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Chapter Eleven: Sittin’ Pretty

Lindzi squirmed in the iron chair. They’d let her dress to her liking before taking her to the station, but she still shivered, the room somehow so much colder than the outside air. It was poorly lit as well, while not the single-lamp room depicted in the movies, it was nonetheless dark, the fluorescent lights providing a weak, flickering light across the scrubbed white floors.

“You do realize you are under no obligation to speak to us, right?” Detective Yamada lit a cigarette, then pushed the pack and lighter towards Lindzi. “You haven’t been charged with anything yet, we just wanted to get some answers about Tony.”

Lindzi nodded and took the cigarette, her hands shaking as she gently placed it in her mouth, the flame waving as she tried to light it. What was the big deal, anyway? She’d been arrested before. Hell, she’d been arrested just last month. It had never been scary before, just annoying. She’d wait in a cell or even just the waiting room until Butchie showed up with the bail money and then go home. If she was ever supposed to go to court, she never even heard about it. One way or another, Tony made it all go away.

But Tony wasn’t here now. Lindzi didn’t even know where Tony was. She knew he’d been lead away, but lead away to where? For what purpose? For the porn? No, that had been legal for years. Coke? Hell, half the police department and the entire California senate was snorting the stuff. But it was still illegal. She remembered reading in the papers about how huge quantities of the stuff had been confiscated in San Francisco harbor, and that several of her favorite pop stars had been arrested with the stuff. But they always got off with some “community service” and a fine. That’s the worst that could happen, right? After all, she was a star too — her face was prominently plastered over thousands, maybe even millions of VHS tapes. Didn’t that make her the same as all the other girls on TV? Didn’t she deserve the same second, third and fourth chances they got?

Detective Yamada leaned in. “Do you want to go home?”

Lindzi shook her head. “No.” She didn’t even know where “home” was anymore. The cops had ransacked the place pretty good, and anyway, without Tony and Nancy and all those other bitches she could look down on it wouldn’t feel like home. It would just feel big, empty and lonely. Here, at least, someone was paying attention to her. And that’s what she wanted.

“Should I call you a lawyer? Again, you’re not being charged with anything, but you do have a right to an attorney, even if you can’t afford one.”

“I know my rights, I watch the cop shows.” She sighed and ground out the stub of her cigarette in the ashtray. She lit another one and stared into the detective’s eyes, trying to size him up. He was short, shorter than her even, and very neat. Every part of his uniform was clean and exact, each crease sharp, even on his overcoat. He looked more like a photo of a detective, or an actor. It was unnatural. “Just ask your questions. I’m not scared.”

“I see.” Detective Yamada placed a tape recorder on the table, pointing the microphone at both of them. He held down play and record, his voice unnaturally loud, his words distinctly enunciated. “So you don’t want a lawyer, and you submit to questioning?”

“Yes.” Lindzi noticed a styrofoam cup of coffee on the left of the table. She grabbed at it, realizing suddenly how thirsty she was. It went flying onto the floor, spilling coffee all across the smooth linoleum surface. She bent down to pick it up.

“Don’t worry about that.” Detective Yamada stood up and went to the door, speaking to the officer outside. He came back with two cans of Pepsis, placing them in front of Lindzi and himself as he sat down. “So, let’s start. Tell me, when did you first meet Anthony ‘Tony’ Caldone?”

Lindzi grabbed at the Pepsi, draining the cup entirely. Even still, her throat ached. Why was she so thirsty? She’d downed two Pepsis and a cup of coffee while she waited for the squad car. “Well, about a year ago I guess. I was new in town, I had no money and no calls from that piece of shit agent of mine, so I went to the Checker Club for a few drinks. Tony started flirting with me and we went from there, I guess.” She looked longingly at the detective’s can of Pepsi, licking her lips a little and staring him in the eyes.

Detective Yamada pushed it towards her. “What do you mean ‘went from there’?”

“Well, he told me that he had a part for me, but I’d have to blow him to get it.” Lindzi downed the Pepsi in one draft. “I’d already blown my agent to get him to give me a better deal, so why not? I mean, it was just a blowjob. But I was kinda shy about it, you know? I mean, I didn’t know this guy, and how did I know he wasn’t going to just say ‘thanks’ and leave like all the other guys.” Her stomach grumbled. “Before we go on, can I get a candy bar or something? Dinner was like, eight hours ago. Or more, I don’t remember. What time is it?”

Detective Yamada looked at his watch. “It’s about 4:30 AM. And we can get you something from the vending machine, sure.” Yamada got up again and talked to the officer at the door. He stood there for quite some time, then sat down, a Clark bar in his left hand, another cup of coffee in his right. He put both in front of Lindzi. “So that was it, then? You blew him and then he gave you a job?”

That hadn’t been it at all. Lindzi tried not to think about it, but the night flooded back into her memory. She was scared then, scared of Tony, scared of LA, but even more scared of going home to face her mother and father. All the yelling, the curfews, getting grounded almost every weekend, she had hated every minute of it. Hated being the fifth of six kids. Hated how Mom and Dad had time for everyone but her. She learned to love pissing them off, and love the attention that pissing them off got. Half the senior class had been inside her at some point, but Tony was different. She didn’t fuck him at first, he fucked her. And it had been terrifying, having some strange man balls-deep in her, with his bodyguard leaning against the door in case she changed her mind.

But she’d learned to love it, learned to manipulate him just as he’d manipulated her. She’d been slinging her snatch around all through high school, but by the time her fourth movie had come out, she was using it to control, to manipulate, to get what she wanted. Her pussy was power, power to get others to bend to her whims, to give her fancy cars, clothes and jewelry. It turned her into a princess, letting her get whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. And she could rule like a princess, being capricious and demanding as she liked, so long as she put out. And put out she did. For almost two years now.

And what years they had been! Cars, clothes, cocaine, anything she wanted had been hers! It was all a constant blur of parties, and as she said more and more, she realized the astounding magnitude of what she’d been up to. She couldn’t even remember half of it, and what she did remember, she kept getting out of order, if there even was an order. Had she been in that movie with the space aliens, or just watched it being filmed, or only seen Tony editing it? Was she at that party where Candy threw up in the punch bowl, or had she only heard about it? Had she really taken two guys in her ass at once in a hot tub, or only fantasized about it? She spewed out words wildly, not even knowing what she was saying anymore.

As Detective Yamada hit “stop” on the machine, she realized she’d been talking for hours, her mouth now running at a fever pace. She looked down at the pile of cups and candy wrappers. How much had she eaten and drank? What all had she said? What time was it, even? She looked at Yamada. He looked as if he hadn’t moved, every piece of his uniform, every hair on his head exactly where it had been. It was like looking at a statue, or talking to one at least. She turned her head, staring at the tape player as its little wheels turned, slowly advancing the magnetic tape. What all had she said to this guy? Was she in trouble now? Why hadn’t Butchie swung in with the bail and set her free?

“This has been a very productive talk, Ms…” Detective Yamada pulled out a brand-new designer purse and flipped it open. He retrieved Lindzi’s wallet from it, examining the contents. “Ms. Kelsey Combs.” Lindzi straightened. No one had used her real name in years. “There’s just one more thing.” The detective picked up a small vial from inside the purse. Amber glass, filled with white powder. “I do believe this is cocaine, is it not? Or are women carrying around extremely small quantities of foot powder these days.”

“That’s not mine. You planted it there!” Lies, of course, but Lindzi was confused, enraged and frustrated. Through exhaustion and fear she’d been duped into spilling the beans for hours. Fucking cops! Fucking pigs! They were out to get her, just like everybody else. And this one was going to bust her for what, a lousy ounce at most! “You set me up! You just wanna frame me like you framed Tony! And I trusted you, you lousy Jap cop!”

“Temper, temper.” Detective Yamada kept the purse out of Lindzi’s reach, slowly putting the cocaine back inside. “I will return your driver’s license and any money in here to you, but I’m afraid the rest will have to be impounded as evidence. Just in case you change your mind about testifying when Tony goes on trial.” He kept his distance from Lindzi, carrying the bag to the officer at the door. “Granted, we couldn’t nail you with federal trafficking felonies with such a small amount, but I imagine a girl like you would not do well in prison, now would she? You know how some of the tougher women in jail grow to like pretty girls like you. It’s not like in your movies at all.”

Lindzi began to shiver again. Was this really how it was going to go down? She was going to be threatened with jail time over a tiny vial of cocaine, forced to rat out her sugar daddy or face getting raped by some inmate in the showers? This was all wrong. For years now, she had held all the control, or at least she’d felt like it. She did what she wanted, went where she wanted, bought what she wanted and fucked who she wanted. Now she was going to have to do something she didn’t want to do, or else she’d go where she didn’t want to go, and get fucked in ways she didn’t even want to think about. She felt like she was falling off a cliff, with nothing to grab on to. She collapsed, falling out of her chair with a thud.

The floor of the interrogation room was cold and sterile, smelling vaguely of bleach and floor wax. She looked up at the detective, who stared down calmly. His face was like a white mask, betraying no emotion, showing no concern or delight in Lindzi’s fainting. But there was one thing that caught her eye. Beneath the creases and tight lumps of his uniform, there was a slight bulge emerging from his crotch. She grinned. So the detective wasn’t as implacable and detached as he had tried to be. If he could get aroused, she could control him, just like she did Tony, Butchie, and all other men. She just had to seduce him into breaking. And with no ring on his finger, that couldn’t be too hard. Not after she just spent hour after hour describing her wild sexual exploits to him in the most explicit detail.

She slowly got to her feet, moving in close to him. “Detective, it doesn’t have to be like this.” She gently caressed his chest, needlessly straightening his tie and leaning in close. “I mean, ultimately we’re both on the same side, right? I’m going to work for you, and you’re going to work for justice. Why should we be so antagonistic?” She ran her hand down to his crotch, cupping his erection gently. It was bigger than she expected. Harder, too.

“I’ve had too many cases fall apart because a do-gooder turned into a do-nothing-er.” The detective’s voice and intonation didn’t change a bit, even as Lindzi continued to squeeze and caress his erection through his pants. “I’m not about to let you set Tony free, not when he can lead me to bigger fish to fry. This case is going to make a lot of careers around here.”

Lindzi grinned. She literally had him in the palm of her hand. She spun him around, putting herself between him and the door. She pushed gently, backing him towards the table. “And I’m always interested in making sure I’m on the winning team. Tony is old hat, and even if he pulls through this, he’d never take me back after I ratted on him. So it’s time I changed my bets.” She undid his belt and unzipped his pants, getting out his length and working it. It wasn’t the biggest one she worked with, nor the one she might most want if she had to choose, but it certainly wasn’t undesirable. Indeed, for a casual, unplanned fuck, it was better than most the ones she normally fooled around with.

She dropped to her knees, sliding it into her mouth. She giggled to herself as she tasted it, literally grabbing him by the balls and caressing him gently. She sucked his shaft into her mouth, twisting it this way and that. Her tongue moved along the underside, pulling and tasting his length eagerly. She moaned a little, making his shaft vibrate in her mouth, sucking and slurping at the pre as it came. Each swallow came hard, working more and more of his length into her until she was swallowing on him, working the cock down her throat until her nose touched his crotch.

There wasn’t the feedback she normally got, no enthusiastic cries for her to continue, no forceful hands on the top of her head pushing her down and “forcing” her to suck him off. But his shaft didn’t lie, and with each throbbing pulse of precum she felt all the more reinvigorated, all the more in control. She slipped off, slobbering on his shaft a bit before working it firmly in her hand. “C’mon, we can be friends, can’t we? I mean you’ve already felt how good I am with my tongue. I’m sure I can put it to work for you in other ways, once the court date comes up.”

If the detective said anything, Lindzi wasn’t listening. She spun around slowly, taking the time to shake her ass and flick her tail gently, making sure the detective was staring. She didn’t know what he was in to - tits, ass or legs, so she has to make sure she gave plenty of each. She lifted up her shirt and bra, exposing herself to him. She rubbed her breasts gently, pinching at each of the nipples and licking suggestively at them, though they were too small for her to get them in her mouth. She then hiked up her skirt and turned around, putting her leg on the chair and showing off as much as she could below the waist. Her movements were slow and deliberate, and impromptu striptease, capped by the way she pulled aside her panties and bent over the table.

Whatever set him off, the detective wasted no time getting over and inside of her. There was no tepid, hesitant approach, no slopping a limp dick up and down her pussy in a slow attempt to slide it in. Detective Yamada drove his shaft home, hard and firm, going balls deep on the first thrust. Her pussy was dryer than she’d have liked, having not even been warmed up by her fingers, making her wince slightly as he began to work inside of her. Still, the thought of being back in control, of putting his detective under her heels even as he bent over her back, that got her juices flowing, and it was soon easy going for the both of them.

It wasn’t the best sex Lindzi had ever had, it wasn’t even the best sex she’d had that day, but she moaned and whined like the cameras were rolling for every moment of it. She licked and bit at her lips, looking at him over her shoulder, bracing her hands against the table and pushing back with each forward thrust. She was a star after all, an actress, and capable of giving a good performance no matter what the circumstances. Sure, this was the first time she’d been fucked by a real detective, in a real interrogation room, but was it any different from her starring scene in “Miami Vices” or “Beverly Humps Cop”?

“Yeah, right there detective, get it in real deep!” The detective could use a few pointers in terms of technique, and she had no doubt that he would look like real shit on camera, but that wasn’t important right now. What was important was the way she squeezed and worked on his shaft with sincere eagerness, milking him with her sex and shoving against him with each thrust.

She reached back to grab at the detective, pulling her onto him as he neared his climax. Though she was nowhere near her own, she moaned, whimpered and whined with delight, putting on the best show she could muster. As he finished, she let out a sigh of relief, now realizing how utterly exhausted she was. Normally she’d have had a bump or two by now, if she was going to stay up until dawn, or at least five more cups of coffee. But other than what she had before she left the house, and all the sugar in those candy bars, she was running on empty. At least her pussy was full, and that meant she was in charge.

She sat down gently, making sure to keep her legs spread and her tits prominently on display to the detective. She shoved her hand into her snatch, retrieving some of the liquid and tasting it. “See, Detective? We don’t need to hate each other at all. In fact we can love each other.”

Detective Yamada gently adjusted his pants, tucking himself back in and re-doing his zipper and belt, examining himself meticulously and pulling every crease until it was taut. “So you say. You will be contacted when we have a more firm date for your deposition. You may have an attorney present at the deposition if you wish, but as you have not yet been charged, you’ll have to pay for it on your own.”

“Oh, I won’t need a lawyer, will I?” Her breasts still hanging out, she approached the detective, her wet hands gently caressing his chest. “I mean, we have an understanding now. I haven’t done anything wrong. And you’ll make sure everyone here understands that.”

The detective pushed away her wet hand and retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket. “Ms. Combs, we found almost thirty grams of cocaine on your person, and while that may be insufficient for felony trafficking, it’s certainly enough to book you for misdemeanor possession, and that’s enough for us to get a warrant for all your other crimes.” He dabbed away the wetness, cleaning it up aggressively. “Besides, look at your record. You’ve been arrested dozens of times for possession, for driving under the influence, for public lewdness, you think I can’t find a judge who isn’t champing at the bit to throw the book at you?”

Lindzi stumbled, collapsing back onto the chair. Her panties, now down around her thighs, caught on the edge of the chair and ripped audibly. “What? But we...But we…”

“We fucked. How does that change anything?” The detective put away his handkerchief and crossed his arms. “If it did, every prostitute in LA would walk free fifteen minutes after she was booked. Five minutes if she met the chief.” He stepped towards the door. “The buses will be running again in about thirty minutes. Otherwise there’s a payphone in the lobby for you to call a cab.”

Lindzi sat there dumbfounded. She wanted to scream. Wanted to yell and kick up her feet, demanding that things work out differently, that they worked out the way they always had before. No cop, or anyone else for that matter, had ever fucked her and not been swayed by her power. Her pussy was supposed to give her leverage over everyone. Why hadn’t it worked? Confusion and fear quickly turned into anger, and she stood up, pointing accusingly at the detective. “I’ll tell everyone. I’ll tell them all you fucked me. You fucked a witness. It will blow up the case. It will blow up your career. You fucked up, you piece of shit, and I will fucking ruin you over it!”

Detective Yamada stood impassively, hardly even blinking as Lindzi spewed her invective at him. He said nothing, letting her rant and ramble, letting her curse and jab her finger into his chest for minutes before suddenly grabbing her hand. He twisted it painfully, forcing Lindzi to her knees beneath him. “No one would believe you, Kelsey. Not against the testimony of detective with six years of outstanding service. All you did was put a brief smile on my face. And all I’m giving you in return is a much-delayed lesson in how grown-ups put duty over booty.” He opened the door, twisting her wrist again and forcing her to stand and go out into the hallway. “Get out, whore. We’ll call you when we need you.”