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The cleanup

The sun was as soft on my skin as a sweet as a gentle breeze that had tangled it’s ephemeral fingers in my hair. I slowly opened my eyes to a room of gossamer curtains and aged wooden walls. I laid beneath sheets as soft as down and my head rested on a feather pillow. For a moment I thought I was home. Then I thought I was dead. Then I realized no deity in their right mind would ever let someone like me into heaven so I must be alive. Blinking, I slowly sat up and looked around.

I was in my childhood home, lying in my mother’s bed. It looked almost identical to how her room was in my dream. For a moment I feared if I looked at the doorway I would see my younger self staring in horror as he discovered my mother having an affair with Jacquelyn Ruby’s husband.

Scenes from the dream flared back in my mind and for a moment it was me under my mother instead of Mr. Ruby, cock slick with my mother’s juices as she moaned and scrabbled frantically at her large breasts, overcome with pleasure and desire.

A cool wind blew through the open window, wafting the curtains like a loose skirt and washing over me. It raised goosebumps on my arms and chest. Shivering, I saw I was naked under the sheets and hurriedly rose to get dressed.

Everything was there for me, laid out on my mother’s dresser as if in anticipation. The last time anyone had ever laid my clothes out for me was when I lived here, with my mother. A haunting, ghostly finger ran from the base of my skull, down my spine and through me to tug at my navel. I swallowed, my throat dry. I needed answers. I dressed in a hurry.

I had come to town for one reason, to find my mother’s murderer and bring them to justice. My mother was Julia Burgh and if you’ve never heard of her I don’t blame you. She was the mayor of a small country town called Greenwood, and if you have heard of that town I feel sorry for you. It’s a nice kind of small town. Low crime, steady economy, beautiful setting, the kind of place you might stay if your car broke down on the highway and you needed a quick fix. You won’t find any national chain stores major grocery stores here though. Change comes slowly to Greenwood, if at all, and if you’ve ever visited you know it’s harder to leave Greenwood than it is a Midwest potluck. Once you arrive, you can never truly leave. I learned that the hard way. Greenwood is always there, waiting for you to come back.

I had my suspicions when I arrived, as to my mother’s murderer, and those suspicions proved more true than I first thought. However, in discovering the truth of my mother’s murder I had learned of other things as well, things that would have been better off staying buried in my graveyard of memories, but I had found those memories alive and my mother dead. Life’s a bitch. No one can promise happiness.

How do I explain this? Let’s see. OK, Greenwood is different. Things are done differently here. Fuck me. I’m not explaining this well.

Greenwood is a place where the wyrd meets the mundane. They shake hands here and, for better or worse, they live in harmony. More or less, that is. Well sort of. It is a place of midnight rituals where virgins lie beneath standing stones, where bloodlines are kept pure through close, close intermarriage to keep bonds and promises strong. It is a place where what normal folk call abnormal is anything but.

As I reached the bottom of the stairs I could smell the coffee pot already brewing. Walking through the house was like reliving a vivid memory. Barely anything had changed. From the pictures on the fireplace mantle to the curtains over the bay windows, mom had kept the place like a museum. Only the kitchen showed real changes. New and updated appliances, hell she still had the phone hanging on the wall only it was cordless now. Everything was five to ten years behind on the current fashion compared to thecity where I worked as a homicide detective. The city where I lived my life away from this place, with my transgender wife, Sarina. Here in Greenwood, state of the art technology usually broke down, fizzed out, misfired, or just did not work the way it was supposed to. Something about Greenwood loved the old ways and she did not move swiftly into the present.

A note waited for me on the counter next to a sleeve of bagels, an empty coffee mug, a bowl of sugar cubes, and a set of car keys. I read as I filled the mug with steaming hot coffee.

“I know you’re a big city cop and all, so you probably feel like it’s your honor bound duty to drink your coffee black, but I left some sugar cubes on the table, I know two cubes used to be your favorite.

When you’ve had your breakfast, come and meet me at your Aunt Brandi’s. She’ll explain everything, whether she wants to or not. “

The note was signed, “your love.” No name. It looked like Sarina’s handwriting, and that too made sense. Before confronting the woman who I thought had killed my mother I had called my wife for backup. We had worked homicide together back güvenilir bahis when she was still Steven, and my biggest rival.. Most of our friends had abandoned him as soon as he started going by Sarina,everyone but me. I’d never had a closer friend and better rival, and a year after Sarina’s transition I found myself feeling things for her I had never thought I would feel. We started dating and well, you can guess the rest.

Sarina had not been there until the very end when I faced off against Savage, the woman I had believed to have killed my mother. Turned out she hadn’t, but she might as well have been. It was Savage who whispered in the ear of my mother’s best friend and secretary, Jacquelyn Ruby. It was Savage who pushed Jackie to get revenge for an affair that had happened over a decade ago, and all because my mother would not “join” with Savage.

I allowed myself a little sugar as I poured my coffee and sat at the table to sip it, thinking about what had happened just before I woke up in my mother’s bed. I had been in her office at city hall, the same place she had been killed. I had met with Savage there, a woman who claimed to be older than Greenwood, older even than the country, as old as the land. She said Greenwood had once belonged to her and her sisters, and that they were going to take it back.

I raised the mug to my lips. Empty. I sighed and grabbed the keys. I couldn’t waste any more time. I had to find out what happened, find out the truth once and for all. I had a sneaking suspicion that the truth was going to taste like bile in my gut, but to know for sure I needed to talk to my aunt, Brandi, and find out what had happened to my cousin, Dakota.

The keys were to my mother’s vehicle out front. My car had been totaled and, for all I knew, was still crumpled up in a ditch out by the edge of Greenwood city limits.

I drove my mother’s car through town and out toward the high hills in the east. Sitting atop that hill like a Grecian crown of pure white marble that burned gold in the light of the rising and setting sun was the Olympia manor. Sarina’s car was already parked out front when I arrived. I walked up past the fountain in front of the house that featured my uncle, Steven Olympia. He stood like a Greek hero above three worshipful, wanton water nymphs carved to resemble his mother, his wife, and his daughter. Remember what I told you about bloodlines?

No one answered when I knocked on the front door. So I let myself in. The Olympia manor was sun warm marble on the outside, cold glass and tile within, the walls and furniture were all cast in shades of white and gray. I found no one in the living room. The papyrus couches and glass coffee table vacant, the white brick fireplace cold in its glass shutters. The kitchen was empty too, every stainless steel surface shining and cold to the touch.

I froze when I saw Dakota on the back patio, overlooking the Rockwell view of Greenwood. She stood next to the eternity pool, her small, nubile body wrapped in a fluffy blanket, white and pure as snow. I stood and watched her as she gazed out over the valley below. She reached up to tuck a locke of her short cut, golden hair behind her ear. As she did the blanket slid down past her small, pale shoulders. I watched the midmorning sun gleam off her soft skin, her small frame rising and falling as she breathed. I thought of her wanton blue eyes, her small, pink lips and sweet, small mouth. I remembered how I had emptied myself between those lips and how her mouth had not been large enough to hold my flowing seed. Large portions of glistening white cum had overflown her lips, down her chin and onto her small, tight breasts. I remembered what she had said then, too.

“That would have been twins.”

I watched now as she lay back on the deck chair and opened up her blanket, revealing her young, naked body to the sun’s gentle morning light. As I watched she squeezed one of her breasts, pinching the pink, pierced nippled between manicured thumb and forefinger.

“She’s not just your cousin, Gunner, not anymore,” said Brandi, appearing at my side. I won’t lie, I jumped. It had been a rough couple of days. Also, I was watching her naked daughter playing on the porch. I tried to look away but Brandi placed a calm, cool hand on my shoulder.

“Don’t look away, Gunner,” said Brandi, “watch.”

Shamelessly I obeyed. I watched as Dakota dipped her fingers between her sweet lips, soaking them in saliva before sliding them down her young, hungry body. A trail of glistening lubrication shone on her skin, following her hand’s downward journey until it was buried between her tanned thighs. I felt myself growing hard as I imagined my cock where her fingers were. Her body bucked and quivered on the deck chair as the mature teen pleased herself beneath the bright eye of the heavens and I stood there, with her mother, and watched. We watched as she drew closer and closer, her body rippling with need, with lust fueled desire, until she arched güvenilir bahis siteleri her back and came. It was then I saw what I had only suspected before.

In the moment of Dakota’s ecstasy she changed. Scales erupted across her skin. Her tongue grew long and failed like a dancing cobra, forked and glistening wet between her lips. Her teeth turned to fangs, her hair to clattering locks of darkened chitin, and claws flared from her fingertips, drawing blood across her breast where she still squeezed her nipple.

“She is no normal girl,” said Brandi as Dakota’s arched back dropped back into the deck chair and she lay there, breathing heavily, exhausted. “But she is mine.”

“There’s so much I still don’t understand, aunt Brandi,” I said, thinking again of Dakota’s insatiable desire, her lustful mood swings, her blatant way of talking about her father. “What…what is….how do I say this?”

“You’re wanting to ask what is wrong with my child, Gunner,” said Brandi, slipping her arm into mine and turning me away from her naked daughter, “but you are right, that’s the wrong question. It’s the bloodline, every Olympia has it, but it is a necessary evil.”

“What is it?” I asked

“A curse, a gift, it is what she will make of it. In any regard, don’t bother your handsome little head about it, above or below the belt.” She ruffled my hair. Brandi was tall, with a long face and hair of artificial gold. She was wearing a loose white dress with a golden belt and golden heels that laced up her thighs. She wore gold around her neck and wrists as well. She was the meeting place of modernity, ancient Grecian fashion, and Caucasian beauty. Her eyes were blue, like Dakota’s, but made of ice and weighted scales.

“Gunner?”

I turned away from my Aunt just as my beautiful wife, Sarina walked into the kitchen.

She was wearing a long, black and white skirt and purple top with black fishnet underneath. Her hair was black now, with box bangs above her glassy blue eyes. She smiled, the skin shining from gloss as she crossed her hands at her waist and bounced up and down on her tip toes.

“Sarina” I sighed and quickly closed the distance between us. I wrapped her in my arms. Her lips were on mine and my tongue tasted her’s. She pulled me close, pressing me against her large breasts, her round hips, her hard cock. I felt myself grow in response and for a moment we simply held each other close, sharing the heat of our passion within this cold, sterile kitchen. As we pressed our bodies together I could feel her need radiating from her body. She could not help but press closer, wriggling against me so that her cock slid up and over mine. She was in earnest. I wasn’t much better. It had been too long since I last tasted her precum on my lips, and nothing separated us now but her thin, flowing skirt.

“Well isn’t that sweet,” said the honey knife voice of my aunt. I pulled away from Sarina and subconsciously placed her behind me. The intimate and honest moment between aunt Brandi and I had passed. Now she was all cold and sterile business.

“You two will have plenty of time to fuck later,” said Brandi, wasting no time on words, “come with me. We need to talk.”

“I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that,” I said as Sarina and I followed Brandi out of the kitchen and back to the living room.

“She’s not all bad,” said Sarina in a hushed voice. I barely heard her, my eyes entranced by her soft, red lips and the memory of how they felt on mine. I was also remembering how they felt on other parts of my body.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked.

“Why?”

“Well you only go that red when you’re thinking about my cock in your mouth,” she said.

“I’ll tell you later,” I said as we sat down across from Brandi. A tray of coffee cups, scarlet as lipstick, had been placed on the glass coffee table. Brandi added cream and sugar to one, stirred it and leaned back on the couch, legs crossed beneath her white skirt. Before I could open my mouth to ask any questions another woman entered the room. Her skin was dark as Brandi’s was pale, her hair the rich brown of fertile earth, her body fit and toned, her breasts large and fake, just like my aunt’s and my mother’s. Without thinking I reached for the gun that wasn’t on my hip.

“Calm down, baby,” said Sarina, gripping my arm as Jacquelyn Ruby paused at the edge of the couches.

“Calm down?” I hissed through clenched teeth, “this bitch killed my mother! She was working with Savage!”

“She did what she had to,” said Brandi, unperturbed by my outburst as she sipped her coffee.

“What she had to?” I demanded, a horrible revelation pressing itself on my psyche. “You were in on it the whole time!”

“Yes, in fact, you could probably call me the mastermind,” said Brandi, “but not in the way you’re thinking right now. You see, silly nephew of mine, everything Jackie, Liza, your mother and I have done has been for the sole purpose of bringing you home to stop iddaa siteleri Savage.”

“Liza? My mom? What are you talking about, Brandi?” I demanded.

“We’ve known about Savage for months now, Gunner,” said Jackie.

“Don’t you speak to me, murderer,” I barked.

A slap, loud as a gunshot, filled the cavernous living room, echoing off the marble walls and stinging my cheek with fire. I turned to look at my sweet wife. Her face was a frowning thundercloud, her hand still raised, palm red as her lipstick.

“Hush,” she said, and then turned back to the other two ladies, reached for a cup of coffee, and began delicately sipping.

In the awkward silence that followed, Brandi continued.

“Forgive Jackie, she is close to the founders but not one of us. She has known about Savage for months, yes, ever since my little sister, Jiji, and I brought her in on it. Your mother and I, along with Mrs. Redcloud, Liza and Chief George have known of the three sisters since we took up our roles as founders.”

“Then why did I never hear about it?” I demanded.

“You left,” said Brandi and sipped her coffee, all the weight of disdain and judgment in her unerring ice cold gaze.

“Why wait until now to clue me back in?” I demanded.

“Because of how well you, hmm, performed with Savage. I must say it was quite a virile production. The stamina it must have taken…”

“Get to the point, Brandi.”

“There were no guarantees you would succeed,” said Brandi.

“We all knew the risks, including Julia,” said Jacquelyn, sitting down next to Brandi.

“Well I didn’t,” I snapped.

“Tell me, nephew, if I had told you everything after you arrived, would you have even believed me?”

I didn’t answer. She didn’t need me to.

“Luckily, after Liza unlocked some of your memories there was some hope you might succeed. It was still a close thing. Savage could just have easily dominated you as been dominated by you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m not even sure what happened up there in my mother’s office.” I cast a sidelong glance at Sarina and suddenly wasn’t sure I wanted to know. We had always had an open and sharing relationship. Hell, we’d been fucking girls from both ends since before Sarina was Sarina. Still, she did not know everything that had happened since my arrival in Greenwood, and I would rather have spoken with her about it in private than in committee.

“Don’t be so small minded, baby boy,” said Brandi, waving her hand like she was shooing away a fly. “This is Greenwood, we live by different rules here, rules your ‘wife’ seems to be rather understanding of.”

“What did you tell her?” I demanded.

“Everything,” said Sarina, taking one of my hands in both of her’s. “And like Brandi said, I understand. Sometimes you have to do things for the job, things you didn’t think you wanted to do, but in the end…well…sometimes you find out that you did.”

“Did I just learn something about you?” I asked with the ghost of a smile on my lips.

“I’ll tell you later,” she said and kissed my cheek.

“Disgusting, so much actual affection, it turns my stomach,” said Brandi. She made a little waving motion with her hand and a young boy appeared. He looked no older than Dakota, but he was very tall, his body stretched thin. He stood at perhaps six foot three or four and had the rich, warm skin and dark hair of the Redcloud tribe.

“Bring me something with a high alcohol content I can hide in my coffee,” she told the boy, “and no creamy surprises this time, Ricky. No matter what my son says, I don’t like the taste.

“Mrs. Redcloud wanted her boy to learn how to be useful like his elder brother, so far he’s been quite a disappointment,” said Brandi, not bothering to lower her voice as the boy left the room.

“What happened to Savage? And to Dakota? And why…why did my mother have to die?”

“Dakota will be fine, she’s more heartsick than anything else. She thinks that she has no chance now, if you know what I mean,” said Brandi with a pointed look at Sarina.

“As for Savage, she is…contained,” said Jackie, “Liza has seen to that.”

My mind’s eye flashed back to Liza Stones sex torture basement at the Greenwood House and I suppressed a shiver at what the silver haired woman was doing to the strange snake woman.

“As for your mother, well,” Brandi sighed and set down her coffee mug as Ricky returned with a bottle of vodka. “Dump it in boy, bit more, come on, there we go. Alright, put that away and go to my room, I’ll be there soon, this won’t take much longer.”

Ricky fumbled with the cap as he hurried away, spilling vodka on the tiled floor. Brandi scoffed and shook her head before emptying half her mug in one go.

“Your mother knew the risks. She knew her sacrifice would bring you home. Whether or not her final wish will come to fruition still waits to be seen.”

“Her final wish?” I asked.

“It shouldn’t be this complicated, Gunner. I swear, you can be as stupid as that Ricky sometimes, though if your half as thick and long as that boy than your mother blessed you with good genes, I’ll say that much.”

“Brandi, what did she want me to do?” I demanded.

“She wanted you to stay, Gunner,” said Jackie.

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