JUST AN OLD-FASHIONED GIRL–Part 2 of 6

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We were awake at eight, into the shower again, and into my Toyota Highlander SUV before nine. I was pleased to see that Rosalie was dressed sensibly in a sweatshirt and shorts along with ankle socks and sneakers. I was dressed similarly except that I had boat shoes even though they looked like sneakers.
We stopped at a deli just a block from the harbor where we ordered breakfast and sandwiches with some potato salad and a pickle for our lunch. Once they were done we retreated to the SUV where we opened the coffee. Rosalie laughed when I showed her the notice—WARNING! HOT! “Just think where the world would be without lawyers.”

Rosalie choked and gasped. “Do me a favor, will you? Don’t make me laugh when my mouth is full of HOT coffee. Remember yesterday when that beer came out of your nose? I almost had the same experience.” Then she laughed and kissed me. We looked into each other’s eyes for several minutes and we both knew. After knowing each other for only four days we were falling hopelessly in love.

I broke the gaze by handing Rosalie her bacon and egg sandwich. She took it with a smile that could have melted an iceberg. “You’re such a romantic,” she joked. Then we quieted down as we ate. I didn’t know what Rosalie was thinking, but I resolved to thank Sheila if I ever ran into her again.

After breakfast we walked around the corner to a bait and tackle shop. I selected a dozen three-ounce sinkers and two dozen Virginia hooks, a dozen each in size 4 and 6. Then two dozen sand worms finished the order. I paid with my Master Card and we drove down to the yacht club. The first thing I did was have Rosalie try on a PFD—a personal flotation device. I never took chances on the water, but we’d be in and among rocks the entire day. We’d also encounter other boaters, some of whom knew less than nothing about boater safety. As I had thought, an Adult Small fit her perfectly. I had one also and I always wore it in the boat. I explained that it would inflate automatically as soon as it hit the water. “I hope you never need to use it, especially today. The water temperature is only 56 degrees.”

With Rosalie’s help we carried everything—three rod/reel combos, my tackle box, a net and gaff, my backpack full of electronics gear and the cooler with our drinks and lunch—out to the dock. We dropped everything except the cooler and the electronics onto the dock while I waited for the launch that would take me to my mooring. Northport harbor was big, but not big enough to have a lot of dock space so almost everyone moored their boats. Mine consisted of two 150-pound mushroom anchors that had dug themselves deep into the sandy bottom over the five years I’d owned it.

Boat theft is a big problem so I’d had a long chain fabricated from stainless steel. Stainless can’t be cut with a hacksaw and using bolt cutters was almost impossible. My two locks were high security, too with shackles made of stainless, as well. Each of the twin 200 HP Yamaha outboards was bolted through-hull with two different kinds of high security bolts that needed a special irregular wrench to open them. I kept those wrenches at home in my safe.

I hopped from the launch over the gunwale of my 24-foot Robalo center console, tipping the launch operator five bucks, as always. He stayed until I had started my engines, as though there was any doubt. I rigged my GPS/Fishfinder to the console and stowed my backpack under the front seats. Then I unlocked the boat from the mooring. Five minutes later Rosalie was aboard with all of my gear.

“We have to go slow while we’re in the harbor,” I told her. “Once we’re in open water I’ll open them up. Make sure you stay seated.”

“Okay, Captain. Do I have to follow orders while onboard?”

“It’s the law.”

“Oooh, I hope the captain orders me to fuck him.”

“You’re incorrigible. What happened to the old-fashioned girl?”

“I’m still here, but I have to obey the law, don’t I?”

I shook my head, but I did it with a smile. “Just incorrigible; you’d better not give me any ideas.” Once we had cleared the breakwaters I veered east toward Smithtown Bay and Crane’s Neck just beyond. Blackfish like rocky areas and they don’t get any rockier than Crane’s Neck.

I had one hand on the throttles and the other on the wheel when I pushed the levers forward. The boat jumped forward and we were pushed back into the seats as though by a huge invisible hand. Once we were on plane at almost 50 mph I had a spare arm for Rosalie. “Okay?”

She had a huge grin when she answered. “Hell, yeah; this is great. I love the wind in my face. This boat is really fast. It feels like we’re doing a hundred.”

I pointed to the GPS and Rosalie looked crestfallen. “Only 48? It seems much faster.”

“I’ll explain why later. See that point of land? That’s where we’re going—Crane’s Neck. I’ve caught some real monsters there–even a couple that made the cover of Long Island Fisherman.”

“I had no idea I was in the company of a real celebrity—a celebrity with a nice thick cock. I’ve seen a few, but that was the thickest I’ve ever seen. Is it true that thickness is more important than length?

“Well, ask yourself—what would I like better–a long thin pencil that I can barely feel or a nice thick sausage like the ones your mom used for the sausage parm yesterday?”

“I love sausage parm. Yum! Maybe one of these days I’ll spread some melted cheese on you and eat you. How would that be?”

“Great; except for the hot cheese part. Have you ever driven a boat like this? It’s easy. You can be a big help when I anchor.” I moved aside to give Rosalie the helm. First, I had her handle the steering and then the throttles, showing her the positions for forward, neutral, and reverse. Rosalie was intelligent and the procedures simple so she caught on in only a few minutes. “Go ahead, skipper…open them up.” The look on her face when the four hundred horses surged forward was priceless. I held onto the T-top support for dear life as Mario Andretti took the wheel. I took over again when we neared land. I followed the GPS to a spot that had been especially productive last fall. That didn’t mean it would work today, but my past successes had shown that it might.

The boat moved forward at a crawl as I searched for just the right spot. Then I moved up another twenty feet and turned the helm over to Rosalie as I went to handle the anchor. “Once I drop the anchor put the engines in reverse until the display shows zero.”

“Then into neutral?”

“Smart girl.” I could tell from the sound of the engines when she shifted into neutral so I took up the remaining slack in the anchor rode and made fast around the cleat. I joined Rosalie at the helm, proud to note that we were only two feet off on the GPS. “That was great Rosie. I couldn’t have done any better myself.”

Rosalie turned the most delightful shade of red. “What?”

“Nobody’s ever called me ‘Rosie’ before.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t….” I never had the chance to finish as my mouth was suddenly and very effectively covered by Rosalie’s.

“Don’t be sorry, silly. I love it…my own pet name. Now…how about another kiss?” I leaned down and our lips met. I would have held it except for the catcalls from another boat about a hundred feet away.

Moving back from Rosalie—Rosie—I turned and shouted, “Thanks guys.”

“You’re welcome! You won’t catch any fish that way!”

“You never know,” I whispered to Rosie. “You just might get a real keeper.”

“Yeah…you never know,” she whispered back.

I broke out the rods and reels. I’d taken the time to re-spool with new monofilament—15 pound test. “These are level-winds. See this little thing on the reel? That will keep your line from tangling and it’s much easier to reel in when you don’t have to guide the line with your finger.” I showed her how to release line and set the anti-reverse lock. I tested the drag and explained how it worked then I broke out the bait.

“That has to be the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen,” she commented at her first sand worm.

“I’m inclined to agree, but you have to know about these.” I showed her the pincers at the mouth. “I have no idea why they have these, but a nip can really smart. I prefer the mouth because it holds the bait on better.” I laid the worm on the cutting board and cut two one-inch pieces for each of us then I ran the hook up through the central canal of the worm’s body, leaving the hook’s barb exposed.

“Shouldn’t you hide the end of the hook?”

“Not for these fish; they eat crabs and barnacles so something hard in their mouth won’t scare them. I handed her a rod and baited one for myself. Each rig had two hooks. I explained that was how the world record blackfish had been caught in the ocean off Virginia. “A twenty-five pounder took one of the baits and a five-pound black sea bass took the other. People on board the boat thought it was the antics of the sea bass that stopped the black from getting into the rocks. Don’t forget…wait for the second tug.”

“How will I know…oh shit! What was that?”

“The first tug; you’ll catch on.” Just then she got the second tug and, luckily, the fish hooked itself. Rosie struggled to bring it to the surface, but it was a short—a fish too small to keep. I took her picture with it and dropped it over the side.

We fished for the rest of the morning. I was pleased that Rosie caught four fish—two keepers—to my three with just a single fish thrown into the live well. I washed my hands in the cold water by leaning over the side then dried them on a nearby towel. We fished through lunch, but we sat at the helm rather than stand on opposing sides. “Can you tell me now what you did to me last night? My whole body was tingling and I’ve never cum like that…never!”

“I’m glad you’re facing away from those other boats. Voices carry a long way over the water.” I was barely whispering when I continued. “I think most of it was you. Not only do you have incredible posture, but you have incredible skin, too. You are so receptive and easily stimulated. I especially loved teasing your nipples and areolas. I thought you were going to jump off the bed.”

“So did I,” she returned with a grin.

“I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”

Now she looked down. “Thanks for saying that even though we both know it’s not true. I’m skinny and I have tiny boobs. My hips are narrow so I look like a boy.”

“Let me tell you something. Having big boobs is overrated. Sure, guys look, but they automatically think a woman is a whore if she has big breasts and ever think of the stress they place on a woman’s back? Later in life they sag until you can tie them in knots.”

“That’s not true,” she said with a laugh. “They do sag, but you can’t tie them.”

“Well, I stand by my comment. You have a small frame so you’d look ridiculous with D-cups. They’ll get bigger when you become pregnant and they’ll probably stay that way. You’re an extremely good-looking woman with wonderful posture and better skin. You’re smart and have a great personality. Plus, you obviously have morals. Guys may say that they want a whore, but who wants to marry someone they can’t trust?” We finished our heroes, pickle, and potato salad. I threw the trash into a bucket I always had on board.

Fishing slowed so I let another ten feet of anchor line out. Fishing for blackfish is like real estate—location, location, location. We caught two more keepers and then it was time to head in. I gave our remaining bait to one of the nearby boats and I sat back as Rosie pointed the boat west and dropped the hammer. We were on plane doing almost fifty miles per hour in seconds, tearing across Smithtown Bay in minutes. She gave the helm back to me once we had reached the harbor mouth. Fifteen minutes later I had dropped her and our catch at the dock and hosed down the boat, locked it to the mooring chain, and caught the launch back to shore. I cleaned and filleted the keepers at the dock then loaded the SUV for the brief trip home.

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I baked the fish with some oregano and lemon juice while Rosie and I showered. She seemed to take an awful lot of interest in my thick cock, now sans the fur that had grown there during puberty and remained until our shower last night. We hugged and kissed and hugged some more. I marveled at how sensitive her skin was once again.

We ate in the kitchen and Rosie greatly approved of my culinary skills. We were cleaning up when I told her I’d take her home. “Tomorrow morning will be fine. I want to see if last night was a fluke.” It wasn’t. She jerked me off, this time in bed where we were both naked, her small hands surprisingly strong as they gripped and stroked me to orgasm. Then I repeated my performance, not licking her from her lips to her pussy, but lightly grazing her lips first with mine and my tongue followed by brushing her cheek and ear while blowing gently. She seemed to experience her first orgasm by the time I had reached her nipple and then it just got better. Damn, but her nectar gushed, soaking my sheets, by the time I reached my destination. She was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane before I reached her tight abdomen. My first long pass of her gash, my lips barely touching her sensitive skin, had her thrashing wildly–her eyes rolled back in her head and her hands tightly gripping the sheets. It hit a crescendo once I nibbled her clit. Her head shook wildly and her scream seemed to be never-ending. The massive spasm drove me up more than a foot and held me there for almost twenty seconds before a total collapse in which she had clearly passed out.

I moved up the bed, lay onto my back, and gently pulled Rosie’s head onto my left shoulder. She moved into my body, her dripping cunt firmly on my thigh. Once I had pulled the blanket over us I whispered just loud enough for her to hear, “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. You are so receptive to my every touch, but—best of all is the person you are. You’re cute as a button, smart, and funny. I can’t believe that I’ve known you only eight days and I’m already falling deeply in love with you.” I had finished when I realized that she was still unconscious, her breathing deep and regular as she slept on my chest.

Rosie woke me around 5:20 when she rose to use the toilet. She slid back into position and surprised me when she whispered, “Mmmmm, I sure could get used to sleeping like this.”

I couldn’t resist chuckling to myself as I wrapped my arm around her and responded, “Me, too.”

Rosie gave me a playful jab to the ribs as she told me, “You weren’t supposed to hear that!”

“That’s okay. I told you something earlier, but I didn’t realize that you were out cold at the time.”

“Can you? Will you tell me now?”

“Well, I meant for you to hear it, but I’m not sure I can remember word for word. I told you that you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. Your body is so sensitive and receptive to everything I do. That alone would make you spectacular in my eyes, but it pales in comparison to the person you are. I’ve known you for only eight days and I’m already falling madly…desperately in love with….”

I never had the chance to finish. Rosie was all over me, kissing my face and thrusting her tongue deeply into my mouth as her sweet lips finally found mine. She held the kiss for several minutes then broke it with a laugh. Her leg had come into contact with my rock hard cock. “Does this thing ever go down? If it was any harder I’d think it was made of bronze or maybe steel.”

“Yeah, it does when you’re about twenty miles away. Being kissed and touched like that will get to me every time.”

“I guess that makes me responsible for it so I’d better get to work.” She gave me a quick peck then spun quickly around to kneel by my side as her tongue flicked out to snare a droplet of pre-cum from the head of my cock. Rosie had moved so quickly that she took me totally by surprise and even more so when my throbbing organ disappeared into her mouth and throat.

This was as close to heaven that I’d ever been. I’d thought that Sheila could suck a mean cock, but she was a rank amateur in comparison to Rosie. She was a real lightweight so I had no trouble lifting her by her knees and moving one to each side of my head. I was hardly surprised to find her not only wet, but gushing. She was as receptive as ever. My first lick drew a sharp gasp as a shudder ran through her body. Then the race was on. Rosie sucked strongly as her tongue washed the sensitive underside of my cock. I probed her tunnel, even taking a second to lick her anus. It got the reaction I was hoping for—a sharp intake of breath and along guttural growl that vibrated around the meat in her mouth.

Rosie was cumming when I felt the telltale rumble. We’d never done this so I felt the need to warn her. “Rosie! Rosie! I’m…oh…ahhhhh.” I shot five times straight into her stomach. She finally released me once my tank was drained all the way to empty. I was relieved when she spun around and placed her head and pussy in their proper places on my body.

My left hand roamed over her back and butt as I whispered, “Well, that was a pleasant surprise from my old fashioned girl. You didn’t learn that down on the farm.”

“I would only do that with someone I’m falling in love with so that means it was a first for me. I had such a wonderful time at dinner on Friday. You were such a gentleman—polite and considerate, not pressuring me even once. Then you were perfect at the cook-out. I loved the way you played with the kids. Even their own dads didn’t do that. My parents were really impressed with the respect you showed me and everyone else and they especially enjoyed the way you stood up to Uncle Robert. Yesterday you made me feel so special and I’m not even talking about the sex. What we’ve done so far has been incredible.

“I can hardly wait for when we make love. And, in case you haven’t figured it out yet, I feel the same way about you. I’ve dated fairly often, but I’ve only been intimate with four guys—all turned out to be losers. The first took me to the prom in high school. He took my virginity that night. It was nothing special, but then he completely ruined it by bragging to our classmates and dumping me in the process. There were two in college, both turning out to be assholes and one three years ago. They were also braggarts even though sex with them was nothing to write home about. I thought we were exclusive, but all three cheated on me less than a month later.” I knew that would never happen with me and I would have told her then had the alarm not shaken us from our reverie.

I was always an early riser, but especially this morning when I had to return Rosie to her apartment in Garden City before getting into my office. We showered together again, but were more businesslike this time. I dressed in another golf shirt—the final time. I had an appointment with my doctor at four this afternoon to have my stitches removed. Was that horror only nine days ago?

We were out the door in less than thirty minutes en route to a diner in Huntington where I always had breakfast. They greeted me as they did every morning and I led Rosie to what I considered “my booth.” I stood aside as she slid onto the seat and was about to move opposite when she shook her head and patted the seat next to her. “I’m not letting go of you yet.”

“Works for me,” I replied with a grin. Then Mona, my favorite waitress approached with two big mugs of coffee. I introduced Rosalie and ordered my special—three egg omelet with bacon, green pepper, onion, mushroom, and cheddar cheese. Then I added a double rasher of bacon.

Rosie gave me a funny look then got serious. “Is that what you usually eat for breakfast? I’m surprised you haven’t had high blood pressure or a heart attack. I’ll have half a grapefruit, a bowl of shredded wheat with two-percent milk, and an English muffin. Thank you.” She continued after Mona had returned to the kitchen. “Now that I’ve found you I’m not ready to lose you. I’ll expect you to eat healthier from now on. That breakfast must have a thousand calories in it and a ton of cholesterol. You have a stressful job. You don’t need to endanger your health by eating junk.” Then she leaned up to kiss me.

We held hands as we waited and I felt a thrill I hadn’t experienced since I was in high school. I was actually embarrassed when my heavy breakfast was delivered. I ate half and smiled when Rosie gave me several sections of her grapefruit. We left in plenty of time to get Rosie home before work, but sometimes the traffic gods can be fickle. There was never any way to determine how long the drive to Mineola might take. Long Island’s parkways were designed in the 1930’s to take automobile traffic, and only automobile traffic, from New York City to the island’s splendid state parks. To accomplish that, the designer of the parks system had all of the bridges over the parkways built low so trucks would never be allowed on these roads. In fact, I knew of several small commercial vehicles that had been ticketed on the parkways. My advice had always been to pay the fine and find alternative routes.

Today a long haul trucker from Tennessee had apparently looked at his map and decided that the Northern Parkway was the most direct route to his destination in eastern Long Island. He had been driving eastbound and I was driving westbound, but that did me no good at all. His trailer struck the bridge at more than fifty miles per hour, wedging the trailer firmly in place, tearing the trailer’s roof off, and spreading his goods—cans of lubricants—over the four lanes. The road was closed down by the local fire department and we were shuffled off onto Jericho Turnpike–U.S. Route 25.

This was a good road with four lanes, but with traffic lights at almost every intersection as we passed through town after town. I knew from experience that we’d make better time driving south to the Southern Parkway and then continuing west. That’s what we did, arriving at 8:30, barely enough time for Rosie to dress and get to work. However, she obviously wasn’t in much of a hurry. I had just turned the car off when she slid over the console, straddled my lap, and gave me the kiss of a lifetime. All of her energy—all of her love—went into the kiss that lasted more than five minutes.

“You’re going to the doctor this afternoon, right?”

“Yeah…four o’clock, but who knows when I’ll get out.”

“Call me when you do and come for dinner. I need to show you that I can cook.” Then she hopped off me and was out the door before I could react. She leaned in my window, kissed me again, and ran into her apartment. I sighed, started my car, and drove off to Mineola. I had a big case to prepare for Thursday morning.

I had told Rosie that I was sometimes like a referee who made sure the police followed the rules. This had turned out to be such a case. It was my paralegal Geoffrey who found the first clue and once that had been unearthed the case fell into place. I knew I had a winner. My client, Jacob Miller, had been driving on the Long Island Expressway under the speed limit when he was pulled over by the highway patrol, allegedly for erratic driving. Then the officer “found” a bag of marijuana hidden under the front seat. My client asserted it was planted. He was tested at the station, but no trace of either pot or alcohol—indeed, any illegal substance—had been found in his blood. Not only was I going to win this case, but my buddy Harrison Bell was waiting in the wings with a mammoth lawsuit against the Nassau County Police for harassment and discrimination. Yes, my client was an Afro-American.

My doctor surprised me by seeing me at 4:10 so I was out the door by 4:20. I phoned Rosie from the parking lot and was knocking at her door less than thirty minutes later. She greeted me at the door by jumping into my arms as her lips and tongue found mine. I carried her in, depositing her in the small galley kitchen. She sat me at the island that separated the kitchen from the dining area while she brought me a Pepsi in a glass of ice.

We chatted about my upcoming trial while she finished the salmon, baked potato, and tossed salad. She served it with a Chardonnay that she had opened then returned to the refrigerator. The meal was excellent even though salmon isn’t my favorite. I helped her to clean up then it was time for a good-night kiss and I was on my way home. We would have loved to hold and kiss each other for hours, but I still had at least a forty-five minute drive and a long day tomorrow to review my preparations for court on Thursday.

The day before a court appearance is always hectic. Among other things I had to check with my star witness to ensure his appearance at a time that would minimize his absence from work and coincide with the trial’s progress. That night I had to satisfy myself with a lengthy phone call to Rosie during which I must have told her a dozen times that I loved her more than life itself. Better still, she told me even more often.

I was up at six and at the diner early. Instead of my usual I ordered a half cantaloupe, orange juice, and oatmeal. I was sure that Rosie would approve. I was in the office early, reminding Joyce to phone the witness at ten for his appearance at one that afternoon. Geoffrey would accompany me in court. Jeff had picked up four cases that would keep him busy. I was also confident that he could handle anything that arose during my absence.

The ADA assigned to the case was capable if not outstanding. Of course, he thought he had a slam dunk…right up until I refused to discuss any kind of plea bargain. That should have told him something about his case, but he plowed forward in steady, but unspectacular fashion. As always, I withheld my opening statement until I was ready to begin my defense.

I was pleased when the ADA introduced the patrol car’s dash-cam video into evidence. It would be a move he’d soon regret. Next he spent more than two hours questioning lab personnel and, finally, Officer Peter Mellon, the arresting officer. I had no questions for the lab techs. Their testimony couldn’t and didn’t hurt us. However, I couldn’t wait to sink my teeth into Mellon—pun intended.

I was pleased when he testified under oath about seeing the defendant’s car weaving back and forth between lanes which led to pulling him over. His cockiness reminded me, unfortunately, of Uncle Robert at Sunday’s cook-out. The prosecution rested just before the lunch break. I took my client out for lunch at a Chinese restaurant just across the street. He was naturally nervous, but my easy manner helped him to relax. We were back in court long before the judge strode into the courtroom for the afternoon session. Judge Peters reminded Officer Mellon that he was still under oath.

“Officer Mellon, I wish to bring this official census for Nassau County to your attention.” I handed him a copy then turned to hand a copy to Judge Peters and another to the ADA. I was shocked to see Rosalie—my Rosie—seated in the back row. She smiled and blew me a kiss. Turning back to the judge I asked if the document could be marked as Defense Exhibit 1.

“Officer, you’ve had a minute or so to look this over. In round numbers, how many people in Nassau County?”

“Uh, I guess it says 1,360,000.”

“And, how many are Afro-American?”

“It doesn’t say a number, but that 12.7 percent are black.”

“Now…how many tickets did you issue in the past twelve months?”

“I have no idea. I don’t keep track of stuff like that. I just do my job.”

“Fortunately, the county court does keep track. They have an excellent database here. According to the clerk’s office you issued 1,478 tickets. In your opinion, how many were issued to Afro-Americans?”

“Again, no idea.”

“Well, I can tell you. In the database each summons is accompanied by a copy of the offender’s driver’s license which contains the driver’s photo. Would it surprise you to learn that 1,293 were issued to Afro-Americans?”

“Not my fault if those people violate the law. Most of them are just criminals, anyway.” I just loved when a stupid witness makes prejudicial comments on the stand. I was sure it went over really well with Judge Peters whose skin was the color of coal.

I was about to continue when Geoffrey stepped through the courtroom doors. His signal told me that our witness had arrived. The timing couldn’t have been better. “Your honor…with your permission I’d like to bring an expert witness to the stand at this point and continue with Officer Mellon following his testimony.”

“That’s a trifle unusual, Mr. Sloan. I assume it is an essential part of your defense.”

“It is, your honor, and I believe the reason will become obvious once he has testified.”

“Very well; you are excused for now Officer Mellon. However, you are to remain in the courtroom for recall.”

I waited until Mellon had stepped through the gate to the audience before speaking. “I call Michael Halloran.” A tall slender man of about fifty, dressed in a navy blue suit, stepped through the door followed by Geoffrey who sat next to the defendant. Halloran was sworn and took a seat. “Would you please state your name for the record?”

“Michael Joseph Halloran.”

“Who do you work for, Mr. Halloran, and what do you do there?”

“I am a criminologist for the New York City Police Department with the rank of Lieutenant.”

“So…you’re like those CSI’s we see on television?”

He stifled a laugh before replying. “No, I work in a laboratory. It is rare that I actually visit a crime site.”

“Do you have a specialty…something you do as your primary responsibility?”

“Yes, I specialize in viewing and analyzing video, either from police or city surveillance cameras or sometimes even tapes from private businesses.”

“I’d like to show you a video that has been entered into evidence by the prosecution. You will see that it is identical to one that I sent to you for inspection and review.” I asked the bailiff to dim the lights and run the video. It was short, showing only that part of the day’s recording dealing with this case. I continued once it was done. “Please leave the lights as they are. We will want to show it again. Now, Mr. Halloran what does this video show you?”

“Well, at first glance it seems to show a car which I assume is the defendant’s weaving through traffic.”

“At first glance?”

“Yes, because that’s not what’s really happening. May I have the video run again while I stand at the screen, your honor?” He moved once the judge had given permission. “Please run the video and stop it when one of the lane lines is adjacent to the defendant’s rear wheel.” He removed a folding wooden rule from his suit pocket as he walked toward the screen.

The video began, ran for a few seconds and stopped. Halloran measured the distance between the lane stripe and the wheel. “On the screen the distance is eight and a half inches. It’s more in real life, but we’re interested here in the relative positions of the two, not the actual measurement. Please advance to the next line. He measured again. “This time it’s nine and a quarter inches. That’s perfectly normal. Even the most highly skilled professional drivers can’t maintain exact position in a road lane. The differences are due to factors such as the road’s surface, slope of the road, curves, and even differing strength between right and left arms.” He repeated the process another five times before he stopped the viewing and returned to the witness box.

“Can you tell me, Lt. Halloran, what actually happened in that video?”

“Yes, although it appears to show the defendant’s vehicle weaving he was actually driving within his lane and the police car was weaving instead. Without the lane lines it would be impossible to tell which was weaving and which was going straight. It’s a case of relative motion.”

“Have you ever seen this kind of situation before?”

“Unfortunately, I have…both in New York City and in three cases upstate.”

“Two more questions, if I may. Did you review your testimony with me prior to appearing in court today?”

“Of course; you don’t strike me as an idiot.”

“Finally…am I paying you for your testimony today?”

“Yes you are; eight hundred dollars plus travel expenses from my home in Staten Island.”

“I just thought of one more. How do you feel about testifying against a brother officer?”

“Officer Mellon is no brother of mine.”

Turning to the ADA I said, “Your witness.”

“No questions.” It was a wise move in my opinion. There was nothing to be accomplished. What was he going to do—try to discredit a lieutenant in the NYPD? Not likely, especially after the judge and jury could see the evidence as clear as day.

“Then, your honor, I recall Officer Mellon.” I watched Mellon’s body language very carefully as he approached. He knew I was about to expose him for the liar and bigot he was. Worse, he had been entrusted with enforcing the law and had broken every tenet of police work that encourages the trust and esteem we naturally have for those who risk their lives to protect us. I wasn’t looking forward to destroying this man, but his actions deserved everything I could and would do.

“When you were last on the stand, Officer Mellon, I had informed you that you had written 1,478 tickets within the past twelve months of which 1,293 were written to Afro-Americans. In a county in which 12.7 percent of the population is Afro-American, how do you account for the fact that more than 87 percent of your tickets are written to that population?

Mellon remained silent. I could have demanded a response, but I thought his silence was a more effective answer than anything he might say. I continued with my next comment. Normally the opposing counsel would object to my editorializing, but this case was hardly typical. “It is apparent to everyone in this courtroom that you have presented false evidence to the court and repeatedly committed perjury. I believe that you also planted that bag of marijuana in the defendant’s vehicle. I noticed that the district attorney never mentioned finding the defendant’s fingerprints or DNA on the bag. That’s because neither was present. How do you account for that, Officer Mellon?

“I suggest further that you have been targeting innocent black people, falsifying evidence, committing perjury for years. Have you no remorse for your actions…for violating the public’s trust?”

“Remorse? You’ve got to be kidding. These people are animals. They’re all criminals who belong in prison. If it wasn’t for the idiots who run our courts….” He then looked around and saw the disgust written on the faces of the ADA, the jury, the spectators, and especially the judge. He might have continued, but he was beaten to the punch by Judge Peters.

“Bailiff, take this…this person into custody. Charge him with contempt of court until the district attorney’s office can develop an appropriate slate of charges. I’m charging you with contempt Mr. Mellon because you won’t be going anywhere without my knowledge and permission…certainly not until the district attorney’s office has completely reviewed your case and has presented you for arraignment. I will entertain a request to dismiss charges against the defendant at this time.”

I looked at the ADA and he stood. A minute later my client was a free man. He couldn’t thank me enough. His parents, seated behind our table, were in tears. I knew that within the hour they would meet with Harrison Bell to initiate a multi-million dollar lawsuit against the county. I’d get paid when they won. After packing up my papers I began my search for Rosie. I needn’t have worried. She was waiting for me only a few feet away. She reached across the bar to wrap her arms around my neck and engage me in a long passionate kiss.

I was in shock initially, but recovered quickly, breaking the kiss only after hearing the ADA approach. “Not bad, Steve—you got the bad guy and the girl all in the same afternoon.”

“Sorry about pulling the rug out from under you, but I needed Halloran’s testimony to prove my client’s innocence and what a scumbag Mellon is. This is my girlfriend, Rosalie Cupani. Rosalie…Jonathan Kaplan.” Rosalie extended her hand so Jonathan shook it.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this leads to a major investigation—not only into Mellon, but every other member of the Nassau P.D. I’ll bet the NAACP will insist. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if Miller sued.”

“I never thought you were stupid, Jonathan. He and his parents are on their way to meet with Harrison Bell as we speak.”

“Harrison? Who the hell do they know?” The expression on my face answered for him. “Oh…I forgot how tight you guys are. I’m surprised you aren’t doing it yourself.”

“Thanks for your confidence, but I have my hands full with criminal work.”

“Yeah, I heard Jeff Barnes is with you now.”

“Yes, he is; please excuse me.” We shook hands, he left, and I returned my attention to Rosie. “You didn’t tell me you would be here today.”

“Well…I had some comp time and I just had to see you in action. I thought you were magnificent…the way you destroyed that asshole’s testimony. He reminded me of my Uncle Robert.”

“Yeah,” I responded with a laugh. “I was thinking the same thing.”

“Are you going back to work now? I was hoping maybe we could spend the afternoon together.” I thought for a second then whispered to her. Only when I had finished did I realize that Geoffrey was still standing by the table.

“Rosie, I want you to meet the real brains behind this defense. This is my paralegal Geoffrey Ruiz. He’s the one who first found a pattern among all those tickets. That led to checking that video for any problems. Geoffrey, this is Rosalie.” We chatted for a few minutes before leaving for our cars. Rosie met me in my building’s parking lot. We walked hand in hand to the elevator, exiting on the fifth floor, and walking into my office.

“Well?” Joyce was the first to ask about the case’s outcome.

“Take a guess,” I said with a smile.

“And this must be the woman you’ve been pining over for the past week. Hi, I’m Joyce.”

“I’m Rosalie, Steven’s old-fashioned girl.” Joyce laughed until I told her I was taking the afternoon off. Then Rosie and I went back to our cars. I followed her to her apartment where she changed her clothes and I carried her outfit for tomorrow out to my Beemer. We reached my house in Centerport just a few minutes before three. We had our fishing gear and a cooler of soda in the SUV less than thirty minutes later. Sandwiches for dinner and bait soon followed.

>>>>>>

On weekends the launch rules are strictly enforced, but on a Thursday afternoon in early June we were the only people at the yacht club. We loaded everything into the launch and ten minutes later we were on our way out of the harbor. Rosie was at the helm, my arm tightly around her waist. We flew across Smithtown Bay and I anchored as close as possible to the site of last week’s successes.

It was a good site today, too. Rosie caught the first fish, one I weighed at just over five pounds. She was thrilled. I thought our kiss was thrilling, too. I had a bite, but was unable to hook the fish so I reeled in and placed new worms on my hooks. The line was only in the water a few seconds when I felt Rosie’s arms reach around my waist, her head pressing against my back. Holding my rod with my right hand I turned around and leaned down to kiss her. I doubted that I’d ever tire of the sensation of her sweet lips against mine or her tongue exploring my mouth.

We were into the kiss almost a minute when some damned fish hit my bait. The bite was so strong that it almost pulled the rod from my hand. Rosie ducked out of the way as I tried to set the hook. My rod bent in two as I struggled with the beast. It was either a giant or I had hooked it in the body. There was no way to tell until I had the fish at the boat—IF I could get the fish to the boat. I lifted the rod and cranked the reel when I brought it back down almost horizontal. I knew better than to let the rod go any lower than that. Doing so would eliminate the rod’s mechanical advantage and would almost certainly mean that the fish would break the line—Fish-1, Steven-0.

The fish took line three times, pulling against the drag, which I knew would tire it quickly. Finally, after more than five minutes we were able to see it about five feet down and I was right—it was big! One sight of the boat and it tried one more futile dash, but it was too tired. I lifted the rod to keep it out of the rocks while Rosie grabbed the net. She held it in front of the fish as I brought it to the surface, remembering what I had taught her—fish can’t swim backwards. She netted it, but couldn’t lift it into the boat. I took the handle and lifted it carefully, not that it could escape the net. Once I had removed the hook I broke out my scale. I couldn’t believe it—more than twelve pounds; my all-time best and the biggest blackfish I’d ever heard of in Long Island Sound.

Holding the fish up by the gill, Rosie took my picture with her phone. Seconds later she called her mom. “Hi, Mom…you’ll never guess where I am. I’m out on Long Island Sound in Steven’s boat. He won a big case this afternoon. Anyway, I’m going to send you a picture in another minute. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Bye.” She put the phone away then returned her arms to my body. “Mom told me, ‘congratulations.’”

“Thanks, but I think I got an even better prize.” Gripping her head gently, I kissed her again, finishing what had been interrupted earlier. It was divine…absolutely divine. Kissing Rosie was unlike kissing any women I’d ever known. I lost myself in every kiss from her lips.

She broke the kiss more than five minutes later. “Maybe, if I hug and kiss you some more you’ll catch another giant. Think we should try that?”

“I’m game.” Rosie and I looked into each other’s eyes and we broke into hysterical laughter a few seconds later.

“You just want to kiss me, Steven and I can tell how much you want to make love to me. You’re being so patient. I love you for that. We’re getting closer. Can you be patient just a little bit longer?” My response was to kiss her again. I wanted her like I’ve never wanted any woman, but I’d wait until she was ready. I had no doubts that she’d tell me when she was.

We continued fishing for another hour, each of us catching a fish worth keeping, both more than three pounds, before stopping to eat our sandwiches and relax with a couple of Pepsi’s. “I love being out here now, Steven. It’s so peaceful and quiet. We’re out here alone and together…just the two of us. I never thought that fishing could be so romantic.”

“I think having you with me takes care of that. Wonder what your mom thought of the fish.”

She took out her phone, looking at it for a few seconds. “She sent me a text. It says, ‘Wow!’ I have to
agree. That’s the biggest fish I’ve ever seen in person.”

I laughed and Rosie blushed. “Okay, I did see some bigger at Sea World, but that doesn’t count. They were on the other side of some really strong acrylic stuff. Oh…you know what I mean.” I did. My kiss showed her then we returned to fishing. Unfortunately, they weren’t biting. That’s the way it is sometimes. We quit just before eight. I put the gear away, threw our remaining worms over the side, and called the yacht club to notify the launch. Rosie started the engines while I pulled the anchor. We were underway as soon as I had taken a seat.

This time Rosie piloted us all the way to my mooring. That was a huge help, believe me. I was able to lie down and reach over the bow to grab the buoy. Without Rosie’s help I would have had to catch it with the boat hook, something much easier said than done. I’d had to try seven times last year in windy conditions before I finally succeeded.

Some people were enjoying dinner or drinks on the yacht club deck when I pulled my big fish from the five-gallon bucket. Of course, I had to hold it up to show off. Rosie took another photo, this time under a lamppost so it was well lit. She told me she would send it to The Long Island Fisherman with the details tomorrow. It would be my second time on the cover. We went straight home once I had the fish cleaned and filleted.

Fifteen minutes later we were together in the shower. Washing her flawless silken skin was something I’d never tire of. Of course, she reacted as I hoped, folding herself into my arms, pressing my rock-hard cock between our bodies. We spent more time kissing, hugging, and rubbing each other than we did washing, but neither of us complained. We finished with our ritual shaving. She did my cock, balls, and pubic area; I gladly knelt to do her.

We dried each other, stopping often to kiss. She had carte blanche with my body and I had the same with hers. I had to be careful, though because of the sensitivity of her skin. I picked her up and carried her to the bed once we were done. We held each other, touched and kissed until Rosie turned around on my chest, presenting her oozing pussy to my lips for a tender kiss while her tongue did a real number on my cock.

We teased each other until neither of us could take any more then I sucked her clit between my teeth. She shrieked in her ecstasy, bouncing wildly on my body as I gnawed and sucked her tender bud. I continued long after her explosive orgasm hit, extending as long as I dared and stopping only when she collapsed, her body completely drained of sexual energy. My cock was dangling from her inert mouth.

I pulled her up, resting her head on my chest as I reached for the TV remote. Everyone who lives on Long Island knows about Channel 12, the all-Long Island news, weather, and traffic channel. As expected there was a feature story about Jacob Miller’s trial and its aftermath. Rosie turned her head when she heard the intro—story to follow a series of commercials.

“Attorney Steven Sloan has taken on a number of major cases since opening his firm some six years ago,” the announcer began as a file photo filled the screen, “but probably no case has had the impact of the trial of Jacob Miller today. Mr. Miller, a twenty-two year old student at C. W. Post University, was arrested on the afternoon of January 13th this year for alleged reckless driving and felony possession of marijuana while driving home from class on the Long Island Expressway.

“At today’s trial the arresting officer, Peter Mellon, testified under oath that he had observed the defendant weaving recklessly between lanes and then discovered a plastic bag full of marijuana under the driver’s seat once he had pulled Miller over. However, that story fell flat once the video was reviewed by acknowledged expert, Lieutenant Michael Halloran of the NYPD. By the time the trial had ended Mr. Miller was a free man and Peter Mellon was under arrest for contempt of court while the district attorney prepares charges for perjury, presenting false evidence, as well as targeting Afro-American drivers. More than eighty-seven percent of tickets written by Mellon in the past year went to Afro-Americans. There was also the issue of where and how Mr. Mellon obtained the five ounces of marijuana.

“Mr. Sloan was unavailable for comment this afternoon. A source at his office told us that he went fishing with his girlfriend. However, Harrison Bell, managing partner of Bell Jacobs and a close friend of Sloan’s, told this reporter that a major law suit was filed on Mr. Miller’s behalf this afternoon. Channel 12 News has obtained a copy of the suit which alleges a host of charges and cites both physical and emotional damage to Mr. Miller as well as damage to his reputation. The suit claims ten million in compensatory damages and fifty million in punitive damages.

“There was no comment from the County Executive’s office, but a spokesman for the District Attorney stated that he expected a complete review of all tickets written by Nassau County Police officers, probably for the past five years.”

I changed the channel, skimming by the Yankees game, but Rosie stopped me. “Leave that on, will you, Steven? I’m a huge fan.” And so we watched the game. The Yanks haven’t been all that good this year so I wasn’t surprised when they lost once again. Apparently Rosie wasn’t all that surprised either. Her fingers teased my cock to hardness and beyond over the last two innings. It was weeping pre-cum most of that time. She took me into her mouth, sucking like there was no tomorrow as her tongue wrapped around my shaft. I knew now that Rosie would gladly swallow and she seemed to know when it was coming. Her mouth sucked me dry in seconds. She was licking her lips when she returned to her spot on my chest.

She had just placed her head on me when she jumped up and turned on the nearby lamp. “I want to see how you’re healing. Wow…you have big nipples for a man.”

“Yeah, it’s a genetic thing. All the men in my family going back generations have had them.”

“Maybe, but I can see clear through yours. What the hell did she do to you? I can’t believe that anyone could be so cruel.” Then she kissed them to make them all better. Surprisingly, it did work. We went to sleep a few minutes later.

>>>>>>

We were business as usual the following morning, hugging and kissing and groping each other through our shower then off to the diner where I saw a gleam of approval when I ordered my breakfast. Rosie kissed me for a good five minutes at her apartment before I drove to the office.

I waited until 9:20 before placing my first call—this one to my buddy Harrison Bell. “Thanks for sending me the Miller case, Steve,” was the way he opened the conversation. “I don’t know how I can thank you enough.”

“I do,” I said with a laugh. “First, you can take the county for millions so my five percent will make my generosity worthwhile. Second, you can share your box at the stadium for tomorrow’s game. I’ll gladly treat you and Nadia to dinner at the steak house after. You’ll have a chance to meet Rosie. I learned last night that she’s a huge fan.”

“So we’ll actually meet your new squeeze?”

“Ever fall in love like in an instant? I tell you, Harrison, she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever dated.”

“Geez, she must be great in bed.”

“Tell you the truth—we haven’t. She told me right up front that she was an old-fashioned girl. She told me last night that she appreciated my patience and she also told me we were getting closer. So, one of these days…. She’s worth the wait, believe me.” He said he’d send the tickets over by courier. Then I made my second call. He told me to be at the stadium by 11:00 for the 1:00 p.m. game. He’d take care of the rest.
I waited until noon to phone Rosie. “Want to go to the game tomorrow,” I asked.

“You mean the Yankees game?”

“Of course; I’d like to get an early start so we can watch batting practice and maybe get a few autographs.”

“Do you think we can?” She sounded like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Yeah, we’ll have really good seats behind the dugout. We can have lunch there before the game. You’ll meet my buddy, Harrison Bell and his wife, Nadia and after the game we’ll get dinner at the Yankees Steakhouse. How does that sound?”

“Like I died and went to Heaven. Are you picking me up tomorrow morning or would you like me to stay over tonight?”

I had to laugh. “And they say there are no stupid questions. What do you think?”

“Tonight it is. What should I wear? Oh, I’m so excited.”

“I’m going to wear a golf shirt and slacks. I could have Nadia call you, if you like.”

“Do you think she would? We’ve never even met.”

“I’ll call her today. I have to go…press conference in a few minutes. I love you.”

“Not as much as I love you,” she joked.

“Not possible, but not worth arguing about; I’ll pick you up around six.” I rung off and walked into my conference room where representatives of the New York City newspapers, Newsday—the Long Island paper–and several city TV stations were present. I was surprised to see someone from CNN seated around the table. I began with my prepared comments, crediting my paralegal Geoffrey Ruiz with finding the initial information that led me to breaking the case. “Once we had determined that Officer Mellon had written more than eighty-five percent of his summonses to Afro-Americans that led us to examine the other evidence very closely. The Nassau County Police has used Lieutenant Halloran as an expert witness several times so he was the obvious choice. It also helped that Lieutenant Halloran works for justice…not for his fellow police officers, and certainly not for officers like Mr. Mellon.”

I was asked if I was surprised that the assistant DA hadn’t argued more strongly for his case. “I know Mr. Kaplan quite well and he is a man of principle. It would have been impossible to argue against the evidence that both the judge and jury had seen and heard. I’m sure you noticed that he never mentioned finding Mr. Miller’s fingerprints or DNA on the bag of pot. Their lack was, I’m sure, a major red flag for him. He did a creditable job with the information he had available. There was no reason for him to question the video. It seemed to be self-explanatory.”

Then I was asked about the civil suit. “Once we determined that a pattern of racial profiling and harassment existed I contacted Mr. Bell. He was more than happy to take the case.” I was asked why I had chosen him. “We’ve been close friends since we were four. His dad was the biggest reason why I studied law. I always admired him as a kid, especially his integrity. Harrison and I usually get together for lunch once a week and tomorrow I’ll treat him to dinner.”

“Is it really true that your girlfriend kissed you in court and that you went fishing yesterday?

“Yes…she’s a librarian here in Mineola so she’s not familiar with courtroom etiquette, not that I minded at all. Fishing was almost as good; I caught a twelve pound blackfish yesterday. And, yes—I did kiss her then, too.” Everyone laughed, just as I intended, and the conference was over. I returned to work finalizing my preparations for the upcoming trial for Michael Clark Monday morning.

I was at Rosie’s apartment a bit after six, wanting to finish as much work as possible so I wouldn’t have to do any over the weekend. She gave me about a dozen hangers and a suitcase to carry to my car. She explained after greeting me with a kiss that she needed to keep some clothes at my house. I agreed; she could move in if she wanted to.

We went to Butera’s again for dinner. My sister Andrea and her husband Nick both came out of the kitchen to speak with us for a few minutes, but Friday night is always busy. We chatted briefly and I could tell by the expressions on Andrea’s face that she approved wholeheartedly of Rosie. She hadn’t approved of Sheila, at all.

The drive home was much easier at 8:30 than it would have been at 6:00. Traffic on Long Island can be a real bear. Almost everyone travels to the west in the morning and back to the east after work. There are only four major highways to carry more than a half million cars every day. Then there are the three lines of the Long Island Railroad that are jammed in both directions every work day.

Rosie carried in her take away boxes from dinner while I carried her clothes into the bedroom. We had our usual shower with more touching and rubbing than actual cleaning then we walked together naked to the bed. Had I known what Rosie had planned I would have run.

We lay next to each other, hugging and kissing each other for more than twenty minutes. I massaged her breasts which I’d learned were barely B-cups and rubbed her hard nipples between my fingers as we kissed, eliciting a long feral groan from her lips. It died somewhere in my mouth as our kiss continued. I found her pussy oozing juice just as I was sure Rosie would find my cock head covered in slick pre-cum.

Rosie’s tongue in my mouth distracted me when she pushed me back to climb onto my body. Her mouth had pressed against mine with increased fervor when I first realized that my cock was no longer trapped between us. Rosie had raised her hips to gently guide me into her heavenly tunnel. She gripped me tightly as her velvet vise slowly engulfed my organ.

It was her long, deep groan that told me how much she was enjoying our first coupling. From where I was it was nothing less than spectacular. When Rosie pulled back to move against me I could see the euphoria in her eyes. We made love slowly that night, content that our love for each other totally overwhelmed our considerable lust.

We moved together, me driving deeply into her hot tight vault, Rosie rotating those slender hips to grind her clit into my abdomen. We were at it more than five minutes when I first noticed the change in Rosie. Her breathing became rapid and shallow. “Ohhhh…ohhhh…ohhhh…ohhhh, God.” The first spasm almost pulled her off of me so I held her tightly, both for her pleasure and for her safety.

I drove into her now with reckless abandon as her orgasm went on and on. I came as never before, pumping my balls dry somewhere in the middle of it. There was one final, but massive convulsion that signaled its conclusion then Rosie fell almost two feet onto my chest.

She was a sweaty mess with her hair hanging in wet ribbons from her head. Our sexual sweat pooled on my abdomen as I clutched the woman I knew I loved more than any other to me. We lay there catching our breath as my hands roamed freely over her back and butt and my lips tenderly kissed her cheek and forehead and hair.

All of a sudden Rosie pushed herself up to look into my eyes. “Oh, Steven…I am so sorry. I can be such a fool. I should have done that on our first date. It was incredible…the most fantastic experience of my life. I want to do it every day…and every night…and every hour in between. Dear God, I love you!”

“It was fantastic for me, too. You surprised the hell out of me, but you are so tight and so responsive which comes as no surprise, but I’m glad we waited. Had we done this on our first date we would have fucked each other. Instead, we made the most beautiful love and…yes, I want to do it again and again with you—as much as I’m physically able. I love you, Rosie. I’ve never said that to any other woman, not even at my horniest, but I’ve told you every day and I’ll tell you every day from now on if you’ll let me. Right now I think we should get some sleep. We have to get up early tomorrow morning to catch the train into the city and then up to the stadium.”

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