The events that transpired at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house caused Felicity Benson to permanently take possession of Francis Benson’s psyche. Francis Benson couldn’t deal with what had happened to Felicity but Felicity had the courage to process what had happened to her and drive the shame and bitterness deep inside her subconscious. Any self-doubt about Felicity Benson’s gender had dissipated. She was and always would be Felicity Benson now and forever.

Felicity presented as female thereafter and after consulting with her doctor and psychiatrist she began the journey of gender transition. Both her doctor and psychiatrist were well aware that Francis Benson was gender dysphoric and were not really surprised when he stated that he wanted to reassign his gender.

Felicity Benson continued to perform as Felicity Goodnite on the campus theatre and began to appear at open-mic nights in comedy clubs and gay bars. She never told a soul about what had happened to her at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house and she deliberately altered her timetable and schedules to avoid the jocks who had assaulted her.

Felicity changed her major to Theatre and Performance and graduated near the top of her class. She was a brilliant performer who could act, sing, dance and had a genuine ability to deliver stand-up comedy. She had undertaken several surgeries to feminise a body that was already effete including breast augmentation but she had stalled when finally offered vaginoplasty. She decided that for now she was happy to present as a transgender woman without the need for a vagina.

Her parents knew that Felicity had struggled with gender dysphoria throughout her childhood and during puberty and were not surprised when she decided to live her life as a woman. They helped with the administrative headaches of getting her identity legally changed to female.

By the time she graduated, Felicity had supressed the memories of that fateful evening and worked hard at eking out an existence as a performer. She did the pageant scene, burlesque shows and worked the clubs and bars, singing, lip-syncing and performing biting stand-up comedy, becoming more confident and proficient as she built up a fan base that followed her online and came to her shows.

She was soon headlining at the Ride em’ Cowgirl nightclub drag show every evening and also appearing at the matinee on weekends. A stint on the television show Drag Race where she ‘sashayed away’ at the end of the ninth episode after failing miserably in the sewing challenge brought her further notoriety and she began touring.

Felicity was smart enough to know that fame can be fleeting and she saved every penny she earned until she had enough money to buy out the owner of Ride em’ Cowgirl which she renovated and turned into a swish venue with eclectic drag themed performances including a weekly beauty pageant on Sundays, a midweek talent show for up and coming drag artists, a burlesque show on Friday nights and variety shows on the other days. She often performed in the shows but her main role was as the MC.

Operating Ride em’ Cowgirl was a full-time job but Felicity still liked to tour now and then so she took on a manager and a producer who also acted as the booking agent. The manager was a man named Mitch Freeman who was an astute businessman, very experienced in operating bar-restaurants and nightclubs. The booking agent was another queen named Panti Down whose legal name was William Russell. Panti booked the performers and produced the shows.

Ten years after the most traumatic night of her life Felicity Benson was living a comfortable lifestyle, moderately famous in the drag scene and financially secure. She had all but forgotten about that fateful evening at the Eta Lambda Pi frat house when Spencer Duvall walked into Ride em’ Cowgirl.

Felicity was sitting at the bar having finished her MC duties. She recognised Spencer Duvall immediately. He was still fit and trim, wearing an expensive suit and the mischievous grin that had melted many a girl’s heart. A grin that hid a mean streak that the girl whose heart he had melted was only likely to find out about later in bed.

He sauntered confidently up to the bar and stood only two barstools away from Felicity. She was frozen in shock, unable to move or speak. She waited for a biting retort or an insult but Spencer seemed not to notice her as he ordered a drink from the bartender. He turned around, leaned his back against the bar and surveyed the nightclub.

“Not sure I’m in the right place,” he said to himself.

Panti Down was on stage dressed in a sequinned evening gown, lip-syncing to a Cher ballad, the waiters moving among the tables tending to the patrons were twinks dressed in black hotpants with red suspenders, white tank-tops and Doc Martin boots. The crowd was mostly young men dressed in gay fashion with a some accompanied by young women who were gay associates or young women out for a girl’s night out. There was also the usual sprinkling of tranny-chasers.

“What is this place?” Spencer turned to face Felicity.

At first she was unable to speak. She was paralysed and mute. But then she realised that he didn’t recognise her. Why should he? It had been over ten years since the incident and from the rumours she had heard, hers had just been one of the countless encounters where Spencer and his frat-buddies had taken their pleasure with female students either willingly, coerced or… best not to think about it.

Felicity just nodded with her chin to the neon sign behind the bar. It was a huge handmade artwork taking up the whole wall. It was a girl in a cowgirl costume consisting of a vest, skirt, bandana and belt and of course she was holding out her cowboy hat. She was straddling something but that part of the artwork was indistinct and left to the imagination of the eye of the beholder. The girl’s skirt had flicked up exposing her panties which appeared to be bulged out at the front.

“Well that leaves a lot to the imagination,” Spencer commented and raised his drink and drank it in one swallow.

“Let me buy you one,” he smiled at Felicity.

Her instinctive reflex was to run away, to leave this man to his own devices, to let him realise that he was in the wrong place and to leave. But the fact that he didn’t recognise her not only made her curious, it infuriated her. How could he not remember defiling her? Was she that worthless? Was she that faceless?

“Sure. I’ll have a Jack Daniel's neat,” Felicity studied Spencer Duvall’s face, waiting for him to make a connection but he didn’t.

He sidled up and took the stool beside her.

“May I?” he asked, giving her that sweet smile.

“Looks like you already have,” Felicity replied knocking back her drink.

How could he not recognise her? Sure she had dyed her hair blonde and had it styled differently, she’d had her nose straightened, her hairline moved to create a smaller forehead, her lips and cheekbones augmented, and her jaw and chin reshaped and resized but she didn’t look that different? Did she?

“So what is this place?” Spencer asked again.

“It’s a bar and nightclub that caters to the LGBTI community but isn’t exclusive to them. We offer entertainment featuring drag artists,” Felicity motioned for the bartender to refill their glasses.

“LGB what?” Spencer grinned stupidly.

He thought he was being funny but he was being insulting.

“I don’t think this place is for you. The drinks are on the house. Sorry you came to the wrong place,” Felicity slipped off the stool and made her way to a table she kept reserved for herself at the back of the club.

She was seething with anger. She remembered how lying under the coverlet in her cheap flat the day after she had been defiled that she had sworn that she would get her revenge. Was now her chance? Was she too cowardly to follow through? Was she really worthless and faceless?

An image materialised out of nowhere. She was bent over the couch in the frat hose and Spencer Duvall was buggering her, holding her down while he slammed his cock in and out of her ass. Three of the other youths were cheering him on, one of them filming it. When Spencer ejaculated inside her he pulled her buttocks hard against him, holding Felicity by her thighs as she too had ejaculated. She was crying when she orgasmed but she still relished the feel of his swollen manhood pressing on her prostrate, the feel of his fingers digging into the delicate flesh of her thighs, tearing her pantyhose.

She shook the image away and picked up the drink that the waiter had delivered unbidden.

Spencer pulled back the seat beside her and instead of railing on him she smiled at him.

“I guess you changed your mind?” she gave him a beatific smile.

The rest had been easy, almost too easy and she was sure that she had made mistakes. She had gone back to her office and found the stash of Viagra she kept hidden. Over the course of the evening she crushed four of them and slipped them into his drinks.

She’d taken the package of holdup stockings with her; her intent was to change into them to make it easier for him to fuck her. As it was they became a convenient murder weapon.

Felicity plied Spencer with alcohol and when he invited her back to his apartment she’d encouraged him to snort his stash of cocaine and to drink even more. Fuelled on cocaine and Viagra he had maintained a rampant erection that wouldn’t go away. By then he knew that she was transgender but far from repulsing him it turned him on. She fellated him on the couch and then led him to the bedroom.

She’d fucked him wearing only her pantyhose and high heels. She had blown her load over him twice, using his rampant erection for her own pleasure. He was sore; he had ejaculated at least three times and the priapism was becoming agonising. He was begging for her to uncuff him. It was his idea to introduce the handcuffs into the game and it was his undoing.

Felicity had taken the stocking from her purse and mounted Spencer again, riding him, using the stocking to cut off the supply of oxygen to his brain and then releasing it.

“Oh my god!” Spencer had screamed as he ejaculated once again.

Felicity came with him, only a few feeble spurts dribbling onto his belly because it was her third orgasm. She was surprised at how powerful she felt. She had Spencer totally under her control, cuffed to the bed, pleading with her for sex until it became too painful for him, torn between the agony of priapism and the ecstasy of ceaseless sexual arousal.

“Do you remember me?” Felicity leaned down so that her face was inches from his.

Spencer shook his head, his face a mask of fear.

“Please stop. Please let me go,” he had begged.

Spencer had never even asked her name, even when he offered to take her home with him.

“Felicity Goodnite… Eta Lambda Pi,” she hissed into his face.

His face became a mask of horror and alarm when he suddenly recognised who was straddling him.

Felicity pulled the stocking as tight as she could, leaning back, straining against the weight of his body. She watched Spencer’s eyes bulge and his tongue swell as he writhed beneath her in his death throes. She thought he might have ejaculated again when he died but there was so much semen inside her already that she didn’t really know.

Felicity climbed off Spencer's corpse and started to clean up. She touched up her lipstick and then she got an idea. She began to write on the wall above the bed with her lipstick.

*****

Penelope Bishop and Silvia Bickle returned to Spencer Duvall’s townhouse and removed the police tape from the door so they could enter. The CSI Team had left behind the usual detritus of used latex gloves, hairnets and fingerprint powder, most of it confined to the bedroom.

Penelope began searching there whilst Silvia searched the rest of the house. They met in the kitchen about an hour later.

“You first,” Silvia said.

Penelope emptied the contents of a cardboard box onto the kitchen table; most of the items were bagged and logged as evidence. There was an assortment of sex toys including dildos, vibrators, a fleshlight, a whip, a cane and assorted panties and other lingerie and two more sets of handcuffs. There was even a strap-on penis.

“Bob told me I’d find this in the bedroom dresser drawers. CSI examined the sex toys with luminol and there is no evidence of recent use so they left them in situ. What did you find?” Penelope asked.

“Over there on the couch. Some fetish clothing but everything else in the house is what you would expect to find in a bachelor apartment. He has two pay-for-view cable pornography subscriptions and subscribes to most of the cable sports channels, the fridge is full of beer, wine and gourmet deli meats and cheeses, he has a home gym set up in one of the spare bedrooms which he used frequently by the look of it,” Silvia summarised what she had found.

“It’s exactly as Cynthia Duvall described it. It’s a man-cave for a rich former jock with a sex addiction,” Penelope sighed and just then her phone pinged.

She read the message and turned to Silvia.

“Alice Leasingham has got into Duvall’s devices. She’ll meet us at Police Plaza after lunch,” Penelope looked up at Silvia.

Silvia nodded and they put the evidence bags back into a cardboard box and took it out to Silvia’s service vehicle. They stopped for lunch downtown.

“You know I kinda miss the Penelope who used to eat a rare burger and steak fries for lunch and wash it all down with a chocolate shake,” Silvia waved a fork at Penelope’s salad and diet coke.

Silvia was eating a Ruben sandwich and drinking an ice tea.

“Yeah but you don’t miss the slug of Jack I used to lace my shakes with,” Penelope countered.

“You workin’ hard on maintaining that fine body bitch; I hope Bradley is treating it with the respect it deserves,” Silvia goaded her friend.

“Speaking of, isn’t that fine specimen of man-flesh due home today?” Silvia raised her brows.

“Brad is driving home this afternoon and taking me out to dinner tonight, hence my light lunch,” Penelope countered.

“I get it. You goin’ to be getting’ the meat tonight so you taking it easy at lunch,” Silvia chuckled.

“You know for a card-carrying lesbian, you certainly display a lot of interest in my love life,” Penelope stirred her fork in her lettuce, secretly dreaming of the rare burger that Silvia had described.

“Hey, I’ve never let a flesh and blood penis get anywhere near my fine cooch but that doesn’t mean I’m not fascinated by the mechanics of it all,” Silvia grinned.

“As you well know, I don’t have a cooch per se so my boyfriend has to use the back door,” Penelope grinned back at Silvia.

“TMI bitch! TMI!” Silvia screwed up her face.

“And another thing… why does your Texas drawl suddenly change to street ghetto when you’re needling me?” Penelope baited her partner.

“Just sounds better that way. Come on Penny let’s go see what Alice has got for us,” Silvia wiped her mouth with her napkin and dropped a tip on the table.

Back at Police Plaza Alice Leasingham was waiting for them. She had plugged Spencer Duvall’s laptop and his mobile phone into a sixty-inch video screen.

“Most of the activity on his laptop is related to sex. His internet favourites are all porn or online dating sites. He has multiple profiles on multiple hook-up sites. I’ve checked the history and there is no record him arranging an encounter for the evening he was killed,” Alice explained.

“Doesn’t mean he didn’t meet up with someone he had been with before,” Silvia commented.

“True, but I’ve checked his phone and there are no text messages arranging a meet on the night in question. There are several texts over the previous days where he had arranged liaisons with women, either from the dating sites or from escort agencies. I’ve emailed you soft copies and printed them out for you,” Alice pointed to a folder on the desk.

“I’ve checked his movements on the night in question by triangulating hits on the cell towers. Before he went home he spent most of the night in the bar and nightclub district of Balwyn. He made no phone calls nor received or sent any texts after six PM,” Alice continued.

“I ran his credit cards. On the night of he used it to pay for dinner at Jimbo’s Steakhouse and then he made a cash withdrawal at an ATM on Spence Street. There are no records of him using his cards to pay for hookers or callgirls so I’m assuming he uses cash so there is no permanent record. A man in his position could be easily blackmailed I guess,” Alice surmised.

“We are going to have interview a lot of people,” Silvia sighed.

“I saved the best till last so to speak, although what I’m about to show you is hardly what any right-minded person would think of as ‘the best’. On a hidden folder in his laptop I found a number of short video clips which I believe were taken with hand held mobile devices, most likely cell phones. I’ll need to check the metadata but I can tell you that some of these clips are years old but a couple are more recent,” Alice clicked a few keys and the screen suddenly filled with video.

Some of the clips were filmed at the Spencer Duvall’s townhouse but most appeared to be filmed in a sleazy hotel room except for one which was taken in the back of a car.

In all of the clips women and girls were being subjected to sex by multiple partners. It appeared to be the same five men although not all five of them appeared together in all of the clips. What was disturbing was that some of the women appeared to be drunk or drugged and some of them appeared to be cooperating under duress. In some of the clips there was more than one woman engaging in the sex.

Alice stopped the video after a minute or two.

“There are twenty four of these edited clips. I went through his photo gallery and used propriety software to identify the men in the clips,” Alice clicked a key and five pictures appeared on the screen.

“Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington and William Turner. They were college buddies, they all played on the football team and they were all pledged to the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity.

“Ties in with what Cynthia Spencer told us,” Silvia commented.

“Great work Alice. I want to see if you can identify the woman in the most recent video and I want you to date it and tell me where it was taken if that’s possible,” Penelope said.

“This is the latest clip chronologically as far as I can tell. It was edited last week. I’ll find out when it was taken and I’ll run the woman’s picture through the system,” Alice pointed to the screen.

A scantily dressed red-headed, pale-skinned, Rubenesque woman was lying on what appeared to be Spencer Duvall’s king-size bed. She was being fucked by a black man who had his back to the camera whilst Spencer Duvall was feeding his penis into her mouth. Another man was kneeling on the bed masturbating, watching the proceedings.

“Remove that image from the screen please,” Silvia Bickle said; her voice cold.

All three women had experience in sex crimes and had seen a lot worse but seeing the woman on the screen being used by the three men in high definition colour was distasteful to say the least.

“Spencer Duvall was a scumbag and his buddies no better but he was murdered and our job is to solve murders. We’re going to need more people on this. The list of possible suspects is going to be huge,” Penelope said to Silvia and Alice.

“If you're putting together a task force I’d like to be on it,” Alice blurted out.

Then she blushed and turned away.

“We’re going to need fulltime forensic expertise on this. I’ll talk to Bob Tanner and see if he’ll second you. I don’t see why he would say no. Welcome to the team,” Penelope gave Alice a wry smile.

*****

Penelope was as excited as a schoolgirl when she heard Bradley Wilson’s car pull into the driveway. She was dressed in a black cocktail dress and heels wearing full makeup, ready for Bradley to take her out to dinner. She had made a booking at their favourite restaurant and envisioned an evening of fine dining, engaging conversation and sexual tension followed by several hours of torrid sex when they got home.

Bradley had other ideas.

He came through the door and dropped his suitcase in the hallway and strode over to where Penelope was mixing him a drink at the breakfast bar. Bradley was tall dark and handsome and wearing his regulation dark suit, white shirt and tie. He took off his jacket and tie and threw them over a chair as he walked purposely to the kitchen.

“Hi honey it’s so great to have you…” Penelope’s greeting was cut off when Bradley closed his lips over hers and drove his tongue into her mouth.

He wrapped his arms around her and squeezed her so tight that Penelope thought she might pass out. She could feel his erection pressing against her and his hands began to roam around her body.

“Hey watch the dress!” Penelope squealed when he put his hands inside the bodice and freed her breasts from her bra cups.

He lowered his face to her bosom and sucked and nibbled her nipples while his hands squeezed her buttocks. He hiked up her dress and pawed at her panties.

“The dress Bradley!” she gasped.

“Fuck the dress,” he growled and ripped away her tuck and squeezed her penis through her gauzy satin panties.

Penelope was instantly erect.

Bradley took her hand and forced it down his pants and Penelope gasped when she felt the girth of his throbbing cock. Bradley was well endowed but his cock felt like a pulsing python ready to strike. The heat and texture of his swollen phallus excited her, her own cock became harder and began to leak pre-cum.

Bradley moved his face back to Penelope’s and kissed her passionately, he put his hands under her buttocks and lifted her onto the breakfast bar and forced her legs open.

“Bradley! What about dinner?” Penelope squealed.

“Fuck dinner,” Bradley fumbled impatiently with his belt and fly and pushed his pants down to free his rampant member.

“Bradley! At least take me into… Oh my god!” Penelope screamed as Bradley scrunched the gusset of her panties out of the way and slammed his cock into her tight anus.

It was as well that Penelope was prepared and had pre-lubricated in anticipation of a night of passion because Bradley was insatiable. He drove his tongue into her mouth and his cock into her ass. This wasn’t lovemaking this was fucking. This was raw passionate sex.

Penelope consciously relaxed her anus so that Bradley could get all of his delicious cock all the way inside her. The girth of it stretched her sphincter causing ripples of pleasure to radiate from the tight ring and his bulbous glans pressed on her prostate eliciting a deep throbbing surge of sexual delight that began to spread through Penelope’s body. When Bradley squeezed her penis she bit his lip in a throe of unbridled lust.

Bradley could feel Penelope’s ass squeezing and releasing his shaft as he fucked her. She did this when she close to climax so her fucked her harder and squeezed her cock. Penelope had her arms around his shoulders and her stocking-sheathed legs wrapped around his torso. She knew that Bradley loved the feel of nyloned flesh rubbing on his sensitive skin and she rose her ass up off the counter to meet his thrusts feeling his cock begin to quiver inside her.

“I love you!” Bradley gasped and then slammed his lips against Penelope’s mouth.

He felt the scalding splash of Penelope’s seed on his belly as she ejaculated and he milked her throbbing penis as he released a torrent of steaming semen deep in her bowels. Her anus began to spasm, expressing every drop of his spend. He drove his cock into Penelope all the way and just hung onto her as she wriggled and writhed, impaled on his cock, squealing and moaning like a slattern.

When they had both reached the pinnacle of their orgasms and began to come down from the sexual extremis, Bradley lifted Penelope off the bench, his cock still hard and buried in her anus. She clung to him as he carried her to the bedroom and lowered her onto the bed where he began to make love to her all over again.

He took his time, allowing Penelope to get out of her dress but insisting she keep on her stockings and heels. He managed to strip naked before he began to ravage the woman he loved.

They never made dinner and Penelope’s cocktail dress was ruined but neither of them complained.

*****

“How was dinner?” Silvia Bickle gave Penelope a calculated look, peering over the top of her computer screen.

“My ass hurts like a motherfucker,” Penelope hissed as she sat down gingerly across from Silvia.

“TMI bitch! TMI!” Silvia squealed.

Alice Leasingham gave both women a bemused look.

“There’s no secrets here honey, we like to share,” Silvia winked at Alice who blushed and buried her head in the paperwork in front of her.

Alice looked up again when the room was quiet and she fired up the video screen and cued up her laptop. She had Penelope and Silvia’s complete attention.

“The redhead’s name is Gloria Passfield and she met Spencer Duvall on a dating site called Secret Singles. It’s similar to the Ashley Madison online dating service marketed to people who are married or in relationships. Spencer paid his site fees using a third-party payment app linked to his private bank account which is why there are no records on his credit cards,” Alice began.

“I have transcripts of their DMs from the site and they are pretty innocuous although the implication that they will have sex if they are compatible is understood. That’s what the site is all about of course.”

A series of direct messages in text boxes from the Secret Singles site appeared on the screen.

“As you can see Gloria Passfield was new to the site, keen to have her first hook-up but was wary of being seen in public with another man. I’ve checked her background and she holds a doctorate of nursing practice and is head of nursing staff at Balwyn Private Hospital and her husband is a surgeon at the same hospital. They have two children in middle school,” a series of pictures and documents appeared on the screen.

“I can see her need for confidentiality,” Silvia commented.

“The DMs go back and forth, Spencer proposes an out of town meet and Gloria declines because she can’t travel. He proposes a hotel meet and she declines stating that hotel records are not secure and that lobbies have cameras. She is obviously keen to meet as you can see by the escalating sexual fantasy talk they are sharing. When Spencer proposes a clandestine meet at his townhouse she agrees,” Alice pointed to the final text box.

Alice cut to a still of the scantily dressed red-headed mature woman being fucked by a black man while simultaneously fellating Spencer Duvall whilst another man is on the bed watching.

“The metadata embedded in the video concludes that this image was taken at Spencer Duvall’s townhouse two months ago. The other man on the bed is Benjamin Roach. You never get to see the black man’s face but my bet is that it’s Jamaal Washington. Someone was filming it so there were at least four people there with Gloria Passfield,” Alice pointed to the figures on the screen.

“Immediately after this video was filmed Gloria Passfield deleted her Secret Singles account and there is no record of Gloria and Spencer communicating again online or by other means,” Alice removed the image from the screen and replaced it with pictures of the five college buddies.

“Jesus girl, you have been busy!” Silvia stood up and applauded Alice who blushed.

“I worked all night on this. The video clip is disgusting but I watched it repeatedly. Gloria Passfield is obviously a willing participant in the sex, she isn’t struggling or complaining but she appears to be lethargic through most of it. She’s seems more like a sex doll than a woman who is enjoying coitus,” Alice seemed saddened.

“Ok, good work Alice. We need to handle this carefully, this woman’s reputation, career and marriage is on the line. Silvia and I will interview her somewhere discreetly. We need to find out more about how these creeps operate because I’m sure his predatory behaviour is linked to Spencer Duvall’s murder,” Penelope had also stood up.

“You think Gloria Passfield is a suspect?” Alice asked.

“I think every woman who ever came into contact with Spencer Duvall is a suspect,” Penelope said grimly.

*****

Through detective work Penelope and Silvia discovered that Gloria Passfield’s husband was attending a seminar in Fort Worth and that she eschewed the hospital cafeteria and usually ate her lunch at a nearby diner. When Gloria settled into the booth and gave her lunch order to the waitress Penelope slid in one side of the booth and Silvia in the other, sandwiching Gloria between them.

They both put their badges out on the table.

“Don’t panic you’re not in trouble but it’s in your best interest to just behave naturally. Just pretend that you’re having lunch with two old girlfriends,” Penelope said to a shocked Gloria Passfield.

“What’s this about? Is Martin ok? Oh my god… the children!” Gloria began to panic.

“They are all fine. This has nothing to with them,” Silvia said in a soothing tone.

Gloria immediately became suspicious and she folded her arms and stared at the table.

“If this is something to with hospital, some malpractice claim or personal complaint, I know my rights. I want a lawyer,” Gloria huffed.

The waitress returned with Gloria’s burger, fries and a Diet Coke. Penelope and Silvia asked for coffee.

Gloria was a big woman but not fat. She looked like she worked out but judging by her lunch she wasn’t a health fanatic. They knew that she was forty-one but like a lot of big girls she had perfect skin, it was creamy white and with her flaming red hair, full lips, blue eyes and button nose she was uniquely beautiful. She was wearing a white skirt and jacket, white pantyhose and matching heels. Her countenance just screamed nurse.

“You don’t want a lawyer and you don’t want to come down to Police Plaza. You want to sit here and talk to us quietly and confidentially,” Silvia said in a soothing tone.

“I don’t know what this is about but I'm not talking to you without a lawyer,” Gloria reached for her sandwich.

Silvia looked around the diner to check that no one could see them and then she took her phone out of her handbag and cued up the video of Gloria being fucked in Spencer Duvall’s apartment. The sound was muted.

Gloria dropped her burger and although her complexion was naturally pale she turned as white as a sheet.

Silvia stopped the video and put her phone away. There was a pause while the waitress delivered the coffee.

“How did you get that? I read in the paper that he was killed but there were no details,” Gloria’s voice was so quiet they could barely hear her.

But two things were immediately obvious: she was talking about Spencer Duvall and she wasn’t stupid.

“I was so stupid. What I let that man… those men… do to me,” she whispered and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“You’re not stupid and you were not the only one. I don’t want to misconstrue anything you have to say to us so I won’t say any more for now. Just tell us in your own words how you came to know Spencer Duvall and what happened when you met him,” Penelope reached for Gloria’s hand and squeezed it gently.

Gloria pushed her plate away, no longer the slightest bit hungry; she took a deep breath and began.

“Martin and I married young and put all our energy into our academia. When he finally had residency and I was made head nurse at Balwyn Private Hospital we decided to have our children,” Gloria played with her paper napkin.

“Our whole life is planned… right down to the T. We planned our career goals, we planned our children, we plan our vacations, we plan when we will visit our parents and we even plan our sex life. Saturday night, missionary, with the lights off and keep it quiet so we don’t wake the kids,” she began to tear the napkin into strips.

“Not that I make any noise, I haven’t had an orgasm with Martin since I was twenty. I have to use my ‘mother’s little helper’ that I keep in my underwear drawer when Martin takes the kids down to the park.”

“I wanted excitement. I wanted spice. I wanted to be fucked into an orgasm,” Gloria blushed.

“I found Secret Singles and then I found Spencer. We exchanged DMs and of course I saw his pictures. He was handsome and all the things he spoke about were what I wanted. Martin has never ever considered cunnilingus,” Gloria’s blush deepened.

“When he offered up his townhouse it was perfect. It was private, it was discreet and it was intriguing. Martin was away with work, as he often is, so I got a sitter and went to Spencer’s house. He was very nice and polite but he was also very sensual and seductive. I was wet before I even left home but when Spencer took me in his arms and kissed me and touched me I creamed my panties,” Gloria had her head down and was talking to the table but her face was flushed.

It wasn’t embarrassment; it was reliving the experience that was making her blush.

“Spencer was very specific about the lingerie he wanted me to wear and I went into his bedroom and changed into it, anticipating what was coming next. I feel so stupid now. Anyway… he was kind and considerate and experienced and he took to me places I’d never been with his lips, his hands, his tongue and his… well… you know. And what really riles me is that I was grateful. I was grateful that a man could do those things to me and make me feel special and fulfilled.”

“Then his friend came out of the walk-in robe holding up his phone. I screamed but Spencer grabbed me and held me down on the bed. His friend showed me the video of me and Spencer fucking and asked if my husband and work colleagues would enjoy looking at it.”

“There ended up being four of them including Spencer. They took turns or they did me together. They kept me there all night. They… they… well you saw what they made me do,” Gloria sighed and then looked up and stared Penelope in the eye.

“You know what the stupid thing is? It’s that if Spencer had just proposed a gangbang I probably would have said yes anyway because I just wanted to live out my sexual fantasies. But they made me feel degraded and dirty. They made me climax a number of times I have to admit but all that did was trigger self-loathing. They filmed most of it,” Gloria began to tear-up again.

“Experiencing an orgasm during non-consensual sex doesn’t mean you weren’t raped,” Silvia took Gloria’s hand in hers.

Gloria took a moment to compose herself.

“They promised that no one else would ever see the video if I kept my mouth shut and that’s what I did. I closed my account at Secret Singles and took down everything I had ever posted online. I never contacted Spencer again and he never contacted me.”

“Martin and I are both on the hospital board! Martin is a Deacon in our church! If that video ever got out my life would be ruined and my family would be shamed forever. I did what I had to, don’t you see? I’m never going to admit this to anyone so don’t even think that I’ll testify if that’s what you want.”

“I shouldn’t say this but I will. When I heard that Spencer had been murdered I was glad. I just hope that it was someone like me who had been deceived by him that did it,” Gloria sat up straight and took a long sip of her Coke.

“You implied there were others. Other women like me,” Gloria cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry but I have to ask this. Where were you on the night that Spencer Duvall was murdered?” Silvia asked gravely.

“Ha! I hope whoever killed him gets away with it but it wasn’t me. My family and I were at a church retreat just across the border in Oklahoma. There has to be at least a hundred witnesses. Are you going to go snooping around? Are you going to talk to Martin?” Gloria’s face was suddenly filled with dread.

“We’re not going to do any of that and that video will never see the light of day if we can help it. I know that you can’t testify but can you do us one favour,” Silvia reached into her purse and bought out a folder and opened it.

She laid out a series of photographs that had been copied into mug shot strips. Silvia and Penelope witnessed Gloria shudder when they arranged the strips on the table.

“Him, him, and him,” she pointed at the pictures of Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, and Jamaal Washington.

She tapped the picture of Jamaal Washington.

“He’s the one who kept making me come. It was a fantasy of mine and it’s true what they say. Am I racist? Am I a bad person? Am I a freak?” Gloria began to blubber again.

“You’re a woman who was taken advantage of. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. We will try not to contact you again unless it’s absolutely necessary and provided your alibi checks out and we will be discreet when we verify it,” Penelope said as she and Silvia packed up their things and got up to leave.

“God punishes the wicked,” Gloria whispered and Penelope could tell that she meant herself.

“If that’s true, Spencer Duvall got what he deserved,” Penelope replied before she turned and walked away.

*****

Felicity Benson kept a low profile after she killed Spencer Duvall working at her club and going straight home after. She knew that killing him had been impulsive and that she had probably left all sorts of evidence at the crime scene. Felicity had seen or read somewhere that killers made multiple mistakes that they didn’t even realise they had. She expected it to be only a matter of days before the police came and arrested her but she felt so vindicated, so empowered, so vengeful!

As time passed she became more confident and thought that maybe she had got away with it. She replayed the evening over and over in her head. She hadn't left any clothing at the scene other than the stocking she had used to strangle Spencer with. There was nothing unique about the garment it was from a three pack of Hanes Silk Reflections thigh highs and readily available at any Walmart. The lipstick was expensive but not exclusive and couldn’t be traced to her.

Other than her bodily fluids she hadn't left anything at the crime scene as far as she could remember. Jill Graham the bartender had seen she and Spencer talking at the bar and some of the waiters would have seen them sitting together at her table but they had left the club separately. At least she had been smart about that. Or had she? Spencer had given her the address of his townhouse and she had driven herself. Had someone seen her car?

If the police had reason to take a sample of her DNA she was fucked but there was nothing she could do about that. The police had not come to Ride em’ Cowgirl so it was likely that they didn’t know Spencer had been in the club.

What Felicity did not know was that Penelope and Silvia had drafted two other detectives to work part time on their task force and that they were systematically combing the bar and nightclub district of Balwyn asking the staff if they had seen Spencer Duvall on the night of his murder.

The very next evening after Penelope thought that she gotten away with murder Detectives Steve Randal and Steve Edwards came into her nightclub. Randal and Edwards had a reputation for playing fast and loose and Penelope had argued with Gary Rasmussen about them being loaned to her for the case. He told her to take it or leave it because he was shorthanded and the detective bureau was overworked as it was.

Grudgingly Penelope took on the two Steves, as they were known, but gave them only grunt work and kept them out of her office and did not share with them any of the evidence that her team had collected except for what she considered to be necessary for them to do their menial tasks. This was to be to Penelope’s detriment because all the two Steves had was a list of bars, restaurants and nightclubs to work through and a picture of Spencer Duvall. They started at Jimbo’s Steakhouse, the last place that Duvall was known to have been where they were comped a steak dinner and a bottle of fine wine and spiralled out from there.

They scammed their way through the list bars, restaurants and nightclubs, dragging it out over three days because it was easy work and they were getting free booze from most of the establishments. Steve Randal even caught a hooker plying her trade in one of the nightclubs and gave her the option of throwing him a freebee or taking a trip down to Police Plaza. He fucked her on the backseat of their unmarked car in the alley behind the club to the disgust of Steve Edwards who might be a misogynist but would never force himself on a woman.

By the time they arrived at Ride ‘em Cowboy both detectives were half in the bag. The club was in full swing, packed with the usual patrons and a gaggle of screaming girls out on a hen’s night.

“Why the fuck do they always come to drag shows?” Felicity said to Jill Graham over the racket.

Felicity saw her burly doorman leading the two detectives towards her and Felicity’s heart flew into her mouth. They were coming for her!

“These two detectives want to ask the staff some questions so I told them that they had better talk to the owner first,” the big bouncer towered over the two detectives.

“I’m Felicity Benson, why don’t we go back to my office where we can talk?” Felicity alighted from her barstool displaying a lot of leg which was not lost on either detective.

They followed her back to her office with their eyes glued to Penelope’s ass, looking up occasionally to look at the two gorgeous women performing burlesque on the stage.

Felicity led the two detectives into her office, closed the door on the din of the nightclub and offered them both a seat. She went over to her small wet bar and poured herself a drink and raised her eyebrows to the two policemen who both nodded. She poured them both a long one and took them over to where they were seated on a two-seater couch. Her fingertips lingered on Steve Edwards’ finger and he looked at Felicity questioningly. She licked her upper lip and withdrew her hand.

She was playing the seductress to see if she could find out what these two drunks knew. She was dressed in a blue sequined evening gown cut low to show off her tits and split to the waist to show off her legs. Felicity was using latex ‘chicken-fillets’ to enhance her breasts and was wearing sheer flesh-toned tights with rhinestoned fishnet pantyhose over them and six-inch heels. Her makeup was heavy and exaggerated and she was wearing a red lace-front wig as part of her ensemble. She was MCing the show tonight and dressed in fishy drag.

Felicity sat on a lounge chair next to the two men and crossed her legs. They gave her the onceover and she did the same. The two detectives were bleary-eyed and ruddy-faced, their ties were askew, their shirtfronts stained and one of them hadn’t closed his fly properly. They both took big gulps of their drinks

Steve Edwards fumbled around in his suit jacket and eventually produced a crumpled photograph of Spencer Duvall.

“Do you know or have you ever seen this man?” Steve put the picture on the table and stabbed at it with his finger.

Felicity knew better than to lie, she would easily be found out.

“He came in a few nights ago, I don’t know exactly when but if I look in my diary I can tell you. Panti Down was headlining the show that night,” Felicity sipped her drink.

“What the fuck is a Panti Down?” Steve Edwards asked.

“It’s the drag name of William Russell my booking agent and a performer here,” Felicity reached for her cigarettes.

“Oh I get it. This is one of those drag bars like that nig… like that old bald black guy on TV,” Steve Randal finally got it into his booze-soaked brain.

“The two chicks on the stage? They’re guys too?” he leaned forward and took a cigarette from Felicity.

“They are drag performers yes,” Felicity corrected him.

“And what about you? You’re way too feminine to be a drag artist or whatever?” Steve lit his cigarette.

“There are no rules in drag. Drag performers can be any gender but no I’m not a man,” Felicity used air quotes when she said man.

Best to keep them guessing.

“But I am a drag performer,” she continued.

“This place full of queers? I saw some women out there,” Steve Randal pointed his thumb over his shoulder.

“My place is LGBTI friendly but it also attracts those who are into the drag aesthetic. You’d be surprised how many straight men and women like to watch drag shows,” Felicity finished her drink and collected glasses.

She went back to her little bar and refilled them.

“So the night that Spencer Duvall, that’s the man’s name in the photograph, came into your club; did you talk to him?” Steve Edwards asked.

“We spoke briefly at the bar. He had come into the club mistakenly. When he found out it was a drag club he decided he was in the wrong place. He came over to my table and apologised for calling the place a ‘fag hangout’ before he left. He was quite drunk if I recall,” Felicity decided that to tell the truth… mostly.

“And you didn’t see him leave? Did he talk to anybody else? Did he pick up a woman here by any chance?” Steve Randal inquired.

“The types of women who come into my bar are not likely to leave with someone like him and I don’t allow hookers in my place,” Felicity sniped.

“So he came in. Had a drink, spoke to you and left. That’s it?” Steve Edwards took over the questioning.

“Sure, ask Jill Graham my head bartender. She’s on tonight and she served him,” Felicity replied.

“I’ll send her in so you can talk to her,” Felicity stood up and made her way to the door.

She went over to the bar and spoke to Jill Graham.

“Those two detectives want to talk to you about the other night when that drunk guy came into the bar and spoke to me at the bar and then followed me to my table,” Felicity said.

Most of the LGBTI community in Balwyn had little time for the police and Jill Graham was no exception.

“Do I have to talk to them?” Jill screwed up her face.

“Just tell them what you saw. He came in. Bought me a drink and insulted me and I went over to my table. He came over to apologise and left,” Felicity smiled at Jill.

“He sat with you a little and had a couple of drinks,” Jill corrected Felicity.

“But he left alone Jill. The guy was murdered. Do you want the police crawling all over our club? You know a lot of the girls like to use recreational narcotics and I know that some of them go home with tranny chasers for money and Valentina is here illegally,” Felicity put her hand on Jill’s upper arm and gazed into her eyes meaningfully.

Jill nodded and began to take off her apron. Theirs wasn’t a closed community but they took care of their own. Some of the girls had had run-ins with law enforcement and their experiences were never pleasant. The police were considered the enemy rather than being there to serve and protect them.

“I’ll tend bar while you’re gone. Don’t take any shit from them; they're both well in the bag and they’re homophobic misogynists,” Felicity sent Jill on her way and watched her walk to her office before turning to tend to the customers and fill orders for the waiters.

Jill came back twenty minutes later.

“Those guys are assholes! One of them tried to hit on me and they are cleaning out your bar,” Jill said with barely suppressed anger.

Felicity gave her a questioning look.

“I told them what I saw. The guy was drunk, he didn’t like the clientele and he insulted you. He apologised for being an asshole and left by himself,” Jill said putting her apron back on.

Felicity found the two detectives had made themselves comfortable in her office. They had drunk all of her scotch and were working their way through a bottle of gin. They had smoked most of her cigarettes.

“So did Mister Duvall say where he was going when he left?” Steve Edwards asked Felicity before she had even closed the door.

“No. Like I said, our conversation was short and far from amicable. I think he was concerned that someone might find out that he been in a gay bar so he couldn’t wait to leave,” Felicity snatched up her cigarettes.

“Do you want to interview any of the waiters who were working that night?” Felicity asked.

“Those little faggots in their short-shorts? They going to tell us anything different?” Steve Randal hiccupped.

“I doubt it,” Felicity replied.

Steve Edwards pulled a card from his jacket and stood up unsteadily and handed the card to Felicity. He used it as an excuse to lean into her and whispered in her ear.

“If you remember anything else give me call. Give me a call anyway,” his lips grazed her cheek and Felicity suppressed a shudder.

Steve Randal was so drunk he could hardly walk and Steve Edwards had to assist him off the couch and out the door.

When he went to bed that night Steve Edwards couldn’t get Felicity Benson out of his mind. She was attractive but it was more than that. There was something about her that fascinated him and he hoped that he got to meet her again under more affable circumstances.

*****

“How are dumb and dumber going with their door to door?” Silvia asked Penelope the next day, referring to the two Steves.

“Neither of them knows how to properly complete a police report but they seem to have done surprisingly well. They traced Spencer Duvall’s movements from the steakhouse where he had dinner to a series of bars and nightclubs. The witness statements verify he was bar-hopping and getting progressively drunker,” Penelope read from her computer screen.

“The last place he was seen was a gay bar which he mistakenly entered, insulted the owner and left alone. I still think our perp is someone he had forced or blackmailed into to having sex with him. The only motive I see here is revenge. That said, maybe he met the wrong person online or a sex worker killed him for some reason. I doubt it was some random person he picked up in a bar,” Penelope speculated.

She didn’t know how right she was but also how wrong she was. Had the two Steves been more diligent and factual when they compiled their report they would have described Ride em’ Cowgirl as a ‘drag venue’ rather than a ‘gay bar’ which might have warranted further investigation. Also had the two Steves been privy to the facts in evidence they too might have been more strenuous in their investigations.

Had they interviewed the waiter who was working Felicity's table that night he might have told them that although Spencer Duvall had left alone, before he left he and Felicity were canoodling at her table in the dark corner at the back of the club.

Through sloppy police work Felicity had dodged a bullet.

That night in her apartment Felicity felt empowered. The two coppers had left her club convinced by half-truths that there was nothing to see.

She turned Steve Edwards’ business card over and over in her fingers and wondered how she was going to take revenge on the remaining four men. She had gotten away with murder once; could she do it again?

To be continued

The investigation into the murder of Spencer Duvall had stalled. Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington and William Turner had lawyered-up and refused to be interviewed and as they all came from privileged, influential families and could not be directly implicated in Spencer Duvall’s murder the judge refused to issue a subpoena to compel them.

Penelope left Silvia Bickle and Alice Leasingham to re-examine all of the evidence and police reports and decided to drive up to Balwyn College and see what she could find out about the five men that might assist their investigation.

Without a warrant or a subpoena she was pretty much powerless. The Dean of the college and the Executive Board of the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity had refused her request for a meeting claiming that the men had left the college over ten years ago. They had no interest in opening old wounds or in any way connecting the college to Spencer Duvall’s murder.

She tried to spring a surprise visit on the Dean but his secretary proved to be an impenetrable gate keeper who protected him from unwanted visitors such as she. Penelope was ushered off the site of the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity house when she tried to enter to speak to anyone who may have been employed there when the five men were pledged to the fraternity.

Penelope gave up and decided to grab a coffee at the campus cafeteria before the half-hour drive back to Police Plaza. She was staring into her coffee cup when the chair beside her screeched on the tiled floor as someone pulled it back.

She looked up to see a tall thirty-something raven-haired woman in a black pantsuit. She was stunningly beautiful with blue eyes and full lips which were accentuated by red lipstick. The woman sat down uninvited and put her venti latte on the table and pulled in her chair.

“Melissa Doyle, I teach business and economics,” the woman held out her hand.

Her fingers were long and delicate and her long nails were professionally manicured and painted the same colour as her lipstick.

Penelope took the proffered hand.

“Detective Penelope Bishop, Balwyn PD,” Penelope shook the woman’s hand.

“I know who you are. The college is a rumour mill,” Melissa sipped her coffee.

“I can’t talk to you here. I have tenure,” Melissa looked anxiously around the cafeteria.

“You look pretty fit. Do you run?” Penelope asked.

Melissa gave Penelope a quizzical look.

“I like to run the track around City Park. I’ll be at the fountain at six this afternoon,” Penelope stood up and picked up her disposable coffee cup and put the lid on it.

“Yeah… I run,” Melissa gathered her things and left.

The women walked away in different directions.

Melissa had put her jet-black hair into a ponytail which she threaded through the back of her ballcap. She looked even more stunning clad in body-hugging black lycra. She was running on the spot when Penelope jogged into the square adjacent to the fountain. Penelope smiled when she saw that Melissa was still wearing full makeup.

“Are those two assholes still checking out my ass?” she asked Penelope when she jogged up to her.

The question caught Penelope off guard but she looked over Melissa’s shoulder and saw two men dressed in running clothes pretending to tie their shoelaces while they examined Melissa’s rump clad in skin-tight lycra.

“Yep they are, although one of them seems to have switched his attention to my tits,” Penelope was now running on the spot with Melissa.

“You wanna have some fun?” Melissa gave Penelope a mischievous grin but Penelope looked perplexed.

Melissa stopped jogging and stepped into Penelope and pulled her close and kissed her passionately. Penelope was shocked at first but she could feel every curve of Melissa’s body and her lips were soft and inviting. Melissa took Penelope’s hand and put it on her ass.

Melissa broke the kiss as suddenly as she had initiated it. She turned to face the two men who were still kneeling, slack-jawed at what they had just witnessed.

“You two limp-dicks don’t stand a chance with two fine looking pieces of ass like us so take your droopy noodles and get the fuck out of here,” Melissa screeched at the two men and gave them the finger with both hands.

One of them got to his feet and looked like he was about to approach the two women but Penelope whipped her badge out of her fanny pack and flashed it at him.

“Fuck off needle dick!” she hissed.

The two men fell over each other as they scrambled to run away. Penelope and Melissa broke up with laughter.

“Come on,” Melissa took off at a steady pace selecting a running track that meandered through the trees.

Penelope caught up and ran beside her.

“Like I said I have tenure at the college so I don’t want to be seen talking to you,” Melissa began.

Penelope decided to remain silent and just let Melissa talk.

“I got my degree in Business Administration at Balwyn College and stayed on and joined the teaching staff when I got my Doctorate. It’s a good college with good people running it but it wasn’t always the case,” Melissa explained.

“In my sophomore year I took up cheerleading. It wasn’t as a means to meet the jocks as so much as to keep fit but don’t get me wrong some of those football players were hot.”

“I started dating Benjamin Roach and he treated me nice. He was very respectful to me. A couple of the other cheerleaders warned me to be careful but I just assumed they were jealous. Believe it or not I was still a virgin.”

“Ben wooed me and swept me off my feet. I decided to give him my virginity and we went away for the weekend to Houston. The city was beautiful; vibrant and exciting but we stayed in this shitty motel on the outskirts, which pissed me off a little because I knew that Ben had money.”

“The first evening I was getting dressed for dinner. I wanted to look nice for him because he was taking me to a swank restaurant in the city. It was going to my first time. He came into the bedroom while I was still in my underwear and began to kiss and fondle me. At first I struggled. I wanted my deflowering to be after a nice romantic dinner but he was insistent and to be honest he got me hot and I figured I was going to do it anyway so why worry about waiting until after dinner.”

“I have to admit that it was nice. He was gentle and considerate and experienced and he did things to me that took me to places I had never been.”

“Carl Huntley was outside filming it through the bedroom window,” Melissa stopped talking for a while and all Penelope could hear was her laboured breathing.

“He, Spencer Duvall and William Turner burst into the bedroom and at first I thought it was a prank. I dived under the covers. I expected Ben to tell his friends to leave, to fight for my honour I suppose. I was so young and so stupid.”

“Instead he said ‘She’s all yours boys; I’ve popped her cherry’ and helped drag me out from under the covers. They kept me in that shitty motel room all weekend taking turns or going at me together. They made me drink liquor and take drugs, half the time I didn’t know where I was.”

“They did things to me. They did things to me that made me ashamed of myself because I liked some of what they were doing. They had their phones out some of the time and filmed a lot of it. I had to wear stockings and high heels the whole weekend and they had brought sexy lingerie and made me wear it.”

“I was in shock during the drive back to the campus, folded up in the passenger seat while Ben drove. He tossed a tablet in my lap and told me to look at it. The video had been edited. Anyone who looked at it would think that I was a willing participant in a gangbang.”

“He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He had the audacity to take me to his student digs and fuck me one last time. He performed cunnilingus on me until I screamed with lust as I came and then he fucked me and god help me I came again.”

“I hated myself and I lived in constant fear that they would show that video to someone. I left the cheerleading team and became a virtual recluse until I graduated. By then the five of them had long gone but to this day I still worry that the video might come to light.”

“Benjamin Roach was the ringleader but Spencer Duvall and the others were complicit. I’m guessing that your interest in the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity is related to those five scumbags. Jamaal Washington wasn't at the lodge but he was a member of their clique. If it was a woman like me who killed Spencer then I’m sorry but I hope you don’t catch her,” Melissa stopped running and bent over, putting her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath.

She had been steadily increasing the pace, running faster and faster as she told her story and Penelope was glad that they had finally stopped running.

The women sat down on a park bench panting and sweating. Melissa’s makeup had run and she had dark rings around her eyes. Penelope couldn’t tell if her mascara was smeared by perspiration or tears.

“I knew there had been others before me and that there would be others after. It was too well organised and they were stupid enough to brag about some of the others in front of me. I knew I should have reported them. I blame myself for those that came after me,” Melissa was still catching her breath and her speech was staccato.

“They're rich and entitled and I was poor and they had the video. I wondered if they deliberately targeted vulnerable girls.” Melissa sighed, her breathing was returning to normal.

Penelope decided it was time to speak.

“They didn’t stop after they left college. We think they're still using the same MO to entrap women and you are right in assuming that we suspect that Spencer Duvall may have tried it once too often with the wrong woman,” Penelope took Melissa’s hand.

“But you can’t blame yourself for the others,” Penelope gently squeezed Melissa’s hand.

“I haven’t been with a man since. I just don’t trust them. I’ve never had a steady girlfriend either, just one night stands… of my god... now I’m blathering,” Melissa snatched her hand away but Penelope put her arm around her shoulder and hugged her.

It was getting on dusk and the two women suddenly realised that they were alone in a remote area of the park.

“I’ve felt dirty ever since it happened and even though I know I’m not, I feel ugly. Ugly inside,” Melissa snatched her ballcap off her head.

Penelope released Melissa's ponytail and allowed her jet-black locks to fall around her shoulders. Penelope stroked Melissa's hair.

“You are not ugly; you are beautiful,” Penelope comforted her.

“You don’t know me,” Melissa sniffed.

“I’m a detective, which makes me a very good judge of character and I’m a woman who has more than her fair share of emotional baggage so I know how you feel,” Penelope lifted Melissa’s chin so she could look into her eyes.

“I suppose that’s possible. I don’t know you but I know of you,” Melissa held Penelope’s gaze.

Penelope frowned.

“I have a Doctorate Penelope. It’s in my nature to study and investigate. I know who you are and what you’ve done, it’s all in the public domain,” Penelope explained.

“What’s in the public domain isn’t everything,” Penelope whispered.

“I know you’ve been through a lot and that your life has been difficult but you seem so together,” Melissa absentmindedly stroked Penelope’s hand which was still resting on her shoulder.

“See. I’m proof that you can overcome your demons,” Penelope gave her a wry smile.

Melissa leaned in and pressed her lips against Penelope’s and Penelope jerked her head away. The look of disappointment on Melissa’s face was heart-breaking.

“I’m sorry. I misconstrued the situation. I’m so stupid. Why would you want to kiss me?” Melissa bowed her head.

Penelope felt awful. This woman had been robbed of her self-respect and had lived with self-loathing for ten years and Penelope was treating her exactly as Melissa expected to be treated.

Penelope pulled Melissa to her feet and pushed her against a sturdy oak. Melissa looked confused but then Penelope pressed her body against Melissa's and kissed her.

At first Melissa was bewildered and then she reacted instinctively. She put her arms around Penelope and returned the kiss opening her mouth to accept Penelope’s tongue.

Penelope felt a tang of guilt and regret at what she was doing. She had not cheated on Bradley Wilson since she became sober but they had never stated that they were exclusive to each other and she was not cheating with another man. She could sense the need radiating from Melissa and rejecting her now would be an act of cruelty. Penelope compartmentalised her feelings for Bradley and concentrated on the moment.

Penelope had not been with a woman for a long time and the feel of Melissa's bumps and curves, her soft skin, the feminine smell of her body, brought back memories long forgotten.

The two women existed only for each other at that moment in time. They were alone in a quiet copse deep in the forest with twilight falling around them. They pressed their bodies against each other to combat the chill in the air. Sweat from their run had dried on their flesh and Penelope tasted the saltiness of it as her lips when she explored Melissa’s cheek, the hollow of her neck and her earlobe, which she nipped gently.

Melissa gasped and pressed her body harder against Penelope. Their breasts squished together, nipples hardening under their spandex sports tops. It was Melissa who pushed her fingers under Penelope’s shirt, her long nails raking the tender flesh as she sought out Penelope’s breasts. She found Penelope’s teats engorged and she pressed her lips back on Penelope’s mouth and used her tongue while her fingers stroked and tweaked Penelope’s nipples.

Penelope drew in her breath harshly as rings of delight radiated from her breasts.

“Oh fuck!” Penelope pushed Melissa against the tree and disentangled herself from their embrace long enough to pull off Melissa’s sports top and training bra whist Melissa did the same to her.

Their hair was tussled, their makeup ruined, their skin was clammy with sweat and they stank of perspiration comingled with their perfume. They gazed into each other’s eyes and saw not only lust, they saw need, they saw yearning and they also saw trust.

The two women fell on each other, pawing at each other’s breasts, lips locking, tongues entwining; gasping, mewing and moaning as darkness fell. Melissa could feel the rough bark of the oak abrading the skin on her back. Penelope could feel the delicious sting of Melissa's fingernails grazing her tender flesh.

Melissa hooked her leg around Penelope’s and clung to her to keep her balance as she pressed her pubic mound against Penelope’s. She slipped her hand down there and pressed it between Penelope’s legs. Penelope pressed her hand to Melissa’s pubis and she imagined she could feel the heat radiating from her cunt. She could feel the folds and contours of Melissa’s sex through the spandex.

“Where is it? I want it! I need it!” Melissa was gasping, almost crying as she pawed at Penelope’s crotch.

Penelope knew what Melissa wanted. She didn’t tape when she wore her close-fitting spandex tights. She simply retracted her testes into her inguinal canals and tucked her penis along her perineum. She took Melissa's hand in hers and pushed it inside the waistband of her tights and guided it between her legs.

Melissa gasped when she felt the girth of Penelope’s penis tucked back between her legs. Penelope tensed and relaxed her cremaster muscle and allowed her testes to descend into her scrotal sac. Melissa suddenly found her hand filled with Penelope’s scrotum and semi-engorged penis.

Penelope pushed her hand inside Melissa’s tights and found her pubis steamy and wet. She struggled to push her finger between Melissa’s labia so she could find her clitoris.

“Fuck this!” Penelope gasped and disengaged briefly.

She pulled Melissa’s tights down to her knees and then pulled down her own. Melissa caught a glimpse of Penelope's rampant penis before Penelope pressed her body against her. The last time Melissa had felt a cock against her flesh she had felt repulsed by it but the feel of Penelope’s hard flesh on her belly only excited her. She reached for it, measuring its girth with her fingers, cupping Penelope’s scrotum to feel the weight of her balls, returning her fingers to Penelope’s phallus and stroking the meaty corpulence.

Penelope parted the folds of Melissa's sex and found that she was wet. She used a fingertip to pull back her clitoral hood and gently manipulated the tender nubbin. Melissa hissed into Penelope’s mouth and Penelope smiled. It had been a long time but she still had the touch. She stroked Melissa's clitoris and eased two fingers into her vagina. Melissa squeezed Penelope’s penis and began to stroke it.

They fell to the forest floor; the fallen leaves a soft bed. The sweet smell of decaying foliage mingled with the musk of their perspiration and the piquant odour of Melissa's cunt. Their tights were gathered around their knees and they were still wearing their running shoes but neither of them was willing to cease what they were doing.

Penelope managed to thread her legs between Melissa's and mount her. Melissa reached between their bodies frantically trying to find Penelope’s cock and when she did she guided it to her sex and arched her back to drive Penelope’s cock deep into her steamy cleft.

The two women clung to each other, kissing, biting, scratching, as they writhed in the dunes of autumn leaves. They moaned and sighed and groaned, pressing their bodies so tight that they were one. Melissa’s snug vagina clung to Penelope’s cock as she drove it in and out, grinding her pubis against Melissa's clitoris. They felt the need, the yearning, and the desperation radiating from each other as they fucked.

Penelope pulled Melissa hard against her as she ejaculated deep inside her. Melissa wrapped her arms and legs around Penelope and pressed herself as hard as she could against Penelope, wanting to feel the softness of her breasts and the hardness of her cock as Penelope disgorged her scalding seed inside her. A momentous orgasm washed over her and Melissa began to sob and laugh simultaneously.

Penelope clung to Melissa and silenced her cries by pressing her mouth over Melissa’s and kissing her passionately. The two women held onto each other desperately and lovingly as they crested the waves of their climaxes and began to descend into the peaceful nirvana of post-coital bliss.

They lay in each other’s arms as much to keep warm as to seek comfort. Neither of them was in a rush to end their tryst. Finally the cold won out and there was an embarrassing moment as they tried to disengage from each other with their tights bunched around their knees. They pulled them up, put on their sports bras and found their shirts. They both blushed as they brushed the leaves off their clothing and put on their ballcaps.

Penelope eased Melissa back against the oak and kissed her softly.

“That was wonderful,” Penelope whispered.

“Please tell that it wasn't a pity fuck,” Melissa searched Penelope’s emerald green eyes.

“It wasn’t a pity fuck,” Penelope sighed.

“But that’s where this ends. You’re not technically a witness but I’m stretching the rules, besides I’m in a relationship with a wonderful man,” Penelope brushed a stay leaf from Melissa's hair.

“Do you feel guilty?” Melissa caressed Penelope’s cheek.

“No, not at all. What we just did was wonderful and had meaning; it wasn’t just debauchery. I will cherish the memory but it can’t happen again,” Penelope sighed.

“I will cherish the memory too. I’ve wanted to feel someone inside me for so long. I’ve fantasised about being taken by a big cock but every time I’m near a man I freeze. You’ve fulfilled my fantasy Penelope and I’m grateful,” Melissa grinned cheekily.

“Glad to be of help. I hope you get everything you deserve. You are beautiful,” Penelope kissed Melissa one last time and then she jogged away back the way they had come.

*****

Felicity Benson looked at herself in the mirror and applied the last touches to her makeup. She was in a suite at the Lancaster Hotel in Houston. Felicity was guest hosting at Hamburger Mary’s all week but to her it was just a legitimate excuse to make the trip to Houston. When Panti Down had offered Felicity the gig she had seen it as her destiny, her opportunity to continue her reign of revenge.

Finding Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington on Secret Singles had been easy and any caution she thought they might have exercised after the demise of their friend Spencer Duvall in suspicious circumstances had been thrown to the wind when she had DM’d them both to see if they were interested in a threesome. Maybe they thought that they were safe in Houston or maybe they were just stupid; it didn’t matter to Felicity, she was more concerned with how she was going to take down two strong healthy men.

Jamaal booked a room at a fleabag hotel just outside of the city. It was a place where the men regularly took women they intended to use either with or without their consent. Predators such as they were creatures of habit. It was far enough out of town to be discreet as both Benjamin and Jamaal were married and well known amongst Houston’s high society. It was something they were used to doing; something they had control over and they were comfortable with the situation.

Felicity drove her rental to the no-tell motel and parked across the road at a road-side diner and truck stop. She doubted the motel had surveillance cameras but you could never be too sure. She flicked open her burner phone and sent a text to Jamaal ‘I’m here honey’. He texted back immediately ‘room 102’.

She knocked on the door to room 102 to find Benjamin and Jamaal dressed only in their jockey shorts. They were both sporting erections in anticipation.

“Come in gorgeous, long time no see,” Jamaal grinned.

Felicity had set up a bogus profile on Secret Singles identifying herself as a trans woman and when Ben and Jamaal had responded positively to her DMs she had told them that she had been with them both a long time ago in college. They too were using fake names but they had posted real pictures of themselves in their profiles. It was common practice on a website specifically designed for cheaters.

Felicity had reminded them both of the time they had held her captive in their frat house and ravaged her. She had told them that she had been ashamed that she had enjoyed what happened to her and had been secretly fantasising about it for all these years. When she found them with linked profiles on Secret Singles she was surprised but elated and really wanted to do it all again.

They had taken the bait. Men were so stupid. They thought with their dicks and any form of flattery and the anticipation of a fine piece of ass was enough for them to throw caution to the wind.

Felicity was wearing a black mini-skirted cocktail dress, flesh-toned sheer pantyhose and fuck-me heels. She had tucked her natural hair under a stocking cap and wore a flaming-red lace-front bouffant wig. Being a drag queen was licence to slip in and out of disguise. Her makeup was heavy and provocative: overdone eyeliner and mascara, 301 false eyelashes, glitter eyeshadow, red rouge and bright red lipstick. She looked more like a hooker than a drag queen which was exactly the effect she was looking for. It made her look slutty but also acted as a form of disguise if she were seen.

The men reached for her but Felicity evaded them long enough to carefully put her purse down on the coffee table. She did not want them to hear the clunk as she lowered her black clutch onto the glass-topped table.

Felicity turned around and opened her arms invitingly and the two men grabbed her and threw her on the bed. They wasted no time; they were horny and impatient for relief. Felicity had promised them that she would stay the night so they could take their time defiling her but for now they wanted instant gratification and Felicity was more than willing to give it to them.

The expectation and anticipation of taking revenge on her assailants had for some reason made her incredibly horny.

“I knew that you really liked what we did to you all those years ago,” Benjamin Roach grinned at her as he shucked out of his underpants.

“You squealed like a whore when I was fuckin’ your ass bitch! You was begging for it,” Jamaal Washington grinned just as stupidly as he dropped his drawers to reveal a magnificent erect cock.

“Stop bragging and get on this bed and fuck me!” felicity hiked up her dress to show that she was wearing no panties under her sheer-to-the-waist pantyhose.

Ben climbed on first. He was still the leader of the gang and took his spoils first. He pinned Felicity to the bed and lay on top of her kissing her and ripping open the bodice of her dress so he could get to her breasts. He fondled them roughly as he drove his tongue into her mouth.

“Let me get out of this dress,” Felicity struggled underneath him and he relented.

He and Jamaal pulled the dress over her head, tossed it aside and began to ravage her.

Jamaal put his arm under her waist and positioned her on her hands and knees, pushing down on the small of her back so that Felicity’s ass was raised while Benjamin scooted around front of her on his knees so that his crotch was level with her face. Felicity smiled when Jamaal ripped open her pantyhose. She knew that her pink puckered bud, glistening with the lubricant she had put there, would look inviting to Jamaal.

She felt him nestle his glans in her crinkle and braced as Jamaal gripped her shoulders and thrust.

She wanted to scream but when Felicity opened her mouth, Benjamin stuffed his engorged phallus into it. Jamaal was at least considerate enough to let Felicity get used to accommodating his huge organ and while she did so she softly suckled Benjamin’s cock, lapping at the precum dribbling from the eye.

Felicity signalled that she was ready by wriggling her buttocks and Jamaal began to slowly fuck her, his cock lighting up her pleasure centres.

“Damn bitch, you still tight!” Jamaal sighed.

“She knows how to suck a cock too,” Benjamin said as Felicity used her mouth expertly on his throbbing penis.

“I’m gonna cum man! She’s too tight and I’m too horny,” Jamaal groaned.

“Come in me! Come in me you black stallion! Fuck me hard! We got all night so you can do it again and again if you wanna but I wanna feel your hot jizz in my ass now!” Felicity goaded him, wriggling her buttocks invitingly, clenching her anus around his shaft.

She slavered on Ben’s cock and felt it begin to quiver and she knew that he was close to extremis too. Felicity would never admit to anyone how decadently wanton and impassioned she felt being defiled by these two big men. She hated them with all her heart but they elicited carnal desires that ran deep.

“Oh god!” Jamaal gripped Felicity’s hips and drove his cock all the way inside her and she felt it engorge to the point where she thought it would tear her ass apart and then she felt it begin to judder as Jamaal blasted her anus with steady streams of hot spend.

At the same time Ben spewed his issue into her mouth, filling her cheeks as she struggled to swallow the salty splooge. Felicity orgasmed without even touching herself; filling the gusset of her pantyhose with creamy semen. She bucked and pushed back against Jamaal whilst slavering at Ben’s cock, draining every drop of his issue.

Felicity collapsed under the weight of Jamaal’s body and Ben’s cock slipped from her mouth. Jamaal ground himself against Felicity’s body until the last of his load was expended in her bowels and then lay on top of her exhausted.

Ben climbed off the bed and put on his jockeys and Felicity heard the clink of glass as he poured drinks. Jamaal lay on top of her panting, trying to catch his breath, his cock still buried inside her but beginning to deflate. When he pushed himself up off her she was grateful; she could finally breathe without struggling. She felt Jamaal’s cum dribble from her sphincter and run down her thighs onto the sheets.

She rolled over to see Ben sitting in a scarred chair sipping bourbon and Jamaal, still naked, cutting lines of cocaine on the glass top table.

Felicity pushed herself off the bed and went over to the table and picked up her clutch.

“You wanna drink or a couple of lines?” Ben asked.

“I sure do but let me fix my makeup and clean up a little. It’s going to be a long night,” Felicity smiled down at him and then lowered her face to his and kissed him passionately.

“It sure is honey and I’m fucking you next. I want you to film that for me Jamaal. I want a souvenir of me fucking the hot tranny,” Ben chuckled.

Felicity ignored him and went into the bathroom and locked the door.

She looked at her face in the mirror and was disgusted with what she saw. Hate and self-loathing surfaced from deep inside her. It festered and boiled over until the mirror clouded in a crimson mist and she could hardly breathe; her body was shaking as if she had palsy. She forced herself to take deep breaths and get her breathing under control and the shaking stopped, which was just as well.

There was no way she was going to be able to physically overcome the men waiting outside for her and even they wouldn’t be stupid enough to let her use the handcuffs on them that she had seen in the carrybag full of sex toys they had emptied on the couch.

Felicity unzipped her clutch and removed the Glock 42 .380 from inside it. The gunsmith had told her that it was an extremely compact pocket pistol; an ideal weapon for a woman to carry in her purse. He had rubbed his body against hers when he took her out back to the two-lane indoor range where he taught her to shoot the gun one handed.

“Look it doesn’t have the stopping power of larger calibre pistols and you only have six in the mag and one in the chamber but for close-range self-defence it will do fine if you get in close and double-tap the mother fucker,” the gunsmith pumped her ass twice to emphasise his point.

Felicity gave him an inviting look and made him a proposition which if taken poorly would have ended up with her being in the back of a police cruiser in handcuffs but she was an excellent judge of character.

The gunsmith had locked the door to the range and Felicity had bent over the firing table and pulled her tight jeans down to her knees to facilitate access and the gunsmith had pulled aside her pretty pink panties and buggered her until he came.

In return she paid cash for the gun, ammunition, a spare magazine and a suppressor, without producing ID or filling in the Firearms Transaction Record or undergoing a background check. She knew that she had overpaid and had to put up with the sticky mess in her panties while she drove all the way back to Balwyn from San Antonio but she was satisfied with the transaction.

Felicity kicked off her high heels so that she would be steady on her feet. She screwed the suppressor to the barrel, took a deep breath and came out of the bathroom with the Glock extended as she had been taught. Benjamin and Jamaal were sitting side by side drinking and were taken completely by surprise when she put three rounds each into their centres of mass.

The gunshots weren’t that loud but to Felicity they sounded like a cannon. She quickly checked the men’s bodies, surprised at how little blood was visible on their torsos. She was no expert and couldn’t be sure they were dead. She went back to the bathroom and took the spare magazine out of her clutch and slammed it into the Glock and came back out into the room and put the gun against Jamaal’s temple and pulled the trigger twice. She did the same with Benjamin.

She felt no remorse whatsoever as she dressed, put on her heels, wiped down as many surfaces as she could and double-checked that she hadn't left anything behind. She took out her lipstick and went back into the bathroom to complete one final chore then she came back out. The motel room reeked of gunsmoke, sex, blood and booze. She opened the door a crack and seeing that the coast was clear she stepped outside. Halfway across the parking lot she passed a rat-faced seedy-looking man who leered at her but she ignored him.

She crossed the highway to the truck stop diner and drove back to the Lancaster Hotel where she went back to her room, showered and changed and was able to make the last show at Hamburger Mary’s where she performed her gig without a hitch.

Driving back to Balwyn the next day she made a slight detour and tossed the gun, the spare magazine, the remaining ammunition and the suppressor into Lake Conroe along with the burner phone she had used to solicit the two men.

*****

Penelope and her team continued to work Spencer Duvall’s murder. She had the two Steve’s re-interview everyone and anyone who had anything to do with the case which gave them justification to swindle free drinks and food from the establishments they visited.

Steve Edwards was disappointed to find that Felicity Goodnite was not at Ride em’ Cowgirl but away on tour. He interviewed another queen named Panti Down who was also a looker but she resisted his charms. Jill Graham the bartender stuck to her guns that Spencer had left the club alone after a couple of drinks.

Alice Leasingham, Silvia Bickle and Penelope Bishop went back over all of the evidence they had. They were convinced that Spencer Duvall had been murdered by someone he had sexually assaulted. The forensic evidence from the crime scene suggested that was at least one woman present: the hair and the makeup they found attested to that along with the murder weapon being a nylon stocking. There was also another man present, evidenced by the non-secretor semen found at the scene.

The semen could have come from Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, or William Turner but they were refusing to cooperate and their DNA and fingerprints were not on file except for Carl Huntley’s which they then excluded.

Penelope was becoming convinced that there was another member of the fraternity at Spencer Duvall’s house but she couldn’t prove it. And if there was, why didn’t he intervene or report the murder? Was he complicit? Had there been a falling out? She bounced these questions off Silvia Bickle who was as stymied as Penelope.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight girlfriend?” Silvia had that look about her that indicated to Penelope that she was in love… again.

“I don’t know Silvia, what am I doing for dinner tonight?” Felicity baited her partner.

“You and Brad are joining me and my new girlfriend at Bentley’s at seven thirty, that’s what,” Silvia smiled her sweetest smile.

“Yeah, we can do that. Should I bring a U-Haul or will your girlfriend bring her own?” Penelope ducked under the stapler that Silvia threw at her.

Silvia was living proof that the trope about lesbians falling in love and moving in with each other on the second date was true. She had been through a succession of live-in girlfriends ever since Penelope had met her. Not that Penelope could throw stones, she had been outwardly promiscuous until she had met Bradley Wilson and sobered up.

Penelope and Bradley were seated at their table at Bentley’s patiently awaiting Silvia and her date. She was drinking a club soda and Bradley was drinking white wine. He had told Penelope that he was willing to give up alcohol all together if she found it uncomfortable but she told him she had the drinking problem not him. He should not deny himself the pleasure of having a drink just because she couldn’t.

“Here they are. Jesus! What a stunner,” Bradley exclaimed and nodded over Penelope’s shoulder.

Penelope turned around and saw a tall thirty-something raven-haired woman in a black evening gown on the arm of Silvia Bickle. She was stunningly beautiful with blue eyes and full lips which were accentuated by red lipstick. It was Melissa Doyle.

Penelope was speechless and just jabbered incoherently when Silvia introduced her date. She gave Melissa a ‘what-the-fuck?’ look to which Melissa responded with a whimsical smile.

“Where did you two meet?” Penelope asked pointedly when they were settled and had ordered their entrees.

“Melissa teaches business administration and economics at the college but the staff gymnasium is undergoing repairs and I met her when she came to my gym,” Sylvia squeezed Melissa’s hand.

“It was a meet-cute. I literally bumped into her on my way to my spin class which it turned out she was also attending,” Melissa smiled coyly.

“What a coincidence,” Penelope returned Melissa's caustic grin.

When Melissa excused herself between courses to use the bathroom Penelope followed her. Checking that the stalls were vacant she pushed Melissa up against the wall.

“What the fuck Melissa? It was literally a one night stand!” Penelope hissed.

“I don’t know what you mean Penelope? My meeting Silvia was a coincidence… a lovely coincidence,” Melissa smiled down at Penelope.

“You just happen to start fucking my partner right after I fucked you in the park! You know you could get me fired? It was an informal interview but I was still interviewing you as a potential witness,” Penelope said seriously.

“I suppose I could get you fired if anyone was to find out. You look beautiful tonight by the way. I love the way you’re wearing your hair off one shoulder and that red dress is stunning. Very Jessica Rabbit,” Melissa leaned in to kiss Penelope who turned away.

“What the fuck are you up to?” Penelope stepped back from Melissa.

“If I can’t be with the woman I want I’ll settle for being with her best friend,” Melissa put a finger in her mouth and pouted.

“You’re crazy,” Penelope shook her head.

“You're not the first man or woman who has told me that. That’s what I like about you Penelope. You have the beauty and the instincts of a woman but you have all of the functionality of a man,” Melissa made a vain attempt to grab Penelope’s crotch.

“Go and finish your dinner, we can catch up later,” Melissa waggled her fingers at Penelope and went into one of the stalls and shut the door.

“Loopy cunt!” Penelope hissed and left the bathroom.

It was a week later that Gary Rasmussen called Penelope and said for her and Silvia to get their asses into his office. Houston PD had called him and told him that they had found Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington murdered in a sleazy hotel on the outskirts of the city.

*****

“Tough titty said the kitty,” Steve Edwards said to Penelope and grinned.

She had been griping because Gary Rasmussen had told her take Detective Edwards instead of Silvia Bickle with her to Houston because Steve had connections there from his days serving in the Houston PD.

Silvia was even more pissed than Penelope because Melissa was attending a Law, Business, and Economics Workshop seminar at the University of Houston and she was hoping to catch up with her new lover but Gary Rasmussen had said a firm no. He wasn't paying his officers to take vacations he was paying them to investigate and Steve Edwards was better suited in this case because of his knowledge of local law enforcement.

“You’ll be fed to the kitty if you don’t get your fuckin’ feet off my dash,” Penelope pushed Steve’s size nines off the BMW’s dash.

She had elected to take her own car instead of one of Balwyn PD’s ancient town cars.

Steve stretched his long legs and looked down at the file on his lap. Ordinarily this would have been an ideal ruse to stare at Penelope’s long shapely pantyhose-clad legs but today was one of the rare occasions that she had elected to wear a pantsuit and he thought, rightly, that it might have something to do with him being her travelling companion. Back in her days of alcoholic promiscuity she vaguely remembered being bent over her car in the parking lot of The Longhorn, Balwyn city’s cop bar, with Steve Edwards behind her lifting her skirt.

She couldn’t remember whether or not they had consummated the act but at least Steve was gentleman enough not to remind her of it but he wasn’t gentleman enough not to leer at her tits, ass and legs every chance he got.

“Remind me what that says,” Penelope thought the best way to deal with the uncomfortable silence was to talk about the case.

“Benjamin Roach, married white male, and Jamaal Washington, single black male, both shot multiple times in the chest and finished off with a coup de grace to the forehead. Shell casings recovered at the scene and rounds recovered from the bodies indicate the weapon was a .380 pistol. The first rounds were fired from several feet away and the coup de grace was delivered point blank,” Steve read from the file.

“Both men were naked and were sitting at a table on which there were quantities of booze and illicit substances. There is evidence that they had both engaged in recent sexual activity. The bed was messed-up, forensics found several long red hairs in the bedclothes and Benjamin Roach had lipstick on his penis.”

“At first Houston detectives thought it was a drug deal gone bad but now they’re not so sure. A witness said he saw a red-headed hooker walking though the parking lot just after the couple in the next room heard muffled gunshots. The couple were reluctant to report the gunshots initially because they were both married but not to each other,” Steve Edwards grinned.

“You think this is funny?” Penelope barked.

“I don’t see how two ex-jocks getting tapped in a no-tell motel links to the Duvall murder,” Steve reached for his cigarettes but put them away quickly when Penelope gave him a ‘don’t you fucking dare’ stare.

“They were fraternity brothers and played on the same football team. They are all spoiled rich kids who grew up entitled and never had to work a day in their lives and got everything they ever wanted. And what they couldn’t get by asking they took,” Penelope thought she sounded like she was lecturing Steve but she couldn’t help it.

“We have several women who have come forward and told us that Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner forced or blackmailed them into having sex, either individually or as a group,” Penelope said.

“What witnesses? How come you didn’t let me and my partner in on this,” Steve sounded pissed.

“Because the witnesses will never testify and I promised them discretion and because you didn’t need to know about it to do your job. Now you know because you need to know,” Penelope couldn’t help but smile at the pun.

Penelope pulled over at the motel where the murder had been committed. Room 102 was still sealed with police tape and a uniformed officer was sitting on a lawn chair keeping guard. Penelope showed her badge.

“Lieutenant Wagner said you’d be coming. Sign in please. No need for booties or gloves, the scene has been processed,” the officer gave Penelope a clipboard for her to sign which she did then passed it on to Steve.

As soon as she entered the hotel room she recognised it from some of the videos that Alice Leasingham had downloaded from Spencer Duvall’s devices. She took some pictures with her phone. There was fingerprint dust everywhere and the sheets had been taken off the bed. There was evidence of luminol. The two blood-stained chairs were still pulled up to the glass-top table.

There wasn’t much else to see so she and Steve continued on and pulled up at 1200 Travis in Downtown Houston, the headquarters of Houston PD. They were escorted to a small office where they met Lieutenant Joe Wagner who was heading up the case.

“Hello Lieutenant Bishop, good to meet you. Your reputation precedes you,” he offered his hand to Penelope who wasn’t sure if Joe Wagner was having a dig at her or complementing her.

“And you, you old dog… what the fuck are you doing policing in that Podunk town?” Joe gave Steve a manly hug.

“I got sick and tired of seeing your ugly mug every day Lieutenant,” Steve gave him a brotherly punch to the shoulder.

“Nothing to do with the string of complaints that finally made it to internal affairs?” Joe said bitingly and Steve blushed.

“Look Penny I’m not sure if our cases are linked but we know that Roach, Washington and Duvall were tight. The families are rattling the Chief’s cage but refusing to be interviewed. Carl Huntley and William Turner have suddenly decided to go on a skiing holiday to Europe,” Joe said, pointing to two seats.

Penelope didn’t like being called Penny by people who didn’t know her but she tolerated it for the sake of grace.

“There are some similarities between the murders. Evidence of a woman being present and a non-secretor male but that could also be either Huntley or Turner; I don’t suppose they offered any DNA or even a saliva or blood sample?” Penelope posed.

“We have Huntley's DNA on file from a rape allegation last year but the victim withdrew the complaint. She suddenly seemed to have come into a sum of money and moved interstate. We’re having it compared to the forensics collected from the motel,” Joe leaned back and put his feet on the desk.

“If you give us your samples we can compare them to what we have,” Joe offered.

“I’ll have them sent down,” Penelope offered.

She knew that arguing to have Houston’s samples sent to Balwyn wouldn’t make sense because Houston was the bigger city and had far more resources.

“You’ve discounted the drug deal?” Steve interjected.

“Makes no sense. Those assholes were too rich to need to get into that kind of trouble and the drugs at the scene were not of trafficable quantities. Both vics had ingested cocaine before they were murdered,” Joe turned down his mouth.

“What about the woman?” Penelope asked.

“We have a witness said he saw a red-headed woman walk past him in the parking lot. Said she was wearing a short skirt, heels and heavy makeup, that's why he thought she was a hooker. The motel is a notorious hangout for hookers and callgirls. They even rent rooms by the hour,” Joe replied.

“The witness watched the woman cross the highway then he lost her. There is a diner across the road from the motel and hookers are known work the truck stop there so she could well be a pro,” Joe postulated.

“Or she could have parked her car there. Any CCTV?” Penelope asked.

“Nope. Neither at the motel or the diner,” Joe shrugged.

“Can I interview your witness?” Penelope asked.

“Hey, mi casa es su casa. You can have access to everything we have and I’ll get you the contact details for the witness. Why don’t you both get settled in? I’ve got you both booked into the Embassy Suites. I can take you on a tour of Houston’s nightlife,” Joe opened his arms magnanimously.

“I think I’ll pass on the tour,” Penelope said standing up ready to leave.

“Come on Steve… for old time’s sake?” Joe smiled at his old pal.

“I’m not missing out on a chance to visit my old stomping grounds,” Steve grinned.

“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Joe Wagner got to his feet and ushered Penelope and Steve out of his office.

Penelope checked into her room and emailed the pictures she had taken of the motel room to Alice so she could compare them to the room in the Duvall videos before she took a shower. She called Bradley and then went to bed only to be awoken in the early hours by a hammering on her door.

Penelope took her sidearm off the nightstand and padded to the door and looked through the peephole.

“Fucking fuck!” Penelope hissed.

Standing on the other side of the door was an obviously drunk Melissa Doyle.

“Open up Penelope, I know you're in there I can see your shadow under the door,” Melissa cried drunkenly.

“Go away Melissa. It’s goddam one AM in the morning and I’m not putting up with your shit,” Penelope barked through the door.

“I know you arranged it so Silvia couldn’t come down here so we could be together,” Melissa wailed.

“You’re dreaming Melissa. I’m down here conducting an investigation with another member of my team,” Penelope countered, instantly regretting getting into a conversation with the drunken woman on the other side of the door.

“Silvia told me. Those other two assholes got exactly what they deserved,” Melissa began to sob.

“Go back to your hotel Melissa. I’m not going to discuss an ongoing investigation to a drunken woman through a hotel door,” Penelope said angrily.

“I love you Penelope and I know you love me even though you won’t admit it. I’m going now but you’ll be seeing me soon,” Melissa pushed herself away from the door and staggered down the corridor.

“Fucking loopy cunt!” Penelope said not for the first or last time.

Earlier in the evening Steve Edwards had showered and changed into casual clothes and then went down to the lobby bar to wet his whistle while he waited for Joe Wagner.

Joe took Steve to the usual cop hangouts and they relived old times. If Steve had have kept his nose clean he might still be on the Houston PD and would still hold the rank of Sergeant; he and Joe were classmates. As it was Steve had left as a Senior Police Officer, demoted after repeated complaints. He’d found greener pastures in the Balwyn PD which had gone on a recruiting spree after Penelope brought down nearly whole PD in a corruption scandal that went all the way to the top.

Steve Edwards thought it ironic that he owed Penelope the opportunity to get a second chance. He’d kept his nose clean until he made detective again but soon fell back into his old ways when he teamed up with Steve Randal

“You gotta let me take you to this one last place where we can get a feed and watch a show. It’s a fuckin’ hoot,” Joe and Steve were well and truly drunk by the time they got to the Montrose neighbourhood.

“They got this fuckin’ drag show and some of those ladyboys are fuckin’ hot I tell ya,” Joe was slurring his words.

When Steve saw the crowd at Hamburger Mary’s he was tempted to tell Joe to fuck right off; he wasn’t going to sit in a bar surrounded by faggots but he was ravenous and when he saw the trays of delicious food being delivered to the tables he decided he could put up with the eclectic clientele. As it was nearly 1am they were too late for the show anyway so they ordered craft beers and burgers.

“I gotta take a piss,” Steve said getting unsteadily to his feet.

He went out to the pisser and did his business and when he came out of the bathroom he saw a flyer pinned to a noticeboard in the corridor that attracted his attention.

‘Divas show all week from 10pm to midnite. Special guest host Felicity Goodnite!’ The poster depicted a number of pretty drag queens and right up front was Felicity Benson from Balwyn Texas. Steve studied the poster and his booze-soaked brain registered that it was out of date. The poster was for last week. Pinned to the board beside it was the flyer advertising the current drag show.

Steve snatched the poster off the noticeboard, folded it and put it in his pocket. Even though he was drunk he thought it quite the coincidence that Felicity Benson just happened to be in Houston when Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered and that her joint ‘Ride ‘em Cowgirl’ was one of the last places that Spencer Duvall had been seen alive.

He awoke next morning feeling a little foggy but that was more from lack of sleep than from the alcohol. Steve Edwards was a seasoned drinker and seldom woke up with a hangover. He ate scrambled eggs, bacon, chipolatas and a short stack doused in maple syrup for breakfast and he wasn’t sure if Penelope was looking at his plate with disgust or envy as she ate her egg-white omelette.

Over breakfast Penelope receive a string of texts from Melissa alternating between apologies for her conduct last night, and then a series of declarations of love and threats. She resisted the temptation to respond.

“You're pretty busy on the phone there boss; updates on the case?” Steve asked shovelling a forkful of pancakes into his mouth.

“Just spam,” Penelope lied searching for a waitress to top her coffee.

“Fuck! Get me a top-up when the waitress comes around, I gotta use the rest room,” Penelope looked pained.

Steve noticed that Penelope had been crotchety all morning and she looked like she hadn't slept well. He followed her ass to the restrooms then he flipped over her phone and quickly scanned her texts.

“Very interesting, Silvia is going to be pissed if she ever sees these,” Steve whistled to himself and then put Penelope’s phone back on the table where she had left it.

“I’m going outside for a smoke,” Steve said when Penelope returned, burping up a mixture of sweet and savoury; the Embassy Suites restaurant was non-smoking.

Penelope was grateful to see a full cup of steaming coffee in front of her. She needed it.

Out in the smoking area Steve took the flyer from his jacket pocket and studied it. He knew that he should hand it over to either Joe or Penelope. The link between Felicity Benson and the murders was tenuous to say the least but it was still a link.

Steve was still angry that Penelope had not shared with him and his partner all of the evidence that had been gathered in the Duvall case. She had treated the two Steves like imbeciles and given them the grunt work. She obviously didn’t trust them and even though she was probably right in doing so it still irked him.

“Fuck that tranny bitch!” Steve hissed and dropped his cigarette butt on the asphalt and ground it out with his shoe.

“And speaking of tranny bitches… I think I’ll be having another chat with Felicity Benson,” Steve grinned to himself and went back into the restaurant.

He and Penelope spent the morning reviewing the evidence collected by Houston PD and comparing it to their own. There were definitely similarities between the two cases but there also were differences. The choice of murder weapons was the most obvious.

Strangulation by nylon stocking is an up close and personal way to kill someone. Whoever killed Spencer Duvall had straddled him as they had tightened the noose, killing him slowly and painfully. Roach and Washington had been killed coldly. Shot from a short distance away and then finished off with a double-tap to the head. Ruthless but impersonal.

There was sex involved in both cases and the obvious link to the Eta Lambda Pi fraternity buddies which caused Penelope to want to go back to the crime scene.

They interviewed the clerk who was on duty the night of the murders and the manager of the motel who told them that Benjamin Roach had an account with the motel and regularly used room 102 for his trysts. He had seen all five men there sometimes and sometimes just one or two. There was always at least one woman and none of them had ever complained, the manager said but his gaze was shifty.

“Maybe some of the women looked a little… you know… knocked around but if you come to a place like this what do you expect?” the shifty manager had explained to Penelope’s disgust.

They entered room 102 again having signed in with the police officer guarding the crime scene.

“You have our copy of the case file?” Penelope asked Steve and he nodded.

“Let’s lay the photos out so we can get a better idea what the place looked like,” Penelope said taking half of the stack of crime scene photographs.

On the coffee table they laid the pictures of Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington slumped in the chairs, dead from gunshot wounds and pictures of the alcohol and cocaine. They laid the pictures of the bed on the bare mattress. In the photographs the bedding was still on the bed, rumpled but not pulled down to sleep. It looked like the bed had been used for fucking not for sleeping. They placed the rest of the pictures around the motel room and then Penelope froze.

“Fuck! Look at this!” Penelope called from the bathroom.

She was standing at the vanity looking in the mirror. The mirror was stained with luminol and fingerprint dust and a red smear stained the glass. The picture lying on the stained plastic countertop had been taken before the CSI team went to work. In the picture you could see that the mirror had something written on it in lipstick. It was the hieroglyphics Ā Ĥ П.

“What the fuck is that?” Steve asked.

“It’s the evidence that proves that the murders are linked. It was the same perp,” Penelope spoke barely above a whisper.

Steve cringed inwardly. More evidence that Penelope had withheld from him.

“Let’s go interview our potential eye witness,” Penelope said.

The found the witness at home, dirty and dishevelled and he didn’t have anything to add to what he had told Houston PD. He was coming back to the motel from the diner carrying his takeout dinner and had seen a tall attractive woman who he suspected was a hooker. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, pantyhose and fuck-me heels. She had flaming-red hair and her makeup was heavy and he specifically remembered her bright red lipstick.

“She had to be a whore dressed like that. Lotsa whores work the truck stop and that motel is lousy with hookers,” the rat-faced man sniffed.

His eyes were locked permanently on Penelope’s breasts except when he glanced down at her legs. She was wearing a skirted business suit today and she kept self-consciously pulling down the hem.

“What were you doing at the motel?” Steve asked.

“I was having a sleepover pyjama party, what the fuck do you think I was doing there?” the man sniped.

“Anyway the other cops are going to send one of those artists to try to draw what I saw. If you ask me they're wasting their time and they ain’t payin’ me anything like a reward neither,” the rat-faced man said bitterly.

They gave up on the man and went back to the car.

“Shit! I left my notebook in there. Give me a minute,” Steve called to Penelope across the roof of the car and then bolted back to the decrepit house.

He walked inside without knocking and pulled the rat-faced man out of his easy chair and pushed him into the kitchen where the light was better.

“Hey! What the fuck man!” the man protested.

“Shut the fuck up! Is that her? Is that the woman you saw?” Steve pulled the flyer he had taken from Hamburger Mary’s and put it under the man’s nose.

The rat-faced man took a beat for his eyes to focus and then he looked closely at the poster and more particularly at Felicity Goodnite.

“Yeah. That could be her. If she had red hair it could be her. Lotsa makeup, big tits, killer legs, pretty if ya like ‘em that way,” the rat-faced man rubbed his chin.

Steve took two fifty dollar bills out of his wallet and stuffed them in the top pocket of the man’s filthy shirt.

“Keep your mouth shut about this ok?” Steve stuffed the flyer back in his coat.

“Sure I can; any more where that came from?” the man grinned through stained teeth.

“Of course there is,” Steve smiled.

He punched the man twice in the belly so hard that he folded over and couldn’t breathe.

“And if you open your mouth I’ll be back to give you more. You make sure that sketch artist gets a good picture but it doesn’t need to be too good ok?” Steve grabbed the man by his greasy hair and lifted his face.

The man just nodded still unable to breathe properly.

“Remember what I said,” Steve gave the man a slap across the ear as a farewell gesture.

“Now I’m definitely having another chat to our girl Felicity Goodnite,” Steve grinned as he left the shit-hole clapboard house waving his notebook at Penelope as if he’d found it left inside.

To be continued

Steve Edwards was continually amazed that the average civilian thought that detectives had some sort of super power when it came to solving crimes. They believed TV that shows where CSI techs wearing Armani suits or Prada skirts found murderers by putting a hair sample into a machine that gave them the perpetrator’s name, current whereabouts and shoe size or that police officers studied a crime scene and suddenly had an ‘Ah Ah!’ moment that solved the case.

The reality is that most of it was pure grunt work. Interviewing people, analysing the evidence and using open sources to tie clues and suspects together.

For instance what did Steve know about Felicity Benson? Spencer Duvall had visited her club the night he was murdered and Spencer had even spoken to her. Felicity was in Houston when Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered. A woman of similar features was seen in the vicinity of the crime scene but that didn’t mean much as the area around the motel and truck shop was lousy with women who wore too much makeup, short skirts and high heels… but rat-face was pretty certain that it was Felicity.

Steve knew nothing about drag queens but he had quickly educated himself using open source material on the internet. Drag had become a form of mainstream entertainment during the second decade of the twenty-first century mainly due to the popularity of the TV show RuPaul’s Drag Race and had jumped the fence from being a niche trend in the gay scene to become a valid art form in its own right.

Most of the queens had drag names that held subtle or obvious innuendo with references to drugs and sex or had names that were simply wordplay. The innuendo in the name Felicity Goodnite was obvious. Most of the famous queens had large local, national and even international followings and their fans could be quite militant and overzealous. Felicity Goodnite was no exception and several websites were dedicated to her and her drag sisters who were regular performers at Ride em’ Cowgirl. She even had her own Wiki page.

Her early years at Balwyn College were documented including her decision to transition. It took Steve only seconds to determine that she had attended the same college as Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner at the same time. Pictures of her from that period showed a stunning young woman who exuded charm and sensuality although it was stated that she had an acerbic wit on which she had based her act.

Her talents had led her to being invited to compete on a season of Drag Race although she hadn't made the final four. This experience had boosted her career incredibly.

According to the open source information, Felicity identified as a transgender woman and had never had a long-term romantic relationship although she admitted to being bisexual and sexually active. She owned Ride em’ Cowgirl outright and her business associates were Mitch Freeman and another queen named Panti Down whose legal name was William Russell. She still toured regularly both domestically and internationally although not as often since she had bought the club.

Steve pondered the evidence. It would certainly be enough for him to bring Felicity in for questioning and to get a subpoena to get her DNA but that would mean sharing what he knew with that cunt Penelope Bishop and that sycophantic asshole Joe Wagner. He would lose control of the case and more importantly lose any hold he might have over Felicity Benson.

Although he had only met her once she intrigued him. She was exotic, sensual and self-assured. If she had murdered Ben Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall, like he strongly suspected she had, she was also dangerous.

What had they done to incite her? And why take revenge now?

He surmised the answer lay in her college days. He thought about what Penelope Bishop had told him ‘We have several women who have come forward and told us that Benjamin Roach, Carl Huntley, Jamaal Washington, Spencer Duvall and William Turner forced or blackmailed them into having sex’. Hell hath no fury, he thought.

If those five spoiled rich assholes had forced college co-eds into having sex with them would they also force a pretty young drag queen still unsure of her gender and sexuality? He looked at the array of pictures of Felicity Goodnite.

“You bet your ass they would,” he whispered to himself and crushed out his cigarette.

He shut down his workstation and collated all of the evidence he had illegally copied from the Houston PD case file and shoved it into his briefcase. He had also broken into the Balwyn PD task force office and riffled through Penelope and Silvia’s desks. Most of the evidence was kept on encrypted computer files but he took copies of what he thought was relevant. He needed time to consider what he was going to do about Felicity Goodnite. How could he use what he knew about her to his advantage?

*****

Melissa Doyle was sitting in the park practicing her resting bitch face or so it seemed to Penelope Benson. Penelope had invited the thirty-something raven-haired, stunningly beautiful economics professor with the blue eyes and full lips to meet her near the fountain at City Park where they had met before.

She was wearing the same lycra leggings and sports top and full makeup including her signature red lipstick that she had worn the last time they had met in the park and Penelope was similarly attired.

Melissa and Silvia were now in a full-blown lesbian relationship, outside of work they were almost glued to each other. What Silvia didn’t know was that Melissa was constantly texting, emailing and calling Penelope on the phone.

Melissa continued to bombard Penelope with threats, promises, entreaties, demands, declarations of love, declarations of hate, depending on her mood and Penelope had had enough. She ran past Melissa brushing her shoulder and Melissa sprang from the bench and fell into step beside her.

“This has got to stop. That crap you pulled in Houston was bullshit!” Penelope said through gritted teeth.

“You look beautiful today Penny, I love the way your tights and top accentuate your attributes. Of course your best attribute is tucked away between your legs,” Melissa’s voice was melodic, like they were having different conversations.

“The only one who is going to get hurt by this is Silvia,” Penelope turned onto the forest running track.

“You can stop that easily Penny. I only want our relationship to continue,” Melissa tried to reach out to Penelope but she brushed off Melissa’s hand.

Penelope started running faster and Melissa increased her pace and kept up quite easily.

“What relationship Melissa! We fucked once and I told you that it was going to be the one and only time, that I love Bradley and that he and I are in a relationship,” Penelope sniped.

“But you also told me that it wasn’t a pity fuck, that it was wonderful and had meaning, that it wasn’t just debauchery,” Melissa countered.

“And I also told you that it would never happen again,” Penelope hissed.

Melissa didn’t answer and they ran in silence for a while. Penelope hoped that Melissa was finally seeing the hopelessness of the situation. They entered the deep forest where there were no other joggers and they were both aware that they were approaching the stately oak tree against which Penelope had pressed Melissa's body and fucked her.

Melissa stopped running and put her hands on her hips drawing in huge gulps of air and Penelope did the same. When Melissa had her breathing under control she continued talking and she no longer sounded like the sweet silly ditz with a girly crush.

“I could fuck you over Bishop! I could tell Bradley that we fucked and he’d know that you were lying if you tried to tell him it didn’t happen. I can go and see your boss Gary Rasmussen and tell him that I was a witness that you were interviewing and that you seduced me when I was at my most vulnerable. That when you fucked me I could taste the bourbon on your breath,” Melissa’s beautiful face turned stormy; she looked like a wicked witch with her heavy eye makeup and red lips curled into a snarl.

“Bourbon was your drink of choice when you were slutting around wasn’t it Penny?”

“It’s amazing what you learn from pillow talk. Silvia told me all sorts of things,” Melissa closed in on Penelope who started to back up.

She could see the malice in Melissa’s eyes and wished she had a weapon. She could probably beat Melissa in a fight if it came to that but she wasn’t certain, people who were angry and deranged sometimes seemed to have super powers.

“She told me you were a lush and that she was close to letting you sink into your own shit and drown. She joked that you’ve had more pricks in you than a second-hand dartboard. She told me how Bradley Wilson was the knight in shining armour who rescued you.”

“I could bring all that crashing down Penny,” Melissa’s face was inches from Penelope’s who had backed against the giant oak.

“Why?” Penelope whispered.

“Because I love you silly,” Melissa’s face softened as quickly as it had transformed into a witch.

Her features changed back into the beautiful, vulnerable woman and her voice softened.

Melissa brushed Penelope’s bangs out of her eyes and leaned in to kiss her. Penelope turned her face away and Melissa’s lips fell on her cheek instead but Melissa was not perturbed and she rained soft kisses on Penelope’s face.

Penelope could feel the heat from Penelope’s body and smell the undertones of her exotic perfume under her sweat. She should have just pushed Melissa away and started running but she felt powerless. Running away wasn’t a solution anyway. All Melissa had to do was tell Gary, Bradley or Silvia about their fucking and her life would be ruined.

“You don’t blackmail someone you love,” Penelope sighed.

Melissa’s face lit up. She pressed her body against Penelope’s and persisted in kissing Penelope’s face until she found her lips and then she kissed them. Penelope kept her lips firmly closed but Melissa persevered, she could taste the saltiness of the sweat on Penelope’s top lip and the buttery taste of her lipstick.

“Then don’t make me,” Melissa whispered and forced her tongue into Penelope’s mouth.

Melissa squeezed her hand between their bodies and pushed it down the front of Penelope’s tights. Penelope tried to stop her but Melissa used her weight to drive Penelope against the tree, temporarily unbalancing her. Penelope had to use her hands to hold onto the tree to keep her balance and with her arms splayed wide she was vulnerable.

Melissa found Penelope’s penis becoming turgid and Penelope could feel the smile form on Melissa’s lips as she continued to kiss her. Melissa was using her tongue to explore Penelope’s mouth whilst Penelope remained passively holding onto the tree.

Penelope had recovered her balance and could now quite easily resist Melissa. She could use the tree as a springboard and push Melissa off her. She could smack Melissa's hand away from inside her tights and turn her head away. Penelope could do a lot of things but she didn’t.

She remained passive, holding onto the tree with her arms wide allowing Melissa to press her body against hers. Allowing Melissa to kiss her; her lips soft and her tongue, warm wet and inquisitive as it investigated her mouth, allowing Melissa to squeeze her turgid member as it became bloated and began to throb, allowing Melissa to slide her free hand under her sports top and inside her bra, squeezing Penelope’s nipples until she winced with pain and pleasure both.

Penelope suddenly felt powerless. Pleasure radiated from her mouth, her breasts and her groin. The feel of Melissa’s body and the taste of her mouth evoked the sweet memories of when they had last made love against this tree.

Except now the tables were turned. Melissa was the aggressor and she was passive. She was aware of the power that Melissa had over her. She could ruin Penelope’s life with one phone call. Penelope felt such a fool for succumbing to Melissa’s feigned vulnerability.

But all that was moot at this moment in time because Penelope’s body was betraying her like it had so many times before. She opened her mouth wider and entwined her tongue with Melissa's, she thrust out her hips so that Melissa had unfettered access to her groin and she didn’t resist when Melissa yanked down her tights to expose her rampant penis.

When Melissa dropped to her knees and engulfed Penelope’s penis in her mouth her instinctive response was to put her hands on Melissa’s head and hold it while she fucked her mouth but she didn’t. She hung onto the tree trying to convince herself somehow that she was offering passive resistance.

But when Melissa used her lips to suckle her shaft and her tongue to tickle her fraenulum Penelope moaned like a slattern. Her pleasure centres lit up as ringlets of delight radiated from her pubis. For a woman who claimed not to have been with a man for over ten years Melissa was an accomplished fellatrix using her mouth expertly on Penelope’s penis and scrotum.

Penelope could feel her orgasm approaching and she was almost relieved that the ordeal would be over soon but Melissa had other plans. Melissa had pulled down her own tights while she was fellating Penelope and was stroking her cunt, gently circling her clitoris with the pad of her finger and stroking her coral-pink labia. She was wet and excited. The sensation of having Penelope’s throbbing penis in her mouth while she tickled her clit and fingered her vagina was heavenly.

But she wanted more!

She wanted Penelope inside her. She wanted to feel Penelope fill her vagina with that wonderful big cock, to feel Penelope’s breasts pressed against hers, to feel Penelope rut and prod and poke her until her orgasm exploded.

Melissa wrapped her arms around Penelope’s knees, spat out her cock and used her own knees as leverage to twist Penelope off the tree and grapple her to the ground. The blanket of autumn leaves broke her fall and Penelope ended up on her back with her tights around her knees and her cock pointed to the sky. It was not very ladylike or elegant but that didn’t matter because Melissa pounced on her, straddling Penelope, driving Penelope’s cock deep into her hot, wet vagina.

Penelope gasped when the tight spongy velvet glove of Melissa’s steamy cunt gripped her turgid member and intuitively she drove her hips upwards to push her cock into Melissa’s vagina as far as it would go and then she held Melissa by her hips and began to fuck her.

Melissa rode Penelope like a bucking bronco delighting in the feel of Penelope’s cock buried deep inside her, then withdrawn until Penelope’s glans nestled in her labia and then thrust back deep inside her tight cunt. Penelope thrust upward as Melissa pushed down, delighting in the sensation of Melissa’s tight spongy snatch gripping her throbbing cock.

The two women rutted like slatterns until the crescendo of their orgasms was reached and Melissa fell forward and crushed her mouth against Penelope’s who opened her mouth and offered her tongue as she held onto Melissa's hips and drove her cock deep inside her buttery cunt and ejaculated. Melissa felt Penelope’s cock quiver and then runnels of hot semen filled her vagina. Her own orgasm washed over her and her quivering cunt milked very last drop of seed from Penelope’s penis.

Melissa collapsed on top of Penelope who lay on the bed of leaves reeling in post-coital regret and self-loathing for succumbing to Melissa’s coercion but what else could she do? She was open to blackmail until she could resolve the situation with Melissa.

Penelope rolled over, spilling Melissa off her and they both struggled on their backs in the mounds of leaves pulling up their tights and adjusting their clothing. Penelope’s cock was still semi-erect and she couldn’t force it between her legs so she pushed it to one side and tried her best to pull down her sports top to cover it. Melissa could feel Penelope’s semen dribbling from her cunt into her tights but she didn’t care, in fact she liked having some part of Penelope still inside her body.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Penelope hissed as she brushed leaves off her body.

Melissa tried to brush away the leaves that Penelope couldn’t reach but Penelope pushed her away.

“We keep doing whatever I want whenever I want it!” Melissa sounded like a petulant child.

“But you're right that we can’t keep fucking in the park. Maybe next time you come to my place; I still have it even though I now live with Silvia” Melissa said in a sing-song deranged voice that irritated the fuck out of Penelope.

“There won’t be a next time!” Penelope screamed at her.

“That’s what you said last time Penny. See you soon darling,” Melissa waved childishly at Penelope and then sprinted away.

Penelope kicked at the pile of leaves on which they had just made love and cursed when she found a rock with her toe.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” she screamed into the silent trees.

*****

Steve Edwards took a little time to contemplate his position and then made up his mind as to how he would approach Felicity Benson. There was no doubt in his mind that the woman was dangerous but he sensed an opportunity.

Felicity saw Steve enter Ride em’ Cowgirl and approach the bar where Jill Graham was setting up for the evening performance. Felicity was on stage with Panti Down and three other drag queens rehearing a dance routine for their latest show. She was dressed in black leggings with a tight black mesh top over her bra. Everyone on stage was wearing high heels because it was pointless performing in ballet slippers when they would be performing in pumps. Felicity wasn’t wearing her theatrical makeup but she was wearing a face.

“Bourbon with a beer back and none of that well shit, make it JD,” Steve said pointing at the top shelf and parking his ass on a bar stool.

“We’re not open for business,” Jill Graham quipped and turned her back on him.

“This place has a twenty-four-hour liquor licence toots so pour me my drinks and don’t give me any lip. I’m not here on a social call,” Steve had decided to go in hard.

Jill reluctantly poured the JD into a shot glass and pulled a Lone Star out of the ice tub while Steve studied the décor.

With the overhead lights on Ride em’ Cowgirl didn’t look quite as glitzy and glamorous as it did under the mood lighting. Some of the furniture looked tired and the walls could use a coat of paint. Some artist had painted a mural on one of the walls depicting a gaggle of drag queens with panicked looks on their faces scampering ahead of a cowboy on a horse swinging a lariat over his head. The caption read ‘herd em up – move em out’. Steve got the joke and chuckled to himself just as Jill put his drinks down on the bar.

“You get it huh?” Jill leaned on the bar.

“Yeah, funny cartoon,” he took a sip of his whisky.

“Those are caricatures of real girls who have performed here over the years,” Jill explained.

“Girls?” Steve took a slug of Lone Star.

“Drag queens. We refer to them in the female vernacular when they are in drag,” Jill wiped up the ring of condensation left by the cold beer.

“What about her?” Steve pointed his bottle at the stage where Felicity was demonstrating a move she wanted the other queens to perfect.

“You know she’s a woman you fucking philistine! Felicity is she in and out of drag!” Jill threw the dish towel over her shoulder and strode away.

“Fucking testy bitch,” Steve grinned.

He sat at the bar nursing his drinks watching the queens rehearse; he wanted a clear head when he dealt with Felicity.

Felicity deliberately extended the rehearsal to make him wait then she called a wrap and exited the stage and went directly to her office. She went to her little bar and poured herself a drink with her back to the door anticipating Steve’s entrance. She didn’t like that this was his third visit to the club or that he had come alone.

“The new routine looks pretty good,” Steve leaned against the door jamb.

“Ah, a connoisseur of the arts,” Felicity took a sip of her drink but kept her back to Steve.

“I don't know anything about art but I know what I like,” Steve’s eyes were drawn to Felicity's tight buttocks sheathed in her dance tights.

“Last time I spoke to you, you knew nothing about drag, now you’re a cognoscente,” Felicity kept her back to him.

“So you’re not just a pretty face; you’re also articulate,” Steve followed her hips up to her slim waist and then to her shoulders.

If there was any imperfection in Felicity’s appearance it was that her shoulders were a little too wide for her body.

“I’m college educated,” Felicity countered, turning to face him.

Her breasts were still heaving slightly from the workout on the stage and her makeup had smeared a little because she had sweated, her blonde hair was wet with perspiration, her bangs matted to her forehead. Steve noted the brunette roots. The hair samples collected at the Duvall crime scene were blonde with brunette roots. The hair samples taken at the no-tell motel in Houston were red and synthetic; a wig.

“Four years at Balwyn College majoring in theatre and performance. You changed your major in your first year; graduated in the top three. That was also the year you transitioned,” Steve gave her knowing look.

Felicity remained stoic and showed no emotion. She studied the detective. He didn’t seem as dishevelled today. He was clear eyed and his suit and topcoat looked expensive and fashionable. He was tall and rangy with a stylish shaggy haircut and chiselled features; he looked like Kevin Bacon when he was in his forties.

“You seem to know a lot about me detective,” Felicity crossed her arms.

“If you could sew better you probably would have won your season of Drag Race. Bella Donna was a poor choice for the win but Ru was getting old and the producers had too much control by then,” Steve sniffed.

“Now I know that you’ve just been educated by Google. Bella was by far the best contestant,” Felicity countered.

“They say she was fucking one of the executive producers,” Steve chuckled.

“They say a lot of things. Are you going to come in or are you going to just stand there holding up my door jamb?” Felicity drained her drink and turned her back to pour another.

She poured Steve one too and when she turned around she found him seated and the door closed.

Felicity handed Steve his drink and took a seat in the easy chair across from him. She noted that he put his drink down without taking a sip.

“Aren't you going to ask me why I’m here?” Steve took his cigarettes out of his coat and offered them to Felicity.

She took one and studied his face while he lit it for her. She remembered the last time they had met when she had surreptitiously rubbed her finger on his when she handed him a drink and he had leaned in and almost touched her cheek with his lips before he left. There was undoubtedly chemistry between them but chemistry could be volatile.

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. Steve lit his cigarette and looked at her, waiting for her to talk but she remained silent.

“My boss is a transgender woman,” he leaned back into the seat.

“Now that’s an unexpected segue,” Felicity was surprised at the shift in conversation.

“You know… for… whatever the fuck,” Steve blushed.

“So what you think we all know each other? We meet up once a month to sew quilts and compare notes?” Felicity bristled.

“I’m just saying is all. Jeeze, I’m sorry, that was stupid,” Steve shook his head apologetically.

Penelope smiled at him. She was surprised by his embarrassment.

“As it turns out I have heard of her. She’s been in the press a few times. Helped catch the Sleeping Beauty Killer and all,” Felicity made him feel a little better but she didn’t know why.

This cop was dangerous and he knew a lot about her and she knew that detectives did not waste their time studying strangers unless they considered them suspects.

“So why are you here?” Felicity asked.

Steve took the flyer out of his coat pocket, unfolded it and put it on the coffee table.

Felicity knew what it was and a shiver ran down her spine but she deliberately did not stare at it.

“So what? I travel a lot. Working drag queens need to make a living and most of us travel to do so. Panti Down is my booking agent; she got me the gig. You can ask her,” Felicity bristled.

It was the first real emotion Felicity had shown and Steve knew he had her.

“I can ask anybody anything I want; I’m a detective,” Steve blew smoke at the ceiling.

“You got the club. Why travel?” he asked.

“Mitch Freeman oversees club business. Everything we make here goes into the business as profit to be shared by the stakeholders, to pay overheads and operating costs. The money I make freelancing is mine, except for what I pay William,” Felicity regained control of her emotions.

“William?” Steve pretended to be perplexed.

“William Russell is Panti Down’s legal name,” Felicity explained.

Steve waited a beat and took a small sip of his drink. He looked through the office window and saw there was no one within earshot.

“You fucked up when you left the motel in Houston,” he said soberly.

Felicity did her best to remain emotionless and kept silent. She just stared at Steve trying her best to look nonplussed.

“The rat-faced guy you ran into crossing the car park. He identified you from that poster,” Steve pointed the toe of his shoe at the flyer on the coffee table.

“Right now he’s helping a police sketch artist put together a likeness of you,” Steve met her gaze.

The wheels began to spin in Felicity’s head. If they had a picture of her from the flyer why was rat-face helping Houston PD make a composite?

“Ok. Enough bullshit,” Steve’s voice became gruff.

“Spencer Duvall was in your club right before he was murdered. Your bartender Jill Graham, a loyal friend and keeper of the faith, collaborated your story that he only spoke to you briefly. I bet if I lit a fire under her ass she will admit that you and Spencer had a longer intimate conversation. Maybe you left the club together?” Steve began.

“At Duvall’s place they found hair samples that look very much like yours. I bet if they took a sample of your hair it would match the hairs found at the crime scene as would the DNA they found from the non-secretor. I bet your fingerprints would also match some of those taken at the scene.”

“The symbols written in lipstick over the bed; they translate to Eta Lambda Pi, the fraternity that Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall pledged when they were in college at the same time you were. I haven’t figured the connection there yet but there is one.”

“You were in Houston contracted to perform at Hamburger Mary’s when Roach and Washington were murdered. I looked at the timeline and you had the opportunity and the means, although I’m yet to figure out where you got the gun.”

“You were smarter that time. I’m guessing Duvall was an opportunist murder whereas as Roach and Washington’s murders were planned. You left very little DNA and no prints and you wore the red wig but DNA will put you at the scene and rat-face will identify you.”

“You couldn’t help but leave your little calling card on the mirror. That was dumb because it links the crimes.”

“So there you are. I have opportunity and means, the only thing I don’t have is motive. If I obtained a warrant for your fingerprints, DNA and a hair sample I bet my ass they would match the samples taken at the scenes. I have enough circumstantial evidence now to arrest you and get that warrant,” Steve stubbed out his cigarette and leaned back into his seat.

“So why haven’t you?” Felicity extinguished her cigarette.

“Well there are a couple of reasons. I don’t have motive yet but I can guess it has something to do with that fraternity, specifically Benjamin Roach, Jamaal Washington and Spencer Duvall. I also speculate that William Turner and Carl Huntley could be involved. Those five jocks are thick as thieves and still were until recently,” Steve took another small sip of his drink.

Steve saw Felicity’s jaw tighten when he mentioned the five names.

“There is mounting evidence that those five assholes sexually assaulted women while they were in college and have continued to do so after they left. The victims have either been paid off or are too scared to come forward because they have something they can use against their victims. I’m guessing it will be pictures, videos or even correspondence that might suggest the women were complicit,” Steve searched Felicity’s face for any signs of emotion but she remained passive.

“Did you say they are still doing it? Blackmailing women for sex?” Felicity whispered.

“Well they were before three of them were murdered. Huntley and Turner have taken flight,” Steve offered Felicity another cigarette but she shook her head.

“But so far no one has linked you to the murders except me,” Steve lit up a cigarette.

“Is that right? But you said yourself you have enough circumstantial evidence to arrest me. So once again, why haven’t you?” Felicity asked.

“I told you I have no motive. Besides I owe those assholes at Police Plaza and Houston PD nothing,” he said bitterly.

“Also… you intrigue me. You're beautiful, intelligent, talented and sophisticated,” Steve gave her a boyish grin.

“But I’m also a murderer… at least according to you I am,” Felicity smiled back at him.

“I never picked you for a tranny chaser,” Felicity picked up her drink and finished it in one gulp.

She saw the storm clouds gather behind Steve Edwards’ eyes. She’d gone too far.

He stood up abruptly and straightened his tie and jacket and made to leave.

“Wait!” Felicity put out her hand and gripped his arm.

He turned to look at her and then looked down at where she was holding onto him. She took her hand away.

“You want to know what those men are capable of?” Felicity strode over to her desk and wrote something on a message pad and tore it off.

“Be there at one AM, that’s the earliest I can get away after the show,” Steve looked down at the scrap of paper and saw that she had written an address.

“You want me to come to the home of a woman I suspect of being a murderer by myself at one o’clock in the morning?” Steve looked into her icy-blue eyes.

“You’ve seen the crime shows. You put all your evidence against me into an envelope marked ‘to be opened in event of my death’,” she gave him a wry smile.

“You’re very self-assured aren’t you?” he couldn’t help but smile.

She lifted herself on her toes and leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. He could smell her perfume and the musk of her perspiration; it was an intoxicating combination.

“You have to be self-assured in my business,” she turned away from him and Steve once again admired her ass.

*****

Felicity’s apartment was located in the city, not far from her club. Steve checked that his weapon had one in the chamber and pressed the call button.

“Come on up,” Felicity’s sultry voice came through the intercom.

He glanced up and saw the camera pointed at him. Swank places like these had security cameras that transmitted video to remote operating stations where private security guards were on call to respond as required. The video would be recorded so if Felicity where to do anything untoward to him, there was evidence of his presence at her apartment.

That said he didn’t feel particularly threatened. Whoever had murdered those frat boys had motive; he doubted they would kill a policeman… but you never knew what someone would do to if they were desperate.

Felicity greeted Steve at the door. She had changed out of drag and was wearing a sky-blue chiffon nightgown, black fully-fashioned stockings held up by a white satin suspender belt, matching white satin panties and bra and slip-on high heel pumps. Her makeup was perfect and a miasma of perfume preceded her.

Steve was amused that she had dressed so seductively but he was also appreciative. She invited him inside and he was impressed by the opulence of the apartment. Felicity fussed around him and got him seated on a white leather couch and brought him a drink which he put down untouched.

He carefully scanned the room for exits and for anything Felicity could use as a weapon and she watched him amusedly and then sat on the same couch but scooched into the other corner.

“Afraid I’m going to poison you?” she nodded at the untouched glass of bourbon the rocks.

Steve blushed and Felicity leaned forward and picked up the drink and took a sip. He noticed her lipstick on the glass.

“There,” she said smiling at him.

She handed him his drink and picked up her own drink and took a sip.

“So what happens now? Is this where you confess and beg for mercy,” Steve put his drink down still untouched.

“I’d jump off that balcony before I begged for mercy for what happened to those raping assholes,” the bitterness in her voice was palpable.

“That’s not a confession by the way,” she smiled at him over the rim of her glass, the bitterness gone.

She looked beautiful but also vulnerable. There was something about her; like she’d been wounded and needed to be cared for but also like a wounded wild animal she might bite. Steve couldn’t understand his attraction to her.

There was no doubting that she was beautiful and sexy but he knew that she was a trans woman and previously that would have repelled him. Not repulsed him, he wasn't transphobic, but he wasn’t particularly attracted to trans women either. That was why he’d bristled when felicity had called him a tranny chaser… or was it?

But she beguiled him. Her beauty aside she exuded confidence, vitality and intelligence but under it was a hint of vulnerability. She was the type of woman he could easily fall for but there was also a sense that she was unattainable, that she was too good for him.

And then there was the consideration that she was almost certainly a murderer.

Felicity shifted slightly and her robe fell open. He could see all the way to the top of her thigh, the dark welt of her stocking shockingly contrasting with her alabaster skin. The V of her panty was just visible. He’d read about how queens were able to tuck to present a feminine pubis and he wondered what lay along her perineum.

“Ok. You didn’t invite me here for drinks and small talk; what is you couldn’t tell me at the club?” Steve cleared his head and got straight to the point.

“You are correct that I was at Balwyn College at same time as Spencer Duvall, Jamaal Washington and Ben Roach. I was performing as Felicity Goodnite in the college amateur theatrics, my act wasn't polished but I was pretty good on stage and a very good female impersonator,” Felicity put down her drink and began her story.

“I caught their eye I suppose is how you’d put it. I was naïve and stupid. I really thought they wanted me to perform at one of their frat parties,” Felicity took a sip of her drink to fortify herself.

“I went to the frat house dressed as Felicity, I hadn't started to transition then, I didn’t know if I would. I was unsure of my gender identity and sexuality. What they did to me in that room sealed my fate.”

She told him.

She didn’t hold back. Felicity gave Steve every gruesome detail. The pain, the sorrow, the lust, the self-loathing, the self-hating and her vow that she would seek revenge if she ever got the chance.

Steve never said a word. He sat silently and listened.

“When they had finished with me Ben Roach led me to the door,” Felicity had sobbed during her tale but she was all cried out, her voice hoarse.

“I asked him why?” she whispered.

“‘Because we can’, was the answer he gave me,” she folded her hands in her lap and lowered her head.

Steve couldn’t talk. He’d had to hold back tears when she told him about the boys holding her down while each of them defiled her. It made no difference to him that she had taken pleasure from some of the things they did to her; in fact that only made it worse.

He finished his drink and cleared his throat.

“That sounds a lot like motive to me,” he said dryly.

“You know I wasn’t the only one who hated them. There were so many more and they were still doing it. Still getting away with it!” Anger replaced the sorrow in her voice.

“What now?” Felicity stood, allowing her robe to fall open exposing her body clad in the sexy lingerie.

“That’s not going to work,” Steve said wryly.

“It was worth a try,” Felicity smiled coyly at him.

“You are quite the enigma Steven Edwards. You have a reputation for playing loosely with the rules but you have certain lines you won’t cross,” Felicity closed her robe.

Steve frowned at her.

“Oh come on; you’re not the only one who does his research. You don’t mind shaking down businesses for free meals and drinks but you won’t take cash bribes or freebies from hookers,” Felicity stared at him.

“You don’t mind using your fists on a suspect or a witness if you think the situation warrants it but you abhor violence against women. You were demoted from Sergeant to Senior Police Officer in Houston when you beat a man so bad that he spent a month in hospital recovering. The fact that the man had beaten his wife, raped her and then threw her in the street was the only mitigation that kept you on the force,” Felicity approached him.

She leaned in close and whispered in his ear seductively.

“I think you might be a softy,” she wrapped her body around him and nuzzled his earlobe.

Her body felt delightful and she smelled alluring and sexy. Steve had never wanted a woman more in his life. He was erect in his pants and Felicity found him hard and began to caress him though the fabric while she licked and nibbled his earlobe.

Steve removed her arms from around him and pushed her gently away from him and held her at arm’s length.

“Don’t do that,” he said gruffly.

“What?” Felicity looked wounded.

“Don’t prostitute yourself,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Are you accusing me of being a whore?” anger flashed across Felicity’s face.

“Far from it. I think you are beautiful, talented and delightful and under other circumstances I would be delighted to make your acquaintance but using your feminine guiles on me demeans us both,” the regret in Steve voice was evident.

He released her upper arms and took a step back.

“Another place… another time… who knows? Although I doubt I’d be good enough for you,” Steve sighed.

He buttoned his coat and strode to the door.

Felicity ran after him and placed herself between Steve and the door.

“Look at us. Were both concerned that we aren’t good enough for each other. We both carry baggage that precludes us from attaining the happiness we so desire,” tears ran down Felicity’s cheeks.

“I know that I’ve only just met you and that we come from different worlds but we both know that there is something between us. If we don’t give it a chance we may miss our one chance for true happiness,” Felicity searched Steve’s eyes.

“This isn’t right Felicity. This is the sort of fairytale that you read about in cheap romance novels,” Steve countered.

“Then don’t let it be. Don’t let it be cheap. Don’t let it be a fairytale,” Felicity pressed her body against Steve’s.

This time he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her.

She tasted exactly as he thought she would: sweet but exotic, soft but resilient. He marvelled at how her body seemed to meld to him like it was meant to be. They both gasped; both surprised at the emotions that erupted from within. Yes there was lust, yes there was passion, but there was also empathy, compassion and affection.

“I don’t know how,” Steve whispered when they finally broke their kiss.

“Then let me show you,” Felicity whispered.

She took his hand and led him to her bedroom.

Felicity took her time undressing Steve, making him wait, making him yearn for her. When she had him naked she dropped her robe and stood before him.

He reached for her and pulled her into his arms and he kissed her. Not hard. Not passionately. But softly, like she might be a china doll he was scared he would break. His hands went to her breasts and Felicity sighed when he cupped them, feeling their heft. His kiss became a little more intense when he unsnapped her bra and stroked her creamy globes. He worked her nipples, making them become engorged.

Steve put his mouth on her breasts and teased her teats with his tongue and his lips. She gasped when he nipped them gently but he wanted to kiss her. He loved kissing her and he put his mouth on hers and this time there was passion. He used his tongue on her and Felicity melted in his arms.

He draped her on the bed and used his mouth to explore her body, starting with her lips, working down to her breasts, across her flat belly and then he tickled the crease where her thighs joined her torso. She tasted just like she smelled; womanly and exotic. Felicity reached out and found him erect and dribbling precum. She sensed that he was not far from extremis and she was careful not to trigger his orgasm; she wanted him inside her when they came together for the first time.

She could sense Steve’s hesitation as he licked the tender flesh near her groin. He knew what was inside her panties but he didn’t know what to do about it.

“It works just like yours silly,” Felicity teased him.

Steve slipped his fingers inside Felicity’s panties. He was full of trepidation, excitement and wonder. He found her shaft pressed to her perineum, the skin silky and soft. He wasn't repulsed like he thought he might be; on the contrary he was inquisitive and excited.

When it sprang free and nearly hit him in the face he jerked away in surprise and Felicity giggled.

“You don’t have to touch it if you don’t want to. I understand,” she whispered.

If it was any other person in the world undoubtedly Steve would be repelled but it was Felicity, the woman he was coming to adore.

“Oh my god!” Felicity moaned when Steve took her in his mouth.

He didn’t know exactly what to do but he’d been fellated himself often enough to get the idea and given the moaning and squealing that was coming from Felicity’s mouth he appeared to be doing ok. Felicity put her hands on Steve’s face and made him slow down, he was bringing her close. She forced his face out of her groin and encouraged him to mount her and kiss her.

She wanted to feel his body on top his hers. She wanted to feel his hard muscled torso on her yielding breasts and his erect penis pressing against her own. He stroked her thighs, his fingertips caressing her stockings and she wrapped her legs around him and ground her pubis against his.

Felicity wriggled under him until his cock nestled between her buttocks and she looked up into his face, her eyes filled with devotion and promise. Steve kissed her and thrust forward, his glans finding her puckered sphincter.

“Now daring,” she whispered in his ear and Steve slowly entered her.

Steve’s glans opened her slippery bud and slipped inside her tight silken sheath.

“Give me more,” she whispered and squeezed him with her arms and legs.

“I want more,” she whispered and kissed him.

“I want you in me all the way,” she sighed and rose her torso up off the bed to encourage him.

Steve slid his cock all the way inside her anus and began to shudder as he was wracked by an uncontrollable orgasm the likes of which he had never felt before. When Felicity quivered and convulsed in his arms and he felt her hot seed splash on his belly he orgasmed a second time, feeling felicity’s cock pulsing and fluttering as she came with him.

She clung to him like a limpet, sobbing; holding him so tight that he thought she would crush him.

“Kiss me… please kiss me,” she begged and Steve kissed her with every ounce of passion in his body.

They lay like that for what seemed like an eternity and then Steve found his second wind. Felicity felt him become fully tumescent inside her again and she lay back and opened her legs wide and stared up into his face as he began to fuck her. They stared into each other’s eyes as Steve made love to her, kissing and clinging to each other as another orgasm washed over them both.

Later they lay on the bed exhausted, holding hands, staring at ceiling.

“You know they are going to catch you eventually Felicity. They have forensics on you and if a schmuck like me can work it out you can bet Penelope Bishop will too, given time. She’s relentless, like a dog with a bone, and she’s the most intelligent cop I know,” Steve sighed.

“Then we had better make the most of the time we have together. I have never felt like I do now. I’ve never met a man who makes me feel like you do Steve,” she kissed him and Steve pulled her close.

*****

Steve Randal had been reassigned back to homicide but Steve Edwards remained on the taskforce led by Penelope Bishop with her partner Silvia Bickle and CSI Tech Alice Leasingham. Bob Tanner had recalled Alice back into his CSI unit but he allowed Alice to work part time for Penelope.

Steve was still relegated to mostly grunt work, chasing down potential witnesses, crosschecking their statements and writing reports. Alice spent most of her time comparing the photos of the no-tell motel room against the videos she had found on Spencer Duvall’s laptop. It matched most of videos that were not taken at Spencer’s townhouse. They still had no DNA match for the non-secretor or the fingerprints taken from the Duvall crime scene and the evidence was sent to Houston for comparison with the forensic evidence from the Roach and Washington crime scene.

Penelope was scared that she was losing control of the case. Houston PD was putting pressure on Gary Rasmussen to declare that the two murders in Houston and the one in Balwyn had been committed by the same perpetrator or perpetrators and to hand their case over to Houston who would take the lead delegating Penelope’s team to a supporting role.

Penelope tightened the reins on her small team and worked them harder. She even consented to giving Steve Edwards access to all of the evidence so that he could add his cognitive skills to the mix. Penelope was convinced they weren't far away from making a breakthrough but she just didn’t know where the breakthrough would come from.

Steve was the duty task force officer when he got a call from the Desk Sergeant at Police Plaza in the early hours of the morning quickly followed by a call from Alice Leasingham. He wrote down the details and then called Penelope Bishop.

“Boss, sorry to call you so early but I got a call regarding a suspicious death at an apartment near the Balwyn Campus. They think it’s linked to our case,” Steve sat on the edge of his bed trying to digest the information he had been given.

“Ok, I’m up. Call Silvia and tell her to meet us at the scene, text me the address,” Penelope yawned into the phone.

“Penelope, I don’t think you want Silvia in on this. You're going to have to call her later but she can’t attend the crime scene,” Steve sighed.

“What the fuck are you talking about Steve? Silvia is my partner. I’d rather have her there than you,” Penelope said angrily.

“The deceased is Melissa Doyle,” Steve whispered hoarsely.

The phone went silent for a full minute.

“Boss? Boss? You there?” the concern in Steve’s voice evident.

“Yes, I’m here. Say nothing to Silvia and I’ll meet you at the scene. Has the Medical Examiner and CSI been informed?” Penelope’s voice sounded shaky.

“They're already there. I’ll see you there Lieutenant,” Steve hung up the phone, stood up and stretched.

Penelope could discern how serious Steve was taking matters; he hardly ever called her Lieutenant. Bradley hadn't moved and was still fast asleep. As two cops living together they were immune to late night calls for the other partner.

She dressed and jumped into her BMW and punched the address that Steve had texted her into the GPS. She was at the scene within twenty minutes and found Steve waiting for her smoking a cigarette, he was holding two takeout coffees and he held one out to her as she approached the police tape.

The two detectives signed into the crime scene and put on the Tyvek booties and pulled out their gloves as they approached the small apartment that belonged to Melissa Doyle.

“The apartment is owned by the university and leased to Melissa Doyle long term because she has tenure. The rent is almost insignificant because it’s part of the remuneration package they offer to tenured professors. Sweet deal,” Steve explained.

“Not anymore,” Penelope said sourly.

The apartment was pretty much what you would expect. The lounge room was small and cluttered with books and papers. A desk with a workstation dominated one corner. The small kitchen was pristine because Melissa had been spending most of her nights at Silvia Bickle’s flat. An almost empty bottle of vodka and a single glass sat on the low table in front of the sofa.

Bob Tanner came out of the bedroom.

“Come on in,” he beckoned them to the door.

Melissa Doyle lay naked on the bed on her side; her raven hair fanned across her shoulder, her skin was alabaster white. Her eyes were open and she was wearing her signature red lipstick; she could have been asleep.

“Hi Penelope,” Brendan Scott was examining the body.

“Hi Brendan. I know it’s early but any idea of the cause of death?” Penelope asked circling around the bed.

She could see for herself that everything looked normal. There were no signs of a struggle; no signs of disarray, there appeared to be no blood. There was however an empty bottle of barbiturates on the nightstand.

“I’m pretty sure that the autopsy will reveal an overdose of barbiturates and high level of alcohol indicating a likely suicide or very less likely death by misadventure. There are no contusions or marks on the body, no signs of sexual activity precluding rape,” Brendan explained.

“Then why call the ME? A rookie straight out of the Academy would asses this as a suicide?” Penelope asked.

“Because of this,” Alice Leasingham stuck her head out of the ensuite bathroom.

Both Brendan Scott and Bob Tanner gave her a knowing look but said nothing.

Penelope and Steve walked carefully around the bed to the tiny ensuite bathroom. Written on the mirror in red lipstick were the symbols Ā Ĥ П. A tube of lipstick the same colour as the writing on the mirror lay open on the vanity.

Penelope thought that she was going to faint; she held onto the vanity to support herself.

“Are you ok boss?” Steve asked and Alice rubbed Penelope’s back and looked concerned.

After a few deep breaths Penelope regained her composure and straightened herself up.

“You knew didn’t you Steve?” she turned to face Steve Edwards.

“Alice told me what she found over the phone but I thought it best for you to see it for yourself unprejudiced so you could make your own assumptions,” Steve said gravely and Penelope suddenly had a new found respect for him.

“Anything else? I know it’s early,” she said to Alice.

“We found a red wig and a partially used box of .380 ammunition. We’ll compare the hair fibres with those taken at Houston murder site and ballistics will compare the ammunition with casings and fragments from the motel,” Alice said.

“CSI will go over this place with a fine tooth comb. I’ll tap into her devices and see what Melissa was up to online and who she was communicating with,” Alice said softly.

It was like all the air had sucked out of the room. Penelope’s head was spinning again and she had to sit down.

Penelope knew that Alice was going to find the texts and emails that Melissa had sent her along with the calls made to her phone. She would have to come clean and let Alice know before she began her forensic investigation of Melissa’s phone. Not that Penelope was too concerned, there was nothing that incriminated her but it meant she would have to tell Silvia about her relationship with Melissa and also tell Gary Rasmussen. The texts and emails would just add to the evidence that Melissa wasn’t in a sound frame of mind but they would also reflect poorly on Penelope.

Penelope had betrayed her best friend and that was heart-breaking. Why had she met with Melissa that second time in the park? It was stupid!

Steve handed her a bottle of water from his coat, wiping the top before giving it to her.

“Thanks,” she sighed, taking a long sip.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Penelope asked; her voice low and throaty.

“That’s for you to decide boss. It’s your case; your hypothesis,” Steve said deferentially.

“Tell me,” Penelope said brusquely.

“Ok. This is just me spitballing, we gotta wait for forensics and ballistics but… Melissa had motive, means and opportunity,” Steve began to count out the three elements required to tender a prima facie murder case.

“She had motive. She had been raped by the five frat boys in the same shitty motel room where Benjamin Roach and Jamaal Washington were murdered. She also told you herself that as far as she was concerned that she hoped that whoever had killed Spencer Duvall would get away with it.”

“She had means. The ammunition is going to match that found at the motel and I bet that wig matches the fibres. Will we ever find the gun? This is Texas; you can kick over a rock and find an unregistered firearm so we may never know where she got the pistol.”

“As for opportunity: she lives right here in Balwyn so we will need to trace her movements on the night Spencer Duvall was murdered but more importantly we know that she was in Houston attending a seminar at the U when Washington and Roach were killed,” Steve laid out his hypothesis.

“So why did she kill herself… if she did?” Penelope asked.

“I can’t answer that Penelope. Unless they find a note it’s almost impossible to get to the real reason why someone kills themselves. The other two frat boys are overseas so she may have thought the opportunity to seek revenge would run out before she got caught. She’s sleeping with Silvia so she may have known that the noose was tightening or she may have just felt remorse,” Steve offered.

“If Silvia was talking to her about the case, Melissa would have known that we were no closer to finding the killer than when we started the investigation and that we were still stymied by the DNA and fingerprint evidence,” Penelope countered.

“Yeah but civilians watch those TV crime shows where models in Armani suits solve crimes by taking a fingernail clipping and putting it through a zillion dollar machine that tells them that the murderer is a left-handed albino dwarf who lives with his mother,” Steve replied and Penelope couldn’t help but smile.

The reality was that DNA broke down or became cross contaminated and fingerprints were subject to interpretation. Sometimes the most careful killer will leave trace evidence, like the Sleeping Beauty Killer who had worn a full body suit, and sometimes the sloppiest of killers gets lucky and leaves no trace evidence.

Penelope took a deep breath.

“Ok let’s not jump to conclusions. I want this scene processed by the book and the evidence carefully analysed. Everything goes through me,” Penelope barked and stood up.

“Now I have to go and tell Silvia,” the pain in Penelope’s voice was evident.

“You want me to come with?” Steve asked.

Again Penelope realised that she might have gotten off on the wrong foot with Steve Edwards; maybe he was a good cop and a nice guy after all. Twice now he had called her Penelope instead of Lieutenant or boss but she didn’t mind the familiarity.

“This is one call I have to make alone Steve,” Penelope gave him a grim smile.

“Then may I propose I hightail it down to Houston and chase down our rat-faced friend and show him a picture of Melissa Doyle and see if she’s the woman he saw the night of the motel killings,” Steve offered.

“What about Houston PD, it’s their jurisdiction?” Penelope asked.

“Fuck Houston PD,” Steve growled and Penelope smiled.

“Atta boy. Go for it Steve,” Penelope picked up her purse and coat and prepared to have the most dreaded conversation of her life with her best friend and colleague.

*****

“Fuck me Penelope you can’t take a victory can you? You wrapped up the case and put a bow on it,” Gary Rasmussen sat behind his desk with his feet up.

“There are still too many loose ends as far as I am concerned,” Penelope paced the floor of his office.

“Why did Melissa wait so long before she sought revenge?”

“We never found the gun and that ammunition can be purchased anywhere.”

“We never identified the non-secretor from the Duvall crime scene and we only have a partial print from the motel which is inconclusive,” Penelope counted out her doubts with her fingers.

“Who knows why she waited so long; the woman was clearly crazy,” Gary countered.

“We hardly ever find the gun when the murderer has planned the crime; this isn’t Law and Order,” Gary growled.

“Duvall’s apartment and the motel room had more DNA than a Las Vegas brothel; I shiver when I think of the amount of secretions spattered around those crime scenes. There was contamination and cross-contamination; nothing was conclusive,” Gary imitated shivering.

“Besides which Missy; given the evidence found on Doyle’s phone and laptop, if I were you, I’d be more than satisfied with the outcome. Those texts and emails are incriminating on their own. Any half-assed prosecutor could make a prima facie case against you for Melissa Doyle’s murder,” Gary said sharply.

“Anyway, we have the eye witness down in Houston who put Doyle at the murder scene,” Gary said with some finality.

“Rat-face! That guy would sell his mother for a hit!” Penelope hissed.

“Steve Edwards took that witness's sworn statement. Houston PD has closed the case and informed the relatives and the media that Melissa Doyle killed those men as an act of revenge and then killed herself and in thirty minutes the Chief is going on TV and saying the same thing,” Gary pushed himself out his chair and reached for his coat.

“We have motive, means and opportunity and as far as I’m concerned those lipstick hieroglyphics on her mirror are a confession.”

“Take the fucking win and go on vacation Bishop. Get that FBI poster boy to propose to you or I’m going to divorce Mary and propose to you myself,” Gary patted Penelope on the back.

“Silvia hates me,” Penelope shuffled her feet.

“Silvia has a U-Haul parked permanently in her driveway. She’ll find comfort elsewhere and soon,” Gary reached for the door handle.

“Get out of here Bishop. I’m logging you out on two weeks’ vacation,” Gary opened the door and ushered her out of his office.

*****

“You didn’t kill her did you?” Felicity Benson lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Steve Edwards lay in bed beside her, lazily stroking her flat stomach.

“Fuck no honey! What do you take me for?” he objected.

“I went around to her place to question her. In Houston I found all those texts that Melissa had sent to Bishop and I figured there might be an angle there. She was lying dead on the bed; she’d left her front door open,” Steve explained.

“She left a note for Bishop proclaiming her unrequited love. It took me thirty seconds to seize the opportunity. I wrote the Eta Lambda Pi bullshit on her mirror with her lipstick and purchased the ammunition at a store across town and took the red wig out of your drag closet,” Steve’s hand drifted up Felicity’s torso and he cupped her breast.

“Rat-face took the five hundred and confirmed it was Melissa Doyle he saw in the parking lot wearing that red wig. He’s since gone on a long vacation,” Steve said with a finality that Felicity had intent to question.

“Melissa left a note? What did you do with it?” Felicity turned to face him.

“I burned it honey. It could never be found. I needed the scene to be convincing,” Steve stroked Felicity’s cheek and then he kissed her.

Felicity returned the kiss and rolled onto her side so she could caress him.

“Who the fuck would ever have thought that I’d end up in love with a policeman,” she smiled at him.

“Who the fuck would ever have thought that I’d fall in love with a drag queen,” Steve smiled back at her; the devotion in his eyes evident.

“You don’t regret leaving the force?” Felicity asked him for what must have been the hundredth time that week.

“The only thing I regret is not finding you sooner,” he kissed the tip of her nose playfully.

“Is Mitch Freeman still pissed that I took his job?” Steve asked.

“He’ll get over it. It’s my business and I’ll decide who runs it for me,” Felicity sighed.

There was silence for a while and then Felicity spoke.

“You’ve never asked me if I killed them,” she stroked Steve’s face and looked deeply into his eyes.

“And I’m never going to. They got what they deserved; that’s all that matters,” Steve returned her gaze.

“There are still two of them out there unpunished,” Felicity’s features sharpened.

“They will get what’s coming to them one day,” Steve snuggled up to Felicity, his erect penis poking her in the belly.

“Did I tell you that I love you,” he sighed.

“Only about a hundred times today,” Felicity giggled as he reached for her and began to stroke her.

“And?” he put on a sulky face.

“And I love you too,” Felicity pulled Steve on top of her and kissed him passionately.

The End

As always, your comments and criticisms are welcome. Please tell me what you think of my story,

Michele Nylons
May 2021