The girl, whose name apparently was Shannon Reynolds, nodded and she hurried over to a waiting taxi. Sandra suddenly felt very much like an ass. The woman was probably very good at what she did, and there had been no reason to make light of the woman’s speech impediment. While Sandra was normally cool, she usually tried not to be cruel. But she was tired, scared and shaken, and she was in no mood to apologize.
“Officer Tyler, could you escort Ms. Lopez here through the premises? Get an inventory of anything that’s missing, then escort her wherever it is that she wants to go.” Detective Jones looked right at Sandra. “Thank you for your time Ms. Lopez. I don’t have any further use for you at this time.”
‘Ouch,’ Sandra thought. ‘Well, I took a swipe at the Law, so I shouldn’t be surprised if the Law swipes back.’ Under constant supervision of a police officer, she made her way through the house. She was missing quite a bit of stuff, but nothing that was going to break her heart. Some artwork, her silverware, some assorted jewelry that she hadn’t put away, her electronics, etc.; these were the things that were missing. Most of her real valuables and jewelry were in a safe hidden behind a mirror in her bedroom. And since everything was insured, she wasn’t really worried about replacing the stuff. Only one thing had been taken that wouldn’t be easy to replace, and that was her sense of security.
When she was done, she was allowed to grab a briefcase with clothes and toiletries as well as any other necessary personal items. She grabbed her cell phone charger, her PDA, and her ‘little black book.’ When she headed back downstairs, the pool of blood emanating from the dead security guard almost eerily fascinated her. She crept around it, emerging with a bit of a chill into a otherwise balmy evening. She also noticed then that her hands were trembling. ‘Get it together Sandra,’ she thought. ‘Get it together.’ The officer who had been accompanying her noticed her shivering.
“Ms., would you like me to give you a ride? You could come back and get your car . . .”
“NO!” she started vehemently. “I’m . . . I mean, no thank you. I’m fine. I’m fine.” She didn’t even believe herself.
She managed to get to the company condo without crashing into anything, which was something of a blessing. The building that the condo was situated in had its own security, so she told the officer she would be fine from that point on. ‘I’m spending a lot of time trying to convince people I’m fine,’ she thought as she took the elevator up. As soon as she got into her apartment, she flipped open her black book and called the number from a well-worn page. It was the number for the escort service.
A soothing voice came on the other end. “Hello Ms. Lopez,” the voice said. “This is Amanda.”
“Hi Amanda,” Sandra returned. She was familiar with most of the staff at the agency. “Listen, I know it’s late and all . . .”
“It’s never too late for our customers,” Amanda said. “Though it IS later than your normal calls. Is there someone in particular that you wanted for ‘company,’ or . . .”
“Is . . . is Jasmine available?”
“Let’s see. I believe she is. She had been taking some time off, but she left instructions to call her in case any of her preferred clients called. I could have her at your house by . . .”
“NO! I’m sorry. I’m not at the house. I’m at the company condo.” Sandra gave the woman the address. “I’ll let the doorman know that I’ll be expecting a visitor. Thanks for accommodating me at this hour.”
“Not a problem Ms. Lopez.”
Sandra turned the phone off and went to sit on the bed. She put her face in her hands. It finally hit her just how scared she was. Someone had been murdered in her house. If she had gotten home earlier, it could have been her lying dead on the floor. She didn’t like being scared like that. She didn’t like it one bit. And she certainly didn’t want to be alone.
————– ——————
A short while later . . .
————– ——————
Sandra had just downed her second rum and coke when Jasmine arrived. Jasmine was one of the most stunning creatures she had ever laid her eyes on. She was five feet, nine inches of pure oriental beauty. She had a slim body, smallish breasts and warm, light-brown skin. Her face was exquisite, with high cheekbones and big beautiful eyes. Sandra liked her women a bit on the exotic side, and Jasmine fit that definition to a T. She was wearing a form fitting green-silk dress, emerald earrings, and her long, silky black hair was done up in a fashionable bun.
“Hello Sandra,” Jasmine said warmly. “It’s been too long.”
“Yes,” returned Sandra, who hugged the escort with hands that were trembling again. “Too long.”
Jasmine looked concerned. She had spent many a night in this woman’s arms and she was quite fond of her. Sandra was a woman who could easily find companionship that wasn’t paid for, but the beautiful Latin woman seemed to only have time for her family and for her job, and it was the latter that dominated most of her time. If Jasmine had been looking for a longtime companion, she might have chosen Sandra once upon a time. She was a woman of remarkable beauty with soft, generous curves and an iron will. But that will had apparently been shaken.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ve just had a long night,” Sandra said. It was obvious that Jasmine didn’t believe her.
“You know perfectly well that the night won’t be nearly as pleasant if you take emotional baggage to bed. All my services are available to you, even just listening.” Jasmine put her belongings on the table. “You could start by telling me why we’re meeting here rather than at your home.”
Some people would call what Jasmine did plain old prostitution with a high-class packaging, but Sandra felt that didn’t do the woman justice. Not only were the women at that service clean and classy, they also acted as friends and therapists as was needed. Sandra got around her trepidation of paying for sex by convincing herself that she was really paying for the company, and that the sex was just a bonus. And more often than not, that was the God’s honest truth. This was one of those times.
“Why don’t you get undressed and lie down on the bed? Then you can tell me everything.” Jasmine suggested. Sandra knew that this wasn’t an immediate precursor to sex. Jasmine often gave her a wonderful massage ahead of time. It actually sounded like a great idea.
But before they even got to that part, Sandra just sat on the bed. She had unzipped her dress and had let it hang off of one shoulder, exposing a bra strap. She found herself without the strength to continue. Then she looked up at Jasmine.
“Jasmine . . . Someone was murdered in my house tonight,” she said, her voice barely audible. “And I’m really scared.”
Jasmine was more than a bit taken aback. This was certainly more serious than the types of problems that she was used to dealing with, such as a hard day at work or the like. But this woman was a both a client and, to some degree, a friend.
“My God,” Jasmine said. “What happened?”
Sandra broke down and told her everything. Jasmine cradled the woman’s head against her chest as a woman used to being in control lost that control. Sandra had been the queen of her world, cast from her throne and sent into exile in the middle of the night by an enemy she couldn’t see or name or even understand. The escort kept running her fingers through the thick black curls of Sandra’s hair, following them down past the woman’s shoulders to the middle of her back. She traced her fingernails over the woman’s brown skin, a shade or two darker than Jasmine’s.
“Look at me,” Sandra sniffled at last, wiping the moisture from her eyes. “You’d think I never saw a dead person before,” she finished with a slight chuckle.
“Have you?” Sandra shook her head. Jasmine sighed. “I know what you’re thinking, you know. And no, it doesn’t make you weak to be frightened. In all my years in this profession, I’ve never seen someone who had been killed before, much less to know that it happened in my home . . . my sanctuary.”
“And then I was really rude to this one cop because of this stutter she had. She was just trying to do her job . . .”
“We’ve already established that you weren’t in your best frame of mind, love. If it bothers you that much, you can go apologize to the nice detective in a couple of days.”
“I guess that would be the best thing . . .” Then something hit Sandra. It was something Jasmine had said. “I never said she was a detective. How did you know that?”
Jasmine’s eyes widened a bit. She was normally so composed, but Sandra’s story had unsettled her a bit. And Sandra was no fool. Jasmine wouldn’t be able to pull the wool over this woman’s eyes.
“All I said was that she was a cop with a stutter.” Sandra narrowed her eyes. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? But you’re not going to tell me anything, are you? Because . . . she’s a client, isn’t she?”
“I’m not at liberty to discuss who might be or might have been a client. You know that,” Jasmine said a bit unsteadily. Sandra was back in a position of power, and Jasmine hoped that the woman respected the position that Jasmine was in. “Please,” she said. “If you were to say anything, even if it were speculative in nature, it might cost me my position at the service.”
Sandra fell back onto the bed. “No, I won’t say anything. I just . . . I mean, she’s a cop . . .”
“Not that I’m confirming or denying anything, but did you think that music company executives are the only ones with problems?” Jasmine rolled her client over and, with a bit of assistance, started peeling Sandra’s clothes off. Soon, the mocha-skinned beauty was lying naked on the bed before her. Jasmine was amazed that this woman would ever want to pay for company. Her full, well-proportioned butt was rising from the white bedspread while her generous breasts bulged out slightly from beneath her as her upper body lay against the mattress. Jasmine let her own clothes fall to the ground before straddling the woman’s back and massaging her shoulders.