Beginnings - SF2 (32 page)

It took much longer to put the boat to bed than it did to take it out, and by the time everything was perfectly ordered, it was after five. Mia still had a ton of things to do to get ready for her departure, so she declined their invitation to join them for dinner. Conor walked her to the door and stayed inside for several minutes, but he returned with Jamie's mail and a few phone messages, so he was forgiven.

Martin wasn't at home, so they were left to forage on their own. By the time the pizza arrived, they were all dozing on the big bed in Martin's room, Ryan across the bottom with Duffy curled up against her chest and Jamie and Conor in the traditional position.

Their lethargy was such that they barely finished a medium sized pizza. By nightfall, all three were snug in their separate beds, Duffy being the happiest of the group since he got his mistress all to himself.

Monday morning found them lounging around the dining room table, surveying their options for the week. Jamie was content to just lie around the house as long as Ryan was with her, but she knew that her lover needed a lot of stimulation to keep her interested. She was also learning that Ryan needed at least a general idea of her schedule, or she became a little anxious.

Rather than switch clients around too much, Ryan had decided to work at the gym from 3-6, her normal hours. Since Mia was leaving and Jamie no longer needed a formal session, Ryan had tinkered with her schedule to compress it into her preferred time period. The 15 hours of full-fare clients gave her an income that far surpassed anything she had ever dreamed of, and gave her the financial security to take two weeks off without worry.

The only downside was that her work prevented them from ranging very far afield during the week. Jamie would have preferred spending a few days up in Napa or Mendocino, but Ryan's financial autonomy obviously meant a lot to her, and she decided not to challenge her strict work ethic.

"Okay," Jamie said, as she stood to clear the breakfast dishes. "We've got to be back by one for you to get to work. It's almost eight so we have five hours to play with. Since you didn't run today, I assume you want to spend the morning doing something energetic?"

"I've got a few suggestions," Ryan said, obviously having thought this through earlier in the day. "I really enjoyed being at the Marina on Friday. Why don't we go back and do our workout there."

"Oh, like we did at the track that time?"

"Kinda," she said with a twinkle. "I think it's time you learned the rudiments of kickboxing little girl," she added as she pinched her partner rather hard on the butt.

Jamie looked up to the heavens for assistance. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm going to wind up bruised?"

A short while later they were warming up on the broad, grass-covered lawn that fronted the Marina. The day was bright and warm for May, and it seemed like every baby in town was out on the green with their mothers or their nannies. Ryan decided to teach Jamie the basics of the cardio-kick class that she used to teach at Castro. She had a small boom-box resting on the ground, along with some lightweight padded gloves and a big blue padded mitt.

They followed their usual warm-up routine, and then Ryan gave her some instruction on proper kicking technique. Jamie was now muscular enough to brace herself on one sturdy leg while kicking out forcefully with the other, a required element for kickboxing. She took to the instruction very well, kicking the padded mitt with some force, and after just 15 minutes Ryan pronounced her ready to begin.

She switched on the music and led the way, showing Jamie at half speed how to execute the series of kicks and jumps timed to the music. She added the punching moves that made the exercise a full-body workout, and then started the tape again.

This time they went through the moves at full speed, kicking, jumping and punching the air in a graceful series of moves--rather, Ryan was graceful, and Jamie just struggled to keep up. But when she led the way through the series again and again, Jamie started to catch on. By the time she fully understood and could follow the signals, however, she was so tired she could hardly move.

Her arms felt like she had ten-pound weights attached to them and her legs were heavy and slow. "God! You really had weights in your hands, but I'm the one who's pooped!" she cried when she surveyed Ryan's calm, even breathing.

"I've been doing this a lot longer than you have," Ryan reassured her.

"Oh please! That has nothing to do with it, and you know it, Buffy. You're just amazing, and I won't accept any other explanation!"

"Well," she drawled, "I guess I am rather remarkable." But she gave her partner such a goofy look when she made this statement that Jamie had to just laugh at her good-natured teasing. "And that reminds me," Ryan said. "What's with this 'Buffy' stuff? Is that like Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Buffy like Buffy, and Muffy and those other rich girl names?"

"Neither, Silly," she laughed. "You don't look even a little bit like Sara Michelle Gellar, and you could never pull off the preppy rich kid thing."

"So…why do you call me that?"

"Because of these," Jamie said as she ran her hands down Ryan's arms, trailing her thumbs over the smooth dips and protrusions of muscle. "You're terribly buff, you know."

"Ahhh, Buffy," Ryan nodded, fairly satisfied with the name now that she knew its origin.

"Buffy, indeed," Jamie nodded in concert, leaning in for a sweet kiss. "But right now, I've gotta find a bathroom. Is there one around here?" she asked, looking around aimlessly.

"Yeah, but it's pretty far," Ryan warned, indicating the building in the distance. "Want me to pack up and go with you?"

"No, I like this spot. Why don't you sit by that tree and take it easy. I can tell you're really beat. You're just hiding it well."

"Good idea," Ryan agreed. "You always know best."

She watched Jamie jog, admiring the way her firm little butt looked in her navy blue Lycra shorts. Deep in concentration she did not hear the footsteps that approached her from behind. "Police officer," the rather deep but decidedly female voice boomed. "Don't make any sudden moves…just keep your hands right where they are."

Ryan's heart started beating so fast she could actually feel it in her chest. She knew she had done nothing wrong, but the thought of having a police officer call her out was terribly alarming. "What's the problem, officer?" she asked, as calmly as possible.

"You answer the questions," the woman snapped. "I ask them." The rough tone and brusque treatment were not making Ryan feel one bit better. "Get on your knees and put your hands behind your back," she ordered.

Ryan had every intention of obeying the command, but she had a momentary flash of doubt that this really was a cop. "Let me see your badge," she said with more conviction than she really felt.

"Been in this situation a few times, huh, tough guy?" the officer growled. She produced a badge that she flashed right in front of Ryan's face. It certainly looked authentic, having the same general style as her father's Fire Department badge, but even though Ryan was reassured that she wasn't an imposter, she didn't feel a hell of a lot better with this confirmation.

She followed the officer's instructions to the letter, getting to her knees and docilely placing her hands behind her back. She had not heard handcuffs opened before, but she got a crash course in the distinctive sound when the cold steel was slapped first on one wrist and then the other. Ryan had been in many testy situations in her young life and had gone up against some very tough guys, but she had rarely felt as powerless as she did at that moment. The fact that she could not defend herself, either physically or verbally was combining to make her absolutely panic-stricken.

A jumble of thoughts raced through Ryan's mind as she considered her options. As the daughter of a civil servant, she had been taught since she was a toddler that police officers were the guardians of the city. Her father had always stressed that when she was in trouble, she should never hesitate to ask an officer for help, and her personal experience with the police had been uniformly positive. But she also knew that members of the force were trained to demand complete obedience from suspects, and that when they didn't get it they sometimes reacted badly. She had no interest in being booked for resisting arrest, and even less interest in being goaded into assaulting an officer, since that would definitely land her in serious trouble. So she ignored every one of her instincts to defend herself, and tried to be as docile as a kitten.

"I don't want you to move one muscle," the officer growled, seemingly right into her ear. "One move, and I slap another pair on your ankles and hog-tie you."

Now Ryan's discomfort was turning into panic. Trying to keep her wits about her, she tried again, "What do you want with me?"

"Did I tell you to talk?" she spat. When Ryan meekly shook her head, she added, "Good girl. Following orders is the only way you're going to get out of this in one piece."

One piece? What in the fuck does she think I've done? Is there a lunatic murderer on the loose?

The officer grasped her around her upper arms and pulled her easily to her feet. "Lean your head against that tree," she stated as she pushed Ryan in the general direction. "And spread your legs shoulder width."

She managed the move, but it caused her to lean up against the tree in a very ungainly position. Even with her strong abs and thighs, she doubted that she could stand up again without assistance. The officer began a thorough pat-down, maintaining a cool professional attitude throughout. But another stab of panic shot through Ryan when the officer lingered longer than was necessary on her crotch.

Is this some renegade lesbian cop rapist?
she wondered as she was pulled into an upright position. "We're gonna go for a little walk now," the officer stated. "You're gonna move nice and slow and go just where I tell you."

Another docile nod was Ryan's only response. The cop placed a surprisingly small hand on the back of Ryan's neck and started to push her in the direction of the street. "My stuff," she weakly protested, not wanting anyone to wander off with her gear.

"We'll be right at the squad car," she declared, indicating a car parked next to a maintenance building. "Nobody will touch your stuff."

Ryan's panic was building, as they got closer to the car. It was parked in such a way that it was hidden from both the street, and the people on the green, by dense shrubbery. The thought hit her that it was just the way you would park the car, if you didn't want anyone to see it.

When they were about ten feet from the car, Jamie was just drawing close enough to see her lover being led away by a police officer.
Oh shit! Now what?
she cried to herself, as she began running.

When the officer had Ryan right up against the car, she unlocked one cuff. Reaching around her, she quickly moved both arms to the front and cuffed her back up. "What are you doing to me?" Ryan finally cried in frustration.

A low laugh was the officer's response. She opened the rear door, pushed Ryan roughly and laughed again when the larger woman fell face first against the seat. In a flash, the officer jumped in, landed on top of her, and murmured in her normal, higher-pitched voice, "I always told you I'd be on top someday, Ryan."

"Carolyn?" Ryan squeaked as the front door flew open to reveal 110 pounds of outraged fury.

"Oh-oh," Carolyn mumbled, when Jamie began to yell at full volume.

"Yeah, oh-oh is right," Ryan fully agreed, to the not-so-fresh smelling vinyl seat that her face rested against.

"Who the fuck are you, and what are you doing to my girlfriend?!" the little dynamo shrieked.

"Girlfriend? When did you get a girlfriend?" the chagrined officer demanded of the back of Ryan's head.

"Umm, Jamie?" Ryan mumbled, unable to speak clearly due to her position. "This is my friend Carolyn." After a beat she added, "She's a police officer."

"You know each other?" Jamie stuttered as she turned around and sank into the passenger seat.

"Shit!" Carolyn muttered, "I'm so fucking sorry, Ryan!" She was frantically sticking her hands into her various pockets, looking for the elusive key to the handcuffs.

"Uh, wouldn't that be easier if you got off of me?" Ryan tactfully suggested.

"Oh, fuck," she cursed, as she crawled back out of the car, blushing furiously. "I don't have any idea what I'm doing right now." She quickly found the key and rolled Ryan onto her side to unlock the cuffs.

"Is anyone going to tell me what in the hell is going on here?" Jamie finally demanded.

"I don't know what's going on, so Carolyn's in charge of that one," Ryan said as she sat up, rubbing her wrists.

"Um…Jamie, is it?"

"Yeessss," she drawled, staring right into the small woman's shifting eyes.

"This was all a really big misunderstanding," she began.

"It better have been," the little dynamo grumbled.

"Hey! I'm blameless in this!" Ryan protested.

"You're never blameless," Jamie corrected. "There's always some degree of culpability when you're involved."

"No fair!" Ryan cried. "I was just sitting by the tree minding my own business. Actually," she corrected, "I was busy watching your butt as you ran across the green. My attention was so focused that I didn't even hear Carolyn approach."

"See, you were partly to blame," Jamie said rather pointedly.

"No, no, this was all my fault," Carolyn insisted. "Um…Ryan and I have been uhh…friends for a couple of years now," she said. "We don't see each other often or anything, and I just didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"Is Carolyn one of your 'special friends', Ryan?" the small blonde inquisitor demanded.

"Yep. Carolyn is most decidedly special," she admitted, with a wolfish grin at her old friend.

"You know about her um…friends?" Carolyn asked, truly surprised that Ryan would tell her new girlfriend about her past.

"Yes," Jamie dryly informed her. "But I don't know how many there are. 'Were,' and I stress the 'were,' you friends for long?" hoping this wasn't another member of the five-year club.