Secrets of the Investigation. Part 18
Already in early spring, on warm and sunny days, in the hall of a roadside cafe, just outside the city, two women were sitting by the window, or rather, they looked like hardened female convicts, which is exactly what they were.
One of them was Lena (Zima), a former athlete who had done wrestling, cycling, and even karate, but once in prison, she just started lifting weights there. She was a little over forty years old, one-third of which she had spent in prison on charges of fraud, theft, and she had one stint for assaulting, in her opinion, a bastard. Her angry, black eyes always darted around, like those of a hungry predator. Her wrinkled, tanned face spoke
of the fact that its owner had seen a lot in her life.Thick, black hair, braided like a diligent schoolgirl's into a wide braid, fell down to her shoulder blades, with long bangs in front that sometimes covered her right eye. She had a powerful figure, like an athlete's: broad shoulders, strong arms, a full chest, and massive, muscular thighs, with thick lips like those of some drunkard.
Her black, short jacket added even more menace to her thuggish appearance.
The second one was named Ulyana (Temnaya). She had been released from prison just a couple of days ago, where she had served time for robbery. She, too, like Zima, looked like a hardened criminal. Her black, shoulder-length, voluminous, naturally curly hair was loose. On her face were thin lips heavily painted with red lipstick, on a slightly protruding jaw, and eyes heavily shaded with black mascara and eyeliner.
Temnaya's eyes also darted around, just like Lena's, as if always expecting some kind of trick and trouble from others. She wasn't yet used to being free. In prison, you always have to be on guard. Always hide your pride and discontent, answer the cop screws guiltily and acknowledge your submission and wrongness, even when you're right. This prison habit was still clearly visible in her behavior; she constantly looked around and furtively drank another shot of vodka, chasing it with salad and cold cuts.
Ulyana was a thin, medium-height, thirty-five-year-old woman, with a tattoo above her left eyebrow in the shape of some foreign word meaning "loyalty." Also, from under her rolled-up blouse sleeves, a tattoo on the inner part of her left forearm was visible, in the shape of a rose with thorns and flames around it.
"Your documents!" – boldly, in a cop-like manner, Andrey approached their table and shoved an open service ID at them, but he addressed Ulyana specifically – "Lieutenant Fomin of the police."
Zima immediately turned angrily towards the window, gritting her teeth, suppressing all her hatred and disgust. She, too, had been released quite recently, about two months ago, and hated cops with every fiber of her being, especially young upstarts like Andrey, whom she was even physically stronger than, not to mention her moral and volitional qualities.
Her fists clenched under the table on their own, but she suppressed this rage and hatred as best she could.
"What the fuck does he want?" – she silently asked herself mentally about this cop who appeared out of nowhere – "What does he need? Can't we even sit quietly in a bar?"
Temnaya, having just relaxed a bit and taken a drink, was completely unprepared for such a turn of events; she noticeably became agitated. Ulyana, silently and hurriedly, noticeably nervous, took her release certificate out of her purse and handed it to Andrey, habitually lowering her head submissively.
"So, Ulyana Valeryevna," – Andrey read her name and patronymic a bit menacingly – "why were you released and didn't inform the interested parties about it?"
"My fault," – she looked at Andrey timidly and stood up before him – "I just got released, citizen boss," – Temnaya began to justify herself habitually, trying not to breathe her fresh vodka breath in his direction – "I just haven't had time yet."
"Bitch," – Zima hissed almost inaudibly, without turning, she continued to look out the window.
"What did you say?" – Andrey addressed her sternly.
"Nothing, citizen boss," – she turned and glared at him straight in the eyes – "You must have imagined it!" – she said in a hoarse, seemingly cold-ridden voice.
Her gaze was cold and heavy, piercing to the bone. It seemed to Andrey that if it were her will, she wouldn't hesitate to shank him. There was so much malice in this bitch's eyes that Andrey turned away from her, unable to withstand that look.
"So, when will you check in?" – Andrey asked Ulyana Valeryevna sternly again.
"Today," – Ulyana answered just as guiltily – "Right now, I'll finish eating and go right away."
"Well, no need to go anywhere," – Andrey smiled at her – "The interested party is already here!"
Andrey turned around and, holding her release certificate in his hands, took a few steps towards the corner of a large square column and, nodding his head, called someone. Temnaya and Zima, exchanging glances, stared with interest in the direction from which someone was about to appear.
From behind the column, with a smile from ear to ear, holding an expensive cognac, Lyubov Sergeevna appeared, walking very quickly.
"Hi, Temnukha," – she spread her arms wide, inviting her for a hug.
She immediately approached the shocked Ulyana and hugged her tightly, like a best friend, and Temnaya hugged her no less tightly and stared questioningly at the smiling Andrey, the lawyer standing behind her.
"Lyubka, you bitch," – it dawned on Temnaya that this was just a prank by her friend.
"Yeah," – Lyubov Sergeevna laughed – "You fell for it, Ulka! You should have seen yourself from the side!"
"Hi, friend of harsh days," – Zima hugged Lyubov Sergeevna – "You sure know how to make an entrance!"
"So, bitch, where did you find him?" – Temnaya was now looking with completely different, and probably lustful, eyes of a hungry convict, now at Andrey, now at Lyubov Sergeevna – "Bitch, he's so authentic! I think I almost shit myself."
"Well, he is authentic," – Lyubov Sergeevna smiled at her.
"How?" – Temnaya was surprised.
"Just like that," – Lyubov Sergeevna shrugged, smiling – "This is my gift to you for today... consider him your boyfriend for today..."
"What do you mean, a gift? What boyfriend?" – Temnaya narrowed her eyes and appraisingly looked Andrey up and down, who was still standing there, smiling at them a little to the side.
"Literally," – the joyful Lyubov Sergeevna laughed, sitting down at the table – "He'll be your pussy licker for today... and he's got a dick too!"
"Why the fuck do I need a cop dick?" – Temnaya still looked at her uncomprehendingly – "Is he really a cop?"
"Well, yes," – Lyubov Sergeevna answered her – "But he licks like nobody's business!"
"I don't understand shit," – Temnaya shook her head, not understanding – "He's a cop?"
"Yes," – Lyubov Sergeevna laughed, looking into her eyes, and poured cognac into shot glasses for herself and them.
"And he's going to lick my pussy today?" – Temnaya counted on her fingers.
"Well, yes," – Lyubov Sergeevna continued to smile at her mockingly.
"How so? Explain!" – she took a shot glass from the table and sat down next to her – "I don't get it at all!"
"Just forget it, friend... just use him however you want today," – Lyubov Sergeevna clinked glasses with her and Zima, then drank to the long-awaited meeting of friends.
"Sit down," – she waved to Andrey, who was standing about two meters away, and he immediately moved towards their table.
"Stop!" – Temnaya, her face completely changed, barked at him displeasedly – "ID here," – she extended her hand.
Andrey stood before her and handed her his ID, which she now carefully examined and then silently handed to Zima, who was watching all this, and she also looked at the ID and compared the photo with his face.
"Are you really a cop?" – Zima asked sternly.
"Yes," – Andrey nodded with a smile.
"Have you licked pussy before?" – Zima asked rudely.
"Yes," – Andrey answered with the same smile, but her tone was starting to make him a bit tense and uncomfortable.
"Well then, sit at the next table and wait, bitch," – said Zima, putting his ID in her pocket – "We'll whistle if we need you, but at a decent people's table, there's no place for scum like you, a cop, for several reasons... first, you're a fucking faggot, and second, you're a cop..." – she looked at him menacingly, gritting her teeth – "You, a whore, should be sitting under our table! But there are a lot of people here who aren't in the know, so sit at any free table and sit there without drawing attention."
"Can I have my ID back?" – Andrey asked Zima, feeling a bit offended.
"No! I'll give it back later!" – she frowned – "Get the fuck out of my sight, you devil!"
Andrey sat at a free table and ordered a cup of coffee. He understood who he was dealing with, so the prison slang didn't surprise or particularly offend him.
He recalled how Lyubov Sergeevna had instructed him half an hour ago to scare her friend named Ulyana, who had just returned from prison, whom she had accidentally noticed when she entered their favorite cafe. Andrey had rushed over at her request very quickly and did everything as Lyubov Sergeevna had asked, but the fact that he was also a gift for today for this convict, Andrey only found out now.
Although it was a complete surprise for him, since Andrey was already used to suddenly licking pussies and serving women, he took this news quite calmly and without unnecessary emotions or questions.
"Well then," – he thought – "I'll lick this Ulyana today then..." It wasn't the first time for him to lick strangers. Moreover, he was already used to licking prostitutes' pussies, who in gratitude would give him and do blowjobs.
The audacity of Temnaya and her friend Zima, their menacing appearance and tone, were also child's play compared to his Natalya Ivanovna and Zhaba Irina Vladimirovna.
"Let's go," – about five minutes later, Zima abruptly got up from the table and, passing by Andrey, patted him on the shoulder.
He got up and followed Zima, watching as she wiggled her powerful buttocks in front of him, which were clad in tight jeans. She was clearly heading to the women's restroom, and Andrey, catching up, stopped her, anticipating where and why she was leading him.
"Len, maybe better in the car?" – he asked Zima – "Otherwise, we could get caught in the john."
"What did you say?" – Zima frowned – "What kind of Len am I to you, you faggot? Call me Elena Vadimovna, you faggot!"
"Got it! Elena Vladimirovna," – Andrey said with a bit of sarcasm.
He wasn't afraid of her at all, but he also didn't argue about the insults; he was already used to it. Andrey knew that after a while, both she and her friend Temnaya would drop the mask of angry convicts and everything would work out for them, as it did with everyone Andrey licked. He had already become a pro at his job.
"Let's go where I'm leading, whore," – she glared at him angrily, and they went to the restroom again.