© 2010 by K.C. Hall.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted by any means, electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without
written permission from the author.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever
to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not
even distantly inspired by any individual known or
unknown to the author and all incidents are pure fiction.
Freakytales
Erotic Fairytales
by K.C. Hall
The Good Cop
Latasha Conners heard the popping sound just before she
felt the steering wheel being jerked out of her hand. She
quickly let her foot off the gas pedal and firmly regained
control of the vehicle as she eased the car over to the side of
the road. The thump, thump, thump of the flat tire smacking
the road with each revolution, parodying the beat of her
heart as she realized exactly what had happened. She’d had
a flat tire on probably what was the most barren stretch of
road on her whole trip.
Latasha was on her way back from a fall writer’s
conference at USC where she had been asked to teach a
class about the proper way to prepare a book outline. She
was just twenty-six but already she had lucked into a few
book deals and was an aspiring, meaning broke, writer.
When the college had offered to pay her traveling expenses
and a small gratuity for a two-day seminar, she had leapt at
the chance.
Now she wondered if those traveling expenses included
fixing her flat tire. She unhooked her seat belt and opened
the car door. Fortunately, the flat was on the curb side so at
least she wouldn’t have to worry about someone hitting her
if she was able to put on the spare. She went back and
opened the trunk. Of course it was full of books, files,
folders, and luggage. She started unloading everything from
the trunk, putting it all on the back seat so she wouldn’t
have to worry about anything happening to it. She was on
the third carton when a car pulled in behind hers.
She looked back as she carried a carton to the back seat
of her ten-year old Pontiac Bonneville. A man in his late
thirties, or even early forties, got out and ambled towards
her. A feeling of trepidation crept up her spine as she
remembered all the scary Stephen King novels she’d read.
Why was she thinking the worst case scenario instead of the
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best? Her practicality returned as she reasoned that surely
he would know a lot more about changing a tire than she
did.
“Need some help there?” he asked with a wide grin. He
ambled over to the side of the car that was lower and knelt
as he looked at the flat. He was rangy, almost to the point of
being gaunt. His graying brown hair was in bad need of a
cut. That, along with his scratchy-looking salt and pepper
beard growth gave him an all over grizzled look.
“Just had a blow out. It was probably all my fault. I
knew it was time to start thinking about replacing these
tires. I guess I just didn’t think it was as urgent as it
apparently was,” she replied with a self-mocking smile.
Latasha was petite and slender, reaching five foot only
by wearing stacked heels or standing on her toes. One
would think she was a student on campus instead of the
teacher. She had a short natural that framed her
small oval face, with an auburn shading that shimmered in
the full light. It was a throw back to her idol – Angela Davis.
While her dark brown eyes, flecked with green, were filled
with the seriousness of rich mahogany, her lightly arched
eyebrows were expressive enough to let the imp in her show
through. Her small up-turned nose with the merest
scattering of freckles, gave her a juvenile look and promised
to hide her maturing age for years to come. Her bow shaped
lips framed a small mouth very sensuously. Round and full,
they fell into a natural smile unless she was pouting.
“You got a spare and a jack? I think I can get it off,” he
said smiling to himself at the secret double meaning of his
words.
Ducking out from under the back seat she turned and
walked back to the trunk. “Only one more box to move and
then I think I can get to everything. Should be a spare and
jack in this well under here,” she said as she indicated the
felt covered bottom of the trunk.
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
He took the last carton out of the trunk and carried it to
the back seat on the opposite side of the car. As Latasha
helped him to maneuver it inside she asked him what his
name was.
“John Jackson, but everybody just calls me J.J.”
“Well, J.J. I sure am glad you happened by,” she said as
she stood up. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a black
and white LAPD police car drive by on the other side of the
median, going the opposite direction. J.J. was still hunched
over in the back seat and didn’t see it as it flashed by or he
might have had other ideas about hanging around.
Latasha removed the well cover and pulled out the spare
and the jack. Within ten minutes the two of them had the
spare on the car and the flat in the trunk.
Latasha lifted her hand to shake J.J’s grimy one, saying,
“I don’t know how I can thank you for stopping and helping
me. I really appreciate it. Can I give you some money for
your trouble? It would have cost me at least a tow bill if you
hadn’t come along.”
J.J. mumbled something and hung his head down a bit,
indicating that he wouldn’t be adverse to that idea so she
went around to the front passenger side to get her purse.
Before she knew what had happened he had her pinned
to the front seat with his knee high up between her thighs
pushing her short shirt up to her crotch, his arms holding
her shoulders down. She was shocked, scared, and
bewildered all at once. This couldn’t be happening to her,
she knew better than to let this happen to her!
* * *
the young woman beside the car. There was an even older
car pulled in behind it but he didn’t see the driver. He
wondered about that and then decided to turn around at the
next intersection to check it out. Before he got to it though,
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K.C. Hall
he was hailed by a motorist who had run out of gas a few
miles further up. He stopped to assist, asking the dispatcher
to call the roadside assistance number for the
manufacturer’s warranty service. When he was assured that
somebody was on the way with some gasoline, he
remembered the woman on the opposite side of the
highway. He got back in his cruiser and instead of driving to
the next turnaround, he drove across the grass median and
backtracked to where she was.
* * *
Latasha was struggling to get him off of her but it was to
no avail. She was only able to kick her heels into his back
from this position and that wasn’t doing any good, she
couldn’t get enough leverage to make her efforts count. In
fact, it was only making her more accessible to him.
Suddenly a shiny silver knife blade was waved across her
face and she froze.
“Now, that’s a good girl. I see you understand me now,”
he hissed at her through crooked, stained teeth and cracked
lips. For the first time she was aware of the strong smell of
beer and tobacco emanating from him.
He slowly took the knife and one by one he popped the
buttons off of her shirt by inserting it between the folds. She
got the message that he was trying to send her about how
sharp the knife was. When he had divested her buttons he
used the point of the knife to open each side of her shirt,
using exaggerated movements to lay first one side of it
across her arm and then the opposite side. Deftly he cut the
short satin-covered piece of elastic that joined the two cups
of her bra together. The tension that had been on the elastic
caused the bra to pop wide open exposing her velvet
breasts to his gaze.
“Nice. Very nice. A bit on the small side though. They
remind me of my first girlfriend’s tits. She was just fourteen
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
when I took her,” he whispered as one hand moved to caress
a fleshy mound.
“No! Please. Please don’t,” she whimpered as she felt
waves of panic beginning to overtake her. She cringed as he
squeezed her breast, kneading it with his rough calloused
hand.
“Tell me you want my cock,” he murmured. When she
said nothing, just flinched and shrank away from him, he
yelled, “You heard me, say it now!” He pressed the tip of
the knife against her throat. She sobbed and he pressed the knife deeper, actually cutting her smooth flesh. “I can take you as you bleed to death just as easily as I can take you now,” he threatened.
“I w—want your c—cock,” she stammered.
“Good. Now this time say it like you really mean it.” He
waited patiently for her to reply. When she didn’t, he
pressed the knife edge beside her nipple.
Terrified of what he might do to her there, she said as
evenly as she could, “I want your cock, please.”
“That’s better. And since you asked so nicely, I’ll give
it to you,” he said as he shifted his weight and moved the
knife down to where her panty hose were blocking his
entry. He inserted the tip of the knife where her hose were
drawn tight just below her crotch and with one quick
upward swipe he cut it all the way up to the waistband.
“No!” she hollered as loud as she could and just then
she felt the weight of him being lifted off of her. Stunned,
she watched as a LAPD officer disarmed him, knocked him
out and threw him on the ground. Trying to sit up she
watched as he handcuffed J.J.’s hands behind his back and
then turned to her.
“Are you all right?” he asked as his eyes raked over her.
She had forgotten about her state of undress and quickly
grabbed for her shirt panels to pull over her breasts. Without
the buttons she had to hold it closed with her trembling
hands.
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“Oh, God. I don’t know. If you hadn’t shown up just
now he would have raped me!” she cried. It was then that
she lifted her tear-filled eyes to his steely ones. The hard
look on the planes of his face was only one sign of his
seething anger. His fists balled at his sides and his foot
pressing firmly into her attacker’s back were the others.
He spoke into a small microphone attached to his collar
and then looked over where she stood. “There’s a backup
coming to take him down to the station. I don’t want you to
have to ride in the same car with him. You’ll need to
accompany me to the station so you can press charges.”
She softly nodded her head in agreement and then they
both just looked at each other, assessing and appreciating.
He was tall. Incredibly tall, and handsome to beat all. He
was at least a foot and a few inches taller than she and he
cut quite the picture of a big hulking lawman in his
impressive blue uniform. His felt hat covered most of his
hair but she could tell that it was thick, black, and wavy. His
well-defined eyebrows slanted over dark eyes that
were now boring straight into hers. His nose was straight
and long, fitting perfectly into his chiseled, rough-hewn
face. It seemed like the only spot on him that might be soft
were his lips, but she wasn’t even sure of that, as they were
now pursed into a thin line as he felt his prisoner push up
against his tall black boot resting at the base of the man’s
back.
“Are you up to telling me exactly what happened here?”
he asked as he continued his survey of her. She was cute in
a pixieish kind of way. Curly short hair that fringed her
delicate face lifted in the wind as she turned away from him.
She was trying to cope with her shirt and deal with her skirt
and torn panty hose at the same time.
“If you’ll excuse me for a minute, I think I’d like to get
one of my shirts out of my suitcase, this is really rather
awkward to deal with.” The blush that stole up her neck and
across her cheeks touched his heart. How awful it must have
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
been for her to be exposed as she was to a stranger’s eyes,
including his. The fleeting glimpse he’d had of her before
she’d covered himself was of young perky uplifted breasts
with soft brown tips. The vision was forever etched into his
mind even though he knew that he was not entitled to
shelter it there.
He watched her trim figure as she bent over the back
seat fumbling with a suitcase. She produced a bulky sweater
and even though it was much too warm outside for the
weight of it, he knew all too well that her reason for
selecting it was to cover herself as completely as she could
right now.
She asked him if he would turn his back for a minute
and he obliged her, making sure that his prisoner’s head was
also facing the opposite direction from her. A few minutes
later she walked over and handed him her torn shirt, bra and
panty hose.
“That’s what happened,” she said flatly. Then she
elaborated and told him about the flat tire and the man’s
offer to help her. With a muttered curse he roughly rolled
the man on the ground over with the toe of his boot. He was
just beginning to come around and Derin took that
opportunity to read him his rights. Just as he had finished,
another patrol car with two officers in it arrived, lights
flashing and siren pulsing. They turned off the siren as soon
as they pulled in and both doors opened simultaneously as
the two officers came running to the aid of one of their own.
“Philip, Casey. This is…” He turned to her, just now
realizing that he hadn’t even bothered to get her name yet.
“Latasha Bryant,” she filled in for him.
Latasha, yes, somehow that fit her. “Yes, Latasha
Bryant,” he repeated. “This perp tried to rape her after
helping her change her flat tire. You run him in while I take
her to the rape intervention center. I’ll meet you back at the
station when they’re finished with her and she’s ready to
press charges.”
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K.C. Hall
“Sure, Derin. What are we going to do with the two
cars? Tow ‘em?” the eager young rookie called Casey
asked.
“I’ll bring her back to hers later. You can arrange to
have his towed.” He turned and walked the few steps to
where she stood. “You did get a good look at him, right?
You’ll be able to pick him out in a lineup if you have to
won’t you? Not that you should, since I was a witness, but
you never know what’s going to happen when something
gets to court.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately it’s not a face I’m likely to forget
anytime soon,” she said with defeat shadowing her eyes. He
took her arm and walked her over to his cruiser after she
had collected her purse and locked up her car.
“Is this rape crisis thing absolutely necessary?” she
asked. “I mean, I wasn’t really raped, thanks to your
timeliness.”
“They know about the repercussions you’re going to be
dealing with later, even though he wasn’t successful in his
ultimate goal, this is going to affect you more than you
know, later. Besides, they’re experts in gathering the
required evidence and testimony we’ll need to prosecute the
bastard.”
Despite the heavy sweater she was now wearing, he saw
her shiver and he pulled his heavy uniform coat off the back
seat and placed it over her lap. It was only the beginning of
September so he knew her chill was more from trepidation
than from the shadows of the fall sunset.
“Where were you heading?” he asked with genuine
interest as he pulled back onto the highway.
“Moreno Valley. I was driving home from LA. I
taught a class for a writer’s workshop.”
“You’re a teacher?”
“No, I’m a writer. Well, sort of. I’ve published a few
books. Nothing of any consequence though, I haven’t quite
found my niche, so generally I just say I’m a waitress.
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
That’s what I really do for a living, if you count where the
money’s coming from.”
“What kind of books do you write, if I might ask?”
She blushed a little and murmured, “Romance.
Contemporary romance. Probably nothing you’ve ever
stumbled upon.”
“Yeah, I’m more the Ed McBain type. I did read Dr.
Zhivago one time, it was required for school, but I don’t
guess that’s considered contemporary.”
“No,” she said as she faced forward, hoping to end the
discussion of her dismal career.
“You must be pretty good to have been asked to teach a
class on writing.”
“I’m published. I think that’s the only required criteria.”
They continued in silence, each dealing with their own
thoughts as he maneuvered through the streets. Latasha had only been
on the freeway for a few minutes before the tire blew, now
they were backtracking to the city she had just left. Home
had never seemed so far away, and now she was heading in
the opposite direction from the security she needed so
much.
“Here we are,” he said as he pulled up to a large brick
house. “I’ll go in with you and introduce you and then I’ll
wait in the sitting area until you’re finished talking with a
counselor.” He got out of the car and walked around to her
side. She was clutching his coat to her even though it really
wasn’t all that cold. She was scared and it showed in her
wide eyes. He opened the door and reached for her hand.
She stared at it for a moment before she took it. His
large warm fingers encompassed her small delicate ones.
She was comforted by the sheer size of him as they walked
up the cement pathway to the front door.
The house was at least sixty years old. It had
obviously been in it’s last stages of decay before it had been
converted. The black shutters framing the windows looked
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K.C. Hall
like they had been painted with thick tar instead of paint and
the shrubbery under the windows was overgrown and in
need of mulching. The gnarled roots of the large
rhododendrons were exposed to the elements. Latasha’s
nurturing fingers itched to cover them and soothe them to
prolong their life. Funny, that’s exactly what was happening
to her, she was being covered and soothed during this time
of crisis so she could get on with the rest of her life.
She remembered now how exposed she’d been. The
thought that sleazy ‘J.J.’ was the first man to see her naked
breasts caused her to shiver with revulsion.
Derin held the door open for her and ushered her inside,
fighting the unfamiliar urge to gather her into his arms to
comfort and warm her. She could instantly tell that they had
been expecting her when she saw two women who had been
sitting by the desk at the front door jump up and come over
to them as soon as Derin had shut the door.
Extending her hand to Latasha, a kindly older woman
introduced herself as Bernice Greene, the director of the
rape intervention center. The other woman smiled brightly
and took both of Latasha’s hands. “And I’m Dr. Patience
Hatley. We’re so glad you came to see us. Won’t you
please come have a seat, we’ve got some hot tea and some
freshly baked cranberry muffins.”
The two women lead her into a small salon off the
foyer. It was very tastefully decorated in turn of the century
styled furniture. The white lacy doilies under the Tiffany
lamps on the end tables reminded her of the ones her
grandmother used to crochet every evening after the dinner
dishes had been put away. She sat in a brocade wing-back
chair facing a very ornate white mantle. She recognized
expensive Lladro figurines placed between several
ornamental music boxes. The hardwood floors, the Austrian
curtains, and the stark absence of anything modern
contributed to the feeling that she had been transported back
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
in time to a well-appointed Victorian parlor room, complete
with a silver tea set.
Dr. Hatley moved to close the curtained double doors
behind her and Latasha saw Derin settle his big body onto a
small, delicate-looking chair in a room on the other side of
the round foyer, just as the two doors met and closed. Both
women took a seat on the small settee in front of the silver
serving tray.
“Would you like some tea, Latasha?” Mrs. Greene
asked. When Latasha simply nodded, she poured a cup and
brought it to her along with a plate of muffins.
For almost an hour they talked, each woman skilled in
divining the seriousness of the offense that had occurred
against Latasha. It hadn’t been necessary for a physical
examination. Latasha had assured Dr. Hatley that her panties
had remained in place during the attack and that there had
been no penetration in that area, whatsoever. Latasha also
declined an examination of her breasts assuring them that
there wasn’t any pain associated with her attacker’s harsh
fondling of her breasts. When the idea of taking
photographs to detail her bruising came up, she cringed and
refused. In her opinion that would be even worst than what
her attacker had done to her. She did let them take a picture
of the small cut on her neck before the doctor cleaned and
bandaged it for her. She told them that she had already
given the clothes her attacker had cut off of her to the police
officer waiting in the foyer. Then Dr. Hatley removed a
small phone from her pocket and punched in a few
numbers. Latasha could hear her releasing from duty the
female policewoman waiting in the other room. She would
have had to witness the physical exam had there been need
of one.
Latasha listened to their advice, took their pamphlets and
cards, and promised to call within a week to talk to another
counselor about therapy sessions. All in all she was very
pleased with their care and concern, but she was anxious to
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K.C. Hall
get home and a little concerned for the policeman who was
waiting so patiently outside for her.
When the door opened and she glanced across the hall
she was buoyed by the big smile she saw on the officer’s
face. Timidly she walked over to where he was seated. He
stood up saying, “All finished?”
“Yes. I’d like to go back to my car now, if you don’t
mind. I still have a pretty long drive before I’m home and I am
beginning to get very tired.”
“I understand. I’ll be happy to drive you back, but we
still have one more stop. You need to go to the station
house. We have to fill out a report and you have to formally
press charges.”
“Oh, I forgot. How long will all that take?”
“Not more than half an hour if we hurry. C’mon, I’ll
phase you through it myself.”
“Thanks, you’ve been really amazing. Everybody
around here has.”
“Well, not everybody,” he said with a grimace.
Latasha smiled sheepishly, “Yeah, not everybody.”
They drove to the station in silence. Latasha, almost
ready to fall asleep was propped against the door.
“Maybe you should consider staying in town tonight
instead of driving back to Moreno Valley.”
“I can’t. I don’t have the money for a hotel room.
Waitressing and writing just pay a minimal living. I don’t
ever seem to have any incidental money saved up.”
“That’s no problem, the City has funds for just this
kind of thing, the station will take care of the room,” he
said. In truth, they would. They had funds for just this kind
of thing. That it would be more paperwork than it was
worth, he didn’t mention. Somehow he felt that he should
take of her, that she was in some way his responsibility.
And it didn’t bother him even a little bit that he felt that
way, except that he didn’t understand it, not one tiny bit.
“Really?” she asked with a sound of relief in her voice.
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“Really. I’ll take care of the arrangements when we get
to the station.” Now what had made him act like that? The
funds would be his funds, he’d already decided that before
he’d made the offer. What was making him feel so
responsible for her? Why was he so concerned for her
welfare? She was beautiful and smart. But he knew lots of
women who were beautiful and smart. He looked at her
profile as she stared out the window. She was guileless. He
didn’t know any women who were so unaffected by him
like she was. His urge to protect her was tempered with an
urge to caress her. He must be going nuts, she had to be at
least ten years younger than he was. He pulled into the
station parking lot and parked right by the door.
By the time he had walked around to her side she had
already opened the door. He reached for her hand and she
stared deeply into his eyes before giving it to him. It fell
warm and small but quite pleasant to hold. The sensation of
touching her was intoxicating. As soon as she was standing
she pulled her hand away, much sooner than he was ready
to release it, and he instantly felt the loss.
Inside the station he led her through the procedures,
explaining and advising. True to his word they were done in
half an hour and he saw her back to his cruiser and from
there, back to her car. He checked to make sure the tire had
been properly changed and then instructed her to follow him
to the motel. She followed him for a few miles until he
pulled into a Days Inn. He went inside to pay the bill
while she gathered the things she would need from her car
and together they walked to the room she had been assigned
on the second level. He carried in her bag and checked the
room, a reassuring touch after all she had been through.
Standing at the door he said good night, wondering why he
was so reluctant to leave her. He was drawn to her and he
didn’t want to say goodbye.
“Can I meet you for breakfast tomorrow morning before
you head back to Moreno Valley?”
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“You’ve done so much for me already, I couldn’t
possibly impose on you any more.”
“It’s not an imposition. I wouldn’t have asked you, if I
didn’t want to,” he said gruffly.
Noticing the edge to his voice, she contritely smiled.
Not wanting to offend this man who had been so nice to her
she replied, “Sure, that would be great. Is 7:30 too soon?”
“7:30 will be fine. I’ll meet you here.” He reached out
and lifted her chin with his fingers, gently brushing his
thumb against the bandage on her neck, “Get a good night’s
sleep, you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re safe,
now.”
“Thank you. I can never thank you enough for your
timeliness. You’ve spared me untold grief and quite
possibly my life.”
He smiled revealing beautifully white, straight teeth
framed by his full lips.”That’s my job, to protect and
serve. Good night.”
“Good night,” she whispered, captivated by his
devastating smile.
* * *
check on the latest prisoner in Forsythe County. He had told
Latasha that his name was James Johnson, J.J. for short. In
actuality his name was Hobart Broyahan and he had a
record dating back twenty-six years. Most of the charges
were simple assault. There were numerous drug charges,
petty larceny, shoplifting, vagrancy, two armed robberies
and six charges of rape. None of the rape charges had been
prosecuted. He had surprisingly few convictions that had
resulted in prison time. Now that he had wandered into
Forsythe County, maybe it was time to make the man pay
for his offenses, Derin thought.
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Attempted rape wasn’t nearly as good as a completed
rape with the evidence to go with it from a prosecutor’s way
of thinking, but in this case, Derin was especially glad it
was the lesser of the two. He jotted down some notes and
drove over to R.J. Turner’ house. It was never too late
to call on his best friend, the Solicitor for the County and
the man he had bunked with through four grueling years of
college. Grueling because he had been forced to work long
hours tending bar after classes, then after sleeping for a few
hours, he would wake up to study before running to the next
day’s classes. He’d had to pay for his tuition, books, dorm
room and food. R.J., on the other hand, had never had to
pay for anything in his entire life. Being born to privilege
had certainly allowed him a lot more study time than Derin
had ever had.
R.J. lived in the old Turner’ house at the west end
of Bellamy Street. The house had been handed down for
several generations to the eldest son and R.J. had
inherited it and all its woes at quite an early age when his
parents had retired to West Palm Springs shortly after his
graduation from Pepperdine School of Law. Now all he did
was complain about how much money it cost him to keep
up the old place and pay the taxes on it. Many times he
could be heard lamenting over it’s antiquated heating
system, swearing he’d give it all up for a modern
condominium with a jacuzzi tub, if he weren’t afraid that
his great grandfather would come back to haunt him.
When Derin lifted the knocker on the front door he was
surprised to have the door pull away from him, causing him
to stumble slightly forward.
“What took you so long? They called from the station a
couple of hours ago.” It was almost nine o’clock at night
and R.J. was still in his suit, his tie knotted neatly at his
neck.
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K.C. Hall
“Don’t you ever change your clothes when you come
home from work? You look like you just got home. Did you
have a date or something?” Derin asked.
“No. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I’m
comfortable.”
“Only you would be,” Derin said as he stepped over the
marble threshold and walked through the foyer to the
warmth of the study, cozily lit from the leaping flames of
the fireplace. In answer to R.J.’s question he added, “I
took the victim to the intervention center and then got her
situated in a motel room. She lives in Moreno Valley you
know.”
“Yeah, they told me. I assume you brought his record
for me to look at,” R.J. said as he took his customary
seat next to a tall reading lamp.
Derin took some folded papers out of his breast pocket
and dropped them in R.J.’s lap. “Yeah, there it is. A
testimony to this country’s policies on crime. The scum bag
hasn’t served two years all totaled!”
“What’s got you so riled?”
“You should have seen her R.J.. The picture of
innocence and beauty, abused by this…this…vile, disgusting
excuse of a man! You need to bag this one for me R.J.. I
want him to be behind bars for what he did to her.”
“What exactly did he do, Derin?” R.J. asked, his
eyes searching his friend’s face in puzzlement.
Derin put both of his hands in front of his face and
rubbed the area over his well defined eyebrows. As he
paced he told R.J. what he knew. “It was just a fluke
that I turned around when I did and even a bigger one that I
arrived just as he was positioning himself over her for
penetration.”
R.J. watched his friend as he paced back and forth
in front of the wall to wall book shelves. He had never seen
Derin react quite this way before and they had worked
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
together on crimes that were much more unspeakable than
this one.
“Well, with you as a witness, I’d say we have a pretty
open and shut case. She is planning on testifying isn’t she?”
“Yes. That’s why I put her up in the motel for the night.
I knew you’d want to talk to her tomorrow before his bond
hearing. When you prosecute, how many years do you think
you can get for him?”
“That’s hard to tell, it’ll depend on how good she is on
the stand at the preliminary hearing. We’ll know better after
I talk to her tomorrow. Here, have a shot of brandy with
me.” R.J. said as he walked over to the cherry credenza
in front of the window and lifted a crystal decanter half-
filled with a rich mahogany colored fluid.
“No, not tonight. If I have one, I’ll want five.” Derin
walked over to the door leading back to the entrance. “I’m
picking her up for breakfast around 7, can you meet us
at Bert’s at 8?”
“Yeah. Boy, you’ve really got a burr up your ass on this
one. Why?”
“I don’t know. But I gotta tell you, It was all I could do
not to pulverize the bastard right then and there on the side
of the road, so you’d better get him good!” With that he
stomped across the marble-tiled foyer, his boots resounding
throughout the two level entry hall.
* * *
the motel. He ran up the steps to the second level and
knocked on her door. After waiting a moment or two and
not hearing any sounds from inside, he knocked harder and
longer. After a few seconds he heard a muffled sound and
then heard her unlocking the sliding chain.
A rumpled young woman stood just inside the doorway,
rubbing her eyes and yawning. “Is it morning already?” she
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K.C. Hall
asked sleepily. “It feels like I just got to sleep. I’m so sorry,
it’ll only take me a few minutes to get ready.”
He looked at her in her flannel stripped pajamas. She
looked like a little kid getting up on Christmas morning, all
she needed was a little teddy bear to drag behind her. Her
coiled curls were all tousled and her bright dark eyes were
still heavy with sleep. Her cute freckles and moist berry brown lips
looked every bit like those of a child. Except for the slight
curves causing the stripes in her pajama top to wrap over
her breasts instead of going straight down her chest, she
could have been a child. He was shocked to find his body
responding to the image in front of him, shocked and
bewildered.
He found his voice and managed to say, “I’ll just wait
in the car, take your time.”
Back in the cruiser he adjusted the rear view mirror and
in so doing looked himself right in the face. Out loud he
asked himself, “So, what is it? Now you’re getting turned
on by waif-like innocence? You’re a thick chick kind of
man remember?”
As long as he could remember, he had liked them tall,
thick, big-haired and the more make-up the better, easier
pickings, girls who not only wanted to play but knew the
rules he played by. Lately he’d dated a few women R.J.
had set him up with, the sophisticated set, girls who had an
agenda but were careful not to show it. All in all he
preferred the less pretentious type, the ones who knew he
was going home alone after all the hijinks were over. He
wasn’t ready to settle down with one woman and he
somehow doubted that he ever would be. So the feelings he
was having now were as foreign to him as sushi with sake
would have been to an Oregon lumberjack.
* * *
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
Latasha had taken a shower last night, a really long one
while she tried to scrub the places that felt seared by her
attacker’s touch. Then she had cried herself to sleep only to
awaken throughout the night with one bad dream right after
another. She had finally dozed off to a dreamless slumber
shortly before dawn. When she heard the knocking on the
door, she was disoriented. It took her a minute or so just to
remember where she was and why. Now, as she was
hurriedly dressing she thought about Officer Connors. He
hadn’t had his hat on this morning and she could see that he
did indeed have thick, wavy black hair. It was cut short on
the side and a little longer on the top. Why was she thinking
about him so much this
morning? Surely he was unavailable, a man like that had to
have either a wife, several girlfriends, or both. She oiled
her own crowning glory, packed up her bag and ran down
the steps to meet him.
* * *
far corner of Bert’s diner. While Derin made the
introductions, a frazzled waitress poured coffee and quickly
disappeared back into the kitchen. R.J.’s first look at
Latasha explained two things. The first was why Derin had
become so personally involved in this case and the other
was why the other two officers he’d talked to had been so
sure that she hadn’t solicited Hobart Broyahan’s
affections. She was without a doubt as innocent and angelic
looking as a full grown woman could possibly be at the age
of twenty-six, living at the tail end of the twentieth century.
And, she was quite stunning in her own special way.
While Latasha read the menu, R.J. looked at Derin
who had just become mesmerized by the dark lashes
fringing her lowered eyes as they cast slight shadows over
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K.C. Hall
her cheeks. He cleared his throat to get Derin’s attention
and then shot him a quizzical look. His eyebrows were still
slightly raised when he asked, “What are you going to have
Derin? Your usual?”
“Yeah, Southwestern omelet with hash browns. How
‘bout you Latasha? They make very good omelets here.”
“I think I’d just like to have a few pancakes and some
orange juice.”
The waitress turned around to them after unloading a
tray for the people in the booth behind her. R.J. ordered
for them all, telling the waitress to put it all on one bill.
After she walked away R.J. said, “So, Latasha, I
understand you were on your way home last night from
USC when you got a flat tire. Can you tell me exactly
what happened after that?”
Latasha related everything as she remembered it,
carefully lowering her voice to the merest whisper when she
got to the part where J.J. pushed her down on the front seat.
She stuttered and stumbled over the part where she repeated
J.J.’s comments about her small breasts. R.J. noticed
that not only was her face reddened with embarrassment,
but that so did Derin’s coppery skin.
R.J. listened very attentively, jotting down one or
two notes as she spoke. When she was finished he asked her
a few questions and then explained what the next steps to
prosecuting would be. All the while he was feeling her out,
not only for her commitment to the ordeal involved, but also
trying to determine how a jury or judge would perceive her.
He thought they had a very good case. A believable victim,
an upstanding witness, physical evidence of struggle and a
defendant who fit the profile of a rapist. His only concern at
this point was Derin, who had made it understood from the
beginning that he would be involved and supportive with
anything Latasha would need to do to see this man behind
bars.
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
Derin had always been serious about locking up the bad
guys and not wanting to ever let them go, but this time,
R.J. sensed an intensity in his seriousness that bothered
him.
R.J. told Latasha that her attacker ’s real name was
Hobart Broyahan and that he was being held over for a
bond review that would be around eleven o’clock that
morning. When he told her that she didn’t need to be there
for that, he watched her relax as she exhaled deeply. This
whole thing was not going to be easy on her and he hoped
that she wouldn’t have any doubts about this course of
action farther down the road. Once the bond hearing was
over, the next scheduled hearing she would need to be at
was the preliminary hearing. After that would be the Grand
Jury hearing which would determine if there was enough
evidence to bind him over for a trial, she wouldn’t need to
be there for that one. Then the trial would follow and
sentencing if he was found guilty. They were looking at six
months to a year if all went well. He didn’t tell her how
badly she would probably be treated by the defending
attorney during the trial. Plenty of time for that later.
His next meeting with her would have to be alone, away
from the curious and proprietary Derin. If she had a past or
even a current lifestyle that was questionable, he would
need to know before anybody else found out. Although he
would have been very surprised to discover that she was
anything but a virgin, you really never could tell about these
things anymore.
Their breakfast came and they all ate quietly for a few
minutes, each lost in their own thoughts until Derin looked
up at R.J. and asked, “What about all those other times?
How come nobody else prosecuted?”
“Other times?” she asked timidly.
Damn! Why did he have to open his mouth in front of
her! R.J. thought as he shot Derin a stern look. “That’s
something I’m going to have to do some digging into,”
21
K.C. Hall
R.J. said as he brushed her question aside by helping
himself to more coffee from the pot the waitress had left on
the table. At the same time, he kicked Derin under the table.
“What other times?” she repeated.
Let Derin get himself out of this one, R.J. thought
as he buttered another pancake, purposely ignoring her
question.
“Officer Connors?” she asked as she turned to face him
on the seat beside her.
“Derin,” he said as he took her hand in both of his and
rested it on the table with his. “Mr. Broyahan has done this
before, several times. Only the other women weren’t quite
as lucky as you were. He has completed the act and been
charged with rape six times. None of the women
prosecuted.”
“Why?” she said aghast, “why would somebody let a
thing like that happen to them and then do nothing about
it?”
“There could be lots of reasons. A lot of women are
afraid or they don’t want anybody to find out or their family
talks them out of it. Or what’s most likely, the prosecuting
attorney didn’t feel that they had a strong enough case.”
“So you’re saying these women pressed charges and
then changed their minds?” she said incredulously.
“That’s how it looks right now. R.J. is going to find
out why.” With that he looked over at R.J. and gave him
a pointed look that brooked no nonsense.
“Yes. And that’s exactly what I’m going back to the
office to start working on right now.” He picked up the
check and took Latasha’s other hand, noticing that Derin
still held her other one between both of his on the table. He
squeezed it as he said,”Don’t worry, everything will be fine.
I’ll call you in a few days and we’ll talk some more. By the
time the trial comes around, you’ll know exactly what to
expect and before you know it, it’ll all be over and the
streets will be safe from Hobart Broyahan. I hope your
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
trip home is uneventful this time.” Then he smiled, gave a
half-mocking salute to Derin and went to the register to pay
the bill before leaving the diner.
Latasha turned to Derin, looked down at their hands and
slowly removed hers from his and said, “I guess I should be
going now. I forgot to thank Mr. Turner for the breakfast.
Would you do that for me next time you see him?”
“Sure, I’d be happy to.” He pulled a five dollar bill out
of his money clip and tossed it on the table before standing
and offering his hand to help her out of the booth. Again
that odd sensation came over him, only this time he had the
strongest urge to place her hand, palm open on his chest,
near his heart.
He drove her back to the motel for her car and then
gave her his policeman’s business card with his name listed
showing his rank as Lieutenant, the police station’s address,
and his office phone number. Scrawled at the bottom in
bold black ink was his home phone number. “I want you to
call me as soon as you get home, I’d like to know that
you’re safe.”
“I don’t have a phone right now. I
recently had it cut off. Money is really tight.” She said
apologetically.
“I am going to be so worried about you. Here, take
this.” He handed her a small black tube that he took out of
his uniform pants pocket. “It’s pepper mace, all ready to go,
just aim and press this button.”
“It’s really not necessary, I’ll be fine.”
“It’ll make me feel better just knowing that you have it,
okay?”
“Okay. Thank you for coming to my rescue and for
arranging the motel room. I really appreciate everything
you’ve done for me.”
23
K.C. Hall
“It was nothing. I wish I’d stopped the first time I saw
you on the side of the road, then all this wouldn’t have
happened.”
“I guess this was how it was meant to be. I have a new
found appreciation for what a lot of women have gone
through, and I’ll be a lot more careful in the future,
especially about the condition of my tires,” she said with a
slight chuckle.
“And I have the opportunity to see you again when you
come for the preliminary hearing.” He looked into her eyes
and felt a gentle tug on his heart. “I feel very attracted to
you, Latasha. There’s something about you that I find very
special.” He hesitated before adding, “I hope you don’t
mind me saying this but I just don’t want you to leave
without agreeing to see me again.”
Latasha looked at his face, softened by the tender
emotion he was feeling towards her. She swallowed the
sudden constriction in her throat and breathed deeply. “I
don’t know what to say. I feel something too, but I’m
afraid.”
“Don’t be.” He leaned down and put his hand against
her cheek as he softly brushed his lips over hers. The
electric charge that went through them both caused them to
step back and look at each other in puzzlement.
Latasha stepped away and moved to her car door, never
taking her eyes off of his. She got into her seat, put on her
seat belt and turned the ignition over. Their gazes finally
unlocked as they each checked for cars moving behind her,
her through the rear view mirror, him over the top of her
car. Then she gave a small wave of her hand and was gone,
driving back the same way they had come last night.
* * *
dirt and gravel road that lead in a very round-about way to
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
her little bungalow.
Other than some modifications to the bathroom and
arranging for electricity, she hadn’t done much to improve
the house her grandparents left her.
Not that she could have if she’d wanted too, she was just
about broke. Most of the money from her recently published
book had gone to pay off her student loans and for car
repairs. As she gathered her things together from the front
seat she smiled. She didn’t want to change it, she loved it
just like it was; homey, secure, and full of happy memories.
She unloaded the car and busied herself with putting
things away and building a fire in the great room. The cabin
25
K.C. Hall
had been built as one large room with a loft and then later
two small rooms had been added to the back, a bathroom
and a bedroom. The fireplace with its wide hearth was the
part of the house everyone would gravitate towards during
the long winters so that’s how the furniture had been placed,
in groupings within its radiance. There was the large
bedstead that had traveled all the way from Alabama in a
and several pieces of upholstered
furniture that Sears had been deliverd in the late seventies.
Everything else had been made by her grandfather from
wood he had cut and sanded himself.
The loft had been Latasha’s little alcove when she was a
teenager, now it served as her office, complete with a
computer and a small space heater. Adding electricity had
allowed her to have lights to read and write by, electric
blankets so she could sleep in the bedroom addition, and her
computer with all its word processing capabilities for her
writing. She did miss being hooked up to the internet as she
had been in her college dorm room but that would come in
time, as soon as she could afford a phone.
She brought the portable radio from her bedroom to the
kitchen and turned on a soft jazz station while she
made herself some saltine sandwiches for lunch. Peanut
butter and grape jelly between two crackers, just like she
used to eat with grandpa, only this time she had a Pepsi
from the cooler with it instead of a Fanta
. As her knife scraped the bottom of the jelly
jar she looked behind her at the shelf in the large cupboard.
Only two jars left of the jelly her grandmother had canned
before she died, she’d have to dig out that recipe and turn
some of this season’s harvest into a batch of it before she
ran out.
After everything was done that she could possibly think
of to get better organized, she resigned herself to the fact
that it was now time to stop procrastinating and get down to
work on the synopsis for her recently finished book.
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FreakyTales: Erotic Fairytales
This was the part of being a writer that she hated the
most. The actual writing of a book was fairly easy once she
got the idea established in her mind. It was the after-writing
stuff that she hated. The outlines and summaries, proposal
letters and synopsis that were so regimented that they drove
her crazy. But without them, no book would ever get
published, such was the modern business of writing. She
cleaned up her mess and climbed to the loft, determined to
get a good start on selling her latest book.
It was many hours later when she noticed that it was
dark outside. Aside from the glow of her computer screen
everything else around her was dark. She flipped on the
desk light beside her computer and stretched her back as she
sat in the small desk chair. Her eyes were starting to blur
from the strain and her neck was complaining of the
inactivity so she decided to call it a day. She saved her work
on a disc and shut down the system. Climbing down the
ladder-type steps to the main level she thought about how
good a nice hot bath would feel right now, so she walked to
the bathroom and started filling the tub. It was as she was
starting to undress that her thoughts reverted to Lieutenant
Derin Connors. She wondered what he was doing right
now, probably out on a date with a stunning, clingy gold-digger,
she thought as she added some bubble bath to the water.
She hadn’t thought about Hobart Broyahan more than
a handful of times today, but for some reason thoughts of
Derin Connors lingered in the recesses of her mind, coming
to the forefront every so often just to tantalize her. As she
sank into the steamy, fragrant water she allowed herself to
think back to the kiss they had shared. Her head rested
against the back wall of the deep claw-footed tub. She was
so short that her curly dark head was barely visible over the
top rim of the tub. She closed her eyes and tried to
remember every sensation. They had both jumped back
from the merest touch but she remembered the softness of
his lips and the gentleness of his hand on her cheek. The
27
K.C. Hall
steam curled her short tresses into a myriad of tiny spirals
springing out at different angles all over her head, and the
warmth of the water gave her skin a glow as she
basked in the heady jasmine fragrance.
She was suddenly jerked out of her reverie by a loud
banging on the heavy wooden front door. Fear coursed
through her as she acquainted herself with the sound. She
had never had a visitor here other than the mailman and he
always just honked his horn. Gingerly she hoisted herself
out of the tub and reached for a towel from the rack on the
wall. As she was quickly patting herself dry, the loud
banging came again, a bit more insistent this time. She
grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the bathroom
door and pulled it on. She was tying the belt around her
waist as she walked briskly to the front door. Should she
even answer it? she thought, and who could it possibly be?
“Yes? Who is it?” she called, trying to cover up the slight
tremble to her voice.
“It’s Derin. Derin Connors, Latasha.”
Derin? She was instantly mindful of a sudden elation
perking her spirits. What in the world was he doing here?
She slid the wooden bar up from its resting block on the
opposite side of the door jamb. It was there more to keep
the door closed in inclement weather than to keep anyone
out.
She pulled the door open and looked up at a smiling,
handsome man who looked like he had just jumped off the
cover of an L.L. Bean catalogue. This was the first time she
had seen him out of uniform and if anything his casual
sherpa pullover made him appear even more broad-chested
than he had before. He filled out his jeans nicely, a narrow
waist, slim hips and long, long legs. She moved aside
motioning for him to come inside, noticing that he
practically filled the doorway as he stepped through it.
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“Derin, what are you doing all the way out here? And
how the heck did you even find me?” she asked, still
stunned by his sudden appearance.
He looked down at her all wrapped up in a blue chenille
robe, the faint aura of heat still radiating off of her and held
back the impulse to bend down, pick her up and carry her
off to a flat soft surface.
“R.J. asked me to do a routine check on you, some
background for the case, so I called the local sheriff’s
office. He gave me directions. R.J. also wanted me to
overnight you a cell phone, but I was told that where you
live Domino’s doesn’t deliver, the Chinese restaurant
doesn’t deliver, and there’s no such thing as overnight mail.
So, here I am, one-day delivery.”
She smiled and her lips framed her small, white, even
teeth. “Yeah, this is about as rural as it gets. Why did
R.J. want me to have a cell phone?”
“I need to talk to you about that. Mind if we sit down?”
She looked down at herself and suddenly felt self-
conscious in her bare feet and robe, knowing that she wore
nothing underneath.
“I was just finishing my bath, please make yourself at
home while I put some clothes on,” she said as she turned
and walked towards a room at the back of the house.
Don’t dress on account of me, he wanted to yell after
her, what you’ve got on is just fine, but he didn’t. Instead he
simply said, “Okay,” and took a seat on the sofa in front of
the fireplace.
Latasha came out of her room a few minutes later
wearing faded blue jeans and a cropped top sweatshirt that
had once been a bright fuchsia, now it was a warm mauve,
as soft as velvet from so many washings. She had quickly
towel-dried her hair and ran her fingers through it managing
to do nothing more than create curls with more energy
bouncing around her face. She went around the dark room
29