I need to take off your shorts." Without waiting for a reply, she moved to my side, waited until I lifted my hips, and then slid them down my legs. She snuggled up to my side, and I felt her hand stroking my belly, then circling my cock.

I kissed her again and found her breasts with my fingertips. Her nipples were taut and surrounded by little soft bumps. When I rubbed one with my fingertip, Vicky slipped her tongue between my teeth and moaned when I found it with my own.

It still surprises me that we didn't talk, but I guess we didn't have to. I somehow figured out what Vicky needed, and when she was ready, she straddled my hips and guided my cock to her entrance. I felt wet warmth on my cock head, and then the exquisite sensation of Vicky's body slowly engulfing it as she impaled herself. When her soft lips were pressed firmly against me, Vicky moaned again, then began riding me.

I can't tell you any details like how long it took, or how many times she moaned or if she even said anything. My mind was too absorbed in all the sensations I was feeling to remember anything but the feeling of her breasts in my hands, her lips on mine and the feeling of her body loving mine. I just know we became one that night, just one body striving to reach the pinnacle we each sought, and one body falling from that peak into the abyss of release, Vicky first and I, a split second later.

Afterwards, as Vicky lay on my chest, her breath coming in quick gasps and her heart pounding against me, I whispered in her ear.

"Vicky, I didn't know how to say it before...I love you. Please stay with me."

She whispered, "I think I've decided to decide to stay. I love you too."

}{

Well, Dr. Chong was a little pessimistic in his time estimate. Five months to the day after I was shot, I used my cane to walk to the front of the formation and stood at attention as the Captain read my commendation and then announced my retirement. The party afterwards was great and I took a lot of ribbing about Vicky. She was dressed in her office clothes, but she was still beautiful. I was proud to have her standing beside me.

Taylor Investigations opened for business a month later. My first case was a freebie. Vicky finally told me who beat her up that night. She told me because he'd done the same to another girl a few months later. It was a pretty simple matter to find out when his next "date" was; Vicky just called every escort she knew and asked them if they'd help us give the guy what he deserved.

Vicky and I sat in the minivan I'd bought for surveillance and took pictures while he screwed Sherry, the girl he'd called, on the bow of his boat one night. The little mike and transmitter I'd put in her headband did a wonderful job of sending their conversation to my recorder, including his answer when Sherry asked if he wasn't afraid of being caught with an escort.

"I'm not the Director of Budget Planning for nothing, Honey. Every police officer knows directors don't get caught doing anything wrong."

Those pictures, the ones that showed his face and Sherry's body but not her face, and the recording from the mike found their way to the editor's desk of the newspaper as well as to a TV station. He resigned the day after the story broke.

Somehow, those pictures and recording found their way to his wife too. It's funny how a couple of pictures and one recording can piss off a woman so much. The last we heard, her divorce lawyer was in the process of separating him from most of his money and property.

We make a good team, Vicky and I. She still has her CPA business, but more and more, she's working with me. She found out she loves investigating, and her accounting skills have made several cases for us. She also has the ability to convince any man to tell her about anything she asks, and has some connections I could never make.

Just last week, one of those connections came in really handy. I'd been contracted by her parents to find a young girl. Like so many other girls, she'd come to Nashville to find fame and fortune as a singer and then dropped out of sight. We'd never have found her without...

But then, I guess I've bent your ear about long enough. I'll save Marsha's story - that was her real name, Marsha Langton - for another time. Vicky and I have a date anyway. We're going out to eat and then come back home to watch a little TV. You know, that couch isn't as bad as I thought...if she's there with me.