Holly enthusiastically bobbed her head up and down on my steely staff, taking me as deep into her throat as she could and then back up to just short of letting it escape her mouth before sucking me back down again, over and over.
I felt my pending climax grow stronger with each stroke of Holly’s hot mouth, pushed along further by the soft massage of her generous globes gliding upon my thighs as she worked her head on my tool. My orgasm was growing so incredibly close that I expected Holly to let my cock fall free from her lips in anticipation of my ejaculating but she refused to quit sucking me deep into her throat.
“Oh… my… fucking… God!” I moaned as my balls tightened and my cockhead opened up and a spewed my seed into Holly’s talented throat. She easily handled each eruption of my semen and I suddenly woke to find that the amazing woman had swallowed my entire load without missing a single drop.
“Jesus,” I panted, trying to come back to Earth. “What was that for?”
“Just a way of saying… thank you.”
“You thanked me quite well last night, Holly.” I drew a long breath and a recent memory suddenly rolled through my head. “Uh, Colleen said that you didn’t really like sex or giving head, that you only did it for the cameras. But you – “
“I did it because I wanted to,” she said with an impish grin. “I had to know that I could do that on my terms. For the first time in years I pleasured a man to please myself.”
“That you did,” I sighed.
“That was kind of, I don’t know, liberating.”
“Well, feel free to liberate yourself with me anytime you want, Holly.”
She let out a girlish giggle. I was just about to offer to go down on her luscious muff when my cell phone chirped, again catching me off-guard.
“Who the hell is texting me now?” I wondered aloud as I grabbed my cell. Considering the events surrounding my last rare text message, I wasn’t too eager to check it out.
I flipped open the phone to find a message notification from an unfamiliar number this time. My heart stopped when I open the message that said simply, but ominously, “YOUR THE REASON SHES DEAD.”
“What’s wrong?” Holly asked.
“Uh, nothing,” I lied.
“No, really. There’s something wrong. I can see it in your face.”
I never thought I was that easy to read. Damn. I held the phone up so she could read the message, too.
“Is that about… Colleen?” she asked shakily.
“She’s kinda the only dead woman I’m connected to in any way right now,” I replied. “So, yeah, it’s gotta be about Colleen.”
“You liked her, didn’t you?” More a statement than a question.
“Well, yeah. I’ve let you two get under my skin more than any other women in a very long time. So, yeah, I liked her. She didn’t deserve to be hurt in any way, much less killed.”
“You’re still sure someone murdered her.”
“This kind of confirms it,” I replied, holding up the phone for emphasis. “This message has to be from her murderer.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Well, for one, I’m confident it didn’t come from Colleen.”
“No shit, Case. I’m saying this person could just be blaming you for her suicide.”
“Colleen’s death is barely public knowledge if it hit the news, but that’s not the vibe I’m getting here, Holly. The message didn’t say ’you’re the reason she committed suicide’ or ’she died because of you,’ or something to that effect. No, this is more than blaming me. Someone is sickly justifying their actions. Colleen went out of her way to help me once she knew I was there to convince you to come home. She cared about you and someone made her pay for that.”
“I – I still can’t believe that,” stammered Holly.
Might as well give the whole picture to her…
“The night Colleen… died… I received a text message from her phone that told me to stay away from you.”
“Why would she say that after getting us together?”
“She didn’t,” I replied, shaking my head. “The text came from her phone, but she didn’t send it. She was more than likely dead when the message was sent.”
“And whoever texted me from her phone apparently kept my number so they could threaten me again.”
A lone tear rolled down Holly’s cheek. “Can we find out who sent the message?”
“Off the top of my head I could probably narrow it down to a half-dozen people who know my number, but I’m pretty good at recognizing phone numbers once I’ve been in contact with people. This one is new to me.”
“What’s the number?” I recited the phone number to her. She considered it for a moment then said, “Wait… what were the last four numbers again?”
“3273,” I repeated.
“3273.” she parroted in a low voice. A shiver ran through her when she said, “D-A-R-E.”
“The last four numbers are his name. That’s Bobby Dare’s cellphone.”
That was a chilling slap in the face.
“Vanity plates, vanity phone number. You’re sure about that?”
Holly nodded. “Dead sure.”
Being Sunday morning, it was unlikely that Bobby Dare would be at the Fantasy Factory. No, that would make it too easy. Then again, sending me a threatening text message from a number that could be so easily identified didn’t actually qualify as stealthy, either.
That meant I could very well be walking into a trap. In fact, I would be more surprised if that wasn’t the case. It wouldn’t necessarily be a trap that would get me killed because I was Dare’s best bet to lead him back to Holly. Maybe the only bet. That said, it was more likely that I was being drawn out in an effort to reveal Holly’s whereabouts if I ran off half-cocked looking for Dare in the most likely places, fail to find him and then be tailed back to the hotel. I mean, if he could locate me at a generic motel and then send pretty boy Marco over to try and seduce me, then that meant he possessed a good knack for tracking people.
Holly’s outstanding memory gave me Dare’s home address in the high-dollar homes of Berkeley Hills, overlooking Oakland and the Bay. I was on my way to confront him. Or not. Whether I would actually come face-to-face with the man or not was still up in the air. But I still had to nibble at the bait he’d thrown out there.
I skipped the rental Impala and was in Ol’ Blue, my Crown Vic. I glanced at my gas gauge; a quarter tank. I’d best take 10 or 15 minutes now to gas up. I wanted Bobby Dare to see me coming, and if Bobby Dare wanted me, he’d wait for me to show long enough for me to get gas. After all, I was the one being lured in. Was I in that much of a hurry to walk into a potential trap?
Likewise, I checked my weapon of choice, a Smith & Wesson SD9. Lightweight and with 17 rounds at my immediate disposal – despite the fact I’ve never had to fire more than three rounds in any given situation – it’s good to have when you have good reason to be cautious.
But, twenty minutes later all sense of caution had faded. After the brief drive, the ringing of the bell and pounding my fist on the door and peeking through numerous window, I finally found why Bobby Dare wasn’t answering my call. The person I was certain was Colleen’s cold-blooded killer was inside his home, hanging from a stairwell railing like an ugly chandelier.
Sure, Bobby Dare needed to meet justice for Colleen’s death. I’d just hoped that I would have been the one to mete it out. That little perverse satisfaction had been stolen from me when he took the coward’s way out.
I pulled out my wallet and dug out Lt. Norburg’s business card.