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Vice Cop Ch. 05

* Previously on Vice Cop, Lexa O'Neil went undercover as a hooker in Atlantic City in hopes of catching a serial killer. Hudson Banach went to Atlantic City as well to enjoy a brief vacation and ran into an old girlfriend from high school, Sonya Romandini, who had become an escort/high class hooker. Hudson beat Lexa at a game of poker in the casino. Lexa was almost killed by the serial killer when Detective Mason Holmes rescued her. Sonya left for Las Vegas and Hudson returned to New York City in disappointment. The time is the mid-1980's. The place, New York.

This chapter like many chapter "episodes" on Vice Cop is full of plot and storyline action. If you like that, treat yourself to these scenes. If you like to read the sex parts only, read scene "SIX" for a threesome sex scene between Hudson, a spoiled rich girl and an Asian hooker during a wild costume party in The Hamptons.



Hudson looked at his silver Rolex watch. It was eleven thirty p.m. and it was very dark in the city. New York City never slept which meant that for a cop on the beat, the night was long and full of a series of never-ending arrests. Hudson had answered a disturbance call in Central Park where supposedly a man known as the "jogger rapist" had been spotted. He was an unidentified middle-aged Caucasian male who had attacked women who jogged in Central Park after dark.

Hudson was glad they assigned him to work Central Park. If it was one thing he hated it was men who attacked defenseless women and he could hardly wait to put the cuffs on this wicked waste of a man.

He was in full uniform, one of two (the other was at the Cleaners) and one that looked a lot better on him -- tight-fitting, showcasing his hard body and giving him a powerful authority look. These were brand new uniforms the Chief had provided for the squad after complaints were made that the old ones were no longer good. As worn as the old uniform was, Hudson had kept it as a souvenir and reminder of his first years as a cop. He had been twenty one then, and now he had grown older and was approaching twenty nine.

Through the years, he had done his best to move up the ranks to undercover "vice cop" and bounty hunter, but so far, he had accomplished very little to earn that position. He had figured that arresting the Columbian drug lord, Leo Mendoza, aka The Red Devil, was his ticket to vice cop glory. But Leo had escaped, first to Miami and then to Columbia, along with his wicked Russian wife Marina Brazilova. All that had been a few years ago. He sighed. He had been on his feet all day and had worked the day shift. Having time on his hands, having no kids and no wife or girlfriend to speak of, he committed himself to full time work as a cop day or night, answering duty's call in the hopes of promotion in the NYPD.

The lights of the park were dim and it was relatively quiet. He was patrolling the middle region of the park, by the Carousel at 64th street. The Carousel stood motionless and looked dreary in the shadows. A few young teens were up and about, skateboarding and loitering.

Though Hudson knew that he could very well arrest these adolescents for loitering when they should be home on a school night, he thought he'd give them a break and besides, his mind was on getting the rapist that was lurking somewhere in the vast park.

As he reached Cherry Hill, he noticed a young woman jogging alone and heading to a secluded spot where there were a few benches. Thinking fast, he ran after the girl in order to warn her about the attacker. He couldn't see who she was clearly and could only see her backside but it was obvious she was a pretty girl with a sexy and athletic physique. Poor thing, he thought, the perfect victim for that god-damned rapist. He caught up to her and put a hand on her shoulder, getting her attention.

"Excuse me, Miss," he said to her, in a mixture of his Italian gentleman demeanor and his concerned cop voice, "it's not a good time to be jogging and I must warn you about a rapist who has been spotted in this park."

She turned around to face him. Hudson nearly opened his mouth in surprise. It was Lexa. She was out of uniform and in a jogging suit and drops of sweat flowed from her brow. She smiled at him and nearly laughed at him.

"I know that," she said to him, "don't you think I know that?"

"Then what the hell are you thinking, Lexie? You don't think you're vulnerable to an attack just because you're a cop?" Hudson reprimanded her," you're also a woman, you know that right?"

Lexa furrowed her eyebrow angrily. The sexist bastard, she thought. Did he think that by donning a cop uniform she somehow became a man?

"I'm not going to argue with you, Hudson Banach and I'm not really jogging you dolt. I'm undercover."

"What? Again? Doesn't this make two undercover jobs in a month? You were undercover in Atlantic City only a few weeks ago. So let me get this straight. You're pretending to be a civilian and you put on this jogging outfit in hopes of attracting the rapist. Are you working alone?"

"I never work alone. I've got a holster gun attached to my pocket under my jacket. Detective Mason Holmes and some cops are always with me. I have my communication device with me and my badge. It's a way to catch the rapist."

"Detective Mason again? He's been working with you ever since you were in Atlantic City."

"Yeah, so? What's the problem? What have you got against Mason?"

"Oh, it's not that I have something against the guy. I just think that it's pretty odd that he's working with you when he could be working on other cases."

Lexa was quiet and surveyed Hudson's face. Hudson had picked up on something that she herself had recently felt. Detective Mason had developed feelings for her and he had deliberately arranged it so that he would be working with her on every undercover operation she was assigned to.

"Jealous are you, Banach? Jealous that you aren't a respected and highly paid detective like him or you want to do undercover work with me, is that it?"

"Lexa, don't flatter yourself. I wouldn't want to do any kind of work with you. You're too difficult."

"Oh, I am, am I? You recognize "difficulty" in others but not in yourself? You don't know what they say about you in the squad do you?"

"I don't care to listen to gossip," he said," but, uh, what do they say exactly?"

"That you're a renegade cop. You only do things your way and don't listen to others. You're arrogant, stubborn, and hard-headed not to mention you're always looking to get ahead of everyone. You're so smug. You're the one that's truly difficult."

"I'll ignore that. Besides, everyone knows I get along great with the Chief. We're buddies. So, if you're not working alone, I guess I can go. I had no idea you were already on this case."

"You don't have to leave on account of me. Weren't you just on the beat?"

"Yeah. Don't call attention to the fact I'm doing that and you're doing something else. You sound like the arrogant one now."

"Oh, shut up. I don't like running into you. All we end up doing is arguing. Are you staying? I don't think you ought to go. We can always use another cop."


They noticed that the young kids had begun to leave, leaving most of the section of the park empty. A silence fell over the park and the distinct chirping of crickets could be heard in the night air. From afar, they could hear a few lingering voices and footsteps. Lexa continued jogging and Hudson followed her, jogging with her in a mocking way as if to be funny. Lexa did not find it amusing and ignored him, turning her face into the opposite direction. They went down a gravel pathway that curved and winded around like a snake, past groves of trees.

"What if we do see the rapist? Who's going to make the arrest? Isn't that going to be a bit of a problem?"

"Oh, that's ridiculous. It doesn't matter who does it, although I think I should do it. I'm the one who's working undercover, not you. This isn't a game though."

"You're mad at me. This is because I beat you at poker in Atlantic City isn't it?"

"For God's sakes, shut up. It's got nothing to do with that. Look, if you can make the arrest, go ahead. I don't care. That monster has to be caught by someone, anyone, even if it's a rookie patrol officer."

Hudson was going to ask if she meant him, and defend himself by saying he was now a deputy but then a scream broke the silence. It was a young woman's scream; high-pitched and frightened, followed by the sound of a man's fist punching her. Hudson and Lexa took instant action. They ran into the direction of the sound as swiftly as their feet could carry them. They were panting and the thrill that always came with making these kinds of arrests filled them completely. Lexa took out her communication device while Hudson took out his gun.

"I need officers right here right now. I'm with Deputy Banach and we've just heard screams coming from Cleopatra's Needle at East Side Drive and 81st Street. I repeat. Screams have been heard and we believe it's the rapist harming a victim."

Hudson aimed his gun at the figure of a man who towered over a woman on the ground, cowering in fear, and holding on to her purse. Part of her skirt was already torn. The man turned around to face them and froze. In the dim lights, his face was barely visible but he was white and thin and fit the profile of the guy they had been looking for. Lexa turned off her communication device and retrieved her own gun. While Hudson's gun was bigger (he liked big guns and only carried big guns), Lexa's was daintier and decidedly a "lady's gun" but it was very sleek and powerful looking nonetheless, especially because she knew just how to use it.

"Freeze, scumbag," Hudson shouted at the top of his lungs, "don't move. Don't move a muscle or I'll shoot."

The man retrieved a gun and aimed it at Hudson. They locked eyes and their faces were tense with a violent sort of air. The woman on the ground was weeping openly and she covered her breasts with her hands. The man had punched her and had torn her top to reveal her breast. She was shivering as if she was cold.

"Put the gun down. Put it down," Hudson demanded, "look, pal. Don't make this any worse. I will shoot you, by God I will shoot you if you even think of firing that gun at me or my partner."

Lexa looked at him, as if she hadn't expected him to say something like that. She turned behind to see if back-up was coming. So far, she saw nothing. The man looming over the woman suddenly took off and ran. In the clarity of the park lights, Hudson could see that he looked frightened, even though he was holding a handgun and a good one at that. Hudson saw that it was a 9mm Jericho. The bastard was light on his feet and he was already quite a ways ahead of him.

The chase was on.

Because the park was virtually deserted, it was easy for Hudson to keep his eye and track the guy running through the park. But because he was swift, and it was dark, he knew that there would be moments where he could possibly lose him. The park had always been big, as long as he could remember, and once as a boy he had gotten lost here.

He panted as he ran after him, not losing sight of him. He wasn't about to let this monster go. He needed to be cuffed and sent to the penitentiary for his multiple rapes. Hudson was glad he was physically fit and strong and the chase did not wear him down. He knew that some of the other officers were overweight. Years of doing patrol work that was slow and uneventful resulted in these officers gaining weight and it didn't help that they didn't go to the gym. Hudson considered himself to be the hottest and strongest guy on the force with the exception of the equally fit Lexa O'Neil.

Down the gravel paths he went, catching up to the guy as he crossed the mid-park section and was heading toward the recently restored Trefoil Arch. As they crossed under the bridge, the man began to fire his gun at Hudson.

"Son of a bitch," cried Hudson, dodging the bullet.

This was the part of his job he disliked the most. Sure, it offered thrills and danger and he was constantly seeking that but he was only mortal. Hudson fired another shot from his revolver. The shot missed and the guy ran even faster, as if hoping to finally elude Hudson. They hurried down the long path and soon they were engaged in a duel of guns, firing at one another mercilessly. Hudson cursed and managed to dodge his bullets but he was beginning to think it was humanly impossible to continue to do so. One shot grazed his shoulder and one shot went directly past his neck.

"I'm in pursuit of the armed rapist, he's firing at me," he said into his device," Lexa, any sign of other officers?"

"Where are you? Detective Mason Holmes and the other deputies are already here," came Lexa's voice on the other end.

"I'm between 73rd and 74th Street. Come on, I need men here now. This guy is nuts."

In a sudden rage, thinking that this armed son of a bitch was going to get away and that it would be a longer time before he was caught, which would mean he would rape other women, Hudson felt a surge of strength fill his body and just as they had passed the bridge and he was heading to a part of the park where he could easily escape, Hudson leapt into the air and got on top of him.

The man struggled under his weight, trying to free himself, cursing but Hudson pinned him down and immediately seized his gun and cuffed him. As he looked at his own arm, he saw that there were specs of blood. The guy himself was bleeding a bit.

Detective Mason, Lea and a team of officers arrived at the scene. They were in the middle of a path and Hudson had the guy in cuffs, his body still on the ground With the Detective and the others was the woman the attacker had almost violated.

"You see, it's all over now, you piece of shit," Hudson cried, "I hope you get raped in jail for a change."

The man cursed silently. Lexa ran toward him and snatched his gun. Then she hurled it to one of the officers. She approached the scared woman while Hudson and the other cops took him away, walking away from the park.

"Good work, Miss O'Neil!" Mason said, ignoring the fact that Hudson had done all the work, but she figured he was referring to her undercover work.

"Miss, are you alright?" Lexa said to the lady," he didn't really hurt you or did he?"

"He punched me and I fell down," she said, "then he tore my top and skirt. If you hadn't come when you did --"

"It's alright. It's all over. You're safe but we will need you to come down to headquarters with us."

"Will....will he be there?" she said, referring to the assailant.

"We need you to properly identify him as the man who did this to you. He will be in jail, ma'am and Central Park will be safe for you again."

"God bless you, officer."...........


Detective Mason Holmes was fifty years old and single.

His marriage to a pretty and demure elementary school teacher ended tragically when she was killed by a Mafioso with a vendetta against Mason for helping in the arrest of his superior "crime boss". That was all water under the bridge but he longed to fall in love all over again and perhaps re-marry. He was thinking of Lexa O'Neil. Her delicious body was just one of her assets. She was strong of spirit and body, courageous and good-hearted. She was intelligent and classy and she filled him with a joy he had not experienced since his previous marriage.

Knowing that she was single, he found it easy to love her and he was glad she wasn't involved in any relationship or marriage. But she was also very aloof and she didn't seem to care for any particular man. He had once wondered if Lexa was a lesbian, as many officers and deputies in her squad had suspected. There was no evidence to prove this but her lack of interest in men sparked rumors. Mason wanted to ask her out but had not found an opportune moment to do so. The mysterious, alluring quality she possessed drove him wild.

One morning at the station, Lexa was conversing with the African-American Lieutenant Isaiah Dante over coffee right by the Chief's office. Lieutenant Dante was one of about four black cops in the force, and he had risen to this high position after years of civil service. He commanded a squad of many cops, all male, except for Lexa, but only when Chief Barry Hiller was unable to perform his duties as police chief.

Because Lexa was the only female on the force, and attractive, she was the center of male attention and every guy on the force had flirted with her and asked her out on a date. Every guy, that was, except Hudson Banach. Lexa was a lighter-skinned black, and in fact, she was half-white, and she had always enjoyed a rapport with other blacks but she possessed the same spirit of comfort among whites. She was very New York City in her sense of democracy and her multi-cultural tastes.

Detective Mason Holmes walked into the station and noticed that Lieutenant Dante was openly flirting with Lexa. She was smiling and laughing at his jokes while sipping her coffee.

"Sorry to interrupt," Mason said, "but may I talk to Miss O'Neil in private, Lieutenant?"

"Is something wrong, Detective?" Lexa said to him.

"How many times have I told you not to call me "Detective"? It's Mason," he said, smiling at her and taking her hand and kissing it.

Lieutenant Dante got up and left, as if displeased by Mason's action.

Some deputies noticed this and grinned at one another knowingly. Just then Hudson Banach walked into the station, arriving for his morning duties. He didn't notice Mason and Lexa and merely went over to the coffee machine and began to socialize with another deputy. Lexa smiled at Mason and felt feminine for the first time in a long time.

"You aren't European by any chance?" she said jokingly.

He laughed cheerily.

"No, Miss O'Neil, but I am a romantic. And this is why I'm here this morning. I want to ask you to be my date for a dinner party at the fabulous home of a dear friend of mine who lives in the Hamptons."

"The Hamptons, oh my."

"Yes, she's a widow. I knew her when she first got married. Wonderful man. He hired me for an investigation into fraud occurring within his business that he wasn't aware of. We became close friends and after he died, I remained good friends with his wife. Her name's Clementine Gibson but everyone calls her "The Widow Gibson". She's all class, a rich socialite type. She throws terrific summer parties."

"It's not summer right now," Lexa pointed out.

"She throws parties all year round. She will throw a party at her estate with a 1920's "Great Gatsby" theme. Guests are encouraged to wear costumes of famous figures of the 1920's, real or fictional. Costumes aren't de rigueur though so some folks will just show up in formal wear or business casual/formal."

"Only the very rich can do crazy things like that. Who are you going as?"

"I'm going as Dashiell Hammett the detective novelist."

"I don't think I'd wear a costume if I go. This lady sounds pretty strange."

"Oh, she's eccentric alright but she's a nice lady. Would you like to come? It's this weekend."

Hudson now approached them and overheard this piece of the conversation. Lexa did not reply and Mason still held on to her hand for a while. He then let go and looked at her. She was pensive for a moment. She looked at Hudson who was standing behind her drinking his coffee.

"Yes, I'd love to come," she said to him..............


Hudson was called to the Chief's office. Chief Barry Hiller was walking about eating candy, which Hudson had never seen him do and resisted the urge to laugh at the ridiculous sight. The Chief was smiling and looking every bit like an overgrown kid.

"Have a seat, Hudson," he said to him.

Hudson loved that he called him by his first name as if they were close friends and not the more formal way of calling him by his last name the way he did with other deputies and officers. He even called Lexa "Miss O'Neil".
He felt he had a terrific rapport with the Chief. It appeared as if the Chief had liked him from day one, as if he Hudson was a reminder of his old days as a cop. There was also the matter that both Chief Hiller and Hudson were actually quite old fashioned in their attitudes toward women and their more conservative and tough guy persona. The only difference was that Hudson was a lot younger and could pass for his son.

"Hudson, I know you've been a damn good asset to the squad ever since your first day," he said to him, "if you think I've been ignoring you, you're wrong. I've been keeping track of your progress and I think it's about time you do something for me that I've only asked Miss O'Neil and a few others who work as undercover cops and vice cops."

Thank you God thought Hudson and smiled as he had never smiled before.

"Chief, I'm honored, oh man," he said to him.

"Now, now don't get too excited. If you fail, you'll just go back to deputy work and I know you don't want that."

"I wouldn't fail you. What would you have me do if I may ask?"

"Investigators have been looking into something we've never come across before. It's occurring in Long Island, specifically in the Hamptons."

"Where the very rich folks live?"

"The rich are different than you and I. Who said that?"

"I don' know. I was never good in English class. Maybe Fitzegerald?"

"Well whoever it was, boy, were they right. These millionaires are different alright and possibly breaking the law."

"What do you mean, Chief?"

The Chief did not reply right away and sat down, opening a drawer and retrieving another box of candy. He took a bite off a piece and then took another piece in his fat hands and offered them to Hudson.

"Candy, Hudson?"

He looked at the piece of candy almost with disgust.

"No, I don't like candy. I don't eat any kind of sugar."

"Good man. You'll never get diabetes like me," the Chief said with a laugh.

"Chief, what is going on in The Hamptons?"

"I'm getting to that, hold on. Well, the investigators believe that illegal activities are taking place in one particular home. Nothing is quite certain right now and it's all speculation. We believe that it may be either Mafia related or involving a private and illegal sex club for the rich, a brothel if you will."

"In The Hamptons?"

"Mafia families could afford to live there, Banach. Surely you know how lucrative organized crime can be. Whoever said "crime doesn't pay" didn't know the hard facts. Crime actually does pay and pays well."

"So there's a bunch of rich folks over there that have crazy sex parties?"

"They are consuming drugs provided to them by drug lords in some foreign possibly Cuban or South American Mafia. As for prostitution, well, we have heard stories of young women from within New York City who tell of being employed by a wealthy socialite in The Hamptons who throws wild parties with executives, high powered businessmen, lawyers, oil tycoons and even some foreigners like Arabic princes. We suspect they're engaging in illegal sex. These parties are said to be incredibly wild. There have been reports of girls who go to these parties and never return. Some have been found dead, their bodies dumped into various parts of upstate New York."

"This is unbelievable. Well, what do you want me to do? We're talking a bust here. I've never done that before."

"Simple. You'll go undercover as one of the "millionaire" gentlemen who frequent this Madame's estate and find out whether or not the alleged illegal activities are actually taking place. You'll report to us what you see there. Whatever you do, don't give yourself away. You're always on cop mode, even from the way you look at people."

"Well I can't help it. I was born into this. My father was a cop in Poland and my Uncle Vitto, who's retired now and living in Miami, was a cop in Sicily and Italy. Oh, the stories he told me."

"You love this, don't you Hudson? Well I'm glad you'll get to do something you've been craving to do. But again, don't give yourself away. This is more like an undercover spy job than anything else. The actual bust will be handled by others."

He didn't dare ask who but Hudson figured he meant Lexa O'Neil and the new crowd she was working with -- Detective Mason Holmes and the other investigators. He sighed. He got up and headed for the office door.

"When would I be doing this?"

"This weekend, Hudson, and remember, play the part of a care-free millionaire, a playboy even. Stay in character. It's like an acting job. We'll provide you with the proper costume -- a fancy executive suit. We'll give you a Cuban cigar, too."

"I won't fail you, Chief, I promise."

"I hope not, Hudson. I've always believed in your potential. Now's your chance to prove you have what it takes. Oh and Hudson --"

"Yeah Chief?"

"You'll need to be prepared for anything. You'll have to bring a gun and conceal it in a pocket holster in your slacks. No one should be able to see it considering you'll be wearing a sport coat."

Hudson nodded and closed the door while the Chief ate another piece of candy.


Lexa was applying crimson lipstick over her lips and watching her reflection in the mirror of Detective Mason's Bentley.

Lexa knew how to dress up fashionably and glamorously. Because her mother, Katrina, had once been an opera diva before becoming a mother, she had partied with the elitist upper class of New York. She had provided her daughter with the same sense of fashion and style but Lexa rarely had the opportunity to flaunt this style. She had expensive tastes but being a cop, she could not afford to live as she secretly dreamed of living.

Far greater than her desire for a jet-set lifestyle was her sense of fulfillment in fighting crime, even if it did not pay well. Right now, she felt like Cinderella on her way to the ball and did not even want to think about crime or duty. She was wearing a baby blue sequin gown with a slit on the side revealing her leg and high heels. Her dark hair was in a French twist. She looked tall and gorgeous like a Vogue supermodel.

The Detective was dressed in a 1940's film-noir Detective dressy brown suspender-suit and a large hat. He was holding a pipe and felt every bit like his favorite writer Dashiell Hammett.

He gave Lexa a smile as they drove up a long driveway surrounded on either side by rose bushes and small trees. In the distance was the beach and the ocean's quiet roar could be heard. The Hamptons was beautiful and the beach was serene in the evening, with moonlight casting a soft glow over the waters. The mansion before them was huge, built in the style of an old English country manor with tainted windows, balconies and three floors.

"There must be a hundred rooms in that house," Lexa said in amazement.

"I wouldn't know," said Detective Mason, "I don't feel I'm as close a friend to The Widow Gibson as I was to her husband. She invites me to these parties and usually I drink a lot and leave before midnight."

"Oh, Mason, you're such a bore. Midnight is when the party really begins," Lexa said, with a jovial laugh.

Her dangling silver earrings danced as she moved her head to the side and Detective Mason noticed this and was awed by her beauty.

"Come on, let's get out of the car," he said.

Arm in arm, they approached the entrance to the manor. A powerfully-built man, dressed in a dark suit and looking as tough as a bouncer at a nightclub stood by the door. He was evidently security and it was the first time Lexa had ever seen one in front of someone's home. Detective Mason showed him his invitation card and told him he was a friend of Clementine Gibson and with the New York Detective Bureau.

The man allowed them entrance into the manor. Lexa looked up when the sight of an elaborate Baroque-style chandelier hanging over the vast entrance hall caught her eye. She stood with wide eyes as she took in the opulence of the manor's interior. The floor was marble and glossy, like the lobby of some grand hotel, and potted palms, statuary and expensive antique furnishings were scattered everywhere. A grand double staircase was in view and descending and ascending the stairs were various guests.

They were mostly male and the females with them looked a lot younger than them, but this did not grab Lexa's immediate attention. The guests poured into the house and it was filling up with many people, all of them busy socializing and laughing. The girls were dressed as flappers wearing gaudy jewelry, showy feathers and gossamer gowns. One white girl went as Clara Bow, dolled up in '20's fashion and with her was a black girl dressed provocatively as the erotic dancer Josephine Baker in her "banana dance" outfit. There was a man dressed in the spitting image of Rudolph Valentino. A man in a waiter/bus boy type of attire was serving alcoholic drinks.

From above the staircase was a tall woman, strikingly beautiful for an older woman. She had grey hair but it was beautiful hair which was arranged in a high coiffure. She was dressed in a golden sequin gown and she had on gaudy jewelry. Lexa thought she looked like Auntie Mame. She was talking to a man who was dressed up as Lindbergh in full aviator outfit.

"Ah, Mason darling, welcome, welcome," she said cheerily and descending the stairs gracefully, extending her hand to him.

Detective Mason took her hand and kissed it in a cavalier manner.

"Mrs. Gibson, you look beautiful," he said.

"And who is this ravishing young woman you've brought along?"

"This is Miss Lexa O'Neil. She's with the New York Police Department and works with me as an undercover cop at the Detective Bureau."

"Charmed, I'm sure," she said to Lexa, their eyes meeting.

Clementine Gibson regarded her with a look of subtle hauteur, as if she was not pleased with her presence at the party. Lexa was quick to notice this even though Mason did not. It was almost as if she did not care for a lady cop being in her home. A gradual suspicion began to build inside Lexa's cop mind. If this lady did not care for cops, it had to mean she was concealing some illegal activity of her own.

"Well, darling," she said, directly addressing Mason, "since you brought a beautiful girl to keep you company tonight, I'm afraid I won't be able to keep you much company. I thought we could dance tonight but I'd much rather see you enjoy yourself with your date."

"I would be honored with just one dance, Mrs. Gibson," Mason said to her.

"We shall see," she said and retired to another room.

"You dance, Detective?" Lexa asked him, quite surprised.

"This old body can still dance," he joked, "and I would love to dance with you tonight, Miss O'Neil."

"I gladly accept, Detective," she said.

Mason was about to say something to her but Lexa turned around when her eyes fell over a familiar face. A handsome, ruggedly-built man was entering the mansion, dressed in a well-tailored black double-breasted blazer over a dress shirt, vest and slacks. His jet-black hair slicked back and he was holding a cigar and laughing, as if everything amused him. He had a young Hugh Hefner thing going on. But Lexa looked closely from above the stairs and her jaw nearly dropped. It was Hudson Banach.


It was turning midnight and the party was in full swing. A multitude of guests had filled up the interior of the home. Due to the large crowds, it was hard to keep track of what was going on as there were various alcoves and rooms, both upstairs and downstairs. When the number of guests reached over a hundred, The Widow Gibson told the newly arriving guests to congregate in her vast lawn in the rear of the home where she threw outdoor parties and where buffet tables were waiting for them.

Lexa had lost track of Hudson but she figured he was doing undercover work. She wondered how he got the job so soon. She suspected the Chief had something to do with it.

He had always admired and respected Hudson, even when he was breaking a few of the rules in the name of justice, like going outside of his jurisdiction while on patrol or even when Hudson acted like an arrogant know-it-all. His mission in Miami to capture Leo Mendoza had failed but the Chief still believed in Hudson's potential. Lexa did not wish to talk to Hudson and did her best to avoid him. Truth be told, he looked hot in his playboy type suit and he was so cute pretending not to be a cop.

But she did not want him to see her.

"Why don't we go to the lawn outside, Detective," she said to him, knowing that if she remained inside the house she would run into Hudson and it would be awkward as always.

"You want to go outside?" Mason asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I....I need some fresh air," she said, putting a hand over her forehead in a feigned act, "I'm so dizzy in here. Too many people and too much booze."

"Alright, my dear, anything you like."

Arm in arm they walked outside into the Irish-green lawn which also featured a beautiful Renaissance style fountain, decorated by fauns and nymphs. Mason was in heaven with Lexa in his arm, and he felt as if he were suddenly a bigger and more important man, a VIP, noticing how everyone turned to see them wherever they went, as if they were a Hollywood couple or political power couple.

They sat by the fountain and began to converse. Lexa would occasionally look into the direction of the house as if expecting Hudson to walk out into the lawn but this did not happen.

* * * *

Back inside the mansion, The Pretender's "Don't Get Me Wrong" finished playing and it was followed by Madonna's "Into The Groove" and "Holiday". The Widow Gibson did not enjoy modern 80's music but she knew that many of her guests and clients did and the girls that were with them for the night were younger. For variety, and because she liked older music, the rest of the evening was filled with a plethora of Frank Sinatra songs, Ella Fitzgerald, Judy Garland and purely orchestral music by Henry Mancini.

Hudson was already attracting girls like a magnet. A group of six girls, hanging around him like groupies with a rock star, were following him, asking him pointed questions, socializing with him and openly flirting with him. They each had various hair colors ranging from blonde to red-head to brunette.

They were all in their early twenties. Dressed in stylish but sexy clothes, and with jewelry on them, they were clearly girls who had grown up in wealthy homes and were spoiled New Yorkers. They were standing in a remote part of the vast living room, next to a large painted portrait of The Widow Gibson. A fireplace was behind them, a small fire burning. The girls were chattering away and tugging at his shirt.

"Ladies, ladies, please," Hudson said in his "in character" voice, a more emphasized Italianate accent which made him sound like Tony Danza, "this is a brand new suit. Go easy on me."

"Like oh my God, are you a male model? Have I seen you in anything? Are you an actor? Were you in a soap opera?"

You girls don't know the half of it, thought Hudson.

"An actor of sorts," he said with a knowing grin.

"Hi, over here! My name's Tiffany" said a blonde who was dressed up like Amelia Airheart.

"No, me! Me!" said the red-head emphatically.

The girls began to bicker and fight among each other verbally. Hudson smiled and threw his head back in an amused laugh. He was enjoying every minute of it. "Fly Me To The Moon" played in the background as guests went on about their socializing and drinking, moving to and fro in the large mansion.

"Ladies, don't fight over me," Hudson said to the girls, "but it's obvious I can't divide my attention and enjoy all of you at once. Which one of you is the oldest?"

"I'm twenty five," said the blonde girl in the Amelia Airheart costume, Tiffany.

"Good enough. Come with me."

The other girls watched in jealousy as he escorted the blonde girl into another part of the big house. She seemed to know the place very well, which made Hudson's cop brain begin to work. If she was a regular in these parties, she knew exactly what went on and what illegal activities were being conducted. She was his ticket to becoming an undercover vice cop.

"Where are you taking me, babe?" he said to her.

"As if you don't know," she said flirtatiously.

"No I don't. I'm new here."

"You are? You don't look like you're new to The Widow Gibson's parties. Oh, well, doesn't matter."

They passed a large drawing room that was covered in a thick cloud of smoke. Men in business suits were smoking and drinking while a few girls sat on their laps grinding against them with their hips and buttocks, giving them lap dances. Some of the men were making out with the girls. As they turned one corner, he caught a glimpse of a girl in nothing but a red lacy bra and panties being chased by an Arab looking man. In another room, a girl was giving a man with his trousers down a blowjob. In a rec room, complete with a pool table and bar, men slapped girl's butts as they passed by.

A bordello indeed, thought Hudson. This is going to be all over quite soon, soon as he reported it to the Chief. He figured Detective Mason and the other investigators would most likely make the bust. He wished he could do that sort of thing, but for now he had to swallow his pride and do the undercover cop thing. And truth be told, this was an adventure and held its own degree of thrills.

"You want to get high?" Tiffany said to him," we can go into one of the other rooms, The Salon."

"What do they have there?" Hudson questioned.

"Marijuana, cocaine, heroin, you name it," she responded," so do you want to go?"

"No thanks."

So it was about drugs, thought Hudson, the Chief had been right.

"Oh I see," Tiffany said," You want to get straight to the action."

"Action? What action?"

"Oh you gotta be kidding me. A hot Italian hunk like you and so innocent! You're unreal. You've never been to a party held here before?"

"Are you a call girl?"

"I wish," Tiffany said with a sudden laugh," it would be so fun to work as an escort. But I'm not one of The Widow Gibson's girls. I'm just a guest. I come here mostly for the drugs, sometimes the sex but only when I know it's going to be good. Most of the time these rich pigs make me sick."

"So what do you do?" Hudson inquired, his curiosity peaked.


"Yeah, what do you do for a living?"

"My folks are big wigs in the automobile industry. I'm rich so I don't have to work. I've got a three million dollar trust fund and I travel mostly."

"Your folks know you go to wild parties like these and that you do drugs?"

"Nah. They don't know a thing. And why are you asking these questions? You sound like a cop or private investigator."

Damn, Hudson thought, I forget to stay in character and not do the cop thing.

"So listen, I have the hots for you. How would you like to do me?"

O my God, thought Hudson. What now? He felt stuck. If he refused her, she would be on his case and perhaps even figure out he was an undercover cop. He knew he couldn't tell her he was a cop either. She might even blab to The Widow Gibson and she'd act quickly and make her escape before she could get caught. If he accepted her proposal, then she would not suspect a thing. He would be staying in character as the playboy millionaire who did this sort of thing frequently.

Hudson stared at her. She almost reminded him of Candy Spears, except she seemed to be a lot more flat-chested. She had a petite build, her skin was white and smooth, her short hair like blonde silk and her energetic spirit was intoxicating. She was a mischievous little minx and again that "vice" side of him began to kick in, filling up his hormones. The fact she looked like a tomboy as Amelia Airheart did not turn off Hudson in the least.

"Well, alright," Hudson said," but let's make it a quickie."
"Oh, too bad," she said, "you got somewhere to go? What do you do for a living? You look super rich and what is your name again?

"My name's Hu- uh- Harrison. Harrison Stone. I'm a producer and sometimes actor in Canada and the UK."

"But you're so New York and you're Italian."

How to cover that up, thought Hudson. He delved deeply into the side of him that was a lying jerk and a typical guy trying to get laid and came up with bullshit.

"Well my film production company is over in Toronto and I've spent time in London a lot. No more talk, baby. Let's do this thing."

He knew that if he brought up the need for immediate sexual gratification, which she so obviously wanted, she'd stop asking pointed questions and he wouldn't have to keep lying.

She took his hand and quickly they ran into an empty room on a higher floor of the mansion. She put a "Do Not Disturb Sign" over the door and closed it.


"You wait right here on this bed," Tiffany said to him standing by the door to the room.

Hudson removed his dress shirt, tie, slacks and underwear on the bed while keeping his eyes on her. She was still in her costume and she had her hand on the doorknob.

"Where are you going? I thought we were going to do it?"

"I'm going to surprise you. Just follow along. Wait for me, ok."


What on earth was she going to do? Hudson's imagination ran wild. Suppose she was one of those really kinky and wild girls. Maybe she wanted to whip him and tie him up to the bed or something. He didn't want any of that. But he felt as if he was at her mercy. If he ran away, he would be behaving in an unmanly way and he'd give away that he was not even the character he was even "enacting". He waited nervously for a few minutes but before long Tiffany returned.

She was now in a white bra and panties and she had obviously undressed while she had left the room. Hudson was surprised. She had actually stripped to her undergarments in front of people at the party.

"I have a surprise for you," she said to him, smiling from ear to ear.

"That's nice lingerie," Hudson said to her.

"No, not that, this."

Another girl entered the room. She was Asian and had long dark hair which she had made into a long ponytail that hung to the side of one shoulder. She was also in a costume - a colorful Japanese Geisha kimono but it was open, like a robe, to reveal black thong underwear and high heels. Hudson's eyes nearly fell of their sockets when he saw her.

"This is Sumi, she's here from Korea, just arrived in New York a few weeks ago," Tiffany explained.

"It' an honor, sir," the Asian girl said bowing her head to him.

O Jesus thought Hudson. He felt like getting up and leaving but he was now beginning to feel the blood racing into his cock, his eyes widened with a spark of lust.

"Is she a hooker?" he asked Tiffany.

"She is but I'm paying for her services," she replied, "so don't worry about the money. Ever done it with two girls?"

"Yeah," Hudson lied, "twice before, years ago London."

"Third time's a charm," Tiffany said.

Great, thought Hudson, I've never done anything like this and now he'd have to look as if he had.

Tiffany softly ordered the girl to take off her kimono, bra and panties and to sit on Hudson's lap. She said this in Korean and this surprised Hudson. The girl was submissive and she sat down over his lap. She knew what to do from that moment onward.

Slowly, she began to grind her hips in a simulating fucking motion, slowly and seductively, making Hudson's cock hard instantly. She wiggled her butt against his thighs and she took hold of her own breasts, which were also small, and threw her head back.

"Yeah, you like? You so big."

Hudson tried not to laugh. If she said "Oh, me so horny. I love you long time" he knew he would burst into laughter. She continued to give him a lap dance and she was evidently quite good at it. Doubtless she had done it to other men before. She moaned quietly and her writhing and movements over his lap was making him feel hotter, hungrier.

Because they were face to face, he took the opportunity to kiss her. It felt good to kiss her. He didn't know this girl and she was a hooker and he was actually a cop but right now, he was not. He was millionaire playboy actor and he was having fun. All his stress and frustrations melted away. She kissed him back, sweet kisses and afterward she giggled like a schoolgirl.

Hudson smiled.

"Yeah you like that? Huh? Fun isn't it?" he said to her, smiling.

"Ok, Sumi, that's enough now," Tiffany said to her.

Sumi dismounted him and stood next to Tiffany, bowing her head and smiling furtively. From one corner of her eye, she kept watch over the scene. Tiffany removed her bra and panties and stood naked and quiet, allowing Hudson to take in all her nudity. His eyes feasted on her lithe and sexy body.

With all the sexy gracefulness of a cat, she walked over to him and mounted him. She took his hands, which were considerably larger than hers, and put them gently over the sides of the bed, letting him know she did not intend to give him another lap dance. She was making it clear she wanted to ride him. Hudson let out a moan and felt his cock harden even more.

She began to slowly unzip his pants, writhing against him, her hair falling over her breasts in semi-disarray, all the while keeping eye contact with him. Hudson was moaning and speechless, aroused beyond belief. He was thrilled at the idea that he was about to have two girls for the first time. Sure it was not very cop-like behavior but right now, all those concerns went out the window and he wanted to indulge in this private little sexcapade.

Tiffany removed his shirt, button by button, and she gazed at his nudity with lusty eyes, licking her tongue now and then. Hudson's hair was big and full of hair, which she seemed to like. She ran her hands down his chest and Hudson rested his head back over the bed, lying flat on his back. His cock was now fully erect.

"Fuck, you're well-hung," Tiffany exclaimed, "how big is it?"

"Nine inches, babe," Hudson replied with a grin for he had always loved being the owner of a big dick.

"I'm going to enjoy this," she said.

She got on top of him, straddling him, and she began to lower herself on to his cock. It impaled her completely and she moaned and shuddered at the first penetration. She closed her eyes, as if she had just taken a drug and was now enjoying its sensational effects. Up and down she went over his cock, slowly at first, in a rhythmic cadence that drove Hudson wild with desire, making him turn his head back and forth and moan in the pleasure she was giving him. Sumi kept her head bowed but she was still peeking.

She continued to ride his cock, throwing her head back and squealing in ecstatic pleasure. After a while, she quickened her pace, relishing the control she possessed over him in this position. Hudson's face contorted as his orgasm built up. Tiffany rode his cock hard and fast, both of them now raising their voices, screaming as a powerful wave of sexual bliss washed over them.

He had his hands on her waist and then lowered them to her ass, slapping her ass cheeks now and then. She cried out and rode him even faster. Slowing down some time later, she switched her position. Still on top of him, she turned away from him, facing Sumi who was by the door. She continued to ride him, moving up and down over his cock, while he gently caressed her back and pulled on her hair.

"Oaah, fuck, oh God," she said, cursing as she reached orgasm.

Hudson roared during his orgasm and Tiffany cried out along with him, relishing the finale. Sumi looked up, and her face was very red.

"Ok, now you watch me and Sumi," she told him, "and then you'll have both of us at the same time."

Hudson felt like he was going to die from the absolute pleasure of it all.

He had never been in a threesome, much less observed lesbian sex in a front row seat. He felt like he was an actor in one of the porno movies he secretly enjoyed watching.

The girls smiled softly and stared at one another with a quiet but palpable naughtiness. As if silently engaged in a telepathic communication, Sumi got on her back and spread her legs. She did this with a sense of urgency and longing, sighing and instantly parting her legs. The odd thing about her was that she was looking at Hudson, as if she did not care to really engage in lesbian sex and was just doing it to pleasure Tiffany who had paid for her services.

Tiffany positioned herself between her legs, putting her hands on the Asian girl's thighs, which Hudson noticed were quite thin. Before long, Tiffany was laving Sumi's pussy.

She was also using her fingers, deftly slipping them into the folds of her pussy and making Sumi squirm with pleasure. She writhed and moaned softly, quietly, nothing like Tiffany's more vociferous moans. Tiffany continued to orally pleasure Sumi while Hudson watched in lusty amazement. His cock was getting hard again.

Outside, the party continued, a mélange of music, laughter and ecstatic voices. It was past one in the morning. Hudson had lost track of time. Also lost with his inhibitions and he had forgotten he was a cop. He had, for the hell of it, made himself believe he was actor Harrison Stone, a hot shot, and that scenes such as this one was normal to him. Tiffany pleasured Sumi's pussy until she had reached a powerful orgasm. Afterward, the girls embraced but the look in their eyes told Hudson they weren't done yet.

Sitting on the bed beside him, completely ignoring him in their act of mutual pleasure, they began to entwine their legs together like some Tantric position Hudson had never seen or heard of before. Calm and quiet, Tiffany and Sumi began to make love with their fingers. Their soft hands were on each other's flesh, caressing, kneading, rubbing and stroking.

Tiffany's white hands pinched Sumi's nipples. It never occurred to Hudson just how "white" looking some Asians were for if he were observing this scene from afar, he would have mistaken Sumi for another white girl, only with dark hair. Sumi expertly fingered Tiffany's pussy, her fingers diving into the wetness, the moistness. Tiffany shuddered and moaned in the pleasure Sumi gave her.

Sumi, too, was the recipient of Tiffany's fingers, slipping in and out of her pussy. They threw their heads back, closed their eyes and allowed the strong sensations to course through their bodies. Hudson was already ready to burst in his orgasm, but he exhibited self-control, thinking that perhaps the girls would have fun with him afterward.

Their moans and cries aroused him further and they were, in essence, pleasuring him by giving him the chance to view their mutual lesbian pleasure. Hudson had never known any lesbians and the only lesbians he was "acquainted with" were the actresses in the porno movies he watched alone. He didn't wish to let anyone know he had a thing for lesbian sex or any kind of hetero porn because he wanted to maintain the image of a good Italian man and a good cop. But right now, he felt like he could not know a more intense sexual pleasure.

That was until Tiffany beckoned him.

"I want you to take me," she said to him, "fuck me like there's no tomorrow. I'll continue to orally please Sumi if you fuck me from behind."

"From behind? You mean - "

"No, not anally. Just doggie style."

"That's fine with me."

Happy as can be, Hudson jumped into the action. Tiffany positioned herself on top of Sumi, who, much smaller than Tiffany, easily fit under her without any discomfort. Tiffany lowered her head and began to lick her pussy, thrusting her tongue in and out. Hudson was on his knees behind Tiffany, taking hold of her hips and he guided his cock into her pussy from behind.

He paused to look at the ménage-a-trois they had going on. They were an assortment of heated bodies hungry for sex and Hudson felt they resembled a human fan with three folds. Not wasting any time, Hudson delved his cock into Tiffany's pussy, not letting go of her hips. He felt like a stud in a porno and loved every minute of it. He pounded her pussy and he knew she was feeling lots of pleasure because she was moaning under breath and she would at times raise her lips from Sumi's pussy to let out a sexual scream.

Hudson was an animal, tirelessly fucking Tiffany's pussy until he knew he would orgasm and cover her butt and thighs with his cum. By now, the girls were crying and uttering wordlessly in their pleasure. Hudson joined them with grunts and guttural cries of his own. They were so loud it was obvious to the other party guests that they were having a threesome. Hudson did not care and he had begun to store the vivid memory of this experience in his mind, hoping to re-live it from time to time, especially when he'd become mired in the dullness of routine patrols and duties.

Tiffany let out a primal scream as she felt her own orgasm erupt. Sumi had become quiet and lay on her back in a motionless state, obviously very tired and spent. Hudson roared as he had his orgasm and he collapsed over Tiffany. They were now a human sandwich with Hudson on top, Tiffany in the middle and Sumi at the bottom. Hudson was able to see this through the reflection of the closet mirror of the bedroom and he flashed a big smile. He loved that he was on top.


Lexa and Detective Mason were already on dessert which they ate seated by the fountain. The moon was full but because of the many groves of tall trees scattered about, the Widow Gibson's garden and rear lawn was cast in some darkness. She had only a few dim lights out in the yard, and a pool with lights. The weather was cool and no one cared to go for a swim. Everyone out in this area was either eating or taking a stroll. Mason couldn't keep his eyes off of Lexa, dressed to the nines in an elegant gown which she most likely rented. But she would only smile at him politely in return and she seemed to talk less and less with every passing minute. It was as if her mind was elsewhere.

"What's troubling you?" Mason said to her, taking her hand in his.

"Detective how well do you know Mrs. Gibson?"

"Maybe I'm not her closest friend but she's a woman above reproach. She's always been very kind to me and I like these parties."

Lexa caught sight of the shadowy profile of a man and a woman in an upstairs room through a window. The lamplight was bright enough for her to see a large bed, a mirror and even one other figure sitting on a chair. The couple was in a distinctly sexual position while standing up and it was obvious they were fornicating in the room while the third person watched. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she wouldn't have believed it.

Lexa looked at the Detective's watch and saw that it was about ten minutes past midnight. She then looked at Mason square in the face.

"You leave these parties before midnight, you said?"

"That's correct. Its past midnight now but I'm having a wonderful time here with you, Miss O'Neil. What's wrong? Tell me. You look concerned about something."

"I am. I'm afraid I don't trust The Widow Gibson."

"But what makes you think she can't be trusted, Miss O'Neil? I have never seen her doing anything the least bit suspicious."

Lexa's eyes wandered again. She noticed that someone she could see was a man through his bulky profile was chasing a young nude girl out of the manor's grounds through a back door and out into the direction of the beach.

"You never know what someone is really like, Detective," Lexa said to him, "and as a detective you must always be on the look-out for suspicious activity."

"What have you seen here tonight that makes you think something's wrong?"

"Well, there's a highly sexual vibe in the air."

"Sexual?" the Detective could scarcely believe it, "Miss O'Neil, Mrs. Gibson has been a widow for many years now and I doubt she has had any type of sexual relationship with anyone."

"I'm not talking about her. I mean her guest. I just saw what looked like a couple having sex in an upstairs room- while being watched by a third person."


"And just now I saw a man chasing a nude girl out of here."

"I can't believe I missed that."

"Well, it seems you've been taken for a fool, Detective. The Widow Gibson deliberately sees to it that you leave before midnight and she ensures that you don't see what's really going on inside her house."

"Did you see anyone consuming drugs?"

"I don't see that happening but it's very probable that someone somewhere in the house is taking drugs. Drugs and orgies usually go together, right?"

"I've been going to orgies without knowing it?"

"How she must laugh at you when you leave, Detective."

"If what you're saying is correct, then the Widow is the Madame we've been looking for. I've been on this case for a year now. There have been reports of wild parties in a home here in The Hamptons. We believe that a Mafia organization is providing them with drugs and that a Madame has established a high-class bordello to entertain wealthy gentlemen."

"This looks like that kind of place."

"My God, you think you know a person. Well, she's not going to get away with it. Are you very sure of what you've seen?"

"Yes. Should I call the Chief to send some officers over here?"

"Please do and let's go into the house and see for ourselves what's going on. The only difficulty we'll have is that if something goes horribly wrong, we're unarmed the both of us."


Clementine Gibson had a fit after a clumsy waiter had spilled red wine over her gown. She went into her master bedroom, which at one time had been the bedroom of her late husband, to change into a new outfit. Her walk-in closet was full of mostly dresses and gowns. She never wore casual clothes and she disliked the fact that women this day and age wore jeans and skirts, which she considered to be unfit for a lady. She browsed through a number of sequin gowns, all of them looking like beautiful supermodel gowns. She was thin, owing to the fact she ate far too moderately.

As she put on a silver-grey gown with a plunging neckline, she heard a knock at the door which sounded urgent. She felt irritated by the sudden interruption.

"Who the hell is it?" she roared.

"Miss Gibson," said a male voice, "It's only Victor and Mikey."

"Oh," she replied, satisfied to know it was her two personal bodyguards and henchmen/goons, "wait one minute fellas."

After she had dressed and straightened her high hairdo, she told them to come in. Her two henchmen were tall and burly men, both Italian whites who had previously done bodyguard work for other Underground and Mafia members. The Widow put on her no-nonsense and tough face, the one she never had on when she welcomed guest or when she spoke to people who had no idea she was a Madame.

"What is going on?"

"Miss Gibson, we spotted a car parked outside that belongs to one of the guests," said Victor.

"And we have seen this same car, a red Corvette, often times before in New York City," continued Mikey," it belongs to a cop on the NYPD."

"A cop is here at the party?" the Widow exclaimed.

"Yes, ma'am, undercover. What do you want us to do to him?"

"How could a god-damned cop have gotten in?"

"Well, ma'am, when a cop is undercover, he's not in uniform. He's probably dressed like the other gentlemen that come to your parties."

She walked around her room in a state of panic. She recalled that beautiful young mulatto lady, Lexa O'Neil, who had been in the arm of Mason Holmes. This was probably the cop the guys were referring to.

"This could be the end of our little business here, boys," she said.

"So do you want us to waste him?"

"Him? It's a man?"

"The Corvette belongs to a white male police officer we've seen in town."
"But Mason Holmes, who is unaware of what goes on here, brought along a girl he says is a cop who works undercover."

"Oh, Jeesh" said Mikey, "that means there's not one but two cops at the party. This ain't good."

"It sure as hell isn't," said the Widow.

"Do you want us to waste those two?"

"No. I don't think I'd want them dead. There have been too many deaths caused by my guests already and two dead cops will stir up too much media attention here."

"What if we mess them up a bit?"

"No. They'd live to tell their story. They're spying on us. I want to take this matter into my own hands. What you can do, fellas, is plant a small bomb in that officer's nice Corvette. That would be a lark."

With that the goons left. The Widow Gibson let out a scream of sheer frustration. In her anger, she threw a vase which cracked the vanity mirror in her bedroom. Damn, she thought, damn. After all this time, she was getting caught. Well, she thought, I'll bring that cop down. I'll make sure he won't forget the Widow Gibson. She wondered if Detective Mason Holmes had left. She had always known him to leave the party before midnight but since everything seemed to be going wrong, it was possible he was still around. If she came across him, she made up her mind that she'd have to kill him, too. If she ran into that damn lady cop, she'd do the same.

Quickly, she rushed to a drawer where she retrieved a handgun which she loaded.


When Detective Mason Holmes and Lexa went into the so-called "Salon" their suspicions were thoroughly confirmed. The men in there were high. They were lounging around, some completely unaware of their surroundings and others were making out with some of the girls, who were themselves high on the cocaine and marijuana. Mason and Lexa walked about in disgust. They had to walk over some of the people who were lying on the floor motionless. Rock music blared and the lighting in the room was red like that of a photo development room.

"Did you call the other cops already?" he questioned her.

"I have," replied Lexa, "and something I forgot to mention to you is that Deputy Hudson Banach is here."

"Banach is here at the party?"

"Oh, not as a guest; he's here undercover. I saw him some time ago when we first walked into the house. Chief Hiller must have sent him here to report on what's going on."

"Where do you suppose he is now? Is he gone?"

"I wouldn't know. I haven't seen him since."

"Come on. Let's go find the Widow Gibson. We have to keep her from evading arrest."

* * * *

Hudson opened his eyes.

Tiffany was in bed beside him and Sumi had fallen asleep on a chair. Hudson had passed out and fallen asleep, having lost track of time. He had no idea how long he had been in this small room. He knew that what he had just done was an indiscretion but he was grateful no one who knew he was a cop was around. He stirred and moaned under the covers and Tiffany opened her own eyes. She stared at Hudson who got up and began to dress.

"You have some place you gotta go?" she said to him.

"Uh, yeah," Hudson replied, once again assuming character, "If I don't go, I'll miss a flight"

"Oh, where are you going?"

"London. I've got a film to make there."

"Could you take me with you?" Tiffany smiled at him and her eyes glistened.

Hudson chuckled nervously. He sincerely felt that if he was actually a millionaire actor he would take this girl with him anywhere.

"I'm flattered," he said to her, "and I like you but I really can't take you with me. I'm afraid this was just a one-night thing."

"You got a girlfriend or wife?"

"Uh, yeah. Are you going to be ok with this?"

"It's ok. I understand. But, hey, it was fun."

"Sure was."

"You sure you don't want me to pay for Sumi's service?"

"I told you, I already paid her," she said to him.

"Alright, ciao Bella."

As Hudson exited the room, he saw a strangely familiar face. An elegantly dressed young woman was walking down the hall, as if looking for someone in particular, searching the rooms. Behind her was a man doing the same. When he drew nearer, Hudson saw that it was Lexa O'Neil.



They locked eyes for a moment in utter surprise. Hudson's eyes surveyed her body from head to toe. She looked damn good in her blue sequin gown, which showcased her curvaceous body and she smelled so good.

"Are you here undercover?" he asked her.

"No. I'm here as Detective Holmes's date. But you're here undercover aren't you?"

"Yeah. How can you be here at a party like this? There are illegal drugs here."

"Detective Holmes didn't know about it. The Widow Gibson is really the Madame we've been looking for only he didn't know. She's been deceiving him."

"That's right," said a throaty female voice from behind them.

When Hudson and Lexa turned around, they saw that two men had seized Mason Holmes and The Widow had a gun to his head. At the sight of this, they both froze. The Widow had a malicious gleam in her eye and she relished in the power she held over the Detective's life.

Acting quickly, Hudson retrieved his handgun from the pocket holster in his slacks. He pointed the gun at the two henchmen following The Widow's orders.

"Let him go, damn you," Hudson shouted.

"The cops are on their way, Ma'am," Lexa said to The Widow," so it's best to comply. The party's over."

"Damned mulatto bitch," shouted The Widow and she fired a shot from her own gun.

The shot had been aimed at Lexa but Hudson jumped into its trajectory. The bullet went into his shoulder.

"Fuck," he cried and fell on the floor.

At that moment, cops burst into the scene. Among them was Chief Barry Hiller, issuing orders to the cops. A rather large team of cops had arrived and were making arrests left and right, cuffing the party guests that were still in the mansion.

Lexa leaned against Hudson, trying to get him up.

"Oh, Hudson, I'm sorry," she said to him.

"I'm alright," he said," it's just a little wound. It was just a birdshot."

"We have to take you to the hospital."

"No, Lexie. I'm alright, really."

Again, their eyes met and gentility flowed between them. It seemed to them that the only times they weren't arguing and being confrontational was when something like this occurred to them. This same type of vibe had been between them when Hudson had been kicked in the groin by Candy in Miami and had fallen down on the beach, only to be picked up by Lexa.

"Hudson, please spare me the machismo. Are you really alright or do we have to take you to the hospital?"

"I'm going to be fine. Help me up, Lexie."

She helped him get back on his feet and she saw that he was alright. The other deputies put the cuffs on the Widow Gibson and Mason Holmes was looking at her like he was staring at a woman he had never really known.

"Were you doing this type of thing when your husband was alive, Miss Gibson?" Mason said to her.

She spat in his face as a response and the deputies took her away. One of the officers had handcuffed Sumi and Tiffany who walked right past Hudson. Tiffany smiled at him knowingly, recalling their threesome sex. Hudson felt embarrassed and did not smile back.


The arrested party guests included the sons of an Arab royal, a well-known novelist and an NFL athlete. The Widow Gibson's bordello came crashing down that night and her home was taken from her. Her new home was to be a New York prison. She was charged with running an illegal brothel and for her association with a drug lord who supplied her with the drugs. She did not wish to say who the particular drug lord was only that he was a "devil".

Hudson knew at once it was Leo Mendoza, whose nickname was The Red Devil. Looking at The Widow Gibson being transported to headquarters for interrogation, he swore he'd personally get Mendoza no matter how long it took.

He was walking to his car when all of a sudden, it exploded in a blaze of fire. The sound was so powerful it made him shiver and fall to the ground. The other deputies turned to see that Hudson's Corvette blew up. It was obviously a bomb that had caused the explosion. The Corvette was small and the fire died down easily but Hudson cursed into the night air. It had been an expensive car and one of the popular ones that decade. He had felt like Don Johnson from Miami Vice in that car and he had bought it with his hard-earned money.

"Fuck," he said.

Lexa walked up to him and put a hand on his shoulder comfortingly.

"I don't need your pity, Lexie," he said, in a rough tone of voice.

"Don't be like this, please. You've been through a lot tonight and it's understandable you're in a bad mood. You have a wound in your arm and you don't have a ride home. I think it would be best if you come with me and Mason Holmes. We can take you home."


They looked at one another again in silence. Lexa smiled at him and again her hand rested on his shoulder. Each time she did this, Hudson felt strangely good and comforted. It actually felt good for her to touch him. He smiled back softly.

"Thank you for taking that bullet that was aimed at me," she said to him.

He smiled in response.

"Think nothing of it. I mean, after all, we are on the same team."

They walked into the direction of Mason Holmes' Bentley. Mason was in the car waiting for them. He noticed through the rear view mirror that Lexa and Hudson were staring at one another, sharing that strange, strong but subtle romantic chemistry between them, as if they had long been a couple. It disturbed him to see that there was something between them that they didn't seem to accept themselves. The brief thought of losing Lexa to Hudson crossed his mind and it made him even more determined to woo and charm Lexa into his life.

"Detective, Hudson is alright and does not need medical attention", she said to him.

"Damn right I don't need any medical attention. I've had bruises like this and I've been shot at twice this year. Both times in the Bronx."

He looked at Mason when he said this, as if his wounds and scars and the fact he had survived gunshots to his body made him a real man while everyone knew that detectives were never in any real danger as they sat in their offices and conducted investigations. Uniform cops caught criminals and risked their lives all the time, narrowly avoiding being killed when they were not actually being killed in the line of duty. Detectives were eternally in plainclothes and eternally interrogating suspects and criminals that cops brought to them in their offices with stories to tell about how they caught them.

Mason knew what Hudson's game was and he did not like it. He was showing off in front of Lexa, shamelessly displaying his manhood to impress her and at the same time belittling him for being less manly for being unable to see any real action himself. Arrogant bastard, thought Mason, I'll win Lexa yet.

"Hudson lives in Queens," Lexa said, "and I live elsewhere in Queens. Please take us there, Detective. And we'll see you next week. Hudson, get some rest, please. You go through so much."

Hudson smiled at her.

Mason frowned. He started the car and they drove out of The Hamptons. As they crossed the bridge back to New York City, the beautiful city lights up ahead briefly cheered Hudson's spirits. He loved this city and it held charms for him, like a lover that he couldn't let go. Hudson was content to know that New York City would always be there for him, no matter what his condition was.

To Be Continued...
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