Juicy Secrets Forbidden Tales of Lesbian Love

A quick recap of the Story Thus Far: Rural paramedic Nettie Hastings finds herself in the middle of a flurry of unexplained overdose calls and, with the help of her best friend and former lover, Terry Wilder, has begun putting clues together linking the source to her own hometown. Some suspect Terry’s involvement, including police chief George Fronse, as Terry’s ex-wife is a convicted drug trafficker. A drug raid on an abandoned meat locker goes awry, and Nettie’s father is killed in an explosion. In the meantime, Nettie has entered into a clandestine affair with Terry’s preteen daughter.

For a more detailed breakdown of this story’s chapters, please consult the Chapter Links.

by Rachael Yukey

Just as George Fronse had predicted, I was sought out the following day by the DEA, with a meeting arranged in one of the little training cubicles at the fire hall. A desk and chairs had been placed there, making it a sort of ad hoc office. The agent I spoke to was an attractive yet businesslike brunette in her early thirties or so named Bridgett Ramscone. She managed to make female business attire look sexy as hell, which I would have sworn was impossible. Even in my emotionally fragile state, I’d have given a lot to get a peek under that sensible black skirt.

She identified herself as the regional supervisor for the DEA, and I wondered if she was the contact George had referred to. She carried printouts of my patient care reports from the cases I’d seen, and asked me very good, detailed questions regarding the incidents, the conclusions I’d drawn, and the lines of thinking that led to those conclusions. I told her everything I knew, omitting only the info I’d obtained from Halee.

Finally, she tucked the papers back into the labeled manila envelopes from which they had come, then placed another one on the desk.

“I have to tell you, I’m impressed,” she said. “I’ve got full-time agents working for me that probably wouldn’t have been able to make the same deductions you did. All the information I’ve gathered on you tells me you’re one hell of a paramedic, but honestly, I think you’re wasting your talents. If you ever feel like exploring the wonderful world of investigations, give me a call.”

Then she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward. “The only problem here,” she said, “is that you’re not telling me everything. The envelope in front of you contains a radio transcript of all transmissions that took place on the Franklin County channels starting at 0930 yesterday and running till the last unit reported back in service from the incident, which was late in the afternoon. Let’s see if you’re as good as I think you are. What little bit of information in there is of interest to me right this minute?”

Instantly I knew what had caught her attention. Goddamn it. I thought about playing dumb, and dismissed the idea almost at once. This tough, smart chick would see right through it.

“I suppose the part where Terry told George to hold tight at the CP until we got there,” I said, doing my best to meet her eyes, while keeping my face from giving anything away.

She smiled tightly. “Well done, Antoinette. I find it very interesting that this happened shortly after you and Terrance Wilder went to pick up his daughter from school, especially considering that the school nurse thinks she was faking her illness.”

I shrugged mentally. “I guess you already know the rest, don’t you?”

She sat back. “I’m not half-bad at deduction myself. Let’s see how I do. The girl was privy to some information, maybe had some inkling that something unusual was going on. You and Mr. Wilder told her to let you know if she heard anything else, and only you. Maybe because of a lack of faith in a certain chief of police?”

I simply stared back at her, not sure how much I should say. I was pretty much trapped, but I didn’t want to betray any confidences, either.

“I don’t blame you,” she said. “George Fronse is probably a regular Andy Griffith as a small-town cop, but we mostly keep him at arm’s length on the drug enforcement task force because he has all the subtlety and grace of a bovine belly dancer. The couple of times we’ve included him in sting operations, he’s blown it. If I could have found a way to let all the other local police forces in the county know that we had reason to suspect some large international operators in the area without him finding out, I would have. I was afraid he’d overplay his hand and make anyone who was paying attention suspicious, which of course, he did. I just about died when I heard he’d gone to the scene for that girl in Roers.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little.

“See?” she said. “You thought that was off, and probably some other stuff, too. So you were reluctant to take him into your confidence. Which is fine, it’s not like he’d have done anything useful with anything you told him.”

In spite of myself, I was getting a little annoyed with Agent Ramscone. “He’s a small-town police chief, not James Bond,” I pointed out. “He does his best.”

She dismissed this with a shrug. “The point is, the girl somehow found out where they were going, she told you, and you informed George. That was his ‘anonymous tip’. Does he even know where it came from?”

I surrendered with a sigh. She knew, and denial on my part would just send her to Terry’s door. Halee was already in deeper than she should be; the last thing she needed was this sexy battleaxe crawling up her ass.

“Halee overheard us talking a couple of nights ago,” I said. “So we asked her if she’d heard anything weird at school. She said she’d heard high school kids talking about going to a place called the locker, but didn’t know any more than that. We asked her to tell us if she heard anything else. She came home sick to tell us about the kids that were out, and then George told us a bunch of teens had been seen walking north of town and asked us to stage. I was thinking about what was out there other than cow pastures, then I realized what the locker had to be.”

Bridgett pursed her lips. “Girl, you can come and work for me any time,” she said.

“Based on that? If I’d figured it out twelve hours earlier, yesterday would have been a lot different.”

“Connecting an unknown place called the locker to a meat processing facility that’s been closed for thirty years is a hell of a leap,” she countered. “I wouldn’t have seen it. Does Fronse know where your info came from?”

“He does now. He came by Terry’s place last night, and we kind of hashed things out. What are the odds I can talk you into not bothering Halee with this?”

“What would be the point? I very much doubt she knows anything you haven’t already told me. I doubt I’ll even interview Mr. Wilder, unless something new comes to light.” Suddenly she stood, and rounded the desk. She swiveled my chair to the side, then leaned in and placed both hands on my shoulders.

“So tell me,” Bridgett said, in a voice just barely above a whisper, “how was your movie night with that young girl?”

Every muscle in my body froze. I even stopped breathing for a moment. Slowly I tilted my head up to meet her gaze, but didn’t speak.

“Or how about Friday night, when she came over on her own?” she went on, her voice husky and intense.

“It was fun,” I finally got out, keeping my voice steady with an effort. “Halee’s a pretty cool kid.”

“Oh, I’ll just bet,” she said, and now there was something feral in her eyes. Taking my hands in hers, she pulled me to my feet. It wasn’t the most dominant of moves; I’m taller than her by a good seven inches. But somehow, this chick wasn’t even a little bit diminished by being towered over. We stood there for a moment, her gazing up at me with the corners of her mouth turned upwards, my hands still in hers.

“Don’t worry,” she told me. “Not just anybody would see what I see. Almost nobody, as a matter of fact. Only people who share what we share would catch on.”

I was starting to understand the significance of what she was saying, and a wonderful sort of excitement enveloped me. Not a sexual excitement, exactly, although maybe there was a little of that there, too. Agent Ramscone’s expression made it clear that she understood at least a little of what was in my mind.

Suddenly she let go of my hands and stepped back. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Hastings. I’ll be in touch if anything further needs to be discussed.”

I nodded once and turned to go. Then she seized my wrist from behind, capturing it in surprisingly strong fingers. She was at my side, her mouth just below my left ear.

“You’re not evil,” she whispered, “and you are not alone.”

She let my arm go and stepped back. My mind reeling, I got myself the hell out of there.

***

Hours later, I was at the dinner table at Terry’s house. Halee had prepared pork chops, mashed potatoes, and asparagus with her customary skill. Before the kids came home from school, I’d told Terry about my interview with Bridgett Ramscone, and how she’d deduced that Halee was our source. Terry took the news in stride, acknowledging that it probably didn’t really make a difference.

The younger kids were animatedly recounting the events of the school day. The big scandal, as related by Naomi, was two middle-school girls being caught kissing in the bathroom. And to make matters more interesting, Naomi went on to mention that little Chelsey Milne, who was in her fifth grade class, had said that it kind of sounded like fun.

Upon hearing this, I choked a little on a mouthful of potato. Halee caught my eye and grinned.

“Some of the other kids got kind of mean,” said Naomi, “calling her a lesbian and stuff. Some of us told them to stop and leave her alone, but they didn’t until one of the teachers made them.”

Terry leaned forward with interest. “Clarify, if you would please, oh dearest of daughters,” He said. “What precisely did they say that was, to borrow your choice of words, mean?”

“Well… they called her a lesbian, Dad! And they said…”

“And by that you mean to imply that being referred to as a lesbian is an insult?” Terry broke in, a grin toying with his lips.

Naomi was smart enough to recognize the trap that had been laid for her. “Well, uh, I guess it is if you’re not one, right?”

“Why would it be?” I asked her. “Unless you think there’s something wrong with being a lesbian, it would just be a mistake, right?”

“Well… I guess so… but I think lots of kids in my class think being a lesbian is pretty weird.”

“Do you think that to be the case?” Terry wanted to know.

“I don’t know. I never thought much about it. I don’t know any lesbians, y’know?”

“Yes, you do,” said Halee suddenly. Every head at the table swiveled in her direction.

“Really?” Dawn piped up, speaking for the first time. I wondered idly if Dawn had anything more than the vaguest idea what a lesbian even was. “Who?”

Halee looked directly at her father. “I’m a lesbian,” she said with an air of finality.

Terry put down his fork and blinked in surprise. “I’ll be damned,” he said.

The younger girls were staring at their elder sister with wide eyes. “What’s a lesbian, anyway?” Maya wanted to know.

Terry looked across the table at me. “You wanna take this, Nettie?” he said. “You can probably explain it in better terms than I can. If you’re willing, that is.”

“A lesbian is a woman who’s sexually attracted to other women instead of men,” I told the little girl. “That means they prefer to date other women, or even marry them, the same way you think of the boys and girls in high school dating.”

“Why does Daddy think you could say that better than he could?” Dawn wanted to know.

“Because he knows I’m bisexual,” I explained. “That means I’m sexually interested in both women and men.”

Naomi stared at me with wide-eyed interest. “You like girls and boys both?”

I smiled. “You could put it that way, yes.”

“But Halee just likes girls,” said Dawn, in tones that suggested she was still trying to wrap her head around the concept.

Terry studied his eldest daughter searchingly. She met his gaze for a moment, then looked down at her plate. “Look at me, Halee,” he said. She hesitated only a moment, then did as he asked.

“Don’t ever be afraid to look me in the eye,” he said. “Not over something like this. If this is who you are, then you have nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t give a damn if you have sexual feelings for men, women, or Paraguayan sea turtles.” The whole table erupted in a chorus of little girl giggles.

“You’re growing into one hell of a young woman,” he went on, “and I’m proud of you. I’m especially proud that you had the guts to say what you just said.”

Quite deliberately, as if to demonstrate that Halee’s sexuality was no longer a matter of any importance to him, he picked up his fork and knife, cut off a bite-sized chunk of pork, and popped it into his mouth.

“Daddy,” Maya piped up, all wide-eyed six-year-old innocence, “what’s a sexual feeling?”

Halee grinned, and the two middle girls giggled. I covered my mouth to hide a smile. Terry swallowed his food, a rueful expression on his face.

“We’ll have a talk about that,” he said, “very soon. But not right this minute, okay?”

***

The next few days passed in a haze. I took three weeks paid time off, which was granted no questions asked due to my father’s death, but that turned out to be a mistake. I’d ended up with the job of executor of Dad’s estate, along with arranging his funeral, but aside from that I mostly ended up sitting in my apartment, with only my thoughts and a large cache of alcohol for company. I did make a token attempt to spend a little more time with my mom, but that went about as well as it ever had.

Thankfully, Dad had his affairs in meticulous order. He’d arranged things so I would be able to take possession of both his business and his house without being forced to sell them for the taxes, and there was also money. Quite a bit of money. I marveled at how the man who never seemed to have much time for me while he was alive had taken so much trouble to see I was taken care of after he was gone.

Mostly, however, I sat in my apartment, listened to records, and drank. I’d have a lot of decisions to make over the next few weeks. Move into his house, or sell it? Getting out of the apartment seemed a given, but I could easily sell the sprawling ranch-style home he’d bought with his deceased second wife and buy something a bit more practical for a single person.

In the meantime, I’d elevated the young woman who had served as his office manager to interim manager of the company. I had no intention of trying to run the business myself, but wasn’t yet certain if I wanted to find a buyer or just let someone else manage it and collect the checks.

I had no time during that week to be alone with Halee, and I didn’t seek out intimacy with anyone else, either. I didn’t even masturbate. Once the reality of Dad’s death had sunk in, and all the other weird shit that had been going on in Bronning started messing with my head, I went a little numb. I didn’t sleep well, either. The nightmares were back, and they weren’t fucking around.

There was some good news during the course of the week; everyone who had made it to the hospital alive on Monday had stayed that way. All of the critical patients had pulled through, and most of the firefighters and police officers had already been sent home by Friday. Sam Jensen, whom I’d been forced to intubate during transport, was still in the hospital, but on Wednesday she was extubated and continued to breathe under her own power. In fact, ALL of the teens were still in the hospital, even the ones who hadn’t been injured in the blast. Nobody knew why.

The DEA folks were still around. They were occupying a rental on the edge of town, no doubt due to the utter lack of a proper hotel, and working out of temporary offices at the fire hall. Bridgett Ramscone was still directing whatever it was they were up to, and she greeted me with a wink and a wave the two times I saw her around town. Both times, my guts did a little flip.

The operation itself was under a complete blackout. Nobody other than the federal agents were allowed anywhere near the valley where the incident had occurred, and any findings were kept under wraps. But there’d been two more cases similar to the ones I’d seen with Terry, both on Wednesday. The victims were teens who lived in the area, although neither attended the Bronning K-12. Another teen in Gerard had been found dead in his bedroom by his parents the same day, with no explanation. On Thursday, the rotund young man Terry had picked up on 225 died in his front yard, and was discovered there by a UPS driver around noon the following day.

George Fronse, when anyone saw him at all, was out of sorts and ill-tempered, and the  scuttlebutt was that the DEA was keeping him as much in the dark as the rest of us. Police presence was heavier than usual, with more of the county sheriff’s department’s resources concentrated in the Bronning area than I’d ever seen before. A largish number of state troopers were cruising the highways as well.

My dad’s funeral visitation was late Friday afternoon, and as his closest surviving relative I found myself hovering over his open casket for two agonizing hours, alternately shaking hands and returning hugs. Mom showed up, and surprised the hell out of me by openly weeping over his body.

Me, I’d done all the mourning that was in me for the moment, and feeling completely detached. My purse was slung over the back of a chair I’d pulled up to the front so I could sit once in awhile, and it contained, amongst other things, a standard field penlight – the kind EMS personnel use to check pupillary response. I had to resist the strange urge to pull it out and shine it up Dad’s nose for a glimpse of the lanyard that gets run up through there to hold the dearly departed’s jaw closed. That’s the state of mind I was in.

Terry and his two older girls appeared about two-thirds of the way through. By this time foot traffic had slowed to a trickle, most of the remaining guests were at the back of the room, talking and taking in refreshments, and I was sitting by myself next to my father’s body. I stood as they approached. Terry was wearing a suit. Halee and Naomi were absolutely ravishing in simple, elegant, matching black evening wear.

I stood up, letting Terry pull me into a hug. I hugged him back, tears stinging my eyelids as I reflected that Terry was one of the only people here this evening who actually came for me and not for form’s sake. He held me at arms length.

“Doing okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said, willing myself not to sniffle. I gave him a small smile that I’m sure totally failed to convince, and he turned his attention to the casket, inclining his head slightly. Halee wrapped her arms around me, and we held each other for as long as propriety would permit. Then she joined her father while Naomi gave me a hug.

“I was in the Twin Cities yesterday, and I stopped by the Hennepin Hospital to see Wes Hamilton,” Terry said.

“Is it true he’s going to lose his leg?” I inquired.

“They’ve already amputated, poor bastard. He asked me to give you a message. He saw your dad go down, and he said I’m the first person who wasn’t taking an official report he’s been able to tell.”

He gestured towards the casket. “Wes tells me this man threw himself over the top of Sam Jensen when the explosion went off. They were then hit by shrapnel when one of the pressure tanks along the wall blew a few seconds later. She only took that slash across her gut, because he blocked the rest of it.”

I gazed down into the casket at my father’s frozen visage. “I hadn’t heard that till now,” I said. It explained a lot, though. My dad had been killed by scraps of metal piercing his body from behind, one of which had found its way to his aorta and torn it wide. He’d have bled out in the space of a minute or two.

“Probably only Wes saw it,” said Terry, “and you know the feds aren’t sharing anything he reported with the lowly likes of us.”

“He was a hero,” Halee said simply, looking down at the body with solemn respect.

“Sure was,”  said Naomi, somewhat less solemnly but no less respectful.

Terry reached into the casket, and covered my dad’s hand with his. “Godspeed, fireman. I didn’t know you well, but whenever I cross paths with the young woman whose life you saved, I’ll remember you.”

Withdrawing his hand, he turned towards me. “You know where I am if you need anything,” he said, embracing me once more.

Halee hugged me again after he let go. “That goes for me, too,” she said.

“Do you want to come over and watch a movie again tonight?” I asked her suddenly. “If it’s all right with you, Terry. I want to be at home, but I could use some company.”

Terry shrugged. “I have no problem with it.”

“Do you want me to stay for the night, or just for the movie?” Halee wanted to know.

“I’d love it if you stayed, but you don’t have to. I’ll be done here in half an hour; you can come anytime after that.”

“Then I’ll see you soon,” she said with a sly little grin. She turned toward the casket, reached in, hesitated, and then gingerly let her hand rest on top of my dad’s in imitation of her father’s gesture a moment ago. It was probably, I thought, the first time she’d ever touched a corpse.

“Thank you for Sam,” she said, then withdrew her hand and followed her father back up the aisle. Naomi looked in as she passed the casket one last time, started to extend her hand, and then tucked it at her side as if hoping nobody would notice. I had to suppress a grin as she trailed along behind her father and older sister.

I moved to stand over my father’s body, bowing my head to stare down at him.

“I’m proud of you, Daddy,” I whispered, and let the tears fall.

***

Halee appeared at my door less than half an hour after I returned to my apartment, an overnight bag in her hand. I would ordinarily have changed into something more comfortable the moment I walked through the door, but thanks to the appreciative glances I’d received from the men (and a few of the women) who had attended my father’s visitation, I knew exactly how fetching I looked in my slim blue evening dress. Even better, Halee was still wearing the flattering ensemble she’d had on earlier.

“Mmmm,” I said, sliding my hand down her side. “Wearing that for me?”

“You haven’t changed yet, either,” she pointed out with a grin. “So… what movie did you have in mind?”

“One starring you in the nude,” I told her, reaching around and cupping her ass.

“That sounds like a great show,” Halee purred. Standing on her tiptoes, she kissed me.

As I mentioned earlier, I’d completely abstained from sexual activity since Halee fingered me to a climax Monday night in Terry’s guest bed. The moment her tongue found its way into my mouth, it was over. I kissed her back with abandon, eagerly tugging the lower part of her dress upwards so I could slip my fingers beneath. When my hands reached her bottom and found it bare, I broke off the kiss.

“For me?” I breathed, losing myself in those hazel eyes.

We kissed again, her back pressed against the door and the fingers of both my hands between her cheeks. She didn’t engage my mouth for very long, concentrating instead on my neck, always my erogenous weak point.

“If you keep doing that,” I said, my voice almost a moan, “we’re going to end up doing it right here in the entryway.”

I’m not sure who led who to the bedroom, but the next thing I knew we were on my bed, hands and mouths all over each other. Halee was on top of me, and I used that handy vantage point to unzip her dress. She raised her body until she was kneeling over me, and pulled the garment over her head, flinging it to one side.

Now completely naked, she collapsed atop me, slipping one of her legs between mine and grinding against my pussy. I pushed back, the first wave of pleasure hitting me as I began to hump Halee’s thigh. She let me do that for a minute before pulling away, scrambling upright to kneel between my legs.

“Get rid of this fucking dress,” she said hoarsely.

I got up on my knees, and we worked together to strip me down to my underwear. Halee reached around my back and undid my bra, tossing it to the floor, along with the dress. Then she scooched forward and buried her face between my tits, kissing into the valley they formed, shoving both hands down the back of my panties as her mouth restlessly roamed over my breasts. Shifting one hand around to the front, she thrust two fingers between my folds. I threw my head back and gasped, a shudder racing through me.

“Somebody’s a little wet,” she teased. As she sawed her fingers in and out, slowly and sensuously, she kissed my neck, moving up to nibble on my earlobe. “I want to taste you, the way you tasted me,” she breathed.

I pulled my head back and looked into her eyes. “You want to eat my pussy, you mean?”

Halee grinned. “Yeah! I want to eat your pussy. I’ve been thinking about it ever since you did it to me.”

I stretched out on the bed, my legs wide open. “It’s all yours, honey,” I said.

Halee took her time. She started with my feet, caressing and loving them with gentle fingers. When she slipped those fingers between my toes, one by one, I almost came on the spot. Who knew a foot massage could be so fucking erotic? Inexperienced little Halee was doing things to me that no one else had before. She moved upwards, this time using both fingers and mouth, loving each of my lower legs in turn. She held a leg straight up in the air, running her tongue delicately across the back of my knee, then proceeded to do the same to the other leg.

When she got to my thighs, Halee turned up the intensity, kissing and biting her way up both of them. Finally she lay down on her belly, face just inches from my aching twat. I could feel wetness running down the crack of my ass. She moved forward slowly, opening me wide with her thumbs. Then she extended her tongue, delicately licking up the length of one outer lip, then the other. Each time, I involuntarily thrust my pelvis to meet her.

Her tongue slipped back down through the liquid center, barely brushing my clit. I felt a wave of pleasure that wrenched a cry from my quivering lips. She slipped her tongue inside me, working it in and out. I was out of my mind with sexual rapture, practically whimpering. Finally her tongue traveled upward, going to work on the sensitive nub of my clit with fast, yet delicate little licks.

Then there were fingers in me; two of them, I think. Halee worked them in and out, now licking my clit more directly and with more intensity. She would pleasure me hard and fast, driving me towards the edge, then back off, sucking my clit delicately and slowing her pumping arm down to a crawl. Then the intensity again. In this way she extended my plateau much longer than it otherwise would have lasted. Finally she let it happen, pushing me to a moaning, body-shaking climax so intense I thought I was going to pass out.

Finding my strength, I pulled her to me, kissing her passionately, tasting and smelling myself on her face. “Did you like doing that?” I breathed.

“I loved it,” she got out, in a voice that plainly said that she was in need of a little something herself.

I started kissing my way down her body, paying attention to her neck, her ears and her shoulders. I spent a lot of time on her tits. They weren’t big, but seemed to be amazingly sensitive. Every time my tongue flicked across a nipple, she moaned. When I sucked one into my mouth, her body gave a violent jerk.

“I can’t wait any more,” she panted. “Please, Nettie… please m-make me come.”

I planted my mouth between her labia. No subtlety; I sensed the immediacy of her need. She was wailing from the moment I began. Deciding the time had come for a bold move, I slipped a hand up her leg and to her hole, sliding an experimental finger inside. Just the tip, mind you. I encountered resistance and stopped there.

I looked up at her. “Is this okay, Halee?” She didn’t speak, only nodded. I went back to work, licking furiously while carefully sliding the tip of my finger in and out. With the other hand, I reached up to tweak each of her nipples in turn.

That was all it took; suddenly she was arching her back, making those little “uh… uh… uh…” noises that signified her orgasm, and I could feel her pussy clamp down rhythmically on my finger. Then she collapsed onto the bed.

We held each other for awhile, relaxing in silent bliss.

“Where did you learn to edge like that?” I said at last.

“Edge?”

“Where you took me almost all the way, then pulled back. It’s called edging.”

“Oh, I get it,” she said. “I do that to myself all the time. Otherwise, it’s over way too fast.”

I kissed her, then pulled away, reaching for my phone to check the time.

“You know, it’s just barely after eight,” I told her. “I’m not ready for bed yet; are you?”

On to Chapter Thirteen!