East 61st Street, New York, near the Pierre

10:52 p.m. that night

Unfortunately they hadn't realised that Marie was not the only target.

High above, as Candy patrolled the streets safe in the knowledge that few if any people would attack a Unit cop, Blood Fire watched.

That one. The little one who protected their Leader, the Final Prey. It - she - is next. The females of this world are as combat-ready as the males. Thus they are worthy targets.

Thus they will die!

Candy heard a rattle, like castanets.

She knew that sound. Though it had been four years, it was a sound she would never forget. She paled, drew her Beretta M93A and backed up against a wall. As yet, she couldn't see anything.

But she knew.

"Call it in!" she yelled to her partner for tonight, Elliot Wagner. He nodded - but before he could, his head exploded, to her shock.

Unit HQ

Same time

As always, Bishop was monitoring all life signs. It noted the acceleration of Officer White's heartbeat. Normally this would be as routine as her masturbating, or having sex with Dr. Barton or Officer Hamilton, whilst off-duty (Bishop was kept up to date with people's shenanigans, the better to do its job efficiently).

But right now she was on duty.

More, Bishop had been given special instructions concerning certain Unit officers, including Rookie Simpson. Officer White was one of them.

Thus it immediately sounded the alarm. "All units, all units: Officer White in distress on East 61st Street. Priority intercept." Then it detected Officer Wagner's death. "10-999 at same location."

In his office Kelly dropped the tablet he'd been typing on and grabbed his hand cannon, the Westinghouse .75 recoilless. He didn't yell anything such as "Officer in trouble! All units respond!" He didn't need to. His officers were well-trained and certain of them had been briefed.

He only hoped they could get to her in time.

Meanwhile Candy, sweating with fear, was ready to shoot at anything that moved. There was a rattling sound off to one side, and she barely managed to hold her fire as she realised it was only a stray cat. The cat yowled and started to groom itself.

Then it stopped, arched its back and hissed. Taking no chances, Candy fired in the direction the cat was looking. A small splash of something greenish and glowing appeared and flew through the air.

Blood Fire barely smiled as the ooman caused a minor injury to his upper arm. Her weapon, he knew, was no great threat to him - a fact she had forgotten in her fear.

This, he decided, would be a pleasure. He thrust out with the kr'thk, the spear.

It lanced into and ruined Candy's stomach. She gasped in greater agony than she'd ever known and her hands clasped her belly; the Beretta fell, ignored. The cat hissed again, much as Jones had in Alien.

Blood poured everywhere. Candy couldn't stop it.

Now to kill her, Blood Fire decided, gloating. But suddenly the mask sensors detected rapid vehicle movement. He knew bitterly that her allies had known somehow and were racing to her aid, and doubtless they had weapons which could kill even him. It was folly at best to assume they were unprepared after Young Blood's attacks. He hissed in irritation and leapt for the tallest tree, then to a nearby structure which he proceeded to climb.

He had no trophy. And no Watcher was there to witness.

At least, he mused savagely, the little one will soon be dead!

Several Unit cops were racing to the scene. Jocelyn wasn't officially a field officer, but she was there nonetheless. She was the first to see the bloodied, crumpled heap near a building.

Candy!

"NO!" she screamed, and threw herself out of the still-moving squad car. In a moment she was at Candy's side, helping her hold her intestines in.

It wasn't working. Jocelyn cried, "Surgical compress, now! Oh, God...hold on, honey, we've got it, just hold on!" Her hands and Candy's were slick with blood, but she dared not take the time to clean them. Seconds mattered with gut wounds, as she knew too well.

Kelly arrived, and took in the scene with horror and pity. There was blood everywhere, and more pouring out of Candy's ruined innards.

Their eyes met.

Candy's said: Waste of time. I'm done.

She was so young to accept her imminent death with such equanimity, but that was Candy White.

Jocelyn, some 12 years older, could not accept it. "Just put pressure here, stop the bleeding, we can -"

"I'm bleeding anyway," Candy managed, with blood on her lips now. "Funny thing," she managed with a sort-of smile, "normally I enjoy pain, but this...I don't like it at all."

Jocelyn was getting more and more frantic, but Candy's belly just wasn't holding together...and, she was sure, infections were setting in. With despair she knew it was too late. So did Candy.

"You tried," she whispered. "Thank you for trying. I loved you belting me. Every stroke, so hard, so careful...such a turn-on. I..." She gulped. Death, she knew, was very close now. If the Christians are right, I'll see Dad again, so this isn't all bad. She tried to swallow the blood starting to fill her throat, but couldn't. She coughed instead, expelling the blood, and that cleared her throat, so she tried again.

"Did you ever send that holo to Kink?"

"How -?"

"I'm a Unit officer," Candy smiled, "observation. I knew you'd taken it."

"No, I...I didn't. Almost did," Jocelyn admitted. "I'm sorry."

"'s okay. Actually I might've liked to see it."

"Dark horse," Jocelyn tried to smile.

"Joce, my panties are in the top drawer of my bedside cabinet. The pink ones. The...sexy ones. Please give them to Johnny, he'll like 'em." She sort-of smiled again. "They're my faves, I was wearing them when I arrested him. My way of saying I forgave him." She sighed. "Time to sleep. The pain's gone. I love you. I love you all."

"Don't go," Jocelyn whispered brokenly. "Please don't go. I love you."

"I have to," Candy told her gently. "You're a doctor. You know I'm done, better than I do. But don't cry. Gonna see Daddy again, I hope. Take care of Jerry, and the twins. Love you. I...have to…"

More blood welled out of her mouth. She'd lost enough already. Jocelyn knew it, though she tried to deny it. Candy had lost so much blood her skin was looking greyish.

"No," Jocelyn pleaded, crying now. But Candy could no longer hear. Thankfully her eyes had closed as she died.

Though he knew it was useless, Kelly growled over Jocelyn's heartfelt sobs, "We'll get the bastard, Candy. Alien or not, we will get him."

The Unit cops, professional as always, handled her body with the utmost care and respect as they gently took charge of her, to deliver her to Autopsy. There was little point in recording SOC HD. They knew perfectly well what had happened.

Though not why. Not yet.

Jocelyn knew all too well where they were taking Candy's...Candy, and why. She also knew what would be expected of her.

But she didn't know if she could. She sure as fuck didn't want to.

"No," she whispered.

Kelly told her softly, "It's procedure when a Unit cop dies, especially on duty. You of all people know that. Come on."

Unit HQ, Autopsy Room

Candy was still beautiful even in death, petite but curvy, all peaches and cream. Her 32B breasts were pert and perky, the areolae puffy and coral-pink, the left nipple pierced with a little ring. Jocelyn's heart broke all over again as she remembered pulling on that ring until Candy slapped her hand as the safeword they'd agreed on. She'd enjoyed hurting the girl because Candy enjoyed it. As she put it, "I'm a bit of a masochist and you're a lot of a sadist, you pervert. A match made in heaven."

She'd loved the spanking, too - what a firm ass the girl had, she was built for it, born for it. She even accepted the bite of Jocelyn's leather belt, just once. Jocelyn still had a holo of her standing naked, her wrists loosely, symbolically tied to the hook screwed into the wall for precisely this purpose, red belt marks showing on her back, buttocks and legs. Drops of sweat were running down her delectable body, her angelic face creased in delicious pain and ecstasy, tears rolling down her soft downy cheeks. Sex cream and juice trickled down her inner thighs.

Part of the excitement for Jocelyn was that Candy's bonds, expertly tied, were tight enough to hurt and to restrain, yet loose enough that she could twist her wrists in such a way as to pull free in a moment...if she wanted to.

But no, she wanted to be hit. Belted. Whipped, even. And Jocelyn was so turned-on by her utter submission, so wet, nipples so hard, that she would gladly beat the girl until she cried for mercy!

Or, as was more likely given her masochism, in orgasm!

Every lash of the belt (delivered with the utmost care and love, just hard enough to hurt but without causing actual injury beyond marks, with all the expertise such a practised sadist as Jocelyn Barton could apply to the task), every crack of hard three-centimetre leather meeting warm, soft, yielding flesh, every cry of pain from Candy, gave her tormentor a mini-orgasm. In the end, overwhelmed by passion and sheer wanton lust, she released her lover from her loose bonds, picked her up bodily, threw her onto the bed and went down on her - for a solid hour.

On impulse, without telling Candy (who in fact knew), she later visited the offices of Kink and showed the holo to the head photographer; he got an instant hard-on and offered her $10k there and then for that holo alone, but Jocelyn had a sudden attack of conscience and withdrew the offer, visiting a local 6' dominatrix and begging abjectly to be punished by a whipping or a beating for her offence. "Hurt me, Mistress," she pleaded, and Mistress Pain obliged, gloating as she lashed her willing victim until blood flowed.

She was on the verge of being banned from the BDSM community for excesses, and Jocelyn knew it.

And didn't care.

She knew she hadn't the courage to confess her sin to Candy, so punishment at the hands of a true sadist worse than she was would have to do...

Jocelyn dropped the scalpel.

"I can't. I'm sorry, I can't, I - I can't…"

Kelly moved to her side and gently squeezed her shaking shoulders. "Jocelyn, I can't even imagine how hard this is for you, but we need an autopsy. You know that."

"I can't," she sobbed pitifully. "Ask Vince, he'll do it. I can't violate her…"

"Jocelyn, this is not her. This is only the beautiful body worn by her even more beautiful soul, and that is gone. Candy is not here. It's the last thing you can do for her. Out of respect for her memory, if you truly loved her -"

"You know I did, you bastard," she whispered, but without heat.

"- then you'll do her this one last favour. Please, Jocelyn, you're our best. Doesn't she deserve the best?"

"Fucking Unit psycho-analytical profiles," she cursed, but again without heat, "you always know where to hit us, don't you? I really want to hate you right now, but I can't because I know you're right. You twat."

"Guilty as charged," he didn't mind admitting.

She drew a deep shuddering breath and pulled herself together as he'd known she would. For Candy's sake she would bury all emotion and approach the autopsy as if she were dealing with a total stranger. The autopsy, recorded as they all were, was later presented to the Unit Academy as a textbook example of how to perform an autopsy on someone you'd once loved...and entirely unedited, except for the addition of showing her breakdown and recovery. It was the very archetype of professionalism, performed with Jocelyn's unique blend of respect for the dead and detached clinical attitude.

"Begin recording," she requested of the AI autopsy recorder. The red light glowed. "This is a routine autopsy for Major Candy White of the New York Tactical Operations Unit, number NYTOU 01-6. Attending physician is myself, Dr. Jocelyn Barton, NYTOU 02-2.

"The deceased was female, 30 years of age, in perfect health. Preliminary COD by visual inspection is death by a bladed weapon." Dr. Barton paused. "For the record, she was married, a mother of twins, and my lesbian lover. I now perform standard autopsy incisions." With iron discipline she did so. Her heart cried out at the blood trickling out of the cuts, but she said nothing.

Candy, my love, I am so, so sorry for this. But I have to do it. We need answers, and only your dead body can give them to us. Please forgive me, darling. I'll be as quick as I can.

Dr. Barton proceeded with the autopsy as she had too many times before. The conclusion wasn't long in coming. "COD is confirmed as death by bladed weapon into and through the stomach, causing disembowelment, severe loss of blood and subsequent lethal infections, though these had insufficient time to kill her. Fatal injury is consistent with the MO previously observed in Alice Greenwood, suggesting strongly that her assailant was the same...person, using the same or a similar weapon. The Unit is investigating.

"SEM-WDS shows that no metallic traces are present in the fatal wound, which suggests TiCrIr or similar for the weapon. There are...certain resemblances to the homicides of 2027, though that assailant is known to be deceased. But this one is not a copycat, since death was not immediate. The motive - obtaining trophies from the victim - is different, as Major White's body was not mutilated, though this may have been due to Unit officers intervening. I would instead suggest that revenge was the motive...though for what remains unclear at this time.

"Major White had no immediate family; both parents are deceased and she was an only child. Her husband Jerry also Protects and Serves in the Unit, and has been informed. He will...take care of funeral arrangements as soon as the District Coroner releases her body. This concludes the autopsy." The recorder's AI recognised the four key words and stopped recording. The red light went out.

And as she had needed to, Jocelyn sagged against the table, overcome by her loss and the terrible thing she'd had to do, and embraced Candy's dear body, sobbing bitterly. For the last time, she pulled on Candy's nipple ring, but gently, respectfully this time. Some tiny irrational part of her was hoping and praying Candy would giggle and slap her hand, but of course her corpse did nothing.

Of course it didn't. This was real life, or rather death, not a fantasy. Yet hope springs eternal.

Her sobs echoed through the room. Seldom had anyone in the world wept as bitterly as Jocelyn was doing.

And Commander McAllister swore bitterly once again that justice would be served.

For Candy.

"Why?" Jocelyn sobbed hysterically. "Why her? WHY?"

Kelly truly wished they had the answer to that.

But they would, he swore, find out.

Crestwood Cremation and Funeral Services, Manhattan

The next day

The District Coroner found his job to be much easier these days, since the Unit had adopted paper-free documentation and the NYPD was beginning to follow suit. It took him only an hour to release Candy's body for burial, and Crestwood pursued the same paperless policy now as they had done since 2026. Jerry elected to get it over with, because there was no telling how long her murderer would be in New York. As soon as Candy was buried, he decided, they could get on with finding the 'perp'.

Though they all wanted to tear him apart, he knew Candy would never have wanted that. Had their positions been reversed, she would have sought justice, not revenge.

But human nature is what it is, and so he burned with the need for it. They all did.

The service was exactly what he knew Candy would've wanted, i.e. non-denominational; she'd never subscribed to religion. She'd respected it, yeah, but she'd never believed. Hell, she hadn't even taken his surname on marrying him.

Candy and Marie's apartment

Three years ago

As was their custom, they all met on an off-duty night in someone's apartment for (usually) pizzas and beer. This time Candy was playing host while Marie played Scrabble with her Academy friends at Tom's place; next time, Kelly was so scheduled, and he would welcome the company.

"I agree with Heinlein in Friday," Candy said, sipping her Coors from the bottle, "religion is a comfort appropriate to the weak, not the strong. Richard Morgan said it too, in Broken Angels - Quellcrist Falconer held that ‛a preoccupation with the next world pretty clearly signals an inability to cope credibly with this one'. Again, I agree."

Jocelyn teased, "But don't you think they have a point?"

Candy chuckled, remembering a time when Jocelyn had impishly changed her tampon in front of a male rookie, much to the poor naïve guy's consternation. "Hypocrite. You don't believe, either. No. I'd like to believe, but...a god, by definition, is perfect, isn't he? So why would he - sorry, forgetting my training in respect, He - create such an imperfect world?"

"It's the people in it that make it imperfect," Duane rumbled.

"Again, why aren't we perfect? Why do we need cops?"

Kelly answered that one. "A key concept in religion is freedom of choice. But anything which can't change - which, if I recall correctly, you said yourself in '27 - can't improve."

"Hmm," Candy mused thoughtfully, "you might have a point."

"To human improvement," Jocelyn toasted, and they all echoed her.

Every member of the Unit had a last will and testament on file, JIC. Candy's stated that she should be cremated and the ashes scattered over somewhere living, that her atoms might return to the soil and become something new. Jerry planned to scatter them all over Central Park; she had loved trees and flowers, so it was fitting.

But the only flower at her funeral was a single pink rose, because, ever practical, she said in the will, "Too often flowers are wasted. What use will flowers be to me when I'm dead?"

Jocelyn cried anew when she realised the rose was as pink as Candy's beautiful nipples, labia and the inside of her twat had been. She kissed and caressed it before putting it back on the funeral plinth. A single drop of blood welled up from her finger; the rose had thorns. Captain James T. Kirk had said in Is There In Truth No Beauty?, "I never met a rose that didn't." Candy agreed.

So did Jocelyn. Tearfully she allowed a tear and a single drop of her blood to drip onto the plinth.

Goodbye, my love. We'll get that twat. I swear it on my tears and on my own blood, as Marie would have.

Jocelyn could almost hear Candy's gentle admonishment: No revenge. I don't want to be avenged.

No, darling. Not revenge. Justice.

But we'll still kill him if we can.

Plug Uglies, 256 3rd Avenue, New York, NY 10010

Saturday May 27th, 2028, 9:45 p.m.

Plug Uglies was very much a cop bar; both the Blues and the Unit were often seen there. It was well-known as the very last place to start a brawl. A small group of young punks tried, but they had a chance to raise only the bare minimum of trouble before the bartender said, "Guys, seriously, you wanna try your luck elsewhere?"

"Why?" the punk leader brashly asked.

Louise only smiled, totally unconcerned; the punk leader was baffled. This wasn't the way bar staff usually reacted to the clear threat they posed. But the bar suddenly reverberated with the sound of various weapons being cocked, including non-lethal ones such as Tasers and Stickies. The punks gulped as they realised exactly where they were and what their situation was.

They were surrounded by off-duty cops, NYPD and Unit both. One Blue held a Westinghouse .75 recoilless. Its muzzle looked huge.

"That's why," she merrily answered.

"Oh, fuck," one of the punks moaned.

"Ladies present," Louise quipped. She loved encounters like this, and she would enjoy telling her little girl and her Daddy about this one later. He too was a cop, with the Blues, on duty at the moment. But the Unit had made New York safer - not safe, but safer - so she was less worried about him these days.

Kelly, who was there, draped a friendly arm over the guy's shoulder, saying, "Yeah, but you can stay for a drink." Gently but firmly, he squeezed for emphasis. "One drink. Plus a donation to the NYPD Orphans' Fund. You can do that, right?"

The implication was very, very clear as to what would happen otherwise. They were lucky not to be arrested for a breach of the peace. The leader replied lamely, "Sure. Um, four Coors...please," he requested.

"Got it," Louise responded, inwardly smiling at their predicament. They weren't the first and probably wouldn't be the last.

The donation was surprisingly generous. Then again, maybe it wasn't that surprising.

They never, ever went back. That was even less surprising.

Plug Uglies

Present day, that evening

A raucous pool tournament was being organised by the Unit. The NYPD had offered to leave out of respect for Candy (whom they'd arrested twice when she'd posed as a prostitute), but Jerry, surely the most entitled, insisted that they should remain, "to pay equal respect. Leonard White, her Dad, was a Blue, he died on duty. Please stay, guys." He grinned. "Try your luck at pool against the Unit! You're goin' down!"

"As Galen said in Planet Of The Slave Girls, ‛Your challenge is accepted!'" Pete Garman, the cop who'd arrested her, returned with the good-natured rivalry that nowadays categorised the Blues and the Unit; they had put aside their competitiveness upon realising that they were ultimately on the same team, to Protect and Serve.

Frankie, who was far too young to have experienced Buck Rogers In The 25th Century, murmured, "Who said that in what? That sounds like something out of a 20th Century porn movie or whatevs!"

Kelly chuckled, accessed Netflix and showed her. In the classic episode, Buck said, "All right, now keep your eyes on that turkey in the back, he's the one we want. We're gonna go right up the middle. You guys open a hole, I'll nail 'im. Okay, guys, take out these tackles!"

He knew Frankie would be thrilled by the final space battle, and so she was. But she wouldn't be Frankie if she didn't quip, "Can you get 20th Century porn on Netflix, too?"

Though Kelly was well aware she was kidding, he showed her clips from 9½ Weeks (Kim Basinger implied to be masturbating), Last Tango In Paris (Marlon Brando and Maria Schneider having sex), Basic Instinct (Sharon Stone revealing her genitals in the classic interrogation scene, and Jeanne Tripplehorn being ravished/raped), and entries on the Nubiles and Blacked websites. She giggled. "Ooh, they really knew how to have fun back then! I'm getting ideas, I think I'll try 'em out on Scott!"

Frankie was, Kelly knew, going through a bit of a phase, wanting sexy fun on the one hand and not wanting kids on the other. But with the Unit's standard-issue tunable contraceptive implant, that was of course entirely her choice. He liked to indulge his subordinates.

His friends.

One surprise attendee was Johnny Mullins, who'd heard about Candy's death and had shown up at her funeral. But Tina McIntyre remembered him from when Candy had arrested him, and asked him to come to the wake. "You were at her funeral, so it's only right," she told him. "She'd have wanted you there, she never held a grudge...even though you tried to kill her."

So he attended, finding the mood of the affair to be upbeat rather than depressed, a celebration of her life rather than mourning her death. A few Unit cops exchanged greetings.

The only sombre attendee he encountered was Jocelyn. She was no more in a mood to celebrate than he was, he saw. Still, he politely offered her a drink.

"Thanks," she nodded, "something strong. Spirytus vodka, if they have it."

They did; some of the usual clientèle were Polish. It was, the barmaid told him, the world's strongest drink.

Jocelyn downed it in one. "Mmm, nice. Another."

"That's the -"

"- world's strongest drink, yeah, I know," she interrupted his caution, "and if I drink enough I might even be able to forget that my mostly lesbian lover is dead. Another. Keep 'em comin'."

Though he was unsure of the wisdom of this, he complied. His own drink was a double (she upgraded it to triple, so he could at least try to keep pace) JD on the rocks. Shortly both were anything but sober.

But she knew they could afford to be. A number of Blues and rookie Unit cops had volunteered to cover the funeral, and they were deadly serious about their duty. New York was still in safe hands however drunk the Unit and/or the Blues got.

"There was something I had to do," Jocelyn slurred, "something she wanted me to do."

"Drink?" Johnny tried to quip.

"No. Well, yeah, but...something she asked me to do...oh, yeah. Now I remember." She hiccuped.

"What's that?" he asked curiously, seeing Jocelyn had taken out a small bag.

"She wanted you to have these," Jocelyn said softly. "It was her last request. She was wearing them when she arrested you." She handed him the bag, her hand trembling. "She wanted you to know she forgave you."

Johnny was startled to realise his eyes had filled with tears as he numbly extracted Candy's panties from the bag.

In 2025 Du Pont invented Newlon, a type of nylon which breathed and thus avoided the prevalent bacteria problems, yet it tended to retain female scent - which was why it had proven so popular for underwear, especially knickers (and especially among men). La Perla was the first company to secure a contract with them. Candy was one of the first enthusiasts for Newlon - and judging by the contents of her knickers drawer, Jocelyn reckoned, she'd never regretted it.

They were a blend of cotton and Newlon; though they were a few years old and she'd worn them often, they looked new and not frayed because Newlon resisted signs of wear and tear, plus it retained its colour much better through multiple washes. These among other qualities made it so popular with girls and women that it was making hundreds of millions of dollars a year for La Perla. Givenchy and Versace were said to be seriously looking into Newlon. So was the U.S. Army.

The underwear was a lacy see-through G-string number (hell, even the crotch panel was see-through - Christ, if she shaved her muff a guy could see her actual fuck slit even before he got 'em off, who woulda thought a cop would wear somethin' like that?), far and away the sexiest panties he'd ever seen on or off a bitch. They were a really pretty shade of pink, decorated with little red hearts here an' there. Sexy and cute at the same time.

Just like her.

With perspicacity unusual in such a man, he understood that that was exactly why she liked them: because they were like her.

To his shock he realised he could smell pussy, and fuck, it smelled real good. There were even a few curly blonde hairs caught in the front panel, had to be her pubes, so, damn, she really was a blonde...

"She tended to wash her knickers every other day or even every third day, because she really liked the scent of her own pussy," Jocelyn confided softly on seeing his expression, comprehending the reason for it by catching the scent herself (and dear God, do I remember that scent, it was as if I was going down on a horny angel...). "I often caught her sniffing her own knickers and fingering herself." She somehow smiled. "Who could blame her? Delicious, isn't it...?"

Her voice broke as the tender memories of making hot sweet love for hours on end with that most perfectly lovely little cutie, that goddess in miniature who would surely have been an overnight smash hit on Kink , Viv Thomas or SexArt -

Jocelyn's bedroom

1½ years ago

"And why should I be the only lucky person to appreciate your cuteness and beauty, you gorgeous sexy little sprite?" she teased, sliding her hand down Candy's back and into her lusciously tight shorts to touch and caress those delightful dimples above the younger woman's buttocks, enjoying Candy's giggle (she claimed the dimples were ticklish, but Jocelyn didn't quite believe that and would've tickled them anyway - subjecting a lover to mild tickle torture was so much fun!). "C'mon, lemme take a few shots of you totally naked and frigging your dripping wet slit as if the world's ending, and send 'em to SexArt, you'd make a fuckin' fortune!"

"Oh, come on, Jocelyn, I'm a cop, I couldn't send photos to a porn site!" Candy laughed musically. In truth she wasn't at all inhibited and liked to be naked, but she didn't want to appear on a porn site for millions of people to, let's face it, wank over. Jerry and Jocelyn were the only people with whom she'd be unclothed. She still remembered the delighted look on his face as she came and he put the twins into her. God, he had a lovely huge cock, and he knew what to do with it!

"Sure you could, just give 'em a false name - we've got the tech skills to hack the records if they check. You're way cuter and sexier than most of their models, and I know 'cause I've met some, I've even fucked two of 'em!" That was true; she'd had Zoe Doll (cute as a button, and ooh, what a firm, juicy ass she had) and Margot A (oh, God, those beautiful sexy freckles...) at a SexArt soirée some years back, after both had returned by popular demand following a hiatus (both had had kids in the interim and both still looked as delicious as ever).

She'd have made a play for Jia Lissa, the sexiest redhead she'd ever seen (her added maturity and her decision to completely stop shaving her armpits making her sexier than ever in Jocelyn's lust-filled eyes), but she'd been called away before she'd gotten the chance. Damn work getting in the way of Life™...

"You just want me to display everything I've got to satisfy your own exposure issues by proxy!" Candy protested, laughing again.

"Quit with the amateur pop psychology and get 'em off," Jocelyn chuckled lasciviously, her other hand moving to gently pinch Candy's left nipple through her thin top. Candy had mentioned she was thinking of getting it pierced, and Jocelyn hadn't told her yet that she loved that idea. Oh, the possibilities for the mild torture Jocelyn, a borderline sadist, always relished with her female lovers - ooh, the thought of pulling on a nipple ring until the sprite begged for mercy (and she had a very high pain tolerance, Jocelyn knew from routine Unit tests, so she could take it for delicious ages)...

"Make me," Candy shot back with an impish bright-eyed smile that went straight to Jocelyn's nipples and her clit, ringing her bell louder than Big Ben. She was now so wet she could've irrigated the Sahara Desert single-handed (single-pussied? Is there such a word?).

Dear God, I love this cute little elf so much, she's the most fun lover I've ever had, she can get me sopping wet with just a look, and I so want to see her naked and bury my tongue in that mostly-shaved muff, so bad, right fucking now!

So she grabbed an armful of giggling sex kitten, taking full advantage of her greater size and strength (Candy found the disparity exciting, Jocelyn knew, revelling in the knowledge), and proceeded to strip her of what little she was wearing, quipping, "If we filmed this -"

"Don't you DARE!" Candy laughed, mock-struggling. She loved the feeling of helplessness engendered by play-wrestling with a woman ten inches taller and about nine kilos heavier, and she loved that Jocelyn knew that and enjoyed it.

"- we'd be millionaires in a week, I swear -"

"Shut the fuck up and slide your tongue right into my soaking wet cunt, you sexy bitch," Candy breathed hoarsely, now aroused as she always was by Jocelyn's playfully rough handling of her now-naked body and her own dirty talk, and oh, how happy Jocelyn was to oblige, going down on the most delicious, juiciest slit she'd ever tasted. Candy had an innie, Jocelyn's favourite shape for female genitalia because it looked so neat and tidy.

She kept her entire genital area carefully, smoothly shaven, no stubble at all (a fresh razor every time was the key), except for that lovely little tuft on her mons veneris which she left intact just to prove her natural hair colour, just as Jia did, plus it had the added advantage of capturing her scent and pheromones - which is in part the purpose of pubic hair, as she (as a woman of the world) and Jocelyn (same, plus she was an M.D.) knew.

Oh, that smell, that taste, honey and musk and salt and something indescribably exquisite in its flavour, unique to Candy, that would've made them billions if they could figure out how to bottle or reproduce it, well, a woman can dream, can't she...

- suddenly overwhelmed her in a bittersweet flood, good times, bad times, happy times, oh, so many of those because Candy had so loved her life and the people in it...and then they were crying together, both clutching Candy's intimate apparel of farewell in their shared grief.

"I'll miss her so much," Jocelyn sobbed. For some unfathomable reason she found herself remembering that the only feature of Candy's body she herself disliked, the small dimples above her buttocks, was the very feature Jocelyn loved the most; she thought they were just the cutest little things she'd ever seen. She'd so enjoyed kissing them, or licking warm honey or chocolate syrup out of them, relishing Candy's girlish squeals of mock protest that they were ticklish, so stop doing that already...!

"She saved my life, sort of," Johnny returned tearfully, "that heart thing I had, woulda killed me if it'd gone on any longer..."

"So much fun, so playful, she helped me put some joy back into my life. God, Jerry and the twins, what are they gonna do...? Come to that, what are we gonna do?" Jocelyn murmured. For the first time she let herself really notice him. Not bad, not bad at all. Dresses pretty stylish for a guy on the street half the time. And - is he interested in me? Looks like.

He caught her implication, but played dumb. "Uh, what d'you mean?"

But Jocelyn was in no mood for prevarication. "Hey. You look good. Not to be immodest, but so do I. Wanna find out what I look like naked?"

"What?"

Speaking slowly, she repeated, "Na-ked."

Involuntarily his cock went hard. She was a MILF, but a fuckin' sexy one. "Lead the way," he invited.

She did.

Jocelyn's bedroom

Later that night

Neither of them had known until that night that shared grief could be an aphrodisiac. Not until, to their mutual mild surprise, they ended up naked in Jocelyn's unmade bed. She cried again as she realised the sheets still smelled of Candy, who'd been a bit sweaty that last hot night they'd spent together, but Jocelyn, captivated by the heavenly and so feminine scent of Candy's sweat, had been unable to resist dragging her into bed first. Scent is the most evocative of the five senses, as Jocelyn well knew.

Not that she cared, she was too busy enjoying her lover's delicious smell and taste!

She never dared come near me after a workout in the dojo or the gym after the first time I smelled her like that - I couldn't stop myself, I just wanted her SO bad, I went after her so hard and fast I almost raped her, she recalled, she knew I'd strip her and lick her all over and ravish her before I let her get anywhere near a shower. God, if I'd had my way I'd have made it contrary to Unit regs for her to take more than one shower a week -

Stop it! Jocelyn ordered herself as they undressed each other. She's gone, and reminiscing and crying over her isn't going to bring her back. Stop dishonouring her and start moving on, even if it is a bit soon. She would have, if I'd died instead.

So. You're in a delicious-smelling bed with a man who, hmm, okay, he's a small-time crook but he had the decency to show up at the funeral and, hmm, he smells nice, quite well-built, and, ooh, is that a pretty big hard-on I can feel? Oh, fuck it, take a leaf out of Candy's book and enjoy the moment for once. I need a good fuck. I could do a lot worse.

He can have me, fuck it. Why not?

Wait, we don't have a condom. Screw it - I have an implant, so I won't get pregnant, and being an M.D. I'll be able to tell if he has an STI. No way is he fucking me if he has - oh, good, she thought on seeing his impressive and plainly clean cock, he hasn't. Wow, that's a big one. Love it.

She sucked it eagerly, knowing he wouldn't taste right with an STI, but it was a delicious blend of salt, musk and, frankly, man. She relished it. I want that in my twat. Deep in my twat. I want his fucking creampie. I want his spunk in my slit, dammit!

So she spread her legs in reckless abandon, surrendering to the moment, and they made love for the next hour or so. Considering his reputation he was amazingly gentle with her, but she put a stop to that by squeezing his ass - she wasn't in a gentle mood.

He knew what that meant: the bitch wanted it harder and deeper. Okay, you got it.

He proceeded to fuck her hard, and she took it like a champ, clutching him to her, gripping him with her thighs wrapped around him - Christ, she's got strong legs! - scratching and even biting. Fuck, she really likes this! Yeah!

She came like a bitch, and so did he.

"Is that...her I can smell?" Johnny murmured later, stroking her breast in a way she found she liked. "I mean, you smell pretty good too, but..."

Jocelyn sighed, not taking offence because she knew none had been intended. "No, it mostly is her, yeah. The night before she...before, I fucked her while she was covered in sweat, I just couldn't resist her." She chuckled. "About the only time she smelled better was when she was at the peak of her cycle. Her period, you know," she expanded.

"Oh." He frowned. "How'd you know that?"

She chuckled again and playfully swatted him. "Johnny, you dope, she lived here for a while. Besides, I could smell it. Women can."

"Yeah?" he answered, clearly intrigued. She shifted so as to face him.

"Tip for you: women have more sensitive noses than men. If a man goes on a date and he hasn't showered or bathed beforehand, she knows he hasn't, even if he's reasonably clean otherwise. We women do like a touch of male musk, it's true - forget the aftershave and cologne, we like a man to smell like a man - but for God's sake make sure it's fresh by showering or bathing first and don't forget the soap, okay? They'll love you for it and you'll get laid way more often. Trust me." She kissed him. "Even if I am a cop."

"You are?" he gaped, honestly surprised. "I know the Unit has a few civvies, saw 'em at the wake, but -"

She laughed, caressing his cock to take out the sting so he would understand she was laughing with him, not at him. It felt good, even flaccid. Won't be that way for long once I get to work on it again, mmm. I like sucking cock almost as much as I like licking pussy. I guess I'm a lezzie with hetero leanings, the same as Candy was. "Forensic scientist, but I work for the Unit and every serving officer in the Unit is considered to be a cop, whether they're on the beat or off, so yeah, I am a cop and proud of it."

"Mmm. Can't believe a cop would wear panties like those," Johnny mused, "even a pretty girl."

"Do you know why professional women usually wear sexy underwear even though there's little or no chance of them being seen during their work hours?"

"Uh, no," he admitted. "Seems a waste."

"No," she told him gently, "they don't wear them for men. They wear them for themselves. They like to know they're wearing something that sexy at work, it's a thrill and a morale-booster. Sexy knickers, especially, help to boost a woman's sense of femininity at work, particularly if she's in a job that used to be considered men's work - the police, for example," she smiled. "I'll bet female teachers wear knickers just as sexy as those." Now she grinned. "I know female lawyers and doctors do."

"I'm really sorry I tried to hurt her that time," he blurted out impulsively. But it was true.

She stroked his cheek and kissed him again, her tongue lingering on his lips. "I believe you, Johnny. She forgave you a long time ago, and anyway you paid your dues. Took a reduced sentence in exchange for community service, didn't you?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "I helped out at a homeless shelter. Gotta admit, it felt good helpin' folks."

"Which shows you're basically a good person who sometimes just makes bad choices," she told him kindly.

Johnny fondled her breast; she mmmed in pleasure to let him know she liked it and took a slightly firmer grip on his cock in response, and that he definitely took to mean she liked it. "Was, uh, this a bad choice?" he quipped.

"Not as far as I'm concerned," she shook her head firmly. "Johnny, if I didn't want to get laid I could've stopped you in six different ways. The man who tries to rape me will, I promise you, spend the next month in a futile search for his cojones - futile because I'll cut 'em off, fry 'em and feed 'em to the first dog I see!" He laughed. "No. I wanted this," Jocelyn quietly revealed. "I needed a good hard fuck, and I got one. Thank you, by the way, it was good. Before you ask, I did come. I never fake orgasm, that's just short-changing both partners."

He smiled. "She comes, she don't come, a girl told me once it don't matter as long as she likes it. That true?" he wondered.

She nodded, pleased that he'd asked. "It's not as important as men think, Johnny, bringing her off. We like it when a man just likes to be with us, paying attention. In fact she doesn't even have to be fucked, as long as she knows he likes being there, with her. Honest, Johnny, a woman can have a good time even if a man just holds her, talks to her and listens to what she says. The sex is just the icing on the cake." Then she chuckled. "Okay, at its best it's triple-thick chocolate fudge icing made with 40% cocoa butter, plus sprinkles and a cherry on top, but it's still just the icing."

He laughed again, she joined in, and after a while (and a 69) they both felt a little better. She decided to let him stay the night because he might not have anywhere to go, but she made it perfectly clear that his staying all night meant nothing more than charity as far as she was concerned, and he should not take it to mean anything more. He shrugged and agreed; he wasn't gonna say no to a nice warm comfortable bed he was sharin' with a pretty fit MILF who'd already given him a good time and, if he played his cards right, might even give him another.

But when he asked, reasonably politely, she smiled sleepily, kissed him and explained that while she really appreciated the compliment, she honestly was too tired and just wanted to sleep, though spooning was okay. He realised he was tired himself and, again, agreed, and so they slept. Her butt felt good snuggled up to his cock, and she didn't seem to mind when he cupped her left breast with his hand before falling asleep.

She didn't tell him that she didn't mind - liked it, in fact - because Candy used to do the exact same thing (though she couldn't cup Jocelyn's 34Ds as much as Johnny could because her hands were much smaller than his). It was a pleasant reminder of her which, somehow, didn't hurt.

The next morning she took her time asking him to leave, even making him a decent breakfast first. She didn't even mention the inevitable morning woody pressing against her ass, which he thought was mighty decent of her, and he reciprocated by not asking her again for a fuck; she was surprised but pleased and warmed by this, and made him an extra waffle to acknowledge the gesture (though in truth she would have consented had he asked). But finally he conceded his time with her was done and complied good-naturedly, even kissing her goodbye in a non-lascivious way.

It was the politest throwing-out he'd ever experienced, and he'd even gotten a souvenir: the panties she'd still been wearing when he fucked her, "a little present for you," she'd chuckled as she gave them to him. Seems she knows guys, knows what we like, she ain't just into girls. They weren't as skimpy as Candy's, more bikini briefs, but they were black, see-through and sexy - and smelled almost as good. Different, but good.

Both knew without saying it that this had been a one-off, and to his surprise Johnny realised he was okay with that. She was the oldest broad he'd ever fucked, but damn she was good, tight pussy for a MILF, didn't look or feel anywhere near the age she had to be. Maybe it didn't matter how old she was, he caught himself thinkin'. Hell, maybe it don't ever matter...