Thursday, September 6, 2012

Trouble In Paradise

Dear Diary,

Work had accepted the new change really quickly, just teasing us both and winding me up to the point where my pouncing on Laura became a semi-regular occurrence. Especially with Sophie and Lucy hugging me and repeating their comment from the day I came out to the team. They especially loved doing it when they found me undressing for photo shoots.  Yeah, did I forget that bit? Since I was small and cute the team had begun using me for photos in catalogues and advertisements for our products, so on a regular basis I was everything from a HSLD Operator modelling the latest in gucciness on the battlefield to a demure college student packing a concealed pistol in my jacket.  The team didn’t bat an eyelid at the demure genteel me popping into meetings, dragging Laura out of them midsentence only for her to wander back in fifteen to twenty later with a lazy self-satisfied cat like grin; the grin of a cat that’s just eaten the neighbours budgie.

I was already part of the family, but me beginning to date sealed the deal.  Though, I did have the terrifying conversation with the couple we all considered “mom and pop” of the organization. Ben, the guy who helped me get out of my home had taken to being the FFL and gunsmith of the joint like a duck to water.  He said “I took the job to keep an eye on you”, but everyone knew he was happy here and had been working for the company for a long time before he knew me as his partner’s friend. He and Sophie sat me down one day in the office after work and said . . .

 I still remember exactly what they said to this day, Diary.

 “Look, be honest with us.  Is Laura you finding yourself, or rebelling, or are you wanting this properly? We have known Laura a long time and Ben has worked for HDI for a long time. We stuck our necks on the line for you in both getting you this job and hoping Laura would listen and see if you were willing. She really likes you and we don’t want her hurt.”

For such soft people they were fucking scary diary! 

Little did I know until later than night talking to Laura on Skype from the lavender bubble bath I was ensconced in, while she lounged in bed waiting for me to arrive, that they had sat her down and done exactly the same thing.  Same phrasing, same threats, right down to the ‘if you hurt her we will flay you’ speech.

Even though we spent most of our time together, for convenience and quite frankly because we were too happy having our own spaces to chill and relax in, we kept separate houses. Though generally we could be found entwined in one or the other’s home. I had barely thought about my old life in the time I have been with Laura, mainly because I was happy, work was good fun, and I was kept busy.

That all changed one day in the autumn. I had just returned from my first solo negotiation and it had gone really well so I was on a high.  I had managed to get our concealed magazine notebook into a prominent television crime show and was bouncing with excitement. The team had gone mental when they found out who would be carrying out product. I was hugged and plied with booze at the congratulations party.

I returned to my second home in a cab, Laura was with me and we were both giggly drunk. We had settled into a comfortable routine I paid for the cab as she unsteadily unlocked the door, agreeing with the cabbie that my love had a fantastic arse. I walked to the door and found her asleep on the sofa snoring the snore of the very drunk. Laughing to myself but also pouting because I was very frustrated, I curled up with her under a blanket.

It was early morning when I heard a banging sound on the front door.  I groaned, it was four thirty in the morning. I ignored it as best I could, rolling over intending to go back to bed. Well, I was going to but my lover was awake and hungry so she had other ideas. I would have argued, but she was doing that thing with her tongue that I loved so much.

 I was laid naked on my sofa, begging and panting as she flicked her tongue across my arsehole and still the banging continued. I was shaking, gasping, and whimpering her name as I exploding from an orgasm and mewled to her “Now that’s a fantastic fucking way to start the day!” Kissing her hard before diving between her legs. Where Laura preferred to start my day with an explosive orgasm, I was more patient. I wanted her to want me, needed her to need me, I wanted her craving more and hyped for the day to come. My attacks at work were pounding rough and explosive in their intensity because I found the limits of time, space, and practical to carry tools a huge turn on. But the first of the day . . . Ah, that was special, gentle loving and always all me.

I started slowly, my tongue on her left ankle, swirling over her protruding bone. Looping my tongue around her before kissing my way up her calves and nibbling behind her knee. I moved up her body to her nipples and suckled her gently and passionately. Still the banging continued. I licked across and around her breasts slowly, then faster, kissing my way down her tummy towards her centre; my tongue sucking, diving into her deep, but doing it agonizingly slowly.

 I am patient and gentle, my movements like the cat tattooed on my thigh, stalking my prey as her arousal peaks and her clit stiffens. My prey is revealed and I pounce, taking it deep into my mouth sucking it hard until my lover howled my name, orgasming. Still, the pounding continued.

Holding her as we both come down, we are naked, sweaty, but sated. The banging is beginning to register. It was too precise to be nature diary, so we thought we should take a look. We dressed in pjs and walked together to the door, me with the sig sauer that I had borrowed from my lover on the first day, her with the UMP45 that she shot so well. Both wearing suppresser’s, she covered me as I opened the door.

There were four people there that I had never expected to see again: my father, my mother, the man they planned to be my husband, and my father’s friend, the Chicago police officer who handled people being taken for psychiatric analysis. I froze and dropped the pistol. Laura stepped up to the door unafraid, with the weapon slung behind her back.


My father spoke first. “Move bitch! I am taking my daughter back to Chicago.” He then turned to me and said, “Get your things, you are coming home and getting married. If you fight, my friend is here to take you by force.  You cannot fight this. You will do as I desire.”

I just sat, tremors shooting through me in fear of going back with that animal. He took a step forward as if to drag my through the door. Laura calmly stood blocking him and swung the smg up and trained it at the man who was frightening me.

“Leave my property! I do not want you here, and I really do not like being threatened. You have been recorded and I will be reporting this to the police.”

I saw my father raise his hand as if to push the gun away and I snapped. I don’t know why Diary, but I saw red. I swept the pistol up from the floor and stepped forward, pointing it at him.

“Leave father, and never return. I am not a toy for you to bargain with, and if you come back here again, I WILL defend myself. Bringing a friend to drag me back, claiming I’m insane . . . that’s cute, but won’t fly, especially now that we know your intent.”

He ranted and raved Diary, telling me he knew I was insane. He called me a whore, and attacked me for threatening him, and for cavorting with a slut. He said how he knew I was insane because I was disobeying him. The others nodded their agreement that he was right. He stepped forward saying “You will get in the car and come home and do as you are told!”

When he reached to grab my hair, I fired. I aimed low and hit him in the arm, the nine millimetre round piercing his bicep and he slumped in pain. “Get my father away from here and never come here! Never darken my life again.” Whilst I stood in almost shock, watching him half carried, half dragged by my family, my lover phoned the police.

The rest of the day was a blur of statements and evidence taken with the recording equipment used over and over to replay the event.  Copies were made, and finally I stood, shaking, still in my pajama’s and a hoody of Laura’s in front of a judge, who granted a restraining order.  He told me “You did well and have nothing to worry about.”

The officers were lovely, making me cups of tea, generally being supportive, and taking my mind off the event by asking for signed copies of catalogues and taking guns and tack gear with me. While waiting for the court to free so I could get the order, I sketched a few designs. Several of the cops had asked me for in an effort to distract me, promising to see about production.

Laura had phoned work whilst I was filling in the forms with the clerk and by the time I had returned to her, the house was full. The front room was filled with duvets, sleeping bags and pillows. The whole crew had come down, everyone from Lucy to Lori. All were here to, in their words, ‘keep me calm and protected.’ They knew that my safe space had been violated and understood I needed the support. Those who had family on the force were keeping watch on my relatives and until they left the area, I was told, the guys would be staying with me. Laura’s house was huge thankfully; big enough for the whole crew, their families, and assorted hangers on.

We were piled into her main room.  Me surrounded by this love, watching “Blue Harvest” of all things. The only thing that was abnormal for this being a sleepover, was the amount of weapons on display and within reach.

We had men with ar15’s, women with shotguns, the children, most of who had grown to either teen or on the cusp since I had met them, with a mix of whatever they preferred to shoot. Adorably, the youngest members of the HDI clan, Izzy and Bella decked out in the outfits I had made for them for Halloween the week before. A 4 year old and a 3 year old in uniform with HDI patches carrying NERF pistols in holsters. Between them and “Rabbit” Manning were weilding NERF beltfeds.

 And I lay in the arms of the woman I love Diary, and fretted. I appreciated what they were trying to do and I knew I was safe, but still . . .

 I was rattled and scared, but eventually I drifted off as they slept in shifts and kept watch.




  1. I wish I could work at a job where I could fuck my boss, 'cause she's pretty hot. Oh, wait, I couldn't do that--because I'd get fired if I dragged my boss out of a meeting so I could eat her out.

    What a load of shite. This has been nothing but some weird male fantasy of Macho Women with Guns having sex every twenty seconds, on and off the job, but this episode is about as far out there as it gets. Though I'm sure the start was good to toss off to.

    The only thing left for this story is to have a huge shoot out, then everyone FUCKS! I can't wait!

  2. its erotica, it is focused around fantasy to a certain extent it doesn't have to be entirely realistic, characters who act in ways that maybe we are too scared to because of worries, risks and personal morals. if you don't like it don't read it. As for sex on and off the job, never worked with someone you are hooking up with, sex, teasing each other and sneaking off for a quicky isn't entirely implausible, especially if you are shagging the boss?

    To be honest, it is escapism, extremes of reality to a certain extent as is most erotica and indeed most fiction written for entertainment.