The Divorcee Murder Club

Cuarenta Y Ocho ~ 48

Jackson gives directions as he holds a tablet and watches the little blue dot move across the map while we track the SUV. Eventually, we end up in Potrero Hill. It’s one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in San Francisco with bay and skyline views from a mix of condos, classic Victorians, boutiques, and offices. Kay pulls up to a renovated Victorian with a black exterior, white trim, and cedar accents at the top of the hill. This has to be where Richie is being kept. The garage door rolls open, and the SUV slides inside, then disappears, but not all is lost. 

We have a plan A, B, C, and D, and I'm about to tackle the first one.

“Here I go…” I latch onto the car’s door handle.

“Wait!” Jackson grabs my shoulder. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“Absolutely. If this isn’t where they’re hiding Richie, then it’s definitely where they come to fuck.” I open the door.

Jackson doesn’t let go of my shoulder. “But, this Kay guy isn’t dumb. What if he has cameras or security guys watching the house?”

“No.” Sammy rubs his grey stubble. “This is a clandestine rendezvous. Nobody knows they’re here. I doubt Augusta even knows this place exists.” 

“Well, it’s now or never.” I stare at Jackson. “I’ll be fine. This ain’t my first rodeo.” 

“Be careful,” he blows out a breath and sits back, releasing my shoulder. 

“One more thing..." Sammy slides a gun to me. "Take this Glock just in case shit goes sideways. You know how to use it, right?"

“Indeed." I slide it into my jacket pocket and give the fellas a wink. "See you boys in a bit.”

There's an evening fog rolling through the neighborhood, and it works to my advantage as I skip across the street dressed in all black like a shadow. Yet, the trouble with Victorians is how nestled together the homes are, which makes breaking into them more difficult. So when I make it across the street, I head for the bushes and crouch to plot my next move. I could climb the trellis, and see if there is an open window on the second level, but the trellis is facing the street which would make me vulnerable to getting caught. 

"Bingo!" I grin.

There is a narrow wooden fence a few feet ahead, dividing the Victorian from the one next to it, which is barely wide enough for a skinny noodle to squeeze through, but it's my best bet. So, like the agile athlete that I am, I hoist myself over and land like a cat without a single sound. I hope Jackson saw me and has his jaw on the floor over my impressive gymnastics.

The space between the two buildings is so narrow that both sides kiss my shoulders as I inch toward the backyard. When I finally make it, I peek around the bend and there's a patio with sliding glass doors I can try to pry open. For a woman like Jocelyn, I expected this place to be decked out like an oasis. Instead, it has the average plastic chairs someone can find at the Home Depot and a small charcoal grill. 

Interesting. This place must solely be for fucking, and not for playing house. 

A light flicks on from somewhere inside, causing a golden glow to cast through the glass windows and onto the weather deck of the patio. Now I can see Kay and Jocelyn in the kitchen. She scoots onto the countertop as Kay uncorks a bottle of wine, and she watches him pour two glasses in a way that says she's ready to devour him. Her silk dress has a high slit, revealing her thighs, as she swings her legs back and forth as if she's airing out her cooter.

Kay hands Jocelyn one of the glasses, and she takes a sip while admiring him. He’s about to taste his wine, but she pulls it out of his hand, sets it aside, and reels him in with her legs. There's an attempt to kiss her, but Jocely leans back on her elbows, as if spreading herself out like a feast across the countertop. So, Kay digs his fingers into her hips, pulls her in closer, then drags his mouth up her waist, and to her chest where he fondles her. Jocelyn enjoys every second as she writhes beneath his touch, rubbing her clothed twat all over his clothed dick like a couple of teenagers dry humping in the back of a car on a school night.