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A Detective's Journal Chapter 2

A Detective's Journal Chapter 2

You must give to recieve

Janine Voltaire was an undercover police officer who was part of the Special Operations Vice Squad. At 33 years old, she had waist long blonde hair, and was impeccably dressed as a high dollar escort. She had been working undercover three years, nearing her reintegration to normal duty. These last three years had taken a toll on her to say the least.

She was living in an executive suite atop the Embassy Suites for the past several months, as her place of operations. They couldn't risk having her wear a wire, because it would’ve blown her cover. So vice set up the room with cameras and hidden microphones. Her phone and sunglasses were also wired.

Janine poured the contents of her Louis Vuitton bag out on the bedspread, adding a layer of loose tobacco to the embroidered design. She always carried an extra vial of crystal meth to get her through the next job, but those damn vice squad rookies busted her connection, and she hadn’t replenished her supplies in at least a week. This was another hazard of working undercover and playing the part. Janine knew there was detox waiting for her after her field duty was over. Her mind went back to when this assignment first started, and how Captain Greer assured her that this would only be a temporary assignment. He guaranteed that at no time would her safety be compromised. Both these promises never proved to be true.

The original plan was for her to pose as a call girl, and the vice squad would just have some Johns meet her at a pre-arranged place, making it look like she was a popular hooker to gain the confidence of the madam. This actually went well for a little over a year, and she was able to secure some lists of the other working girls and their clients. But then there was evidence presented by a local news agency stating that there was a Russian sex slave trade operating in LA, and it was proposed for Janine to extend and expand her undercover role. They wanted more, and with each level her risk and involvement intensified.

Two years ago, she switched roles when they asked her to make a decision to continue or quit. It was clearly explained that they could not order her to do what was necessary for her to win the trust of the high profile clients. Basically they were asking her to undertake the life of a whore for God and country.

Sitting down on the end of the mattress, she stirred the contents of her emptied bag around on the bedspread. There wasn’t any relief coming tonight. She would have to face the next joker with a clear head.

“Lord,” she groaned, lighting a cigarette, and clicking the remote to a local news channel.
Janine took in a long drag from her menthol Capris, and almost choked on the exhale, as a screen photo of Victor Vanderhoff spread out in full view.

“Fuck this,” she mumbled aloud, reaching into her bag, and unzipping the side pocket where she secured her pre-paid cell phone.

In her haste, she broke off one perfectly manicured nail that was painted in baby doll red. Cursing louder than before, she flipped the phone open, examining her ruined ring finger. Janine hit the speed dial ‘444,’ and waited for the passcode prompt.

Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t even know what had happened. She only knew that if something went wrong with Victor, the entire operation would possibly be in jeopardy, and her cover might be blown. No one knew she was undercover, except Captain Greer, and she wasn’t supposed to contact him, unless her situation was severely compromised.

“Damn it!” She snapped the phone shut after the first ring, and started to wonder if it wasn’t the drug withdrawal that was making her reckless and impatient. Janine didn’t really know what was going on. The news reporter had just flashed Victor's face across the screen. He was found dead from an apparent suicide.

How the hell did that information get leaked out without someone letting her know about it? She tossed the phone on the bed, and turned her handbag upside down with a violent shake.

Out rolled a clear little glass vial with six tiny white rocks rolling around inside. "Oh hell yes," she moaned, as she fished the pipe out of the lining of the bag, and set herself up for release.

She soon forgot about Vanderhoff and his apparent suicide, and anything else she might have been concerned with, until the knock at the door brought her back to reality.

There was an alarm clock on her night stand, and she made sure to push the button on top of the clock, so that it turned on the recording equipment. Next, she walked over to the door and asked, "Who is it?"

"Inna sent me," was the reply.

Clasping the security chain, Janine opened the door a crack, and peered out at a balding, middle aged, over weight man in a business suit. He looked very nervous, and seemed vaguely familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place the face.

"What is it you want?"

"I was told that this is where I could book a trip around the world."

"That is an expensive trip," she said, unlatching the chain, and opening the door to let him in.

Her sheer Victoria’s Secret robe opened to her navel, allowing him get a bit of a peek of the goods.

"I was told you were the best booking agent in town." He reached out to grab her tit, but she swatted his hand away.

"You must buy a ticket before you start the trip. The discounted price is two thousand dollars paid in advanced."

"Shit! That is pretty steep isn't it?"

"You can book an economy trip down on the street at Wilshire!" she snapped at him, feeling somewhat offended.

"Oh, alright," he acquiesced, digging his wallet out of his vest pocket. She then remembered where she had seen him before. This was Big Bob Davis, running for mayor. His picture was posted all over town. She also remembered from briefings that he was known to have connections with some of the most notorious characters in LA.

He counted out a stack of hundreds, and handed them to her reluctantly, before she hid the money away in the night stand drawer, which also contained her badge, handcuffs and gun.

Janine took his jacket, and hung it on a satin hanger. Then she proceeded to do the same with his shirt and pants, while he groped at her large tits. She chuckled to herself, as she slid down his boxers, exposing his rigid four inch cock. The nick name 'Big Bob' had nothing to do with his equipment.

He stood there in all his gargantuan glory, anticipating what came next. She definitely did not disappoint, and Davis watched her peel off her nightgown, throwing it over the back of the over stuffed chair. She stood before him in just her thong and high heels. She certainly had the body any man would pay for. Her long, luscious hair cascaded over her shoulders, down to her large supple breasts. Her slim waist, curvaceous bottom, and long shapely legs completed her package.

"Suck my dick, bitch!" he exclaimed, pushing her down to her knees.

Janine felt like out of all the disgusting things she had done in the last three years, this had to be the epitome of the worst. She obeyed his command, getting on her knees. Sucking off this fat, sweaty, smelly pig dick grossed her out. This was about as low as she could possibly go.

"Not so fast, cunt! I want to get my money's worth." He gripped her by the hair, regulating the speed of his thrusts.

It wasn’t long before Bob Davis was now pumping her from behind, with his hands on her ass. She wished she could have a still shot made from the surveillance camera footage, so that she could turn it into the local TV station before you could say,'mayor,' but for now, Janine had to endure the rest of this little party before she could get his ass.

Despite his small size, the man knew how to move, and it disgusted her that he was hitting all the right spots. She actually considered a gratuitous cum.

“You’re a little young thing aren’t you, bitch?” he said, as he pounded her lithe body, jolting forward with each thrust. “I want you to call me daddy,” he croaked, “call me daddy, you whore!"

“Oh, strong sexy daddy, you’re going to make me so wet… I’m dripping for you, daddy,” Janine replied softly, increasingly disgusted with this little charade.

Where was her fucking backup? They were probably in the van laughing their asses off. Normally they would’ve burst in and made the arrest after he had given her the money, but she knew that their absence meant she would have to endure him pumping her, so she could pump him for information.

The effects of her last hit had worn off, and any previous idea of coming was deadened with his next perverted commentary.

“Yeah, I know how to make you my bitch. You’ll be there waiting for me every day to make sure my needs are cared for. Won’t you, bitch?”

He must have a fetish with that word—serious overkill on ‘bitch.’ Janine rolled her eyes. “Uh hummmm…” she moaned out to him, as he continued to escalate his fantasy.

"I will have your ass every day, babe, and you will do whatever I like. I’m going to pound you and make you wetter, yeah baby." His flapping obesity hit her with every thrust.

Then he exploded into her, and right on cue, she made the usual “oh you hot stud” remarks, to ensure his complacency.

Davis fell onto the bed feeling exhausted, and she rolled over to the bedside table.

As they lay there with him catching his breath she says, “Things have gotten slow for me since the new dancers arrived," she pretended to complain.

“Don’t be a whiner," he said, as he reached for his pack of cigarettes that rested on the night stand. “All those girls come to me first. I get first taste. I let them know who is boss. If you ever have a problem with one of them, just let me know, and she won’t be working here anymore. I would love to have you join me with one of them sometime. That would be ultra-hot." He lit up a Winston, and took a deep drag while staring at her.

Janine didn’t respond. She was thinking how she could draw more information from him.

“Still,” she whimpered, “I’m not getting the business I used to get," she whiningly expressed, as she slid up next to him in bed, caressing his shoulder.

“I know, babe, but the bottom line is the almighty dollar.” He smoked the cigarette, and leaned against the plush pillows. “As long as they give me the payoff, I’m riding happy. You can't trust those fucking Russians, but I have enough info on them to keep them in line. ”

He then continued to brag about his connection with virtually every area of the underworld dropping names and telling stories about what a big operator he was. Most of it was probably exaggerations but it was clear he knew something.

God she was tired of this bullshit. "Let’s play, daddy," she suggested, pulling some handcuffs out of the nightstand drawer, and teasingly dangled her tits in his face. "Let’s play a new game," she coyly said.

Janine then leaned across him, and slipped the cuffs through the headboard, and took his cigarette away, putting it out in the ashtray. She had him distracted now, and he allowed it, as he licked her erect nipple that was bouncing in his face. Fastening his cuffed hand to the headboard, she straddled him long enough to get his other hand cuffed and secured above his head.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and two cops out of uniform, stepped in the room. The look on Bob Davis's face was worth the price of admission.

"What the fuck!?" he cried out in shock.

Janine slid off the bed, and slipped on a robe.

"This one is mine guys," she pulled her badge from the drawer while Bob just lay there, wide eyed in disbelief.

"You are under arrest for pandering, prostitution, and racketing. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak with me?"

"Yeah, I’ll speak to you…you fucking cunt! Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? Clearly you don’t. Wait till you see what happens to you. You fucking bitch! You just wrote your death warrant!"



The alley was crowded with police cruisers and uniformed officers, as we made our way to the murder scene. The coroner had already removed the body from the dumpster, and placed it on a gurney, and the forensic team had the undesirable task of sorting through the garbage.

"Who's in charge here?" Frank asked the police officer guarding the entrance.

"That would be officer Donahue from the twenty seventh," he replied, and pointed toward a Sargent.

As we had made our way over to him, I noticed this was a typical china town alley covered in trash, and smelling like a cesspool.

"I’m Frank, and this is my partner Alex from homicide. What are we looking at here?" he asked.

"We have a body of a 17 to 20 year old blond Caucasian female, found in this dumpster this morning by some workers from this restaurant. They were throwing out the garbage."

"Has someone spoken to the workers yet?"

"They don't speak English. We are waiting for an interpreter."

"We’d like to look at the body," I told him, while I walked over to the gurney, and put on a pair of sterile gloves.

After I unzipped the body bag, I noticed several things. First, this girl had her head almost completely shaved except for sprigs of hair in random places. Next, was the bruised and swollen face; she had obviously taken quite a beating. Lifting up her hand, I could see her nails were elaborately done, but more importantly, her finger prints were sliced off.

I asked the coroner deputy, "Have you taken samples yet?"

"We’ve taken photos, DNA swabs from her skin, hair, mouth, and vagina. The rest we will do at the morgue."

"What are some of your preliminary findings?"

"Well, she was stripped naked. Her head was shaved, and she had an inordinate amount of semen in her vagina, anus, and mouth. If I were to guess, I would say she was a party girl and it got too rough. We won't know the cause of death until the autopsy, but there are no apparent knife or bullet wounds."

"Were there any identifiable tattoos, markings, or piercings?" I asked.

"Earlobes and the navel are pierced, but no jewellery. Help me turn her," he said, pulling her onto the left side.

"Frank, come over here and look at this." I had waved at him to get his attention.

"Yeah, what is it?" He walked toward me after breaking his conversation with Donahue, and I felt his arm brush against me. The strangest thing happened. My face flushed in heat, and I got the chills from the accidental contact. There was a huge question spinning around in my mind, and it had nothing to do with this woman’s murder. It had everything to do with Frank McGannon.

"Take a look at this tattoo." I finally composed my thoughts, and pointed at the back of the victim’s right shoulder. It was a dragon standing on a scroll, stamped with the number, 142.

"A couple months ago, we fished a body out of the aqueduct that had similar ink, but the number was different. The digits were 102. I remember that because that… is my badge number," Frank replied.

There was something about his voice. It was so deep, and at times gentle. It suddenly occurred to me that I was quite possibly crushing on my partner. This was not good.

His phone started playing 'Walk the Line' by Johnny Cash, and I let out a short little laugh. "You really need to change that ring tone.”

“Consider it a last priority,” he countered with quick wit.

I tried not to stare at him, while he spent a couple minutes on the phone.

"We need to wrap this up. Greer wants us back at the station,” Frank finally finished the phone call, and looked at me.

"Did he say what it was about?"

"Briefly. He said they just picked up a person of interest that might help us with the Victor Vuitton case."

“Alright, let’s go.”


Once we entered Greer's office, I noticed that he was there with three other detectives. The captain rose to his feet, and introduced us.

"Frank—Alex, this is Ray, Bruce and Janine from vice."

We all shook hands in a cordial manner, while Captain Greer continued, “We have a perp in custody that is singing like a Lark. He has given us more information than ever. All the information we have uncovered is in the Vuitton case. He has fingered several high profile suspects, and connected a lot of unresolved cases."

“How sure are you of his testimony?" Frank asked.

"It is as solid as it comes. The suspect is Bob Davis. He has decided to work with us after we agreed to give him complete immunity from prosecution and the police endorsement of his campaign,” he shoved his hands in his pockets, and sighed. “Janine was the arresting officer. She has been undercover for several years, and is now being reintegrated back to normal duty. Alex, if you agree to going undercover, Janine will mentor you in what your assignment entails, and Frank will be your liaison. We cannot involve any more people at this level. We suspect there might be informants, and we can't compromise your security," Greer explained.

"There has been a major gang realignment going on in LA,” Janine added. “That’s why there are so many homicides these last few months. The Russian mob has made a power play, and is now in control of drugs, gambling and prostitution. They’re flooding the market with cheap meth and foreign prostitutes—many of them abducted into slavery. Davis has connected the dots for us,” she looked at Frank, and I noticed that she was staring at him a little too much. Was she interested?

“What would I be expected to do undercover?" I asked.

"I am going to let you talk to Janine about that. Both you and Frank,” our captain replied.

I looked at my partner, and he seemed a bit hesitant. I wasn’t sure what he was thinking, but I was curious to find out.

“Alex, can I have a word with you, please—we’re just going to step out for a moment, captain. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Go right ahead. I need to speak to these two in private anyway.”

I followed Frank out of the office, and sat in the chair that he pulled up for me by his desk.

“Okay, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“I’m worried about this undercover thing. I don’t like it,” he confessed.

I rolled my eyes at him, and folded my arms in my chest. “Frank, we’re detectives. We’re supposed to go under cover. It’s what comes with the territory, remember?”

“Alex, I’ve been in this field for a long time, a lot longer than you have, okay? You’re still a rookie—”

“And what? That’s supposed to make me any less capable of doing my job?” his comment partly offended me.

“Don’t take what I said so personally. Jeezuz, I’m just looking out for you. You’re fresh out of the academy, and this mission is dangerous.”

“Danger is part of our job. You should know that best.”

“You do not understand me.”

I honestly did not want to hear it. I didn’t sign up for this job to be lectured and told how to do my job, certainly not from my partner.

“As far as I’m concerned, we’re equals. You’re not above me, and I’m not above you. Neutral footing, Frank—so keep your advice to yourself. I want to move up in the force, and if this is my chance, I’ll take it,” I got to my feet, and walked towards the elevators.

“Hey, I’m not done!” he hollered behind me.

The elevator doors suddenly opened with a ding, and I stepped inside, but just as it was about to close, McGanon stuck his arm through, and got in with me. I pressed on the button that would take us down to the ground floor, and waited impatiently.

“Will you just stop being so stubborn for two minutes, and actually hear me out?”

I leaned back against the cold steel, and met his eyes.

“You’re not going to change my mind about this.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s there to talk about?”

He was about to say something, when suddenly the elevator stopped with a jolt, and the power went out. Oh god, I was going to have a heart attack.

“What the hell just happened?”

“Shit, I think the generators are down.”

“We don’t have freak storms in LA, why has the power gone out?” there was panic in my voice, but I tried my best to hide it. It was so dark inside. I couldn’t even see Frank’s face.

“I have no idea to be honest, but I’m sure they’ll have us out of here in no time. The good thing is we’re not stuck in here after hours.”

I heard a little ring, and jumped. “What was that?”

“I just activated the emergency.”

“Oh—okay.” My heart was racing, and I was starting to sweat.

“You’re not afraid of the dark are you?” he teased me.

I heard movement in the elevator, and huddled into a corner.

“No, I am not.”

“You sure…” he persisted to mock me.

“Frank, for fucks sake, quit it. I have claustrophobia, okay? I’m on the verge of having a panic attack, and I’m sure it’s very tempting for you to shoot the shit and make fun of me for freaking out, but I’m seriously—” I started to gasp for air, as my breathing quickened, getting heavier and heavier.

“Hey, relax. Alex—”

I felt a pair of hands on my shoulders, as I continued to reel out of control.

“You’re okay. Look at me, listen to my voice. Focus.”

I tilted my head up, and my eyes had now adjusted to the darkness. I could see his face a bit.

“Breathe with me, can you do that?”

“Yeah,” I answered in a shaky voice.

“Deep breath, inhale…exhale…inhale...exhale…good, you’re okay, Alex. Nothing’s going to happen to you. I’m with you. You’re not alone.”

“I feel like the space is going to close in on me.” This whole ordeal was triggering events I did not want to ever experience; trauma from my childhood.

“It won’t. That doesn’t happen inside of elevators. Just keep breathing. Inhale...exhale…”

My breathing slowed down, but I felt dizzy.

“Good girl, you’re doing great.”

“F..Frank…I…c…can’t…c…control…my…my…br…breathing.” I started to cry, and then felt absolutely humiliated for breaking down in such a vulnerable way.

“Hey, shhh…come here.” He pulled me into his chest, and wrapped his big strong arms around me. “Breathe with me, Alex. Listen to my breaths; match the rhythm of my breathing. I want you to focus on that.”

I held onto him, and rested my chin over his shoulder, attempting to breathe in unison with him.

“In…and out…and in…and out.” His breathing was relaxed, and soothing, and after a while, my heart rate had finally slowed down. I wasn’t feeling this scary sense of despair anymore.

“I thought I was going to die.”

“I know,” he murmured into my ear, lowering his hands to my waist.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For revealing my inner basket case.”

Frank chuckled, and whispered softly in my ear, “I’ve seen worse.”

“You’re such an ass.” I smacked his arm gently, letting out a little laugh.

“Hey, this ass just saved your life.”

“Don’t get cocky now." I sniffled, breathed out, and just took comfort in his arms, as he held me through the silence.



“I’m worried the anxiety will come back.”

“Do you have your phone on you?”


“Give it to me.”

I wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with it, but I pulled back, and handed it over to him.

He took my iPhone, opened up my music player, and scrolled down my list.

“Favourite song?”

“Umm…I have too many.”

“Favourite tune of the week?”

“The XX-Reconsider, the remixed version.”

The bright light from my cell was shining on his face, allowing me to see his expression, as he found the song.

“Not bad—never heard this genre.”

“You seriously need to broaden your horizons then, because I’m pretty much a human juke box.”

At first I thought he was sneaking a feel, but he was only reaching around my hip to slide my iPhone into my back pocket.

The chill-step track played softly in the background, and it was a good distraction. Music always calmed me.

I felt his hands on my hips, and my arms took on a will of their own, as I snaked them around his neck, and closed the gap between us.

“How did you know?”

“That music would do the trick?’ he asked.


“Well, you’ve always got that stereo on blast every time I call you when you’re driving.”

I laughed a bit, and hid my face in the crook of his neck. “Right, I guess you’re getting to know me pretty well then.”

The minutes passed, and the song continued to play, and without either of us even realizing it, we started to slowly sway side to side in beat with the music.



“Partners pretty much tell each other everything, right?”

“Umm…more or less.”

“If I tell you something, will you promise not to share it with the rest of the squad?”

“Alex, you don’t even have to ask me that. I would never share personal things that anyone shares with me to a living soul. That’s part of my moral code.”

I wavered a bit, hugged him a little tighter, and then said, “My sperm donor used to lock me in the closet as punishment when I was a kid.”

“Sperm donor?”

“Yeah, that’s what I call the prick, because he was never a real father to me.”


I wasn’t sure why I told him this, but it felt like a weight was lifted off my chest in a way.

“I’m not telling you this for pity or anything. I just want you to understand why I freak out in closed spaces.”

“I understand.” He caressed the small of my back, sending shivers all down my body. I could smell his after shave, and was convinced it was an Old Spice fragrance.

“Is that your heart beating against my chest?” Frank whispered.

“I think that’s yours.”

My heart rate had calmed considerably, but I still didn’t want to let go of his embrace. Hugging Frank felt…good.

“Are you sure?” His lips grazed my earlobe, causing a wave of goose bumps to ripple down my arms.

“Uh huh…”

I waited so long…

I closed my eyes, and listened to Romy Croft and Oliver Sim, combine their sexy vocals together. My anxiety wasn’t consuming me anymore, because something else was.

“Are you feeling better?” he spoke in a gentle tone.


Our cheeks touched, and I was pretty sure my heart was racing again, as a radiating heat came off his body. This man really was incredibly good looking for his age, and I realized right then and there, that I was undeniably attracted to him.

“So, are you ready to listen to me?”

“I guess I really don’t have a choice. I mean, where can I run?”

We both spoke in low whispers.

“I just want you to be sure about this,” he stated.

My lips accidentally brushed against his cheek, and that’s when he pulled back a bit.

Oh god, he was staring right at me. My worst nightmare was turning into an unexpected dream. I was trapped in an elevator with Frank McGanon, the hottest detective at our precinct, and quite possibly all of LA.

I found myself edging closer to his lips.


My fingertips slid down his shoulders, and his chest, then back up over his shoulders again. This attraction that I felt was only amplifying and pulling me in closer like a magnet. I couldn’t fight it, and I think he understood it too, because the next thing I felt was his lips softly colliding against mine.

If my heart was beating erratically earlier, then surely it was fluttering as fast as the wings of a hummingbird. I let out a soft little moan, as he parted my lips, and gently slipped his tongue inside. Fireworks were going off in my brain, my chest—every part of me felt like it was going to burst into flames. Maybe he was just completely engulfing me.

Our kiss turned passionate, as Frank grabbed my thighs, lifted them up, and gently pushed me back against the wall of the elevator. I didn’t want to break the contact, in fear that the spell he was under would lift, and he would come to his senses. I needed this. This felt good. It felt different.

“Alex…we should…”

“Don’t talk,” I managed to get out a few words, as I kissed him deeper, feeling more confident, and naturally dominating his lips.

There was a soft drumming rhythm vibrating against my palm when I placed it against his chest, right against the chamber of his most vital organ. We made out in the darkness for the longest while, as our arousal only increased. He would groan, and I would sigh, as his hands explored my body in the darkness. It was heavy breathing, soft tunes in the background, darkness, and Frank fucking McGanon. It was a metamorphosis of a nightmare turning into a crucial moment of post traumatic recovery for me.

Things were heating up fast, and I was about to unfasten his belt, when suddenly there was a noise at the top of the ceiling, as it opened up. A bright light shined down on us, and Frank immediately pulled away. I wiped at my lip gloss, and tried to compose myself from that mind blowing kiss.

“You two okay down there?”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat. “What’s going on with the elevators?”

“We’re going to get you guys out—technical problems.”

I ran my fingers through my hair, and squinted when the technician shined his flash light at me.

Why did I kiss him? Why? Why? I was so seriously screwed, because after that kiss. All I wanted was more. Nice job, Alex. Someone should’ve hauled my ass back to the academy.

To be continued ....

Author’s Note:

This chapter was written in collaboration with Sweetest Sins.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © Copyright ©2015 ChuckEpoo All Rights Reserved. This story is for viewing on Lush Stories only. If you are seeing it anywhere else it has been copied without consent.No part of this story may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of the author.

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