Scene Forty-Four

As DI Martin finally drove home after a long talk with Yvonne Atkins, she felt exhausted by the volume of information that she'd absorbed but with a feeling of a job well satisfied, the pleasure of encountering a remarkably astute woman who'd looked right into her soul and the moral satisfaction that she'd used this woman for her own ends. As soon as she'd vocalised the question in her own mind, as she braked sharply to stop for the traffic lights, she knew that this was an impossibility. Now she knew that Yvonne Atkins had only been waiting for the right copper to have come along for her to spill the information. DI Sullivan might have hectored and tried to browbeat her in giving up the information and been greeted by a glaring solid wall of defiance absolutely nothing to show for it.

Normally, she avoided like the plague talking about work when she got home with her partner DCI Taylor as there were times when either of them could be called out on some emergency. When both of them were in on a Friday night, they curled up together on the wide settee together, accompanied by soothing music, lights turned down low and they avoided talking about work like the plague. For one, they had the opportunity to pick up the phone and talk at work but this is where they kept their official identities, along with the smart blue jacket, the stiff shirt and the business length blue skirt. If holding down their jobs meant adopting business drag, so be it especially when they knew that it gave them that necessary edge in holding down their authority. When they were at home, they let their hair down and became Joy and Maureen once again. At eight-o-clock on a Friday evening, a bottle of chilled wine lay on the mahogany drinks stand, two glasses with lipstick prints on the rim while they lay, dressed in soft and yielding clothes, their hair tousled, letting the alcohol percolate through their systems and throwing away their official identities.

However, this night was an Martin knew that she couldn't put her latest revelation to bed and fully become Joy again until she told DCI Taylor what she knew.

"I hate to bring up work, Maureen but I can't get this out of my mind," Maureen said, coaxingly into her partner's ear. Her subordinates would have been surprised to hear her talk this way not to say DI Sullivan. They supposed that DI Taylor went into her wardrobe on Friday nights, complete with smart uniform, only to be let out on Monday mornings.

"You mean you want right, get it over with but you've got some making up to do," mock scolded Maureen in return, resisting the temptation to slide her fingers into areas that her lover liked best. She mentally drew herself to attention.

"You've been bothered how drugs are being smuggled into our patch in large quantities but you've never laid your hands on the warehouse, the Mr Big who's come onto your turf. Right?"

"Got it in one, DI Taylor.I'm running out of options though my lot don't know how I feel."

"I've been put in touch with Charlie Atkins' widow, Yvonne Atkins and had a long hear to heart with her. I reckon she's come up with the answer."

"Jesus, how in hell did you get her to talk. She's not just Mrs Charlie Atkins but there are plenty of villains out there that wouldn't dare to cross her. She's the last to want to talk with the filth."

"She's changed. She told me out of the goodness of her heart, something that she's spent a lifetime hiding from herself. I know that what she's saying is for real. I talked with Lauren Atkins as well, someone who's a chip off the old block and very close to her mother.A lot of the information came from her."

"So what's the answer, supercop?" DCI Taylor asked with an obvious sense of affection and respect for that very intelligent and resourceful police officer.

"There is no Mr Big and central operation, at least not in the smack is being taken by courier from outside London to the middlemen. We've even got the lead on the busiest courier and the London address she lived at before she moved out to the suburbs."

"So how did Yvonne Atkins come to know this woman?" DCI Taylor enquired.

"Her daughter Lauren ran the minicab business but was still operating the drugs business in a small scale way up till August when Yvonne Atkins came out of Larkhall. She was one of the dealers who Lauren worked with and this explains how come we know quite a bit about her. Yvonne made Lauren jack in that side of the business and they're running the minicab business full 've a pretty shrewd idea that she's set up on her own or with others we've not tracked down yet. I treat very seriously an Atkins hunch as much as your own."

"So, wonderful woman of mine, why should they talk to you of all people?" Maureen enquired, looking at her partner's profile as the soft light etched in the highlights and left the soft shadows as her partner's soft voice wove in a pattern of logic that made absolute sense.

"Because, darling,"Joy said, getting towards the end of her story which the telling of it slotted all the more surely into place, "they know that deep down, you are as soft as they are- and for real. They know bloody well that I'd be telling tales."

With those words, Joy felt released at last and drew her lover down into the depth of the settee and gave her lover a soft, long deep kiss, feeling her softness and responsiveness on the magical release of a Friday night in.

Jo Mills became aware that her hedonistic private lifestyle was posing problems in holding down her daytime job. She knew that she'd badly handled the court case the day she broke up with John and she sensed that she was starting to have a run of cases where she was definitely off form. She was starting to get questioning looks from judges she appeared before and other barristers who had been used to the steel witted Jo Mills of old who gave any barrister a good run for her money and who'd won some landmark civil rights trials. They noted a coolness and sense of distance between her and George and John that had replaced their easy friendship and she was becoming something of a loner in legal circles. By contrast, George's star was shining yet at the same time, her partnership with Alice prevented any gossip that George and John were an item. Most of all, Jo was feeling perpetually worn out and tired and only sheer doggedness kept her up to at least a substandard level.

"Mel darling," Jo said coaxingly as she lay alongside her lover on Friday night, her fingers delicately traced the pattern of her lover's backbone. "I wonder if we can take things easy this weekend. I really loved it a couple of weeks ago when we woke up late and didn't move out of bed except for knocking up snacks and ordering a takeaway."

"Nice idea babes but I've got places to go to, people to see. You know how it gets sometimes same as when you're burning the midnight oil on one of your cases," Mel said in her lighthearted, devil may care manner.

"Oh," Jo said simply. She had never thought what Mel might be up to in the hours when they weren't together.

"But we're here together now," Mel said sexily, running the fingers of her hand delicately across her lover's face."I really live for these Friday nights."

Jo's heart leapt inside her as she gazed in rapture at the beauty of her lover's face. She felt like nothing on earth when she was gloriously naked as was her lover and she rubbed her thigh against , it wasn't for Mel to always take the initiative as Jo moved on top of the woman she loved and kissed her hungrily, tasting the wine that they'd drunk earlier on. She pushed into her lover and felt Mel's equally physical need for her as their legs became loved the feel of their movement against each other and it was moments of physical desire like this that made everything worthwhile in her life.

Saturday morning in Mel's bedroom always felt like a real awakening. Jo loved the lazy feeling of letting half an eyelid opening, in a blissful state between dream and awakening and the feeling of her lover's arm wrapped around her and seeing her black tousled hair and her tender face pressed against the pillow. Sometimes, her leg would be boldly curled around her as it was this morning, sometimes not. This was a complete change in the habit of a lifetime as in the past, she's always faced away from her partner, dressed in a sensible back on it, she never knew why she had adopted certain personal habits. It was something she'd never questioned, assuming it was an essential part of her being. A smile spread across Jo's face when she savoured the delicious thought that this was herself allowed to run free to be whom she really weanted to be. She gently moved in closer to her lover and rested her hand gently so not to wake her up. Experience taught her already that Mel woke up later than she did.

Finally, Jo knew when Mel woke up when she felt her body move against her and utter a completely self-satisfied sigh of pleasure. Jo kissed her gently on her cheek and felt her nipples stiffening.

"I never used to go in for early morning sex," Jo murmured softly into her lover's ear, savouring every syllable.

"And now it's taken me how to show you a really good time, just how a woman should be loved. God, I wonder how you've managed all these years, babes," Mel answered in those husky tones that spoke of just waking up and sounded so sweet in Jo's ears. Already, she slid on top of Jo with a sudden strength that showed her own lusts were kicking in.

"That's why I'm making up for lost time,"came Jo's answer as she arched in pleasure feeling Mel's lips capturing her left this woman is insatiable, Jo thought blissfully, as she felt her lover's lips and tongue work wonders for her but then, so Am I, she thought as she smiled at moments of impure thoughts which stole in on her even though she was scrutinising the latest case awaiting her attention. This wasn't sex fantasies but was the real thing as she felt her lover move down her body and her thighs opened in anticipation even before Mel had got there.

As they felt thirsty for a coffee and toast, Jo offered to do the honours, flinging on her shirt in a token effort at modesty, not bothering anymore to become her buttoned up weekday self. She knew that this was something Mel liked and she enjoyed her feasting her eyes on her. She pottered away in the kitchen, ignoring the untidiness at one time she would have tut tutted at. It's only because she wasn't getting the right kind of sex and tender loving care, Jo thought to herself in an amused fashion. Presently her bare feet padded lightly up the staircase and, right in front of her, was the door to the spare bedroom that she'd idly noticed. It was always tight shut for reasons she'd never asked about. That was a curious choice for someone whose daytime job was devoted to the assembly of facts, delving into the details of human life and to always questioning whatever she faced. It was her weekday necessity, she reasoned, and one which she could afford to let slip. Nevertheless, she voiced the casual question in her mind.

"I feel I know everything about your life, darling and I feel that this is home but I've never been into that room."

"I wouldn't bother, babes. That's the junkroom with all the assorted crap I've collected over the years that I couldn't find a home for but couldn't throw out. If you go into there you'll only injure yourself," Mel answered with a shade more forcefulness than Jo had heard her use before.

"I was only curious. It doesn't matter anyway," Jo answered softly as she turned off the switch of her daytime instincts.

"I'm dying for my early morning coffee. You're looking overdressed anyway," Mel smirked. Jo put the tray of toast and coffee down on the side, nonchalently threw aside her shirt and slid back into bed. Saturday morning breakfast was always a sensual delight to them both. It was always an exquisite sensation how far they could eat and drink while feeling each other up until their desires finally overcame them.

On Sunday morning, Jo was back in her house. She preoccupied herself by catching up with some housework, energetically hoovering the carpets, chucking out food from her fridge and freezer that was way past its sell by date and vigorously dusting and polishing everywhere. This was her home, the place where she'd moved with her husband years ago, the place where she'd brought up her children. there were still some toys that had lain forgotten in the cupboards and posters of transient pop stars and female models, paper curling at the edges. Everything looked prim and proper in its place, where it had always been as she was a woman with order in her life. She also remembered ensuring that her husband was well looked after while she slipped out with a clandestine affair with John Deed, one which had resulted in him driving her to the clinic to have the abortion which had also killed off the affair and all its intensity. She shook her head as she shook out the duster out the back door and watched the particles float in the air and drop on the grass. She shook her head as she wondered looking at a younger version of herself that took such matters so seriously, tearing her heart at choosing between her husband, that good man and John deed who was her demon lover. It was strange how life changed everything. She was now the lover of a gorgeous woman, doing things that would have shocked her younger self. That woman had been bound down by so many responsibilities and couldn't begin to think that there were alternatives.

She sat down and put on a soothing CD. She felt incomplete. She knew that she would rather be rolling in physical ecstacy with her lover rather than wearing her habitual sensible shirt. Nevertheless, she was tired and after setting her house to rights, she lay down on the settee. Perhaps she could do with a rest and recharge her batteries. She wondered what her darling Mel was doing right now. It wouldn't be too long before she would see her again.

As it happened, Mel had gone round the back of her house to the shed where she kept her motorbike. She'd gone up to London and placed a wad of notes down on the counter for a good durable machine. She made sure that everything was safe and secure and wheeled up the side of the house and looked warily up and down the street. It was Sunday morning and all the good people of this hick town didn't want their mornings disturbed so she made sure her bike didn't kick up too much of a row. She pulled up the zip of her jacket as even a fine December morning could get chilly. She turned the bike down the road and was off into the distance.