Nude Noir

This is the final chapter of my “Nude Noir” series. This chapter starts where Chapter Four left off and refers to parts of the story in the first three chapters. Therefore, I recommend reading the first four chapters of “Nude Noir” before reading this chapter. My apology. This chapter is a little long.

This story is a work of fiction. Some real places and institutions are mentioned or implied, but they are used fictitiously here. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those places or institutions has done anything akin to what is described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.

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Laura’s star at the FBI rose because of the Club Sensual case, and the case ended her FBI career. Laura had done outstanding work and her boss, Tampa SAC Sally Stancik, knew it. Club Sensual had recorded video inside the Sensual Elite rooms and that video was seized in the raid. We weren’t too worried because everything seized in the raid on Club Sensual was supposed to be destroyed after Lydia Dunova and Brad Schermer pled guilty and Fred Holloway was murdered in jail. There wouldn’t be any trials so there was no need to retain the evidence.

About six months after the case had closed, some outtakes from the Club Sensual video were sent to Sally Stancik and higher-ups in Washington. Laura, Svetlana, and I were featured in the outtakes. Sally had a pretty good idea what we’d done and could not have cared less. The bosses in D.C. were a different matter. Laura and Sally argued that what Laura had done was the only way to break the ring trafficking foreign young women into the Florida sex trade. The D.C. desk jockeys thought Laura had gone too far and enjoyed it too much. Laura was given a “compromise” of resigning from the Bureau with nothing negative in her personnel file. Laura’s last words as an FBI agent were “At least give me a copy of the video!”

Laura got her PI license and became my business partner as well as my wife. Much of the better-paying PI work involved cybercrime. I’d lost that expertise when Ali Nance left me. Laura brought greater skill and knowledge than Ali had, plus experience. Laura also had forensic accounting skills I lacked. In terms of enhancing the firm, Laura was a gift from above. I’d been skeptical of spouses who worked together, thinking the time apart at different jobs was critical to a successful marriage. Laura and I disproved that. We genuinely enjoyed doing everything together. A good week for both of us was one in which we were together all the time, and nude most of the time.

Our nude time was limited because we were busy. We had manufacturing and tech clients whose trade secrets were stolen. We had defrauded banks. We had doctors and lawyers whose staff had embezzled. Unfortunately, those were not clients you could work with nude.

Svetlana had gotten her citizenship, in part, on the promise I would employ her as an administrative assistant. Svetlana did just enough for us to say we kept that promise. Most of her time was spent writing a book about how she went from being a college student in Russia with her parents imprisoned to a sex worker at Club Sensual. It took her six months to write the book, and another six months to find a publisher.

Svetlana’s book did not sell well initially. But the Russian government did her a favor, issuing an official denunciation of the book as “the self-justifying lies of a prostitute,” trying her in absentia for defaming the Russian Federation, and sentencing her to ten years in prison. Svetlana and her book became news. Svetlana was suddenly giving interviews and making talk show appearances. Svetlana’s physical beauty came across well on television.

The US Government had ignored Svetlana since granting her citizenship. Her notoriety apparently piqued the Government’s interest. Svetlana was “invited” to D.C. for a meeting with Government “representatives.” This was really a debriefing by a CIA Russia analyst named Mark Kohlberg. I don’t know whether Mark got any useful information, but Svetlana and Mark fell for each other. Over the next few months, Svetlana made several more trips to D.C.

Mark finally visited Svetlana in Florida. Laura and I both liked the guy. He was not put off by the fact that Svetlana lived with us in a nude resort. He didn’t have experience with social nudity, but readily stripped off and spent most of his stay with us nude. He understood Svetlana’s love of being nude. Based on the sounds they made in our guest bedroom, Mark and Svetlana understood other things about each other as well. Laura and I were not surprised when Svetlana moved to Washington to live with Mark. We loved Svetlana, but we were happy that she had a relationship in which she was the primary woman.

After Svetlana went to Washington, Laura and I left the country. Greg Danner had been general manager at The Cove when I first became involved with it. Greg and I had a good working relationship. He had moved on to manage a larger resort in Jamaica. The resort had a nude side and a clothed side. Not long after Greg took over, they began experiencing a lot of theft from rooms on the nude side of the resort. Some female guests also reported the sudden appearance of strange men in the areas around their rooms. Greg persuaded his company to hire us as security consultants.

We did work in Jamaica. We went over the resort property and identified problems. There was unfettered access from the beach, which was public, into the resort. The resort couldn’t wall off the beach. There was an undeveloped area between the nude side of the resort and the resort to the northwest. That screened the resort’s nude side but was another point of access.

Laura and I stayed at the resort for nine days. The first five were work. We met with staff, training them on alertness, identifying potential thieves, and dealing with them safely. We met with local law enforcement and, I think, improved relations between the resort and the police (who were impressed that we were ex-FBI). We recommended that the resort install an elaborate, but effective, security system that would alert when unauthorized people entered the property and would keep unauthorized people out of rooms even if they stole keycards.

Our last four days at the resort were vacation. Greg comped us rooms. Naturally, Laura and I stayed on the nude side. Being nude with Laura anywhere was great, but those four days in Jamaica were special.

On our first vacation day, Laura and I were sitting on the beach idly watching a boat taking people parasailing. We didn’t think about doing it until we realized they were taking couples up together. Laura said, “that would be great to do nude.” I thought she was probably right. Laura got up from her chair and said, “let’s see if they’ll take us up nude.” I grabbed the cash we’d brought to the beach and followed her. When the boat let the last customers down, Laura went up to one of the guys running the boat and asked, “Will you take us up with nothing on?”

The man looked Laura up and down, smiled, and said “sure!” I asked how long we would be up. “About ten or fifteen minutes,” the man responded.

I handed him a US hundred-dollar bill and said, “make it a lot longer.”

The man smiled broadly and said, “no problem.”

In a matter of minutes, Laura and I were in the harness hooked to the parachute. Seconds later we were twenty-five or so feet in the air. The sensation of the air rushing over our bare skin was exhilarating. Looking down at clothed people on the beaches and in the other resorts while we were above them completely nude was a thrill.

The shoreline of the bay rose to a cliff at one end with a bar/restaurant on top of it. The speedboat took us past the cliff. We could clearly see people on the bar patio with their food and drinks. Someone pointed at us, and people moved to the fence along the clifftop as we went by. Apparently, they could see us clearly too. People waved and applauded. The guys in the boat swung us out over the water and circled back for a second pass. That drew more people to the fence to watch us. I looked at Laura, who was grinning from ear to ear.

The boat turned away from the shore and took us out over the bay. There were quite a few small boats below us, some anchored and some underway. From our vantage point, it seemed that more than a few people on the boats were undressed too.

As the speedboat towed us to the north end of the bay, I leaned over and kissed Laura. We had been holding on the straps that held us to the parachute with both hands. Laura now let go with one hand, reached over, and began stroking my dick. She spread her legs a little, so I let go with one hand and began fingering her. This was too good to be true: hanging together nude from a parachute above a bay in Jamaica, masturbating each other.

Laura was smiling and her eyes gleamed. “Get me off,” she yelled.

“If you get me off,” I yelled back. Laura had already gotten me hard. She responded to my comment by stroking me more vigorously. It would have been better if we’d had some lube but, sometimes, you make do. I worked first one and then two fingers into her and began rubbing a spot I knew she liked. Soon, Laura was moaning and sucking in air. I think the guys running the boat could see what we were doing. They slowed down, which caused us to lose some altitude. They also steered for a third pass by the bar on the cliff. At that point, Laura and I didn’t care. We were committed to giving each other orgasms. When Laura sensed I was about to come, she twisted me towards her. The wind caught my semen as I came and blew some of it on Laura. Seconds later, she came loudly.

Laura still had my come on her stomach when we were released from the harnesses on the beach in front of our resort. A slender nude woman came up to us. “Were you doing what I think….” she started to ask. She saw my semen on Laura, clapped her hands, and said, “you were! That’s wonderful!”

“Sorry,” I said, “we got a little carried away.”

“No, that’s great!” the woman responded. “Several of us were watching you from the beach. We thought you were getting each other off. Come on. My husband will buy you both a drink.”

Laura pointed to her stomach and said, “let me towel off first.”

“No!” the woman exclaimed. “That proves what you did up there!”

Laura looked at me and smiled. I shrugged. We went by the beach chairs we’d left almost an hour ago. Surprisingly, our things were still there. We grabbed them and followed the woman’s tight ass on up the beach. We came to a row of beach chairs occupied by three couples of varying ages, and a man sitting next to an empty chair. As we approached, the other woman called out, “They did!” That brought us a round of applause.

The woman went to the man sitting next to the empty chair. He stood as she said to us, “I’m Trish Peters. This is my husband, Ron.”

Ron, who appeared to be roughly my age, asked, “you really got each other off up there?”

Trish pointed at Laura’s stomach and said, “look!”

“Well done,” Ron said. “That deserves a drink!”

As we followed Trish and Ron to the beach bar, we introduced ourselves. Trish asked, “how long are you here for?”

“We were working,” Laura said. “This is the first of four free days we have as compensation.”

“What do you do?” Ron asked.

“Security consultants,” I replied. “We were helping the resort with some issues. The general manager is an old friend.”

“So,” Trish said teasingly, “you’ve seen the videos of all of us.” I started to deny that the resort took video of its guests, but Trish cut me off. “That’s ok. Ron and I like to be seen fucking.”

I wouldn’t call Trish beautiful, but there was something very sexy about her. Trish and Ron were openly very affectionate and, I guessed, had a lot of fun together. They were also good company. However, Laura and I wanted to get out of the sun. Before we left the bar, Trish invited us to join her and Ron for dinner. “Unfortunately,” she added, “we have to wear clothes at dinner.” The resort had one large, open-air dining room that was used by all guests.

For dinner, I wore a polo shirt and khaki shorts, and Laura wore a sundress with panties. Trish and Ron made us feel grossly overdressed. Ron wore only a terrycloth wrap around his midsection. It was short enough that you could see the tip of his dick below the hem. Trish wore a white pareo that was basically transparent with nothing underneath. Trish explained that “the resort requires us to wear something to dinner, but we still want to show off. We dressed this way for dinner the first two nights here. No one said anything, so we assume it’s cool.”

Laura and I had not eaten in the guest dining room during the days we were working at the resort. Other guests shared Trish’s and Ron’s approach to dressing for dinner. We resolved to wear a lot less to dinner the next three nights. We learned that Trish and Ron were from Ontario. Ron was a structural engineer. Trish owned a shop in Toronto that sold high-end lingerie. We were fascinated when they told us a lot about a club in Toronto called “Oasis,” which sounded like a legitimate Club Sensual.

As we finished dinner, Trisha asked what we were doing for the night. “We’re not sure,” I said. It was still early, only about 7:00 p.m.

“Go back to your room and rest up,” she advised. “It gets more fun around here late. At midnight, the main swimming pool becomes clothing optional. In case you don’t know, the disco is built in front of that pool. There’s a common wall between the pool and the disco with a large window built in so people in the disco can see into the pool.” Trish grinned and added, “Ron and I like to hang out by that window at night. The hot tub on the nude side is usually busy until 3:00 or 4:00 and they serve drinks there until 2:30. We usually end up there. Why don’t you join us tonight?”

“That sounds like fun,” Laura said.

“Great!” Trish replied. “What’s your room number? We’ll knock on your door about five minutes to midnight.”

Laura and I went back to our room and got an almost four-hour nap. We felt good when Trish and Ron knocked on our door. I was wearing shorts and Laura had on a short cover-up. Trish and Ron were both naked. “Ditch the clothes,” Trish said, “you won’t be using them tonight.”

“At midnight,” Ron added, “you can go anywhere in the resort nude until sun-up.” Laura and I stripped off immediately. The only thing we took with us was a waterproof pouch with a keycard and some cash for drinks.

The main pool was empty when we arrived exactly at midnight, but we could hear the thudding bass from the disco’s sound system. “I wish we could go nude in the disco,” Trish said. “That would be fun.”

The four of us got into the pool. Trish and Ron swam to the end of the pool by the disco. Laura and I followed. At the pool wall, Trish told us to go underwater. We did. There was, indeed, a huge window from the pool into the disco. We saw people standing at the bar and staff mixing drinks. That some of the guests were looking at us suggested they could see us as clearly.

Laura and I surfaced. Trish said, “If you rest your arms on the side of the pool, everything from your chest to your feet is visible in the disco.” The four of us did that, looking out at the empty beach and the water beyond. I assumed disco patrons were looking at our four nude bodies.

We had only been in the pool a few minutes when a rather young, American, female voice from behind us said, “Uh, excuse us.”

We all turned and saw two girls standing beside the pool in bikinis. They looked to be in their late teens or early twenties. The same girl spoke again. “Is it true that you don’t have to wear suits in the pool this time of night?”

“That is true,” Ron said.

“We’re not wearing suits,” Trish added.

The other girl looked at the one who had spoken uncertainly. “Are we going to?” she asked.

“Damn it,” the girl who had spoken to us said, “we’re on vacation. No one here knows any of us. If we don’t do it now, when will we?”

In a friendly, almost maternal voice, Laura said, “skinny-dipping is great. I need to warn you, once you’ve done it, you’ll never want to wear a swimsuit again.”

“See!” the girl who had spoken to us said. She unhooked the back of her top and slid it off her arms. She pushed the bottom off her hips, down her legs, and stepped out of it. She seemed attractive, and there is something very sexy about seeing a woman undress in public. She stood nude in front of her friend, with her hands on her hips and her head slightly cocked; obviously impatient for her friend to strip off too. Very hesitantly, the other girl did.

The two girls got in the pool at the end farthest from us. They crouched down so the water hid their bodies. A couple of minutes later, a clothed server walked up to the pool and asked, “can I get anyone drinks?”

Laura and I ordered wine. Trish and Ron asked for beers. I called to the two girls, “What do you want to drink? Its on us in honor of your first skinny-dipping experience.”

After a few seconds, the girl who had spoken to us called back, “rum and coke.”

“Two?” I asked.

“Please,” she called back. I nodded at the server.

The server was soon back with the drinks in plastic cups. I got out of the pool and paid her. I took Laura’s, Trish’s, and Ron’s drinks to them. I walked back to the table where the server had set the rum and cokes and called out to the two girls, “Do you want me to set these at the edge of the pool?”

The girl who had spoken to us replied, “no, I’ll come get them.” She stood up and I could see water dripping off grapefruit-sized breasts onto a flat stomach. She walked to the ladder at the shallow end of the pool and took the two steps up to the pool deck. Naturally, I looked at her as she walked towards me. She was blonde, slender, and a couple of inches shorter than Laura. As she got closer, I saw she had a small nose and wide mouth. She moved unself-consciously for someone who, I assumed, was experiencing public nudity for the first time.

As she reached the table, she said, “thank you for the drinks. I’m Paula Taft.”

I handed Paula a rum and coke. “Ian Beck,” I said. “The other folks with me are my wife Laura and a couple we met here, Trish and Ron Cardinal.”

“I apologize for my friend,” Paula said, “She’s a little bashful, which is ironic since the whole reason we came here was because it has a nude beach. We got in yesterday and tonight is the first time we’ve had our clothes off.”

“Are you with anyone else?” I asked.

“No,” Paula replied. “Jen and I went to school together. We graduated a year ago and we’ve both been working in Columbus. We’ve both had boyfriend problems over the last few months. We decided to go where no one knows us and let loose, a little. I just need to get Jen to let loose.”

“Paula, are you bringing my drink back?” Jen called out.

“Come on and get it yourself,” Paula called back. “Why hide that cute bare ass in the water?” Paula smiled at me.

“Would you like to meet my wife and our friends?” I asked.

“Sure,” Paula said. She walked with me to the disco end of the pool. I introduced her to Laura, Trish, and Ron. Paula put her drink on the edge of the pool and slid into the water next to Laura. “I can feel the bass from the disco in the concrete,” she said.

“The disco is on the other side of the wall,” Laura told her. “In fact, there is a window behind the bar that looks into this pool.”

“No,” Paula said.

“Go underwater and look,” Laura replied.

Paula ducked under the water. She was back up a couple of seconds later. “That is cool! We’re all flashing everyone in the disco!” she said. I expected her to jump out of the pool and go back to her friend, but she stayed, leaning on the pool edge next to Laura with her front to the window.

We talked for a few minutes before Paula finally looked back at her friend, still at the opposite end of the pool. With a tone of frustration, she said, “I thought Jen would join us. I guess she’s scared. I shouldn’t leave her alone.” She lifted herself onto the edge the pool with her hands and pulled her legs up into a squat that showed off her asshole and pussy. She held that position for a beat or two, then stood and turned to face us. “Thank you for the drink. It was nice to meet you. I hope we’ll run into you again while we’re here.” Paula turned and walked confidently back to her friend.

Not much later, Trish said, “I think it’s time for the hot tub.” We all got out of the pool, dropped our empty cups in a trashcan, and Laura and I followed Trish and Ron back to the nude side of the resort.

The hot tub was in-ground and large. At four of five places around the concrete deck were signs reading “NO CLOTHING ALLOWED IN HOT TUB.” There were many people in the tub and more lounging or standing on the deck. Everyone except the uniformed server was naked.

We found a couple of empty chairs to put our towels on. I was a little surprised to see Trish start fondling Ron’s balls. She turned her head to us and explained, “I get Ron hard before we go in the water. There’s a concrete bench built into the side wall. Ron sits on that, and I sit on his lap with his dick inside me. We don’t really fuck, well, not right away. We just have drinks and talk to the people around us with Ron inside me. It’s fun.”

Ron got hard as Trish was giving us her explanation. He took her hand and said, “Let’s go Dear.” We watched Ron sit down in the tub and Trish sit in his lap, straddling him.

Once she was in place, Trish called to us, there’s space next to us if you sit like we do.”

Laura looked at me with her sexy smile. “When in Rome?” she said.

“Get me up,” I replied. As Laura was stroking my dick, the server came by, and I ordered two more wines. The server took it in stride that Laura was stroking my dick.

When I was erect, we got in the tub, squeezing between Trish and Ron and another couple. Laura straddled me, reached into the water to grasp my dick, and guided me into her as she sat in my lap. The woman to my right, also sitting in her partner’s lap, said, “I see you know how it’s done here.” Trish, Ron, Laura, and I chatted with the other couple. All three couples were in coitus.

After we’d been talking for, maybe, half an hour, the other man said, “look across the tub. This might be good.” A large-breasted blonde had stood up from the tub, turned, and bent herself over the edge, resting her tits on the deck. A tanned man with a large boner approached her from behind. The woman raised her ass up and the man rammed his dick into her. He put his hands on her shoulders and began fucking her almost violently.

We men could see the couple as we sat. The three women had to twist around to watch. After a couple of minutes, Trish said softly to Ron, “you don’t need to be that rough, but it would be nice if you took me like that.”

“Now?” Ron asked.

“Please,” Trish replied. She stood up from Ron’s lap. He stood and moved from the side of the tub. Trish went to where Ron had been sitting and bent herself over the edge of the tub. Ron very gently entered her from behind.

Laura kissed me. “Our friends have a good idea,” she said. She stood up from my lap. I got up from my seat. Laura bent herself onto the tub deck beside Trish. She spread her legs wide. I came up behind her and entered her. I had fucked Laura from behind before, although it wasn’t our favorite position. This was the first time we’d done it next to another couple.

Laura was, by far, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and the best sex partner imaginable. Still, it was erotic looking to my right and seeing Trish’ slender ass bent over with Ron thrusting in her. The server brought fresh drinks which she placed beside us the pool deck while we were fucking.

After we’d all come, we sat on our towels on the pool deck in a small circle. Finally, Trish said, “It’s time for us to go back to the room, but I think that was a pretty effective way of making vacation friends. Want to get together for brunch, say 10:30 or 11:00 tomorrow?”

“Sounds great,” Laura said.

“Dining room at 10:45?” Ron asked.

“Remember not to wear very much,” Trish reminded us.

Laura got up before me the next day and left the room. As I was brushing my teeth, she came back holding two different-sized pieces of cloth, both dark blue with a floral print. “I got us these wraps at the shop,” she explained. She wrapped the larger piece around herself and tied the two ends over her left shoulder. She was covered, barely, but the thin fabric left no doubt that she was nude underneath or that she had a wonderful body. She wrapped the smaller piece around my waist so that it just covered my dick and ass, and tied it at my left hip, leaving the side of that hip and leg bare. “We’re ready for brunch,” she said.

As we entered the dining area, we ran into Paula, wearing white shorts and a white polo shirt. In the daylight, I could see she was very attractive in a wholesome, “girl-next-door” way. “You guys are staying on the nude side, aren’t you?” Paula asked. We nodded. “I think I’ve got Jen talked into trying the nude beach,” she went on. “If we come over, no, when we come over, may we sit with you?”

“Of course,” Laura replied. “We’ll hold two chairs for you.”

“Thanks,” Paula replied. “I love your outfits,” she added. “This,” she said gesturing over her own clothes as she spoke, “is too damn safe.” She paused before asking, “may I check one thing?”

“Sure,” Laura replied.

Paula reached to the open edge of my wrap on my left leg and lifted it up, exposing my dick and balls. “Nice,” she said. She let go of my wrap and walked away.

Grinning, Laura said, “I think Miss Taft likes you.”

After brunch, Laura, and I headed directly to the beach. Trish said she and Ron would come down soon. We held chairs for them and, hopefully, for Paula and Jen.

Paula and Jen showed up a few minutes later. Both were nude. Paula was walking confidently, holding her towel in her left hand. Jen moved more tentatively and held her towel to her front where it largely covered her. Laura gestured to the two beach chairs next to her. Paula spread her towel over a chair and stood, looking around the beach. After a few seconds, Jen reluctantly spread her towel over the other empty chair. Jen was a brunette with larger breasts than her friend, a slightly round belly, and fleshier hips and thighs. Jen also had a round, very innocent looking face. One thing the two young women had in common were pronounced bikini tan lines.

As they sat down, Laura said, “Don’t forget your sunscreen.”

“We put it on in the room,” Paula replied. “But I do want to get rid of these obnoxious tan lines.”

“Some men think tan lines are sexy,” Laura replied, with a very exaggerated look at me.

“How so?” Paula asked.

“Ian?” Laura said.

“Well,” I said, “the contrast between the tan parts of your body and the pale parts naturally draws attention to the pale parts, and those are usually the body parts most closely associated with sex.”

Paula put a hand on her mound. “This hasn’t drawn much attention from anyone lately,” she said.

“Sadly, the same is true for me,” Jen added.

“That isn’t good,” Laura commented.

“And it is surprising to hear from two beautiful young women,” I added.

Jen smiled and said, “thank you.” Oddly, that broke the ice and soon the four of us were talking. Jen was Jen Proffitt. She had a BS in Environmental Sciences and, since graduation a year earlier, had worked for the state parks. Paula’s degree was in Communications, and she worked for her alma mater’s Department of Media and Public Relations. Jen’s boyfriend since her junior year of college had dumped her a few months back. A couple of months after graduation, Paula had met a guy she had quickly become serious about and who, she thought, was serious about her. Paula had accidentally discovered a few weeks ago that she was one of the guy’s several “serious” girlfriends. “I’m not joining a harem,” Paula said bitterly.

Paula asked how Laura and I had met and had we always been nudists. I thought that was a story I should let Laura tell on her own, woman to women. I volunteered to fetch drinks for everyone and took my time. After I’d delivered the drinks and returned the tray I’d borrowed from the bar to carry them, Paula said to me, “It’s great how you two met.”

Jen surprised me by adding, “Club Sensual sounds like fun. Too bad it was run by crooks and got shut down.”

“Would you go to someplace like Club Sensual?” I asked both girls.

“With the right guy,” Paula answered.

Jen surprised me again by saying, “with the right guy, it would be a lot of fun.”

“With the right guy, it certainly was a lot of fun,” Laura added.

“Well, I had to live up to the right woman,” I replied.

Before we could go any further down that path, Trish and Ron arrived. Trish enthusiastically asked, “Who has snorkeled?” She got affirmative responses from Laura, Paula, and Jen. “I talked to the watersports guy here. The resort owns that small island out in the bay,” she said pointing to an island that was something between a quarter mile and a half mile off the beach. “They have parties out there sometimes, but not tomorrow. He said the snorkeling around the island is great. They have the gear. They can take us out there around 10:00 and pick us up around 4:00. They’ll also make lunches for us and supply drinks. Are you all up for it?”

Laura said to me in a low voice, “it’s easy. I’ll show you.”

“We’re in,” I told Trish.

“If they’re going, we will,” Paula said.

Paula and Jen left us a few hours later after agreeing to join the four of us for dinner. At dinner, I noticed they had gone to the shop after they left us. Both women wore wraps like Laura had bought for herself that morning. Paula’s was predominantly yellow, and Jen’s was a deep shade of tan that went well with her hair. They both looked very good, and sexy. After each woman did a turn to show us their new outfits, Paula grabbed the hem of Jen’s wrap and lifted it up to expose Jen’s mound between her slightly thick thighs. “Nothing underneath,” Paula said proudly. Jen quickly slapped Paula’s hands, causing her to drop Jen’s wrap back into place.

“Pervert,” Jen said to Paula. However, Jen was smiling.

Over dinner, Trish explained the arrangements for the next day. “A guy from the resort will have a boat on the nude beach at 10:00. He’ll have the snorkel gear, food, and drinks. All we need to bring are towels and sunscreen. And no, no one brings any clothes. We’re taking a trip in the nude tomorrow.” Laura squeezed my hand under the table. Paula and Jen were smiling.

The six of us met at the main pool at midnight, stayed there a while, then went to the nude side hot tub. Paula and Jen left the tub when Trish and Ron and Laura and I started fucking. After we’d all come, Laura said, “I feel bad that Paula and Trish aren’t with guys. It was rude of us to fuck in front of them when they don’t have partners.”

“Maybe there is a way to make that up to them,” Trish said cryptically.

The six of us met for a light breakfast the next morning. After we finished, Laura told me, “Ian, why don’t you go back to the room. Get our towels and sunscreen. I’ll meet you at the beach.”

Trish said, “Ron, you do the same. We girls need to talk.”

Ron and I shared a look as we left the dining area. We were both wondering what our wives were up to.

The boatman from the resort was obviously pleased to be ferrying four attractive nude women that morning. As we were about halfway to the island, Jen said, “I’ve never been this far from my clothes in my life.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Laura asked.

Jen thought about that for a moment. “You know,” she said, “it does. I’m glad we met you guys.”

At the island, Ron and I offloaded the two coolers containing the food and drinks. Laura and Trish got the snorkel gear from the boat. We watched as the boatman started the outboard and headed back to the mainland, leaving us on the island, naked, for six hours.

It didn’t take long for Laura and Paula to explain the basics of snorkeling to me. We all donned the gear and waded out into the shallow, warm water. Once we were swimming, we split into two groups. Jen went with Trish and Ron. Paula stayed with Laura and me. I suppose the fish and underwater life were interesting. My attention stayed mainly on the beauty of my wife’s nude body. When I looked away from Laura, my eyes gravitated to Paula. While she suffered by comparison to Laura, every woman did in my opinion. She still looked very nice swimming in the nude.

We were not trying to be strenuous, so lasted at snorkeling for most of two hours. It was probably going on 1:00 p.m. when we opened the coolers for lunch. We all opened beers which, I thought, probably meant no more snorkeling.

After I’d finished my beer, Laura took me by the arm and led me a short distance from the group. In a soft voice, she said, “after lunch, you, Paula, and I are going to walk to the other side of the island. When we get there, you and Paula are going to fuck.”

“What!” I exclaimed.

“Paula and Jen need to get laid,” Laura explained. Ron’s going to fuck Jen here.”

“You’re ok with this?” I asked.

“The four of us talked it out this morning,” Laura replied. “Besides, you and I haven’t been strictly monogamous. Remember Svetlana?” Of course, I remembered Svetlana.

“I don’t have a rubber,” I said.

“I’m confident both girls don’t have any diseases and are on birth control,” Laura replied. “Trust me on this. I like both girls. They need to have some sex on their trip. Better you and Ron than someone picking them up in the disco.”

“Paula knows about this?” I asked.

“Of course,” Laura replied. “She’s thrilled. She admitted this morning she’s wanted to fuck you since we met her night before last. She likes the shape of your dick. I think Jen would prefer to fuck you over Ron, but she’s happy enough.” My wife had arranged for me to have sex with a very attractive young woman. I wasn’t dreaming. “Just make Paula as happy as you used to make Svetlana,” Laura added. I hoped I would.

After we had finished an excellent lunch, Laura stood and said, “Paula, Ian, grab your towels. Let’s take a walk.” Paula was smiling at me. Laura was smiling too. The three of us started walking on the sand, side-by-side. I glanced over my shoulder at Jen, Trish, and Ron. Ron was already kissing Jen.

Trish saw me looking. She gave me a wave and said, “have fun.”

Laura, Paula, and I walked along the beach until we were out of sight of Jen, Trish, and Ron. We could see boats on the water, but assumed they were not paying any attention to us. Laura dropped her towel on the sand, sat on it, and said, “I think you both know what to do.”

Paula came very close to me. She was looking up into my face. She had wonderful blue eyes. I looked down her body and saw her nipples were already hard. I leaned my head down, took her left nipple in my mouth, and began sucking it. Paula took a sharp breath.

I was getting hard in anticipation of what we were about to do. Paula ran a finger gently up the underside of my dick from my balls to my head and the circled it around my dickhead. That made me harder. She said, “kiss me, please.”

I moved my face back to hers. I kissed her gently, but she responded fiercely. Her tongue probed into my mouth and found mine. Her hand moved down to my balls. I put a hand between her legs, found her clit, and began rubbing it. Paula’s tongue moved more rapidly in my mouth. I felt Paula getting very wet. We kept doing that for, I think, several minutes, until Paula said, “now. Please.”

Paula didn’t bother with a towel. She lay on her back in the sand and spread her legs. I got on my knees between her legs and leaned forward over her. She put a hand on my dick and guided me inside her.

Entering Paula Taft felt very nice. The look on her face as I did was even nicer. Once I was all the way in, she wrapped her legs around me. I leaned my head down and resumed kissing her wide mouth as I started my thrusts.

The first time with a new partner involves exploration, finding the spots and motions that are most satisfying for her. I thrust my dick against different parts of Paula’s pussy until she gasped, “yes, right there!” I kept thrusting at that spot, slowly at first, hoping to build us both to a crescendo. Paula helped, pressing herself against me as she dug her fingers into my back.

I had initially thought of having sex with Paula as something I was doing because Laura wanted me to. After a few minutes inside Paula, I was doing it because I was enjoying it. I increased my pace as I sucked on one of her earlobes. Paula’s legs tightened around me as the motion of her hips sped up. She took her hands from my back, put them on each side of my head, and guided me back to her face. We kissed more.

I felt that I had Paula at a point where she was very stimulated but not yet ready to come. I was very conscious not to change anything I was doing because I didn’t want her, or me, coming too quickly. At one point, I pulled my face away from Paula’s and looked at Laura. She was sitting a couple of feet away from us, her legs spread, fingering herself. I turned my full attention back to Paula. We kept kissing and I maintained a steady pace until she broke our kiss and said, “make me come, now!”

I sped up and thrust more forcefully. The motion of Paula’s hips synched with me. The sensation was indescribable. I was getting close to orgasm. Paula’s motion sped up even more. She was taking violent gasps, punctuated by loud, “yes, yes.” Just before I shot inside her, she yelled “Oh GOD!” with her voice rising an octave on “GOD.” She was shuddering as I shot my load inside her. Seconds later, I heard Laura’s yelps and knew she had gotten herself off.

I stayed inside Paula after we had come, as we both gasped for air. I thought we’d done well for our first time together. I was still in her when Paula said, “thank you” and kissed me again.

I finally pulled out and rolled onto the sand beside Paula. I knew she was 23, but, at that moment, she looked much younger. I hoped she and I would make love again, and instantly felt disloyal to Laura. I felt a little better when Laura said, “Damn. That was hot!”

“That was great!” Paula replied. I stood, helped her up, then went to my wife and helped her up. The three of us stood very close together. Laura put an arm around me and one around Paula and gently drew us together until the three of us were touching. “Thank you both,” Paula said. She kissed me again, then gave Laura a long kiss on the lips.

When Laura and Paula finished their kiss, Laura said, “Into the water, both of you, wash that sand off each other.” Paula took my hand and we waded into the ocean until we were in water halfway up her thighs. I began cupping water in my hands and pouring it over her body. As the water ran down, I’d use my hands to push it and the sand off her. For a slender woman who didn’t look muscular, Paula had very firm muscles throughout her body.

I turned Paula around to wash the sand off her back and ass. She had sand in the crack of her ass which I had to brush out with my hand. I brushed her asshole in the process. “I like that,” Paula said as I did.

When I had the sand off Paula, she called to Laura, “come out here. Let’s both wash Ian.” My wife waded out to us. I had both women’s hands all over my body. When they finished, Laura took Paula’s hand and wrapped it around my dick, then wrapped her own hand overlapping Paula’s. They both held me for, maybe, two minutes. No one said anything, but messages were sent between the three of us.

Laura finally said, “we need more sunscreen now.” Together, we waded to the beach, picked up our towels, and walked back to where we’d left Jen, Trish, and Ron. As we approached them, they were all sitting on one towel, shoulders touching, with Jen in the middle.

As we got closer, Paula called to Jen, “Did you have a good time?”

“Very good,” Jen answered. “You?”

“The best I’ve had yet,” Paula responded. She had figured out how to play to my ego.

Laura said, “Trish, I think you had a good idea.”

“I do too,” Trish replied. “It’s too bad Ron and I leave tomorrow. A few more days of the six of us together would be the best vacation ever.”

We still had over an hour before the boat was to pick us up. Laura and I spread sunscreen on Paula. Then, Paula and I took care of Laura. Then, Laura and Paula spread sunscreen all over me. We dragged that process out under the amused gaze of Trish, Jen, and Ron. Once we were done, we all sat on towels on the sand, drinking and talking. The longer I listened to Paula and Jen, the more I liked them both. They were intelligent, thoughtful, funny, and sexy young women.

The six of us went to the nude side hot tub late that night. Trish got Ron erect and Laura got me up. Trish told Jen, “Let Ron get into the tub, then you straddle him, facing him, and just slide down on him.”

“I don’t want to spoil your vacation,” Jen said.

Trish laughed. “I have that dick in me all the time. Since you’re here without a man, I’m happy to share.”

Paula didn’t argue. She sat down in the tub on my lap with my dick in her pussy. Laura sat beside me. We sat like that, having drinks, talking to each other, and to other people in the tub for quite a while. Finally, Laura said, “Ok, Paula, start riding him.” She did, and I sensed she’d made love in that position before. We were more familiar with each other now and didn’t want to take as long as we did that afternoon. Paula did an excellent job of getting me, and her, off while Laura, Trish, Jen, Ron, and God knew who else watched. After Paula and I came, it was Jen’s turn on Ron. It was very erotic watching her tits bounce as she rode him and the look on her innocent face as she came was extraordinary.

Laura and I made love in the room the next morning. We took our time and had to rush to catch Trish and Ron before they got in the van back to the airport. We exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, and Trish gave me a wonderful hug. I doubted, however, that we’d encounter the Cardinals again.

Once the van left from outside the resort lobby, Laura asked Paula and Jen, “have either of you parasailed?”

“Once,” Jen replied. Paula shook her head.

“Ian and I did it together nude a couple of days ago,” Laura said. “You have to try that. Just come to our room. You can get towels and undress there. Then, we’ll hit the beach.”

I ended up taking two parasail rides that day: one with Paula and one with Jen. We didn’t make either ride as gratifying as the one Laura and I had taken earlier. Still, it was fun to be up on the air nude with each woman.

Laura and I were leaving the next day. We had dinner with Paula and Jen. After dinner, they came back to our room. We all stripped off, had drinks, and talked. Laura’s face slowly took on her naughty look. She finally stood and insisted we all go into the bedroom. She had me lie on the bed on my back. She circled herself, Paula, and Jen around my groin and began giving them a guided tour of my dick and balls, explaining where I was most sensitive, what she did with me, and how I responded. Laura made sure that both girls handled me, a lot.

Of course, I got very hard. I knew what was coming and was looking forward to it. Laura positioned Paula to ride me again and had Jen squat over my face (which was a lovely view of Jen). I got fucked by Paula while I ate Jen to an orgasm.

Paula and Jen slept with us that night. They helped us pack the next morning. We exchanged contact information. I thought, and hoped, that we’d spend more time with them in the future. As we took the long van ride to the airport, Laura summarized our time in Jamaica, “A great trip and lots of sex. We made money and made some new friends.” She paused, then added, “I really like Paula and Jen. We’ve got to get them to The Cove.”

“I agree,” I replied.

We were busy once we got home. Laura and I didn’t split the work up. We worked together on every case that came in. Partly, that was application of “two heads are better than one.” Mostly, it was because we enjoyed doing everything together. I had never imagined that I’d want to spend literally every minute with another person, but I’d never imagined a person like Laura.

Another good thing was that Beth Potter and Sally Stancik resumed visiting The Cove. Since Svetlana had moved out, our guest room was open. Beth and Sally used it most weekends. Both women were a few years older than me. Both were attractive, but it was obvious they were not young when they took their clothes off. They were good people and good friends. I enjoyed spending my weekends with three nude women in Unit 7.

Shortly after Laura and I got back from Jamaica, Sally disclosed a dilemma. She had been Tampa SAC longer than was customary. The Bureau had told her it was going to assign another agent as Tampa SAC and promote her to a position in Washington. That was a problem because Beth had been with Tampa PD too long to leave. Sally and Beth loved each other too much to be that far apart.

Sally had decided she had to resign from the Bureau. However, she had no plan for what to do next. Laura and I worked to persuade her to join our firm. Sally’s stature in the law enforcement and business communities in Central and South Florida would take us to a new level. It would also be a selling point that our firm was majority female.

As Sally and Beth spent more time at The Cove, they also got to know my clients and benefactors, Paul and Lilith Westerfeld, The Cove’s owners. It became customary for the six of us to go out to dinner together on Saturday nights.

We had gone to a barbeque joint a little way south on 41 from The Cove the first Saturday in December of that year. We had a good meal and lots of laughs. I held the door for everyone else and was following behind Laura when I heard tires squeal. It was night, but the lot was well lit. I saw a small Japanese sedan approaching us fast. Then I saw a gun barrel aimed out the passenger window. I pushed Laura to the ground with myself on top of her.

That night was the longest sustained period of gunfire I had ever experienced. It seemed to go on forever, although it was probably over in less than a minute. As the car sped away, I stood saw the plate number, pulled out my phone, and called 911. I knew we needed lots of ambulances. I think the 911 operator thought I was drunk or playing a prank. Mass shootings just didn’t happen in Pasco County. Fortunately, someone inside the restaurant had called 911 too, reporting the same things I was.

Having called for help, I checked on Laura. That was when my world disintegrated. I’d done a great job of protecting her, from everything except the bullet that entered her left temple. She wasn’t moving and wasn’t breathing. I felt no pulse. I felt sick. I sat down beside her and began crying.

To summarize a long, ugly night, Laura, Sally, Beth, Paul, Lilith, the restaurant’s cashier, a server, and two other customers were dead. Another server and a cook were severely wounded. Police found evidence of 50 rounds fired, meaning there was another gun I hadn’t seen. Physically, I was unhurt. Psychologically was a different matter.

An acquaintance with the Sheriff’s office, Detective Glen Knowles, got the case. Because of Sally, the Feds were on it too. Glen told me the next day that the car was found abandoned a mile or so away from the restaurant. It has been stolen in Plant City earlier the day of the shooting. The car was completely clean, no prints, no casings, no fibers, no mud; except there was a receipt from a fast-food drive-through timed about an hour before the shooting. The scum had eaten burgers and fries before they killed Laura. Glen hoped to get video from the fast-food joint.

Glen got the video. A couple days later, he asked me to come in and look at it. He wanted to know if I recognized anyone in the car. The clearest picture was of the driver. He was young, Latino, and a stranger to me. I asked Glen if they could enhance the image of what looked like a blonde-haired woman in the back seat.

When I saw the enhanced image, I told Glen, “If I didn’t know she’s in prison, I’d say that’s Pam Westerfeld.”

Glen typed at a keyboard for a few seconds, looked at the computer screen, and told me, “Uh, she’s not in prison. On parole on the Orange County drug charges. A federal judge granted her habeas on the convictions here, ineffective assistance of counsel. She’s reporting to her parole officer and waiting to see whether she’ll be retried here.”

“Shit,” I said, “that’s her.”

Glen talked to Pam’s parole officer. Pam was following the rules. She lived in Ft. Myers and worked as a clerk for a short-haul trucking company there called SouFla Logistics. Her boss, a man named Manuel Fuentes, said she had worked a night shift on the Saturday of the shooting and was at work when the shooting happened. He knew because he had been in the office that Saturday night and saw her. That seemed off to me. Why was a clerk working on a Saturday night?

Glen called me a day later. “Ian, you knew a woman named Allison Nance, right? Didn’t she help you on the cases that sent Pam Westerfeld to prison?”

“Yes,” I replied, “Ali was, for a time, my partner and my lover. She left a few years ago to go to law school up in Gainesville. Last I heard, she was a lawyer in Jacksonville.”

“Shit,” Glen said. “I really hate to tell you this, but you’ll find out anyway. She was gunned down outside her parents’ home in Sarasota last night. Same MO as the shooting up here, drive-by with a stolen car, same ammo. Witnesses say there were three people in the car. They think two men and a woman. They think the woman was a blonde. The car was found. It’s clean. No receipts this time.”

“Ali is…” I asked.

“Yes,” Glen said. “I’m sorry.”

The coroner released Laura’s body. I decided to have her buried in Chicago, next to her parents. It was a cold day just before Christmas. Svetlana came for the funeral. We talked for a while, but she had a flight back to DC. I meant to see some old Chicago friends, but just didn’t want to. I stayed at the cemetery until it closed, got a room, and flew back to Tampa the next morning. I went to Paul and Lilith’s funerals, and Beth’s, which were all in Florida. I didn’t go to Pittsburgh for Sally’s funeral.

A few days after Paul and Lilith’s funeral, I got a call from their lawyer, a man I knew slightly. He told me they had revised their wills after Pam went to prison. The Cove was owned by a limited liability company of which Paul and Lilith had been the only members. Their interest in the LLC passed to me when they both died. I would own The Cove once the probate process was completed. That was a shock.

When Greg had left for Jamaica, he’d persuaded Paul and Lilith to replace him with Gretchen Dowling. Gretchen had worked years for a large hotel/resort chain. She was not a nudist, but she was a hell of a manger. She’d have to keep The Cove running. I certainly wasn’t up to it.

It was a truly shitty Christmas and New Year, made worse by the fact that the Feds and Pasco County were making no progress on the killings. Sarasota PD had hit a brick wall on Ali’s killing too. January dragged on without progress. The FBI put surveillance on Pam, but she obviously knew and kept her nose clean. The only face the cops had was the driver from the day Laura was murdered. We didn’t know who he was.

Glen called me at the end of February to tell me that the FBI was ending its surveillance of Pam. They had decided nothing would come from it. “You think its Pam, and you’ve persuaded me,” Glen said. “She’s out from under the Feds’ eyes now. There’s only one person who helped put her away who’s still alive: you. You’re probably her next target.”

On one level, I really didn’t care if Pam Westerfeld killed me. She’d already taken everyone who mattered to me. However, the probate of Paul and Lilith’s estate had been completed. I now owned The Cove. I felt I owed it to the regulars, and to the happy memories I’d made there with Laura, Ali, Beth, and Sally, even Svetlana, to keep The Cove running.

Glen didn’t have the resources to keep a guard on me. He recommended that I stay armed and very, very alert. I’ve never been a good marksman. If I was up against automatic weapons, I wouldn’t get many shots. Whatever I did had to cause maximum damage.

I bought a.44 magnum, the gun Clint Eastwood made famous in the old “Dirty Harry” movies. I hated taking that thing to the range. The gun’s recoil made my hand, arm, and shoulder hurt after only a few rounds. I also had a hard time getting the gun back on target for a second shot. My shooting might have improved a little, but I’d need luck if anything happened.

I had been extremely lethargic and depressed since Laura was killed. My PI firm was closed, but it took immanent lease expiration to make me clean out the office. There were things of Laura’s in there that would be painful to see. I finally went to the office, in a strip center a few miles from The Cove, in mid-March.

It was still cool out, which was good. I had an excuse for the light jacket I wore so I could carry the gun in its pocket. I didn’t bother going around the back to the tenant parking. Only the UPS store next to my office was open that morning. There was plenty of parking in front.

It must have been the squeal of tires as the car turned into the center off US 41. I’d last heard that sound when Laura was killed. I looked up and saw the car circling the lot so it could pass with me on its passenger side instead of going directly to a parking spot or pulling up directly to the building. That alarmed me.

I had the gun out and was in my “shooter’s stance” before I saw the rifle barrel come out the front passenger window. I fired at the passenger side of the windshield. Then, I dove. As the car came closer, I rolled and fired a round, I hoped, into the engine. I expected return fire. There was absolutely no cover. I was a clear target lying on the concrete.

The car passed me without firing a shot. It continued out of the lot and turned north on 41. I pulled out my phone and called 911. I heard sirens seconds after I ended the call.

While I was still in front of my office checking whether I’d pissed myself, the shooter’s car died about half a block up 41. Deputies quickly surrounded the car. The driver surrendered immediately. Two other people were in the car. A woman, quickly identified as Pam Westerfeld, was in the front passenger seat with a huge hole in her chest. She was dead. My first shot had passed through her, through the seatback, and hit the man in the back seat in the shoulder. He was injured but alive. Both Pam and the guy in the back seat had Kalashnikov automatic rifles.

Back in Unit 7 at The Cove, I felt wired, exhausted, vindicated, and guilty. I’d never been a gun lover. I went into law enforcement not because I aspired to be a “killer hard guy,” but because I thought I could keep a few people from getting hurt. Instead, I’d used a gun to kill someone that very day. I wasn’t remorseful about killing Pam Westerfeld. I’d been forced to do it. Maybe I’d inflicted “justice” on Pam. Maybe the two guys with her would get “justice.” Laura, Ali, Paul, Lilith, Beth, and Sally would still be dead. “Justice” couldn’t change that. I’d failed all of them, as badly as I could possibly fail.

Later that night, my cell phone rang. That surprised me. Most of the people who had my number were dead. The caller’s number, from area code 239, was meaningless to me. I answered. A heavily accented female voice said, “you won” then ended the call. I immediately called Glen and told him about the call.

The next morning, I was in Glen’s office in New Port Richey giving my formal statement to Glen and an FBI agent. It was a long statement because it started with the Olmos case that had sent Pam Westerfeld to prison several years earlier. I went through the awful evening when Laura was killed in detail. In return, Glen told me that the guy I’d wounded in the back seat had been identified as Manuel Fuentes, the SouFla Logistics manager who’d alibied Pam Westerfeld for the night of Laura’s murder. The driver of the car, and the driver in the drive-through video from the day of Laura’s murder, was his brother Roberto. They were nephews of Consuela Olmos. The FBI was expediting ballistics testing, but the two Kalashnikovs in the car looked like the same guns that had killed Laura, Ali, Paul, Lilith, Beth, and Sally. The call I’d gotten the night before was from a number assigned to Consuela Olmos.

The FBI agent added that Consuela had boarded a flight from Ft. Myers to Miami that morning and changed in Miami to a flight to Bogota. Then, he asked me for my.44 so they could test it to verify that I’d fired the shot that killed Pam Westerfeld and wounded Manuel Fuentes, and the shot that had disabled their car.

“I’ve already talked with the State’s Attorney,” Glen added. “No question you were acting in self-defense.”

“We’ll make sure you get your gun back Mr. Beck,” the FBI guy said.

“Keep it,” I replied. “Give it to an agent, use it for training, melt it down. I don’t care.”

The FBI agent looked perplexed. “It was a righteous shoot,” he said. “That’s an expensive gun. You can use it in your line of work.”

“Sir,” I said, “my line of work has gotten everyone I loved killed. I’m getting a different line of work.” I left the Sheriff’s office.

I was back in Unit 7 by mid-afternoon. Out of habit, I stripped off. I hadn’t eaten that day but wasn’t hungry. I hadn’t had much appetite since Laura died. I didn’t even want a drink. I just felt deflated. I walked around the Unit. I hadn’t really looked at it in the months since Laura died. I realized why: defense mechanism. Everywhere I looked there was a piece of her. Seeing each one felt like a knife stabbing me.

I went upstairs to our bedroom. I immediately noticed the floral print wrap Laura had bought to wear to dinner at the Jamaican resort. She’d made it into a wall hanging when we returned. It was almost impossible to believe that incredibly happy time had been less than a year ago. I remembered thinking on the flight home that life couldn’t get any better. I’d been right about that, but life sure could get a hell of a lot worse.

I decided to pour some wine. Maybe, if I got drunk, I’d stop remembering things, at least until morning. I was on my second large glass when the landline phone rang. That was odd. No one ever called on the landline. The caller ID showed an area code 614 number. If I remembered correctly, that was central Ohio. Who knew me up there?

I answered the phone, I think, because I wanted to hear a voice, even if it was computer-generated. “Ian,” a female voice said, “this is Paula Taft. Remember me?” I remembered Paula and said so. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of Laura,” she said. “Her cell number says its out of service. She’s not answering e-mail. There hasn’t been anything new on her Facebook in months. What’s going on?”

“Shit,” I thought. I knew Laura and Paula had stayed in touch after we got back from Jamaica. Laura’s death had been the central event in my world. I’d just assumed everyone else knew about it. I hadn’t let Paula know what happened.

“Uh, Paula,” I said, “I’ve got some really bad news.” I told her about the killings and everything that had happened since. I was surprised that I wasn’t in tears by the time I finished. Maybe I was starting to heal. More likely, it was the wine.