Nothing Sacred (FBI Agent Dan Hammer Series Book 1) Read Free Page A

It oozed up and down as George sat on the cot. The mattress squeaked with his weight. He knew the sounds of this bed. He’d memorized the sounds of Sandra.
                 
    She pulled a tiny embroidered square cushion out from under the mattress and positioned it between George’s legs. His woody was begging for a little “Sandra attention” about now. Unbuckling his belt she pulled at his zipper exposing George’s boxer shorts.
                 
    “I like your undies, Freddie,” she whimpered.
                 
    That was George’s cue. He leaned back. He watched the fan move in slow motion on the ceiling. He felt the warmth of Sandra’s mouth. He swallowed hard and stretched his arms back as far as they could go.
     
    Oh, Dear Lord, forgive me my trespasses, as I forgive those…
                 
    “Relax, Georgie. You know I love giving you head.”
                 
    He fingered her soft hair. Thousands upon thousands of baby fine threads flowed down her naked back. Sweet, sweet movement. She shifted her mouth and allowed her hands to move in tandem, up and down. George got a little embarrassed. He’d like to think his pecker was hung as good as the next guy, but honestly, it wasn’t. Sandra made him feel like it was though. She sure must have one hell of an incredible imagination. That’s all George could think. Sometimes, George fell in love with Sandra. Really. And often, more times than he cared to admit, he fantasized Sandra actually fell in love with him.
                 
    “Good boy, Georgie.” She gurgled.
                 
    She felt George stiffen. Sandra knew the rules. She’d somehow created them.
     
    Edna would never do this. Never . Never, never, never. Not in a million years! Edna didn’t do much of anything these days. She complained a lot about her weight. Daily. How she was gonna go on another diet. Hourly. How she needed to lose weight. She just never let up . How she wanted to get back into one of those old dresses hanging in the closet like dead memories. That wasn’t ever gonna happen. Ever.
     
    What about me? George asked.
     
    “I don’t worry about you, George.” That’s all she would say. What the heck was that supposed to mean?
                 
    George came. A wave of built up frustration released as Sandra swallowed. George didn’t quite believe it himself, but for as long as he’d been coming here (no pun intended), Sandra always finished the exact same way. Every damn time. Somehow, George felt safe with Sandra.
     
    Afterwards, she would always say, “Yummy, Georgie. You’re better than a facial.”
                 
    Whatever that meant.
     
    George would chuckle, pass her a twenty, usually with a five dollar tip. Sandra would slowly stand up, push the cushion back under the bed with her toe, and hurry to the door. Before leaving, she’d turn around and give that little girl smile, the one George loved so much.
                 
    “See ya next week, Sugar.”
                 
    Then, she’d quietly slip out the door.
     
    George listened to the silence for a second. The groan of the bed. The whirl of the fan moving overhead. It brought him back, crashing to the floor like broken glass. Reality. Suddenly, there was Edna. Only Edna. Edna waiting outside the church. Edna standing next to the palm trees on Meeting Street. Edna eating an ice cream cone because he wasn’t there on time. Blaming everything on George. Edna saying to George in that “Edna” way, “Have a good time, George.”
     
    George pulled up his pants, buckled his belt and left. Quietly.
     
    He stumbled, sex-drunk and light headed through the narrow corridor, back up the stairs and into the smoke-filled, pink neon-lit room.
     
    Yeah, I guess I did, Edna. I had a real nice time.
                 
    “See ya’ next week, George.” Sonny waved