Only One Draw Ch. 03

"I don't really remember. It's all so shocking," Natalie said. She put a hand on Hardesty's knee as they sat in the front seat of his Hummer. Hardesty looked down at the hand but made no effort to dislodge it. The T-girl had been hinting about them going a round or two all evening. Hardesty was used to having to sex the male prostitutes up to get information out of them, and he found that the male and trans hookers who worked in his jurisdiction were a lot more cooperative if he'd laid them. He had no qualms about doing so when necessity or opportunity arose.

"I think if I could calm down, I'd remember more. Maybe a drink would help. Why don't you come upstairs and interrogate me there?"

Hardesty laughed. "This isn't an interrogation, Natalie. Just trying to get as much on this guy as we can. We need to get him off the street. You need to have him off the streets."

"I know, but 'interrogation' sounds so sexy, honey. Come on upstairs with me. A drink and maybe I'll remember more--after some intense interrogation."

"I don't see anywhere around here to stash the Mini Monster," he said. That was his term for the Hummer H3, which was over a decade old now and he'd turn it in when and if he could find something else that he thought represented him as well. The gas bills, of course, were a backbreaker, but he was subsidized by the department when he was out on police business, like he was now--or would be right up to the time he went upstairs with Natalie. And that being the case, he knew he really shouldn't go up to Natalie's apartment. He knew where that would lead.

"No problem, sugar," Natalie said. "Turn into that drive over there and pull around to the back of the apartment house. I have an assigned parking space; I just don't have a car to put in it."

"I thought you were a college student. How do you manage to afford something in this building--something with a parking space--in D.C.?"

"Don't forget that I'm a hooker, honey. And I'm a damn good one. I make good money at it. Let me show you how."

"I don't pay for it."

"You're a cop. Cops always get it for free if they want it."

"Is that what it's going to take to get you to remember more about this cabbie who attacked you?"

"Why don't you come upstairs and find out."

It did, in fact, take sex to find out that the cabbie had, yes, mentioned that he liked doing T-girls, indicating he might be the serial killer the department had now put a priority on tracking down. Hardesty didn't mind what it took to get Natalie to remember more all that much, though. He was highly sexed, hadn't gotten anything today yet, he laid nearly all of the male and trans hookers in his city sooner or later, and Natalie was a honey he hadn't take for a spin before.

"OK, don't mind if I do," Hardesty said. Natalie flashed him a smile. Hardesty leaned over the T-girl's lap, opened the vehicle's glove compartment, and took out a thick, black rubber dildo, a couple of wrist restraints, a box of Trojan Magnum XL condoms, and a bottle of lube.

Natalie sucked in air and dropped the smile. She was smiling on the inside still, though. This was exactly what she'd been told this Vice cop would be good for.

The apartment surprised Hardesty. It wasn't large, but the bedroom was separate, the walls and carpet were in good condition, it was tastefully decorated, and it was tidy.

"I sometimes bring clients here, so the escort service subsidizes the rent in addition to paying well," Natalie said, as she handed him a glass with Scotch neat in it. Hardesty noted that it was good-quality scotch too. He shouldn't have been surprised, he realized. His own roommate in a high-end apartment over in Alexandria, Virginia, by the runways of the Ronald Reagan National Airport, was a high-paid escort, and their apartment was even larger and fancier than this for the same reason Natalie was giving about having nice digs. When she handed him the glass of Scotch, he put the wrist restraints and dildo down on a side table. They both looked at those, and Natalie shuddered.

"You gonna interrogate me with those, honey?" she asked.

"If you want me to."

She shuddered and gave him a little smile.

She had gone into the bedroom as soon as they entered the apartment and had said she needed to clean up from being dirtied and ruffled in the attack on her. While she was taking a quick shower, Hardesty looked around the living area. She probably hadn't lied about being a university student too, as there was a laptop set up on the dining table and textbooks beside it. She appeared to be studying environmental science.

"I'm studying to be an environmental landscaper," she said when she came out of the bedroom and was pouring their drinks. "After all of this I want to work in a firm that designs sustainable, locally oriented gardens for places like office parks and rich homeowners."

All she was wearing was a sheer negligee. The transparency of the garments probably was on purpose to show that she had fully transformed herself, including firm, melon-shaped breasts with big, puffy nipples. Different clients were interested in different things. Hardesty hadn't come to her as a client who would have worked out with the escort agency already that he wanted a fully transformed T-girl. Natalie wanted the big hunk to fuck her, but she didn't want him not to understand and accept what he had to work with when he did.

They sank into a sofa and chatted a bit. Hardesty asked most of the questions. He liked to know about the prostitutes he was charged with controlling and keeping from being a problem in the city, while recognizing that prostitution was going to exist in a place like Washington, D.C., whether anyone wanted it to or not. He didn't see his job as just to keep the peace with the prostitutes' business, but also to protect them.

"You're working on doing something 'after' this, you say," he noted. "So, you don't see yourself as doing this forever?"

"I see myself functioning as a woman forever," Natalie said. "I've already zeroed in on some green firms where I could work without being hassled. But the prostitution forever? No, it's a means to cover a college education. I'll have to go to school for a couple of extra years to qualify to do what I want to do. But I'm young--and I'm horny. Horny for big bruisers like you. So, this satisfies me for when I'm young--and still have a body for it. And, speaking of that, what do you think of my body?" She stuck her breasts out, flashed Hardesty a smile, and reached over and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"Your body is just fine," he said. "I'm wondering, though, whether it can take what I like to do when I'm having sex."

"Honey, I've heard what you do, and I invited you up here to do it. Shall we find out?" she asked, as she sank down on her knees on the carpet between the cop's spread thighs and unzipped his fly.

They found out.

After giving Hardesty excellent head to the point of having him stiff, Natalie mewed, "My turn," and came back up onto the sofa, reclining against the arm, in an open "take me pose." Hardesty surprised her by immediately taking her hard, without foreplay, managing to get a condom rolled on while she was busy posing herself provocatively reclining against the sofa arm.

The Vice cop rose up over her, put his cock head in position at the entrance of her surgeon-supplied cunt, and grasped her wrists.

"Honey, why so fast? It's good to savor fucks."

"Who said this will be the only fuck?" he said. She gave a little cry as he drove up inside her and fucked her deep and brutally, having no problem reaching and pounding the glans that had been planted at the top of the vagina. The surprised and shocked T-girl writhed under him, as he pounded away at her, eventually just collapsing in his arms until, under his attention rubbing the vestigial penis at the top of her entrance and pounding the glans inside her, Natalie cried out an, "Oh, shit, baby. I'm gonna cum!" And then, exploding again and again, she did.

After coming himself, Hardesty pulled off Natalie, stood, pulled the spent condom off his cock, and only then stripped his shirt off, and stood hovering over her on the sofa.

"Oh, baby, you destroyed me, she purred, the fingers of one of her hands working the penis at the top of her snatch. You gonna do me again, sugar? Fuck, you got a gorgeous body."

"Got any more Scotch?" Hardesty asked, looking around and holding up an empty glass in the hand that wasn't holding his spent condom.

"Over there on the kitchen counter, sweetie. Help yourself. But don't be gone long." Hardesty found the Scotch and a trashcan for his condom. While he was over there, Natalie said, "While you were ravishing me, I remembered something about my attacker. I know at the station house I said I couldn't remember for sure what the cab company was. Now I'm sure; it was the Capitol Cab Company. I always do a double take when seeing one of those, because of the spelling of 'capitol.' It's right for this city, but you don't see that version often. You gonna come over here and do me again, sugar? Maybe I'll remember more."

"That's helpful--the part about the cab company's name," Hardesty said. "And, yes, I'm going to do you again. We've just begun to have fun." He walked back over, glass of Scotch in hand, and squeezed one of Natalie's surgically provided breasts with the other hand and then let the hand glide down her body to the folds of her snatch. Natalie moaned for him and whispered, "Oh, baby, baby."

He put the glass down on the coffee table in front of the sofa and picked up the wrist restraints.

"Oh, sugar honey darling. You gonna tie Natalie up and rape her?"

"Yes," was the simple response. He tied her wrists together over her head and hovered over her as she reclined against the arm of the sofa. He worked on her breasts with his mouth and inside the folds of her cunt with his fingers, while she writhed and moaned under him. As he worked his tongue and kissed down her torso, his finger moved across her taint, to her anus, and he worked her there too. Reaching her folds with his mouth, he ate her out as she rocked against him and murmured her pleasure. He picked the rubber dildo up from the coffee table, and Natalie's moans turned to groans, grunts, and little cries as he brutally worked her snatch over with the rubber toy, working on the glans at the top of her vagina and giving her another climax.

He stood up over her then, again in full erection, and she moaned and looked at him with worshipful eyes as he crowned himself with another condom. Then he turned her over onto her belly on the sofa, pulled his belt out of his trouser loops, folded it over and strapped her on the buttocks until she was collapsed and sobbing. Being a traditional ass man himself, he brought himself off the second time by mounting her from above and behind, and fucking her to an ejaculation in her ass channel. The dildo was lodged in the other cavity.

When he was done, he rose from her and released the wrist constraints. Natalie didn't change position, though. She was spent. "You done did me in, baby," she whispered. "They are right about what a man you are. You can have anything you want, any time you want it."

Hardesty left her, taking up his clothes, and going in and using her shower. When he came back, dressed, Natalie was still sprawled out on the sofa where he'd left her.

"I remember something else," she said. "He called himself by a name. It started with a D sound, and he mentioned something about how they did it down in the Caribbean. He didn't seem like an African black. I think he is a Caribbean black."

"Thanks," Hardesty said. He was thanking her for the information, not for the fuck. He didn't slobber all over the men and T-girls he fucked in the line of duty. "I'm leaving my card here on your counter. Call me if you remember more. Take a good look at the cabbie before you get into a cab from now on. That's high-quality Scotch you got there. Thanks for that." He gathered up his toys and was gone. Natalie hadn't moved a muscle. It was quite likely she wouldn't be able to do so for a while. The mention of getting a good look at the cabbie put a number in her mind: 1493.

It was only after Hardesty was gone that Natalie realized that that was the number on the cabbie's photo ID that had been posted hanging down from the windshield. He was cabbie 1493 of the Capitol Cab Company. She realized this was vital information. She'd have to pass that on to Detective Hardesty--but she wouldn't do it until she'd recovered from this fuck and she could combine passing the information to him with another fuck.

Shit he was good. Fuck her ass hurt--both inside and outside. And her snatch was all stretched out. That man had a monster cock and he was cruel.

And she was his anytime he wanted her. Toby Drake had one honey of a master in Hardesty.

* * * *

Griffin Gould was sitting at the foot of his bed in his Dupont Circle brownstone mansion, going over the evening's exhibition at the Artechouse on D Street in his mind. It had been a good evening both in sales and on the personal level. Several of his drawings had been sold and one major hotel chain magnate, Erick Royal, had indicated he wanted a whole bunch of Gould's male nudes to hang in a men-only island resort he was putting together down in the Bahamas. Royal owned the whole island where he was putting the resort, and he wanted to do a "no limits" male-on-male trans rent-boy sex retreat there for the rich, famous, and privacy-seeking friends of his.

On the work plus personal side, Gould had hooked up with a real honey, the escort the gallery owner, Corwin Case, had brought to the exhibition. The blond Toby Drake was sex on a stick. Gould wasn't sure that Drake was a T-girl--he was beautiful enough to be that, but he hadn't been dressed out like one at the evening's exhibition and Corwin said he wasn't one--but he still wanted the gorgeous guy to pose for him for drawings in the trans collection. He could pose him so there'd be a hint of T-girl even if he wasn't one. As much as wanting to get the honey to pose for him, Gould was aching to get Drake into bed--to fuck and punish him--to use him to the limit. He was a sassy little thing. He needed to be abused and tamed. Drake had given him his business card, and Gould had called the escort agency to set up an art and fuck session.

And then there was the T-girl Natalie, who had posed for Gould once before and who Gould knew was a fully transformed T-Girl and was dynamite in bed. That girl had a great set of tits. His agent Sam Shaffer had brought Natalie to the exhibition this evening. Gould had been keyed up by the showing and had lost his head--and what he was there for--for a moment when he'd seen her again and she'd easily responded to his advances and sexual banter. He lured her to a storage room and fucked the shit out of her--turned her to the wall, told her to jut her butt back, and he'd mounted her from behind and fucked her while cupping and massaging those great tits she now had. She was good to go with that. He wanted another drawing and fuck session with that one, and she said she'd love to do it. Luigi would know how to get that set up. He'd arranged it the first time.

"Luigi," he said, coming out of his reverie while sitting on the foot of his bed, "I want to do another drawing session with that Natalie who was there this evening with Shaffer."

Luigi Finelli, Gould's personal assistant, who had been moving around the bedroom in a snit he wanted Gould to notice and ask about--but that self-absorbed Gould hadn't picked up on, or if he had, he didn't care--stiffened. He'd been picking up this and that and putting it away and checking Gould's closet for what the man could wear tomorrow and what needed to go in the clothes hamper or out to the cleaners. He was doing this in the nude, aching for Gould just to take him into the bed and fuck the hell out of him.

"Please set that up," Gould said, not noticing that Luigi had gone rigid at the mention of Natalie's name. Luigi knew that Gould had pulled the T-girl away this evening and had fucked her in a storage room. That was the second time Gould had fucked her. Luigi couldn't do much about the artist fucking his models, but once was Luigi's tolerance level. He wanted Gould for himself. He'd given up a career and life in Italy to be with this man. He wanted to have clear sailing with him. The second time with a model was the time for Luigi to try to put a stop to it. This would be the third time with that Natalie.

"I've already put in a call on that, Grif," Luigi said. He wanted Gould to believe that he was the epitome of efficiency. He, of course, hadn't made any such call, though, and he'd think long and hard before he did so. This Natalie had gotten entirely too close with Griffin.

"You're the best," Gould said. "Come here. I can't take anymore of you walking around looking so fuckable."

Luigi smiled. The man wanted him. He went to Gould, climbed up on his lap and, finding that Gould was in erection, slid down on the man's pole. He arched his torso back, dragging his knuckles on the carpet at the foot of the bed while Gould, grasping his slim hips, pulled him on and off his cock to a mutual completion.