Contact High, page 13
“Right there, Liam?” she coos. “Is that what my big, tough, mean police officer likes?”
“Fuck!” I moan, fisting her hair and concentrating only on not falling on my face or on her in the shower.
I’m done.
Lost.
Fucked.
Ruined.
Shattered.
Destroyed.
I’m fucking in love. If I can’t have this woman in her entirety, I’m going to marry her middle finger.
I pitch forward and hold myself up on the other side of the shower stall as I curl into my orgasm. When my balls tighten around her tongue, she moves her mouth to the end of my cock and swallows every drop I give her.
***
“Lorelei, you’re out of coffee!” I yell. It’s not like she can hear me. She’s showering alone now. Apparently, I’m too much of a distraction in there. I was kicked out, shirtless, to go make coffee before court starts in less than two hours.
I rummage around her cupboard and find green teabags, and I quickly fill up two mugs with water, stick the teabags in, and pop both mugs into the microwave as I busy myself with toast. At least she has bread and butter.
When the microwave and toaster go off at the same time, I butter the toast, humming to myself about the fantastic sex I’ve had in the last eight hours. I figured she’d be as much of a pistol in bed as she is outside of it, but last night and this morning with her was next level. I can’t remember the last time I had so much fun in bed.
And the fucking feelings. I felt things I can’t even admit to myself this morning.
I take the tea out of the microwave and steep the tea bags while I look for sugar. I know I saw a sugar bowl when I was here the night I took her to the station. Looking through the cabinets, I finally find it.
Empty.
How is a baker out of sugar? I can’t have a cup of tea without sugar in it. I could, but it wouldn’t be pleasant, and I don’t have time to fuck around without a hot beverage this morning. I’ve never been able to drink straight tea.
I blow out a sigh and look around. She has to have some Splenda or Sweet ‘n Low that’ll do in a pinch.
I open the cabinet to the right of the sink and look around for small packets or even a large bag of bulk sugar. Every spice known to man is in here, and her cinnamon tumbles to the counter. She’s a baker, so it makes sense to have every spice in existence, but it takes me a full minute to find the small bear container of honey in the back of the cabinet right behind where her large container of cinnamon was a moment ago.
I squeeze a small amount of honey into a spoon and give it a taste to make sure it’s good. I don’t think honey expires, but I’m not sure how long it’s been at the back of the cabinet. I lick it, swirling the taste around on my tongue. It seems fine. There’s a slight undertaste I can’t place, but I squeeze more honey into a spoon, grab the mugs from the counter, and circle the spoon around my steaming cup of tea, leaving hers alone because I don’t know if she drinks it straight.
The shower turns off, and I sip the hot liquid and nibble on toast, waiting for her to come into the kitchen so I can make her something else to drink if she doesn’t want tea. I take my mug to the refrigerator and sip it while I peruse the contents of her fridge.
“Making yourself at home?” she asks, coming into the kitchen and giving me a wry smile. She looks down, and her shoulders slouch.
“Just looking through your fridge. My mother always said you can tell a lot about someone by their bathroom cabinets and their refrigerator contents.”
She purses her lips and looks around the kitchen, not meeting my eyes. “Why are you being so shy?” I ask. “You weren’t shy a few minutes ago with your finger up my butthole.” I smile at her and wink over the mug as I raise it to my mouth and take a huge gulp. I have to go home and change, so I need to drink this fast.
She smiles again and takes the towel off her head. Shaking out her long hair, water drips onto the floor. “What should I wear to this court shitshow today? What would make me show my fining officer that I’m really an upstanding citizen?”
I walk to her and kiss her forehead. “If you want an arresting officer to think you’re an upstanding citizen, you probably shouldn’t finger the hell out of his prostate before court, sweetheart. Just a tip.”
“It was just the tip,” she mumbles, and I reach around and playfully slap her butt. She giggles and pulls away. “Are we going to talk to each other after this morning?”
“Do you mean after the unholy trinity or after court?” I ask.
“Court.”
I take another big gulp of tea and look down at the mostly empty mug, swirling it and wishing I could drown myself in what’s left of it instead of going to court. “I hope so. I hope you’ll still talk to me when I call you tonight and ask you to dinner.”
She playfully smacks my shoulder and smiles again until she sees the container of honey on the counter. She goes quiet, tilts her head to the side, and I can practically see the gears moving in her head as she blinks twice. I follow her eyes and shrug. “You’re out of sugar. I hope it’s fine that I looked through your cabinets and used the honey.”
Her face is unreadable, and her expression moves from numb to hysterical in the course of a few seconds. She grabs my mug, notices the dregs at the bottom, and covers her mouth with one hand. Her expression is one of horror, even as her lips turn up at the corners. She backs away from me, wide-eyed and shaking her head.
“What? What’s wrong. Is this rat poison or something?”
“Depends on what Officer Lane considers poison.” She nods at the honey jar. “You ate infused honey, Liam. You’re going to be as high as a kite in about an hour.”
Chapter 20
Liam
“Would you say I’m blinking more than usual?” I ask, looking into my phone on the selfie setting. “I think I’m blinking a lot. Can you tell? How many times a minute would you say I normally blink?”
Chase looks up from the Lambert file and frowns. The file is getting bigger, and we just about have enough to get a warrant. We know exactly who is coming and going and buying Lambert’s product, so we’re stacked with information for other suspects.
“Are you OK?” Chase asks.
I shrug. “Fine. Totally fine. Life is good, you know?”
“Did you get laid or something?”
I sputter a laugh. This stuff makes me want to laugh. At least, I want to laugh every few minutes. I feel like I’m riding a roller coaster of emotion. One minute, I’m calm and thoughtful. The next minute, I laugh and can’t seem to stop. My Uber driver here was fucking hilarious. “Yep, sure did. I got laid out good, man. I even got my prostate tickled in the shower today. It’s a beautiful morning!” I clap my hands, and Chase startles as my raucous laughter fills the bullpen. “I’m awesome! Hell, Lorelei is awesome. Everything is awesome.” I point at him and try to look serious. “Are you awesome?”
He looks behind him and back at me. “Are you drunk?”
I wave my hands in front of us and knock over my pen cup. Pens skitter across the desk, and Chase catches one before it hits the floor. “No, I’m not drunk. I’m high as fuck. I accidentally ate her honey pot this morning, and I don’t mean the one attached to her. She infuses her honey. How fucked up is that?”
“I think you should go home sick, man. You’re in no shape for court today.”
“Shh,” I say, shushing Chase. “I’m just fine, but I have something important to ask you.”
Chase leans closer like he expects me to ask him something about the Lambert file or work. He chomps the gum in his mouth, and I stare at his lips while they move. “Which do you think is scarier, Candyman or Bloody Mary?”
He sits back in his seat and sighs. “Candyman is way more terrifying.”
“That’s why I like you. You’re honest. But what if you’re listening to Lady Gaga’s ‘Bloody Mary’ while you’re looking in a mirror? Do you think she comes out?”
“Who? Lady Gaga?”
“Bloody Mary, you moron.”
“Nah, man. You have to say it several times before she comes out of the mirror. Everyone knows that. I don’t think Lady Gaga says it enough in that song.”
“What if you listen to it twice in a row?” I ask.
Chase leans forward in his seat again, and I laugh at the squeaky sound of his department-issued chair. It’s funny. He smiles and makes a come here motion with his finger. I lean forward and turn my ear toward him to hear better. “Dude, you sound fucking ridiculous. You are so fucked up, you’re incapable of having an adult conversation.” He jerks his finger over his shoulder in the direction of the courthouse next door. “If you go into that courtroom in fifteen minutes, you’ll get us both fired.”
“Why would you get fired?”
“You’re going to fuck this up so royally, they’ll fire anyone that knows you. Not only that, but you’ll blow it with your girlfriend so bad you’ll never get your prostate tickled again. Go home.”
I swig my coffee from the station vending machine in the hopes it’ll sober me up enough to function in court in fifteen minutes, but my hopes for that shatter when Chase grabs me by the shoulder a bit later and hauls me out of the chair. “Come on, or you’ll be late, loverboy.”
“Court doesn’t start for fifteen minutes,” I complain.
Chase taps my watch and smiles. “You’ve been staring at your coffee and swirling it in circles for literally fifteen minutes.”
“Holy shit. Where did the time go? The colors in my cup were so pretty. The white of the cream blended into the black. It was mesmerizing.”
“Walk.” He grabs my arm and escorts me out of the building, walking me toward the courthouse as people passing by stare at us. It’s not an everyday occurrence to see Chase marching his partner to the courthouse by the shoulder.
He escorts me to a small conference room and even walks me to the table where a court stenographer, the judge, and a representative from the district attorney’s office sit. Lorelei and her attorney are already across the table, and I take a moment to admire Lorelei in a pink satin blouse with a little bow tied at the neck. I hold my hand out like I’m going to untie the bow, and Chase slaps my hand down.
Judge McNulty, an older woman with steel-gray hair known for her intolerance of bullshit, frowns. “Officer Lane, are you OK?”
“He’s fine,” Chase answers for me, slapping me on the back.
“Are you involved in this case, Officer Barnett?” Judge McNulty asks.
“Absolutely not. This is a complete waste of time and officer resources. Just delivering Officer Lane. He’s a little out of sorts today, but he’s physically fine. Have a nice day. Hi, Lorelei.” He waves and smiles at Lorelei like they’re old friends, and Lorelei ducks her head, looking away from him as her lawyer furrows her brow in confusion.
Lorelei ignores me, and I don’t like that. I bob and weave my head in her line of sight, trying to catch her eye like an annoying teen boy, but I become aware that I probably look ridiculous bobbing and weaving. I put my head in my hands and focus on the wood grain of the table.
“Wood,” I sputter, laughing at my thoughts about table wood from trees and the wood I was sporting this morning.
“What’s that, Officer Lane?” Lorelei’s lawyer asks, clearly smelling the stupidity wafting off me.
“Why do we call it wood?”
“Why is what called wood?” the judge asks.
It’s clear this is going downhill fast, and I look at the wall behind Lorelei, focusing on not blinking. My hands flail a little because I don’t know what to do with them. Somehow, it seems perverse to put them in my lap. The idea of touching myself at a court meeting suddenly strikes me as funny, and I laugh. I laugh so hard that my stomach curls, and I push my forehead to the table where I mutter incoherent words over and over.
Every eye is on me now, and nobody finds me as funny as I find myself. Only Lorelei looks at me with something akin to pity. She must feel guilty, and I hate that.
The rep from the district attorney’s office leans over and taps me on the shoulder. “Are you drunk, Officer Lane?”
I straighten up, acting the picture of sober. “No, sir.” I need to give an explanation for my behavior, though. I’ve always been the picture of professionalism in front of the district attorney reps and Judge McNulty. “I fear I have been drugged.”
“Shit,” Lorelei whispers across the table. She covers her eyes with her hands, and her attorney puts a hand on Lorelei’s shoulder like she’s in shock.
Only after Lorelei’s curse do I realize I made a mistake. Lorelei’s afraid that if I rat on her honey weed that she’ll be in more trouble. It’ll even look like she maliciously tried to sabotage the court hearing about her fine. I know she didn’t do it on purpose.
Backpedal. Backpedal. Backpedal.
“Backpedal what?” Lorelei’s attorney asks.
“Huh. I didn’t realize I said that out loud. I thought it was in my head,” I say, pointing at my temple.
Shit. What else have I said out loud? Please, God, don’t let me have mentioned that I want to peel that soft-looking shirt off Lorelei’s body and lick her from her toes to the tips of her ears right here on this conference table.
“When you say you’ve been drugged, are you talking about roofies?” Judge McNulty asks. “That’s a serious accusation.”
“Roofies would knock him out,” Lorelei’s lawyer says. “He seems pretty awake. Just ridiculous. It’s like he accidentally ate the wrong type of brownie at a party.”
Lorelei’s face has panic written all over it, and the people around the table look at me like I’m a science experiment. The silence is deafening, and I clear my throat, straighten my shoulders back, and try to take my eyes away from the gorgeous woman across from me that I’d take a bullet for. “I’m fine. Let’s get started.”
“I think we should postpone this to another day,” the district attorney rep says, closing Lorelei’s file.
I can’t do that to Lorelei. She’s been nervous enough about this entire thing, and when I’m high, I see the ridiculousness of taking it this far with her. This is something she’s worked hard for. Her business is on the line. Yeah, I want her to choose a different line of work, and I have no respect for what she does. I still think she is a bad influence on society.
I’d just rather cut off the testicle she had in her mouth this morning rather than hurt her.
“I want to get this over with today,” I mumble into my armpit. I don’t know why, but my voice sounds better from my armpit. Conference rooms have weird acoustics I’ve never noticed before.
“I’ve always had respect for you, Officer Lane, but I think this needs to be pushed to another day,” Judge McNulty adds. “I know you wouldn’t imbibe in drugs on purpose, so I’d like to discuss this with you when you’re not high as a kite.”
I shake my head and focus on sounding as professional as possible under the circumstances. My eyes droop, and I suddenly feel very tired. “I’d like this to be decided today. I insist we continue.”
Lorelei’s attorney types on her laptop and clears her throat. “Your honor, my client would like to get this over with. She wants to get back to her legitimate business. If Officer Lane can’t control himself or his outbursts, we’d like to have this citation thrown out and struck from my client’s record. Ms. Rogers has done nothing wrong, and we have competent statements from Buddy Wilkins that Ms. Rogers has permission to use the grounds.” She emphasizes the word competent and nails me with a glare. “We’re talking about a half inch of overlap onto a public walkway, and my client has drafted a formal apology to the court.”
Judge McNulty sighs and looks over her reading glasses at Lorelei. “Ms. Rogers, I’ve never known Officer Lane to be petty, but even I’ll admit that this is a petty fine and citation. Given the fact that Officer Lane insists on continuing with this today and has provided no other information on why I should pull your seller license, I’ll grant your request to strike this from your record and nullify the fine.” She points a bony finger at Lorelei, and the judge’s face turns to stone. “If you do not follow the rules of this state to the letter of the law going forward, I’ll not be so lenient if I see you in my court again. This is me telling you to stay out of my courtroom.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lorelei says, and I smile at her like a love-sick schoolboy, even propping my hand on my chin and beaming at her. Lorelei sounds so professional, and I’m proud of her. This is my girl. Mine! Protectiveness moves through my chest. This woman had her legs around me just hours ago, and she’s holding her own in court, even though her lawyer has done most of the talking.
“Case dismissed,” the judge says, and Lorelei breathes a sigh of relief.
“On what grounds?” the district attorney rep asks, notating the file.
Judge McNulty looks at me over those reading glasses, and paranoia moves through my body like a brush fire. “Officer incompetence.”
“I-Incompetence?” I stammer. Nobody has ever accused me of incompetence, even at my first job when I was fifteen.
“Don’t take it personally, Officer Lane. You’re incompetent today, but that doesn’t mean you haven’t been respectable your entire career. You insisted on continuing today, and you were in no condition to continue. Have a nice day. Go home and sleep off whatever this is.”
She rises, and everyone in the room stands up. After the judge leaves, everyone else packs up as I sit in the chair, stare at the wood grain, and don’t even notice Lorelei leave. I stay in that room, losing all track of time and staring at the table until Chase comes to get me and drives me home.
Chapter 21
Lorelei
I shift the warm pan from my hand to my hip as I ring the doorbell. In the movement, the empty Tupperware dish on top of the pan almost tumbles to the ground with the plastic grocery bag full of books. Thankfully, Nola opens the door and catches the Tupperware before it hits the porch. The movement makes me smile. Her reflexes are still good.
