Pete the Griphead
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- Joined
- Feb 24, 2009
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- 135
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This story is a work of fiction. All characters appearing in this work are fictional, and any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. So having said that, and without further ado, i present Part 1 of Code 44...if well received, i plan on following up with subsequent chapters (where I can promise things ramp up, and get a whole lot sexier)! Cheers, -Pete
For Officer Peter Avarese, of the Malvern, Pennsylvania Police Dept, this most recent Thursday in September started off like any other day. He’d been assigned, for the past three months, to the mountain bike patrol unit of MPD, and had really taken to the notion of being able to get his exercise in while on duty every day. He hadn’t, however, been assigned a permanent partner yet, since each of his two previous partners had been bumped to other assignments or other shifts. It was with this mindset that he entered the station locker room that day, fully prepared to head out on pedal patrol in singular fashion as he’d done for the past week and a half. It turns out that his shift captain had other ideas on the matter, however.
Upon reporting on site, changing quickly into his customary shorts-appropriate patrol attire, and notating his start time in the shift rotation log, he learned that he would in fact be taking out yet another new partner on patrol with him that afternoon. This revelation was less than surprising, as again he’d become somewhat accustomed to this partner juggling over the recent summer months. Ted Wittier had been assigned to him for three weeks, before succumbing to the strenuous summer heat and asking for reassignment. And George Carver had gone more the opposite direction, taking so well to the mountain bike patrol that they’d transferred him to his own weekly shift that was the polar opposite time than Pete’s shift. The surprising aspect of the detail came upon his discovering who they’d hooked him up with…none other than the precincts resident female officer Morgan Albright!
Morgan, even to the most casual of observers, could easily be identified as fit; and that was putting it mildly. Pete guessed she’d likely even give him a run for his money in a straight up physical fitness battle, and he tended to hold himself to a pretty high set of expectations when it came to staying in shape. It wasn’t so much that aspect of things that Pete found surprising about Morgan’s bike patrol aspirations. It was just that he’d known Morgan for quite some time, given that they were roughly the same age, and had both grown up on the Philadelphia Main Line, attended the same social gatherings, and generally traveled in parallel circles more or less. In fact, when Pete initially learned that Morgan was joining the force, fresh off the heels of graduating with her B.A. in Criminal Justice from Penn State, he’d actually processed the news as a good thing. Having said that, it didn’t take long to see that Morgan had her sights set on getting ahead in the department, and was not afraid to use her affirmative action friendly gender to her distinct advantage. It was that very notion of ‘getting ahead’ that seemed rather incongruous with Morgan’s apparent desire to join the bike patrol on assignment. Then again, he supposed it was possible that the assignment was not her idea…though he rather doubted that. After all, if there was one thing that Pete had gathered, with regards to his department and Officer Albright, it was that things very seldom failed to go exactly as Morgan had strategized.
The one constant that even Morgan couldn’t control was that Pete had almost three years seniority on her, given that he’d entered the academy after completing only a two-year Associate’s Degree program at County College. As such, the patrol would be Pete’s to command, and Morgan would technically speaking be his subordinate OIT (officer in training). He wasn’t sure what, if any, leverage that gave him, but he did for some reason take at least slight solace in the fact.
By the time Pete had been filled in, and finally made his way out back to the vehicle pool to unlock his patrol bike from the cage, Officer Albright was already killing time doing figure eights on her own bike. He had to admit, she looked every bit the part, with her department assigned bike patrol uniform and helmet firmly in place. The navy blue uniform shorts, matching short-sleeved button down shirt, and lightweight canvas tactical boots were adorning her nearly 5’10” frame, and despite his distrust in her motives Pete couldn’t deny that Morgan looked quite good in the uniform. The athletic cut of the bike-appropriate attire fit her every curve, and with the sleek helmet and her stylish Oakley sunglasses, she really fit the part of the quintessential bike patrol officer…at least to the naked eye. The bottom line was, she looked damned fine in the getup, and Pete fought the urge to ogle her up and down like a Neanderthal! Deep down he knew he’d always had a slight thing for her, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing that. Especially not now, if he was to be her commanding officer.
“Heya Petey”, quipped Morgan, apparently expecting to settle in to a casual rapport with her newly assigned superior, “ready to head out mister”?
“Morgan, or, rather, Patrol Officer Albright” replied Pete, determined to set the tone of command and respect early in their partnership, “please dismount your patrol bike, and ready it for a standard pre-ride inspection”!
“Sorry Pete, or, well, I guess Officer Avarese if that’s what you’d prefer” she offered, with suspicion arousing acquiescence, “I didn’t mean any disrespect sir”.
Pete was taken aback by her quick willingness to oblige, and almost felt foolish for having taken such a stern tact with her. He was definitely thrown by being referred to as a ‘sir’, especially since he was only a year or two older than Morgan to begin with. However, with nary a misstep, and the slightest notion of pride in the show of respect that had been offered, he pulled his favorite ride from the cage. The ‘cage’, as it was commonly referred to as, was basically a small storm shed out back of the police station in the rear parking lot of the building that housed the department’s half-dozen Trek commissioned patrol bicycles. It was adjacent to the standard vehicle pool that was full of the townships various Police issued patrol cars, SUV’s, and motorcycles. Malvern was a very well funded borough, and the department had often encountered flack for their seemingly extravagant spending habits (as they seldom let a vehicle remain in their fleet rotation that was older than two or three years). In a recession especially, tax-payers had a tendency to be more critical of a police departments spending, and as a fellow resident of the same town where he worked Pete could understand this outlook. In fact, that was a big part of the reason why he had agreed to head up the bike-patrol unit to begin with, since who could really penny pinch over the cost of a bike after all!
“I’m assuming you’ve been prepped on the standard vehicle safety procedures Officer Albright” commented Pete, not really expecting an affirmation.
“Well, not necessarily”, she replied.
With a hint of condescension, Pete readied an address to this show of ill preparedness, but was denied the chance to offer a lecture when she quickly added to her comment.
“I did, however, take it upon myself to download the safety overview pdf you created, from the bike patrols page on the website”. She was beaming with her own obvious show of pride that accompanied this remark.
Damn, he thought to himself, surprised twice in as many minutes. Perhaps she was set to take this assignment seriously after all. Still, rather than relax and let down his guard, Pete continued into a firm, yet mildly less condescending address of his own.
“Good, then you’ll be OK with leading this afternoon’s safety checklist review before we head out then” he offered, not as a question but instead as a set of expectations.
“It would be my pleasure, Commander Avarese, and I’m both honored and appreciative of the opportunity. Thank you for the offer”.
Less than twenty minutes later, the pair was peddling briskly down Lancaster Avenue heading west. The bike computer on his handlebar was jumping back and forth, between 18 and 19 mph, and Pete was feeling pretty good about the pace. He didn’t expect Morgan to have any problems keeping up with him, and she proved him correct as she drafted a mere three or four feet from his rear tire. The temperature was leveling off in the mid-eighties, as it was nearing five o’clock in the afternoon, but with only a show of mild perspiration the patrolling tandem continued down the town’s main through street and past the varying storefronts. They broke for a quick beverage refueling around six thirty, and were just mounting their patrol bikes when a call came in over the radio.
Grabbing the hand mic off of his shirt’s pocket, Pete pressed the transmitter button and enunciated into the receiver “This is street patrol Echo Foxtrot, over”!
“Echo patrol, we’ve got a disturbance call here at the station that just came in from an anonymous source”, offered the voice that emanated back through the walkie. “What’s your current location, over”?
“We’re just west of the intersection of Philips and Montgomery, base”, responded Pete without delay. “What’s the origin of the disturbance call, over”?
“It’s an address just off of Bryn Mawr Avenue, Echo. A one eight one seven Powelton Lane”.
“Copy that, base, we’re only a few blocks away from that location, over. Echo patrol is en route now, and we’ll report back when we’re onsite. Over and out”.
“I think that’s the abandoned Griffith & Son’s packaging warehouse”, offered Morgan, in an attempt to be helpful.
“It is”, Pete returned, “we get a silent alarm triggered from somewhere in that building at least once a month. I wish the Griffith’s would just disarm the building altogether. They’ve been out of that location for almost a year now”.
After pushing off, the duo made the short brisk ride to the warehouse building in less than five minutes, and pulled up out front to park their bikes against the front wall. Dismounting, Pete began an update transmission back to base.
“Base, this is Echo, we’re at the location now over”.
“Copy that Echo. Let us know if you find anything out of the ordinary”, the dispatcher replied back over walkie, “this if feeling like a false alarm call, but have a look and report back”.
“Agreed Base, and will do. We’ll make a survey and have a look around. Over and out”.
With that, the two officers secured their bikes for temporary safe stowing, and devised a quick game plan to cover the location’s perimeter first. Pete suggested that Morgan head around to the rear of the building, while he surveyed the front and side entrances.
“Radio in”, Pete instructed “but we’ll plan on meeting back out front here in ten”.
“Copy that, see ya in a few” offered Morgan, seemingly in agreement of the plan.
The officers parted ways to double their coverage of the premises in less time. Both were looking to make short work of what they were convinced would eventually prove to be another effort in futility where this property, and it's customary "disturbances", was concerned. Allowing Morgan to move around to the rear of the building, Pete reviewed the main front entrance to the premises. While surveying, he thought to himself about the last few times he’d responded to alarms at this location. Typically, they had been prompted by wind getting in between the front security roll down door, and the loosely closed real door that lied behind. In this instance, he noticed immediately that the steel security roll down door had already been rolled up into its housing, and that the front door was closed. A quick twist of the knob revealed the door to be unlocked, and Pete turned it fully and pushed the door open on its hinge before entering.
This, he realized, was the first time he’d actually needed to gain entry to the building. Or at least it was the first time he’d actually been able to do so with such little effort. The security door being up was mildly alarming, but nothing that caused outright concern. After all, it was only nearing seven, and the sun was still in the sky. Typically, he found it rare to conduct robberies or B&E attempts during daylight hours. Still, it did have him suspicious enough to unholster his weapon while reaching for his hand mic to radio Morgan. Upon attempting a transmission however, Pete was met with only strong static, finding himself unable to broadcast or receive any incoming vocal traffic. This was yet another peculiarity, but certainly nothing to offer significant alarm at this stage of the game. This was after all a dense brick and mortar building, with thick brick walls and concrete floors, so radio transmissions were bound to be less crisp. After several attempts to raise Officer Albright on walkie, he abandoned his efforts and instead decided to seek her out in the building to offer his instincts that something felt off to him. He began working his way into the building, towards the stairwell that would lead him up one flight to the level of the rear cargo docks of the warehouse. There was an incline along the side of the building, meaning that the ground was approximately a full story higher around the rear of the building than it was out front. As a result, in order to rendezvous with Morgan, who he’d sent around back, he’d have to head up the stairwell to the open storage warehouse at the rear of the building. Checking the handle on the door leading into the stairwell, he unsurprisingly found it open. As he entered, and began to make his ascent, he heard something that sounded like a loud crash on the next floor up. Picking up his pace a little, he began to bound the steps two at a time, but was met with pause as he found the exit door on the second floor locked upon attempt. Somewhat surprised, and more pissed than anything, he took quick mental note of his options. He could either keep heading up, as there were floors above the warehouse level, or he could retreat and head outside along the same path he’d sent Morgan. Opting instead to back track, he moved back down to the first floor landing to exit out front, but instead now found the first floor doorway, the one which he’d just entered through just moments ago, also locked. On top of that, and while trying to settle the growing irritation he was feeling at this string of misfortunes, Pete found himself feeling a tad lightheaded and woozy. Fatigue didn’t factor in as an option, since Pete was in good enough shape to tackle the full batch of 4 flights at least once or twice before he’d have suspected to feel winded. He was in at least that good of shape from his pedaling patrol alone, not even mentioning the minimum of 3-4 days per week he spent at the gym. So it was definitely not mere physical exhaustion that was contributing to his fatigue, but he was unsure as to what the cause was. Could have been something he ate not agreeing with him, he supposed, or maybe he hadn’t stayed on top of his fluids so far today. Either way, he was at a bit of a loss. It was in the midst of this dumbfoundedness, and about 5 or so minutes in to his violent pounding on the steel door in an attempt to summon Albright, that Officer Peter Avarese of the Malvern Police Dept found himself losing consciousness and blacking out cold.
SOME TIME LATER...
Groggy, with heavy cobwebs in his head and severely blurred vision greeting his initial attempts at sight, Pete regained his consciousness some time later. The same could not be said, unfortunately, for his bearings. Upon his initial attempts at appraising the situation, Pete found that he’d been suspended with his hands lashed over his head, a heavy rope binding his wrists together. He’d been pulled in to a standing position with his arms above his head but with his feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor beneath, and the rope had been secured to one of the steel i-beams about 15 feet in the air, where it looped over a make-shift pully of sorts. Judging by the look of the sky, as best he could make it out through the green glass skylights, it was nearly sundown. He’d been out for at least 20-30 minutes then. Upon further appraisal, he now realized that his safety bike helmet, his sunglasses, and his tactical belt and service weapon had been removed from his person. Other than that, everything felt like it was in place.
His second set of thoughts began to kick in, as a sense of responsibility took over on behalf of his partner and her current whereabouts. That mystery, however, came to a rather succinct conclusion as her exact whereabouts were quickly revealed. Upon hearing a slight cough, and feeling a bit of a tug on the rope pulling his wrists taut, his attention was drawn to his six o’clock position. Twisting on pointed toes in an effort to swivel around and gain a look at what was behind him, he realized that Morgan was actually secured in mirror fashion, and hanging only a body’s length or so away from where he was dangling himself. In fact, he now realized that she was actually secured with the other end of the same rope that secured him. It looped up and over the pulley, and ran along the i-beam for about six feet, before looping back down an identical pulley and ending at none other than his equally trussed partner. She was moments behind him, apparently, as she was just now beginning to regain consciousness. He noticed the look on her face as she began to account for their current predicament in the same manner as he had only moments ago.
In equally reflective fashion, her helmet, sunglasses, and utilty belt had also been removed. Her long curly locks of blond hair were hanging in random strands, some covering her face. In an effort to better survey her surroundings, she lashed her head and blew upwards, in the direction of her forehead, to clear her line of sight and attempt to wrangle her renegade strands of hair. She finally managed to clear most of the loose locks from her face, just about the same time that her eyes locked focus on Pete’s.
“Wha…what…what the”, she offered, in dazed and shock induced stuttering. “What the hell happened? Where are we”?
“At first glance, I’m pretty sure we’re still in the Griffith building. As far as why we’re still here, and more to the point, why the hell we’re trussed up like a pair of cattle, well that I’m going to need you help figuring out”, he replied, hoping their combined focus would begin to put their seemingly dire predicament into a better light.
“Well, judging by the sky, and unless we’ve been out overnight or for an entire day, I’d say it’s only been about a half hour to an hour tops. Based on that sun splash overhead, it looks to be roughly dusk, which would put the time of day at around 19:00 or so. We responded to this call at around 18:30, so I feel like we’ve been out less than an hour for sure”.
Pete was happy to hear her using sound logic, as getting their minds working in that direction was bound to be more productive. Plus, he was happy to have the reassurance from a second set of trained eyes; not to mention mildly relieved, given that her deductions were firmly in line with those he’d come to on his own.
“Agreed, Albright, good observations all around. How do you feel”?
“A little light-headed, but other than that pretty good. What’s the last thing you remember”?
“I was in the stairwell, heading up to the second floor, when the 1st floor door locked behind me”, he replied, “and I was in between the two floors when I started feeling woozy. It hit me all at once, and then I blacked out. From there, all I remember is waking up tied here with you a few minutes ago”.
“Yeah, for some reason I think I was hit on the head from behind”, she recounted, comparing scenarios “since my passing out seemed to come out of nowhere, and I can still feel a sore spot on my head. I had just taken off my helmet when it happened”.
“Yeah, bad timing I guess” he stated in response. Then, only half jokingly he added, “maybe you should have kept your crash helmet on”.
“You know, this is going to sound weird, but something has me feeling like this whole thing was much more than a random false alarm”, she revealed to her partner, “and that we just stumbled in to the middle of the whole thing at the wrong time”.
“Yeah, to be honest I’ve been thinking that same thing since a few minutes after I got inside”, he agreed. “In fact I tried raising you on walkie, but all I was getting was static”.
Suddenly, out of nowhere and originating somewhere across the warehouse, a loud hand clapping starting slow and building in tempo, began to emanate across the near vacant floor. The two captive officers swiveled in time to see a figure making their way towards them, walking slowly while they clapped their hands, boot heels echoing across the vast expanse of the nearly empty room.
“Well, well, bravo ladies and gentlemen” the figure seemed to taunt as approaching, “what swell detective work I must say. Well done”.
Resisting the urge to respond, Pete just watched intently as the figure moved towards them and eventually into the good enough light close by. Once they were close enough, Pete did a double take, realizing suddenly that he actually knew this person. It was Heather Griffith, the oldest daughter of the Griffith family; the buildings owners. She was sporting her usual hip and edgy yet chic prep attire, filling out nicely her designer jeans, graphic printed t-shirt under a fashionable hoodie, and a pair of well-worn brown leather Frye boots.
“Nicely done officers Avarese & Albright, nicely done” she continued taunting as she approached, “quite a solid bit of deductive reasoning. Maybe you two really are on the fast track to Ardmore PD stardom like the town's rumor mill seems to think”. The last remark came off as a snide comment, and was matched with a slight chuckle from Heather as she offered it.
Pete was still trying to make heads or tails of the situation, since again both he and Morgan had grown up and gone to school with Heather as well. The Griffith’s were a pretty prominent bunch in their little suburban corner of the world, so even if Pete hadn’t known Heather as well as he had, the instant recognition would very likely still be his reaction to her sudden appearance out of nowhere. After all, most folks in and around the quaint suburban town of Ardmore were quite familiar with the Griffith family.
“Heather, what the hell are you doing here” asked Morgan, still a bit delayed in putting together what Pete was suddenly realizing at that same moment, “and why the heck are you dragging your feet instead of getting us untied”?
“Morgan, I think Heather here is the one we interrupted when we responded to this call”.
“Well, bravo once again Mr Smartypants, and check out the big brain on Petey”!
“What, I mean why the heck would she be sneaking around her own family’s warehouse like some sort of criminal” Morgan postured, still not entirely sure she was buying the scenario as it was playing out, “I mean even she must have something better to do on a Thursday night”?
“Care to take a guess at that answer too, Officer Einstein” Heather taunted Pete.
“Well, if I were to wager a guess, I’d go with insurance fraud in the form of arson. Based on those fumes that put me under in the stairwell, I’m guessing that you were here to send this place straight into a five-alarm payday for your family. Especially considering that this buildings been vacant for months, and has got to be a drag on the ol’ Griffith Family overhead”!
Impressed yet again by Pete’s skills at reasoning and deduction, Heather complimented his hypothesis while engaging in another, albeit more subdued, mock clapping. “Impressive, Officer Avarese. Though I’d have to admit, it was more for selfish reasons that I’ll spare you the boring details of, and far less for selfless family patriarchal ones. That much I can promise you. After the insurance check that this building would deliver for daddy, even he would be hard pressed to deny me what should be my fair share of this little family ‘EMPIRE’” she offered, with a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
“OK, so wait, you were up to no good when we happened upon the scene. Now let’s fast-forward to the part where you have Pete and I trussed up like a couple of stuffed pigs…uhhh, no pun intended” interjected Morgan, hoping to prompt an explanation concerning what Heather had in store for them.
“Well, you see Addie, my lovely partner in crime, and I were just about to strike a match to the kindling when the two of you showed up” explained Heather, “and I’m not about to go adding manslaughter to my wrap sheet. So, after Officer Petey fortuitously stumbled into the stairwell, and passed out on fumes, we knocked you out when your back was turned. You made matters a little easier when you pulled you bike helmet off and let down those goldilock curls of yours. Once we had the two of you out cold, we tied you up so that we could buy ourselves some time to figure a way out of all of this where no one got hurt”.
“And, the solution that you came up with was” asked Pete, realizing he had a lot riding on the answer.
“Well, let’s just say that we figured on buying your silence and cooperation with a little game of video blackmail, in the form of humiliation” replied Heather, tingling just at the thought of what she and Addie had planned for the two trussed police officers, “and in fact Addie is off getting the video camera and tripod now”!
Pete gulped back a growing feeling of dread that had been building in him for the past ten minutes, and after stealing a quick glance at Morgan he could see the same look of apprehension creasing her brow as well. What the hell did these two vixens have in store for them, and who the heck was this Addie chick anyway?
“Ya know Pete, I’ve always kind of had a little thing for you” admitted Heather, while making her way closer to him, “and in high school I harbored this silly sort of school girl crush for years. Even since then, watching you sporting around town in that sexy bike cop uniform of yours, I still get a little worked up. I mean there’s no sense in hiding it now, right, given that the cards are stacked firmly in my favor at the moment”.
She stopped just a step or two in front of him, and started bending down while she continued her diatribe.
“I know that you and I were pretty OK friends growing up, but we did sort of go our separate ways once we got into high school. And I don’t know if I ever confided this in you, or too many people at all for that matter, but I’ve always had this overwhelming fascination with feet”!
This last revelation came just as she began reaching out towards Petes boot laces, and grabbing the loops begun tugging in an effort to untie them. Pete, acting on reflex, pulled on the ropes overhead in an effort to pull his feet up and out of the way of her reach. As he did this, and forgetting momentarily where the other end of the rope was tied off to, he also pulled Morgan’s bindings and caused her to be jerked up into the air almost a full foot.
“Ouch, shit Pete, take it easy over there would ya” barked Morgan as she fought to steady her feet back on the floor again.
“That’s easy for you to say, since you’re not the one being accosted by a raging and recently admitted foot fetishist whose trying to steal your shoes” replied Pete, still trying to worm his boots away from Heather’s grasping fingers.
“Now let’s just relax, Pete” came Heather’s response, “since we can do this one of two ways. The easy way is you let me have my fun. The hard way is you act like a silly boy, and I end up chloroforming your ass and having my way with you anyhow. Gotta tell ya though, things will go a whole lot easier on you if you stay conscious. But hey, it’s your choice”.
Pete, realizing that his situation was pretty sucky no matter how he sliced it, temporarily acquiesced to her prying hands, and settled his feet back on the floor.
“There, now that’s more like it” offered Heather, while continuing to slowly and methodically unlace Pete’s right canvas tactical boot.
Making short work of the nylon laces, Heather reached around the back of the boot to Pete’s heel, and began tugging the boot downward off of his socked foot. With a loud “POP”, Pete’s slightly sweaty socked foot relinquished the lightweight footwear. Drawing the boot instinctively towards her nose, Heather drew in a mild breath and took in the arousing aroma of Pete’s mild foot perspiration.
“So, how do they smell goofball” came the new voice, from somewhere just out of sight and in the same direction from which Heather had entered the room.
“Just divine, if not a tad smelly” came Heather’s quick reply, “I guess all of those miles on bike patrol have a way of working up some pretty sweaty feet. Welcome back, Addie, I trust you were able to secure the equipment we talked about”?
“I was indeed” offered Addie, as she made her way over to the impromptu foot party with a small camera bag slung over her shoulder, “I was able to get my hands on all of it quite easily, in fact”.
“Good, why don’t you get everything set up over there, from a nice vantage point, while I continue living out a few minutes of my school girl fantasy, and finally get a peak at Peter Avareses’ bare naked tootsies” cooed Heather, while unlacing Pete’s second boot.
“Sure thing girlfriend, you just go on and have your little foot fun” remarked Addie, “that’s pretty much what this night is all about now anyway. Both of these officers are going to be very sorry they stumbled into the middle of our little plans. And they’re both going to get to know us, and each other, quite a bit better before the night is through”!
While Addie chuckled over these thoughts, Heather returned her focus to Pete’s feet, and tossed his boots off to the side after quickly glancing at the insole to see the size. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of the elastic tops of his right black athletic sock, and began slowly peeling it down his ankle, under his heel, and rolling it down the sole of his foot and over the ball of his foot, before tugging it off over his hairy, masculine toes. Looking down, she felt a sexual stirring as she glanced at his sweaty, sock marked size 11’s. She lightly caressed her fingers over the deep indents that his shoes and socks had left behind on his feet. Heather just loved sock marks on feet, since it always meant that the feet in question had only recently been rescued from the stuffy confines of a pair of sweaty shoes and socks. Pete’s feet certainly did not disappoint, and she savored the moment that had been so long coming as she plucked some sock lint from between his big toe and his second toe. Pulling on the hairs on his big toe, she bent down a bit further, bringing her nose to right over top of his long toes before taking a quick wiff.
“Whew, Petey, your poor piggies have been cooped up in those stuffy boots and socks for far too long, my dear, and they’re just a slight bit stinky” Heather quipped, enjoying the moment while trying to get a slight rise out of her captive, “but not to worry, since they’ll have plenty of time to air out now”!
With that, she reached out and made equally short work of his left sock, leaving him standing there completely barefoot, and feeling more than a little self conscious about the thought of having his feet scrutinized by a room full of sadistic women. He tried to hide his feet, curling the toes of his left foot over the top of his right foot, and vice versa.
“Now now Pete, don’t be shy” reassured Heather, “those sexy man feet of yours are certainly nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. You’ve got some damned fine feet there, fella, so no sense trying to go and hide them”.
Seemingly wanting to drive the point home, Heather reached down and pulled his left foot off the floor and up towards here face. Grabbing firmly on each side of his foot, Heather stuck out her tongue and began to lick the underside of Pete’s toes one by one. She worked her tongue and lips over and around each toe, almost as if to make quick oral love to each of his five digits. This caused Pete to once again pull on his bindings, and in tandem once again sent Morgan thrashing slightly about on the other end of the rope that bound Pete’s wrists over his head.
“Hey, Heather, knock it off already…that freakin’ tickles like crazy!!” screamed Pete, while trying to gain any sense of his composure.
“Well that’s the idea, silly.” replied Heather, “How else do you think we’re going to reduce the two of you to the humiliating state of modesty. Why, we’re going to tickle torture you both of course!”
“What!! The hell you are you crazy psycho bitches!” screeched Morgan, as the full realization of their doomed plight finally started to drive itself home. “Untie us both right now, give Pete back his shoes and socks, and let us go. Otherwise the two of you are totally screwed. Who the heck do you think you’re dealing with here?”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Officer Albright” came Addie’s reply from her position about 10 feet away. “We’re perfectly well aware of who we’re ‘dealing with’. That’s why we’re capturing it all for posterity sake, and for safekeeping. It will be our little leverage and insurance policy to make sure the events of tonight never make it past the four people in this room. We want both of you to forget this night ever happened. Well, at least the parts that involve incriminating us anyways. The rest of it I’m sure will be branded into your psyche forever, at least if Heather and I do our jobs right!”
Heather was less interested in the conversation, and instead continued her unrelenting tickle assault on Pete’s bare-naked feet. She alternated between using her scratchy tongue to assault his ped’s, and changed it up every once in a while by dragging her long fingernails over Pete’s wrinkled white soles. Each of the two tactics elicited new bouts of agony for Pete, who had never in his life had his feet touched by anyone! Seeming to derive her motivation from Pete’s tortured reactions, Heather began to alternate between tickling the soles and sucking the toes of Pete’s left foot with delivering the identical treatment to his bare right foot as well.
“Oh my goodness, Pete, your feet are absolutely DELICIOUS!!” cooed Heather, as she began to work herself into a heighted sense of sexual frenzy of her own.
“OK, enough with the foot talk, Heather” came the remark from Addie, “after all not all of us are as into feet as you are for crying out loud!”
“You know, I think that more people are into feet than let on” replied Heather, quick to defend her fetish, “in fact, I’ll bet people that didn’t even think they had a foot fetish would be at least mildly turned on at the sight of a sexy pair of feet”.
“Well, why don’t we put that theory to the test, then?” offered Addie.
“What did you have in mind?” Heather questioned.
“Oh, I don’t know” remarked Addie, already setting her devious mind to work, “why don’t we test things out on Mr Petey feety over there. If he’s an average guy, without a professed penchant for the lower extremities, as I think we can surmise is the case here, then why don’t we reveal some feet for him and watch for his, uhhh….reaction?”
“Wow, what a fantastic idea” Heather all but panted, “lemme go first!”
“Have at it girlfriend, he’s all yours” extended Addie graciously, “this is your silly school girl fantasy after all!”
With that, Heather dropped Pete’s writhing sweaty bare foot from her grasp, and instead made her way with trembling hands towards his belt buckle. Unclasping the buckle in nanoseconds, she tugged his leather belt from the loops while popping the button on his trousers.
“Heather, what the fuck are you doing” Pete said in voiced resistance, “this has gone far enough. You’ve had your fun, now let that be enough!”
“Oh, my dear naïve Pete” came Heather’s chuckle laced retort, “this hasn’t gone ANYWHERE yet! But rest assured, it’s starting to head somewhere fun now!”
Pete, in equal frustration and embarrassment, glanced towards Morgan in an effort to offer a gestured apology, but couldnt help noticing the look of slightly peaked curiosity that had come over her. In fact, she made little effort to conceal the fact that she was glancing back and forth between his dancing bare feet, and the waistband of his shorts that Heather had a taken a firm grasp on.
“We’re just going to go ahead and take these off ya, Petey” explained Heather, as she tugged his shorts down his hairy legs before peeling them completely off from under his naked feet.
Pete felt utterly mortified now, standing there barefoot in his grey boxer briefs and uniform shirt, with the shirttails now hanging freely just above the elastic waistband of his underwear.
“And we’re gonna need to give your fella a little breathing room of his own” quipped Heather, as she undid the button on the front fly of his boxers, “since something tells me he’s gonna be ‘up’ for a little surprise in a minute!”
Once she was satisfied that the newly elected test subject was ready for their little experiment, she sat down on the floor in front of Pete and began rolling the cuffs of her jeans up and over the tops of her long leather boots. After crisply cuffing the jeans, she began to unzip her left boot before grabbing it by the top and tugging it down over her wool sock clad left foot. She continued this action with her right foot, and was soon foot stripping her boots to the accompaniment of Addie’s whistling and cat calling before she began humming Cocker’s “Leave Your Hat On”.
“You like that Petey” questioned Addie, making sure to lock eyes with him while she said it, “you a fan of Cocker?” She emphasized the ‘cock’ when offering the question, just for good measure.
“Don’t distract him Addie” whined Heather, “you’ll contaminate the experiment if you shift his focus!”
Convinced once again that she was the center of everyone’s attention, she began slowly peeling her thick wool hiking sock off of the milky white heel of her left foot, before sliding them down her wrinkled soles and plucking them off of her candy apple red pedicured toes. Once de-socked, she flexed and curled the toes of her left foot reflexively, wiggling them back and forth in front of Pete’s boxer clad midsection.
“Mmmmm, it does feel good to air out the ol’ tootsies, doesn’t it Pete” taunted Heather, all the while focusing her eyes on the slight outline of his flaccid cock, "and it looks like I'm sporting some pretty damn sexy sock marks of my own!"
Pete tried to keep his face from turning as red as the polish on Heather’s toes, but judging by the heat he felt rushing to his cheeks he was guessing he was doing a pretty bad job of hiding his humiliation and embarrassment. Glancing at Morgan, he caught her staring as well before glaring up and back at him in an apologetic yet somehow flirtatious gesture. And to make matters worse, he could feel the ever-so-slight stirring starting to circulate in his cock. It seemed that his cheeks weren’t the only place that the blood was rushing!
Meanwhile, Heather was relieving her right foot of it’s confining wool cocoon, and was soon flexing and wiggling all ten of her naked toes in his direction. She began rubbing her sweaty feet back and forth over one another, as if trying to start a fire between them, then shifted to playing footsies with Pete’s own slightly damp bare feet. She began sliding her toes over the tops of his feet, before playfully using her own long toes to pinch and pull at the hair on Pete’s toes and on the tops of his feet.
“Well, it looks like Petey feety is only at about a DefCon 2, Heather” remarked Addie in snide fashion, “so maybe he’s really not a foot guy after all!”
“Hmmm, I wonder” answered Heather, as she flipped onto her knees, "maybe it's just a matter of exactly whose feet are stripped for him!" With that, she began crawling towards the canvas tactical boot clad feet of one Officer Morgan Albright, of the Malvern Police Department!
TO BE CONTINUED...
For Officer Peter Avarese, of the Malvern, Pennsylvania Police Dept, this most recent Thursday in September started off like any other day. He’d been assigned, for the past three months, to the mountain bike patrol unit of MPD, and had really taken to the notion of being able to get his exercise in while on duty every day. He hadn’t, however, been assigned a permanent partner yet, since each of his two previous partners had been bumped to other assignments or other shifts. It was with this mindset that he entered the station locker room that day, fully prepared to head out on pedal patrol in singular fashion as he’d done for the past week and a half. It turns out that his shift captain had other ideas on the matter, however.
Upon reporting on site, changing quickly into his customary shorts-appropriate patrol attire, and notating his start time in the shift rotation log, he learned that he would in fact be taking out yet another new partner on patrol with him that afternoon. This revelation was less than surprising, as again he’d become somewhat accustomed to this partner juggling over the recent summer months. Ted Wittier had been assigned to him for three weeks, before succumbing to the strenuous summer heat and asking for reassignment. And George Carver had gone more the opposite direction, taking so well to the mountain bike patrol that they’d transferred him to his own weekly shift that was the polar opposite time than Pete’s shift. The surprising aspect of the detail came upon his discovering who they’d hooked him up with…none other than the precincts resident female officer Morgan Albright!
Morgan, even to the most casual of observers, could easily be identified as fit; and that was putting it mildly. Pete guessed she’d likely even give him a run for his money in a straight up physical fitness battle, and he tended to hold himself to a pretty high set of expectations when it came to staying in shape. It wasn’t so much that aspect of things that Pete found surprising about Morgan’s bike patrol aspirations. It was just that he’d known Morgan for quite some time, given that they were roughly the same age, and had both grown up on the Philadelphia Main Line, attended the same social gatherings, and generally traveled in parallel circles more or less. In fact, when Pete initially learned that Morgan was joining the force, fresh off the heels of graduating with her B.A. in Criminal Justice from Penn State, he’d actually processed the news as a good thing. Having said that, it didn’t take long to see that Morgan had her sights set on getting ahead in the department, and was not afraid to use her affirmative action friendly gender to her distinct advantage. It was that very notion of ‘getting ahead’ that seemed rather incongruous with Morgan’s apparent desire to join the bike patrol on assignment. Then again, he supposed it was possible that the assignment was not her idea…though he rather doubted that. After all, if there was one thing that Pete had gathered, with regards to his department and Officer Albright, it was that things very seldom failed to go exactly as Morgan had strategized.
The one constant that even Morgan couldn’t control was that Pete had almost three years seniority on her, given that he’d entered the academy after completing only a two-year Associate’s Degree program at County College. As such, the patrol would be Pete’s to command, and Morgan would technically speaking be his subordinate OIT (officer in training). He wasn’t sure what, if any, leverage that gave him, but he did for some reason take at least slight solace in the fact.
By the time Pete had been filled in, and finally made his way out back to the vehicle pool to unlock his patrol bike from the cage, Officer Albright was already killing time doing figure eights on her own bike. He had to admit, she looked every bit the part, with her department assigned bike patrol uniform and helmet firmly in place. The navy blue uniform shorts, matching short-sleeved button down shirt, and lightweight canvas tactical boots were adorning her nearly 5’10” frame, and despite his distrust in her motives Pete couldn’t deny that Morgan looked quite good in the uniform. The athletic cut of the bike-appropriate attire fit her every curve, and with the sleek helmet and her stylish Oakley sunglasses, she really fit the part of the quintessential bike patrol officer…at least to the naked eye. The bottom line was, she looked damned fine in the getup, and Pete fought the urge to ogle her up and down like a Neanderthal! Deep down he knew he’d always had a slight thing for her, but he’d never give her the satisfaction of knowing that. Especially not now, if he was to be her commanding officer.
“Heya Petey”, quipped Morgan, apparently expecting to settle in to a casual rapport with her newly assigned superior, “ready to head out mister”?
“Morgan, or, rather, Patrol Officer Albright” replied Pete, determined to set the tone of command and respect early in their partnership, “please dismount your patrol bike, and ready it for a standard pre-ride inspection”!
“Sorry Pete, or, well, I guess Officer Avarese if that’s what you’d prefer” she offered, with suspicion arousing acquiescence, “I didn’t mean any disrespect sir”.
Pete was taken aback by her quick willingness to oblige, and almost felt foolish for having taken such a stern tact with her. He was definitely thrown by being referred to as a ‘sir’, especially since he was only a year or two older than Morgan to begin with. However, with nary a misstep, and the slightest notion of pride in the show of respect that had been offered, he pulled his favorite ride from the cage. The ‘cage’, as it was commonly referred to as, was basically a small storm shed out back of the police station in the rear parking lot of the building that housed the department’s half-dozen Trek commissioned patrol bicycles. It was adjacent to the standard vehicle pool that was full of the townships various Police issued patrol cars, SUV’s, and motorcycles. Malvern was a very well funded borough, and the department had often encountered flack for their seemingly extravagant spending habits (as they seldom let a vehicle remain in their fleet rotation that was older than two or three years). In a recession especially, tax-payers had a tendency to be more critical of a police departments spending, and as a fellow resident of the same town where he worked Pete could understand this outlook. In fact, that was a big part of the reason why he had agreed to head up the bike-patrol unit to begin with, since who could really penny pinch over the cost of a bike after all!
“I’m assuming you’ve been prepped on the standard vehicle safety procedures Officer Albright” commented Pete, not really expecting an affirmation.
“Well, not necessarily”, she replied.
With a hint of condescension, Pete readied an address to this show of ill preparedness, but was denied the chance to offer a lecture when she quickly added to her comment.
“I did, however, take it upon myself to download the safety overview pdf you created, from the bike patrols page on the website”. She was beaming with her own obvious show of pride that accompanied this remark.
Damn, he thought to himself, surprised twice in as many minutes. Perhaps she was set to take this assignment seriously after all. Still, rather than relax and let down his guard, Pete continued into a firm, yet mildly less condescending address of his own.
“Good, then you’ll be OK with leading this afternoon’s safety checklist review before we head out then” he offered, not as a question but instead as a set of expectations.
“It would be my pleasure, Commander Avarese, and I’m both honored and appreciative of the opportunity. Thank you for the offer”.
Less than twenty minutes later, the pair was peddling briskly down Lancaster Avenue heading west. The bike computer on his handlebar was jumping back and forth, between 18 and 19 mph, and Pete was feeling pretty good about the pace. He didn’t expect Morgan to have any problems keeping up with him, and she proved him correct as she drafted a mere three or four feet from his rear tire. The temperature was leveling off in the mid-eighties, as it was nearing five o’clock in the afternoon, but with only a show of mild perspiration the patrolling tandem continued down the town’s main through street and past the varying storefronts. They broke for a quick beverage refueling around six thirty, and were just mounting their patrol bikes when a call came in over the radio.
Grabbing the hand mic off of his shirt’s pocket, Pete pressed the transmitter button and enunciated into the receiver “This is street patrol Echo Foxtrot, over”!
“Echo patrol, we’ve got a disturbance call here at the station that just came in from an anonymous source”, offered the voice that emanated back through the walkie. “What’s your current location, over”?
“We’re just west of the intersection of Philips and Montgomery, base”, responded Pete without delay. “What’s the origin of the disturbance call, over”?
“It’s an address just off of Bryn Mawr Avenue, Echo. A one eight one seven Powelton Lane”.
“Copy that, base, we’re only a few blocks away from that location, over. Echo patrol is en route now, and we’ll report back when we’re onsite. Over and out”.
“I think that’s the abandoned Griffith & Son’s packaging warehouse”, offered Morgan, in an attempt to be helpful.
“It is”, Pete returned, “we get a silent alarm triggered from somewhere in that building at least once a month. I wish the Griffith’s would just disarm the building altogether. They’ve been out of that location for almost a year now”.
After pushing off, the duo made the short brisk ride to the warehouse building in less than five minutes, and pulled up out front to park their bikes against the front wall. Dismounting, Pete began an update transmission back to base.
“Base, this is Echo, we’re at the location now over”.
“Copy that Echo. Let us know if you find anything out of the ordinary”, the dispatcher replied back over walkie, “this if feeling like a false alarm call, but have a look and report back”.
“Agreed Base, and will do. We’ll make a survey and have a look around. Over and out”.
With that, the two officers secured their bikes for temporary safe stowing, and devised a quick game plan to cover the location’s perimeter first. Pete suggested that Morgan head around to the rear of the building, while he surveyed the front and side entrances.
“Radio in”, Pete instructed “but we’ll plan on meeting back out front here in ten”.
“Copy that, see ya in a few” offered Morgan, seemingly in agreement of the plan.
The officers parted ways to double their coverage of the premises in less time. Both were looking to make short work of what they were convinced would eventually prove to be another effort in futility where this property, and it's customary "disturbances", was concerned. Allowing Morgan to move around to the rear of the building, Pete reviewed the main front entrance to the premises. While surveying, he thought to himself about the last few times he’d responded to alarms at this location. Typically, they had been prompted by wind getting in between the front security roll down door, and the loosely closed real door that lied behind. In this instance, he noticed immediately that the steel security roll down door had already been rolled up into its housing, and that the front door was closed. A quick twist of the knob revealed the door to be unlocked, and Pete turned it fully and pushed the door open on its hinge before entering.
This, he realized, was the first time he’d actually needed to gain entry to the building. Or at least it was the first time he’d actually been able to do so with such little effort. The security door being up was mildly alarming, but nothing that caused outright concern. After all, it was only nearing seven, and the sun was still in the sky. Typically, he found it rare to conduct robberies or B&E attempts during daylight hours. Still, it did have him suspicious enough to unholster his weapon while reaching for his hand mic to radio Morgan. Upon attempting a transmission however, Pete was met with only strong static, finding himself unable to broadcast or receive any incoming vocal traffic. This was yet another peculiarity, but certainly nothing to offer significant alarm at this stage of the game. This was after all a dense brick and mortar building, with thick brick walls and concrete floors, so radio transmissions were bound to be less crisp. After several attempts to raise Officer Albright on walkie, he abandoned his efforts and instead decided to seek her out in the building to offer his instincts that something felt off to him. He began working his way into the building, towards the stairwell that would lead him up one flight to the level of the rear cargo docks of the warehouse. There was an incline along the side of the building, meaning that the ground was approximately a full story higher around the rear of the building than it was out front. As a result, in order to rendezvous with Morgan, who he’d sent around back, he’d have to head up the stairwell to the open storage warehouse at the rear of the building. Checking the handle on the door leading into the stairwell, he unsurprisingly found it open. As he entered, and began to make his ascent, he heard something that sounded like a loud crash on the next floor up. Picking up his pace a little, he began to bound the steps two at a time, but was met with pause as he found the exit door on the second floor locked upon attempt. Somewhat surprised, and more pissed than anything, he took quick mental note of his options. He could either keep heading up, as there were floors above the warehouse level, or he could retreat and head outside along the same path he’d sent Morgan. Opting instead to back track, he moved back down to the first floor landing to exit out front, but instead now found the first floor doorway, the one which he’d just entered through just moments ago, also locked. On top of that, and while trying to settle the growing irritation he was feeling at this string of misfortunes, Pete found himself feeling a tad lightheaded and woozy. Fatigue didn’t factor in as an option, since Pete was in good enough shape to tackle the full batch of 4 flights at least once or twice before he’d have suspected to feel winded. He was in at least that good of shape from his pedaling patrol alone, not even mentioning the minimum of 3-4 days per week he spent at the gym. So it was definitely not mere physical exhaustion that was contributing to his fatigue, but he was unsure as to what the cause was. Could have been something he ate not agreeing with him, he supposed, or maybe he hadn’t stayed on top of his fluids so far today. Either way, he was at a bit of a loss. It was in the midst of this dumbfoundedness, and about 5 or so minutes in to his violent pounding on the steel door in an attempt to summon Albright, that Officer Peter Avarese of the Malvern Police Dept found himself losing consciousness and blacking out cold.
SOME TIME LATER...
Groggy, with heavy cobwebs in his head and severely blurred vision greeting his initial attempts at sight, Pete regained his consciousness some time later. The same could not be said, unfortunately, for his bearings. Upon his initial attempts at appraising the situation, Pete found that he’d been suspended with his hands lashed over his head, a heavy rope binding his wrists together. He’d been pulled in to a standing position with his arms above his head but with his feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor beneath, and the rope had been secured to one of the steel i-beams about 15 feet in the air, where it looped over a make-shift pully of sorts. Judging by the look of the sky, as best he could make it out through the green glass skylights, it was nearly sundown. He’d been out for at least 20-30 minutes then. Upon further appraisal, he now realized that his safety bike helmet, his sunglasses, and his tactical belt and service weapon had been removed from his person. Other than that, everything felt like it was in place.
His second set of thoughts began to kick in, as a sense of responsibility took over on behalf of his partner and her current whereabouts. That mystery, however, came to a rather succinct conclusion as her exact whereabouts were quickly revealed. Upon hearing a slight cough, and feeling a bit of a tug on the rope pulling his wrists taut, his attention was drawn to his six o’clock position. Twisting on pointed toes in an effort to swivel around and gain a look at what was behind him, he realized that Morgan was actually secured in mirror fashion, and hanging only a body’s length or so away from where he was dangling himself. In fact, he now realized that she was actually secured with the other end of the same rope that secured him. It looped up and over the pulley, and ran along the i-beam for about six feet, before looping back down an identical pulley and ending at none other than his equally trussed partner. She was moments behind him, apparently, as she was just now beginning to regain consciousness. He noticed the look on her face as she began to account for their current predicament in the same manner as he had only moments ago.
In equally reflective fashion, her helmet, sunglasses, and utilty belt had also been removed. Her long curly locks of blond hair were hanging in random strands, some covering her face. In an effort to better survey her surroundings, she lashed her head and blew upwards, in the direction of her forehead, to clear her line of sight and attempt to wrangle her renegade strands of hair. She finally managed to clear most of the loose locks from her face, just about the same time that her eyes locked focus on Pete’s.
“Wha…what…what the”, she offered, in dazed and shock induced stuttering. “What the hell happened? Where are we”?
“At first glance, I’m pretty sure we’re still in the Griffith building. As far as why we’re still here, and more to the point, why the hell we’re trussed up like a pair of cattle, well that I’m going to need you help figuring out”, he replied, hoping their combined focus would begin to put their seemingly dire predicament into a better light.
“Well, judging by the sky, and unless we’ve been out overnight or for an entire day, I’d say it’s only been about a half hour to an hour tops. Based on that sun splash overhead, it looks to be roughly dusk, which would put the time of day at around 19:00 or so. We responded to this call at around 18:30, so I feel like we’ve been out less than an hour for sure”.
Pete was happy to hear her using sound logic, as getting their minds working in that direction was bound to be more productive. Plus, he was happy to have the reassurance from a second set of trained eyes; not to mention mildly relieved, given that her deductions were firmly in line with those he’d come to on his own.
“Agreed, Albright, good observations all around. How do you feel”?
“A little light-headed, but other than that pretty good. What’s the last thing you remember”?
“I was in the stairwell, heading up to the second floor, when the 1st floor door locked behind me”, he replied, “and I was in between the two floors when I started feeling woozy. It hit me all at once, and then I blacked out. From there, all I remember is waking up tied here with you a few minutes ago”.
“Yeah, for some reason I think I was hit on the head from behind”, she recounted, comparing scenarios “since my passing out seemed to come out of nowhere, and I can still feel a sore spot on my head. I had just taken off my helmet when it happened”.
“Yeah, bad timing I guess” he stated in response. Then, only half jokingly he added, “maybe you should have kept your crash helmet on”.
“You know, this is going to sound weird, but something has me feeling like this whole thing was much more than a random false alarm”, she revealed to her partner, “and that we just stumbled in to the middle of the whole thing at the wrong time”.
“Yeah, to be honest I’ve been thinking that same thing since a few minutes after I got inside”, he agreed. “In fact I tried raising you on walkie, but all I was getting was static”.
Suddenly, out of nowhere and originating somewhere across the warehouse, a loud hand clapping starting slow and building in tempo, began to emanate across the near vacant floor. The two captive officers swiveled in time to see a figure making their way towards them, walking slowly while they clapped their hands, boot heels echoing across the vast expanse of the nearly empty room.
“Well, well, bravo ladies and gentlemen” the figure seemed to taunt as approaching, “what swell detective work I must say. Well done”.
Resisting the urge to respond, Pete just watched intently as the figure moved towards them and eventually into the good enough light close by. Once they were close enough, Pete did a double take, realizing suddenly that he actually knew this person. It was Heather Griffith, the oldest daughter of the Griffith family; the buildings owners. She was sporting her usual hip and edgy yet chic prep attire, filling out nicely her designer jeans, graphic printed t-shirt under a fashionable hoodie, and a pair of well-worn brown leather Frye boots.
“Nicely done officers Avarese & Albright, nicely done” she continued taunting as she approached, “quite a solid bit of deductive reasoning. Maybe you two really are on the fast track to Ardmore PD stardom like the town's rumor mill seems to think”. The last remark came off as a snide comment, and was matched with a slight chuckle from Heather as she offered it.
Pete was still trying to make heads or tails of the situation, since again both he and Morgan had grown up and gone to school with Heather as well. The Griffith’s were a pretty prominent bunch in their little suburban corner of the world, so even if Pete hadn’t known Heather as well as he had, the instant recognition would very likely still be his reaction to her sudden appearance out of nowhere. After all, most folks in and around the quaint suburban town of Ardmore were quite familiar with the Griffith family.
“Heather, what the hell are you doing here” asked Morgan, still a bit delayed in putting together what Pete was suddenly realizing at that same moment, “and why the heck are you dragging your feet instead of getting us untied”?
“Morgan, I think Heather here is the one we interrupted when we responded to this call”.
“Well, bravo once again Mr Smartypants, and check out the big brain on Petey”!
“What, I mean why the heck would she be sneaking around her own family’s warehouse like some sort of criminal” Morgan postured, still not entirely sure she was buying the scenario as it was playing out, “I mean even she must have something better to do on a Thursday night”?
“Care to take a guess at that answer too, Officer Einstein” Heather taunted Pete.
“Well, if I were to wager a guess, I’d go with insurance fraud in the form of arson. Based on those fumes that put me under in the stairwell, I’m guessing that you were here to send this place straight into a five-alarm payday for your family. Especially considering that this buildings been vacant for months, and has got to be a drag on the ol’ Griffith Family overhead”!
Impressed yet again by Pete’s skills at reasoning and deduction, Heather complimented his hypothesis while engaging in another, albeit more subdued, mock clapping. “Impressive, Officer Avarese. Though I’d have to admit, it was more for selfish reasons that I’ll spare you the boring details of, and far less for selfless family patriarchal ones. That much I can promise you. After the insurance check that this building would deliver for daddy, even he would be hard pressed to deny me what should be my fair share of this little family ‘EMPIRE’” she offered, with a heavy sarcastic emphasis on the last word.
“OK, so wait, you were up to no good when we happened upon the scene. Now let’s fast-forward to the part where you have Pete and I trussed up like a couple of stuffed pigs…uhhh, no pun intended” interjected Morgan, hoping to prompt an explanation concerning what Heather had in store for them.
“Well, you see Addie, my lovely partner in crime, and I were just about to strike a match to the kindling when the two of you showed up” explained Heather, “and I’m not about to go adding manslaughter to my wrap sheet. So, after Officer Petey fortuitously stumbled into the stairwell, and passed out on fumes, we knocked you out when your back was turned. You made matters a little easier when you pulled you bike helmet off and let down those goldilock curls of yours. Once we had the two of you out cold, we tied you up so that we could buy ourselves some time to figure a way out of all of this where no one got hurt”.
“And, the solution that you came up with was” asked Pete, realizing he had a lot riding on the answer.
“Well, let’s just say that we figured on buying your silence and cooperation with a little game of video blackmail, in the form of humiliation” replied Heather, tingling just at the thought of what she and Addie had planned for the two trussed police officers, “and in fact Addie is off getting the video camera and tripod now”!
Pete gulped back a growing feeling of dread that had been building in him for the past ten minutes, and after stealing a quick glance at Morgan he could see the same look of apprehension creasing her brow as well. What the hell did these two vixens have in store for them, and who the heck was this Addie chick anyway?
“Ya know Pete, I’ve always kind of had a little thing for you” admitted Heather, while making her way closer to him, “and in high school I harbored this silly sort of school girl crush for years. Even since then, watching you sporting around town in that sexy bike cop uniform of yours, I still get a little worked up. I mean there’s no sense in hiding it now, right, given that the cards are stacked firmly in my favor at the moment”.
She stopped just a step or two in front of him, and started bending down while she continued her diatribe.
“I know that you and I were pretty OK friends growing up, but we did sort of go our separate ways once we got into high school. And I don’t know if I ever confided this in you, or too many people at all for that matter, but I’ve always had this overwhelming fascination with feet”!
This last revelation came just as she began reaching out towards Petes boot laces, and grabbing the loops begun tugging in an effort to untie them. Pete, acting on reflex, pulled on the ropes overhead in an effort to pull his feet up and out of the way of her reach. As he did this, and forgetting momentarily where the other end of the rope was tied off to, he also pulled Morgan’s bindings and caused her to be jerked up into the air almost a full foot.
“Ouch, shit Pete, take it easy over there would ya” barked Morgan as she fought to steady her feet back on the floor again.
“That’s easy for you to say, since you’re not the one being accosted by a raging and recently admitted foot fetishist whose trying to steal your shoes” replied Pete, still trying to worm his boots away from Heather’s grasping fingers.
“Now let’s just relax, Pete” came Heather’s response, “since we can do this one of two ways. The easy way is you let me have my fun. The hard way is you act like a silly boy, and I end up chloroforming your ass and having my way with you anyhow. Gotta tell ya though, things will go a whole lot easier on you if you stay conscious. But hey, it’s your choice”.
Pete, realizing that his situation was pretty sucky no matter how he sliced it, temporarily acquiesced to her prying hands, and settled his feet back on the floor.
“There, now that’s more like it” offered Heather, while continuing to slowly and methodically unlace Pete’s right canvas tactical boot.
Making short work of the nylon laces, Heather reached around the back of the boot to Pete’s heel, and began tugging the boot downward off of his socked foot. With a loud “POP”, Pete’s slightly sweaty socked foot relinquished the lightweight footwear. Drawing the boot instinctively towards her nose, Heather drew in a mild breath and took in the arousing aroma of Pete’s mild foot perspiration.
“So, how do they smell goofball” came the new voice, from somewhere just out of sight and in the same direction from which Heather had entered the room.
“Just divine, if not a tad smelly” came Heather’s quick reply, “I guess all of those miles on bike patrol have a way of working up some pretty sweaty feet. Welcome back, Addie, I trust you were able to secure the equipment we talked about”?
“I was indeed” offered Addie, as she made her way over to the impromptu foot party with a small camera bag slung over her shoulder, “I was able to get my hands on all of it quite easily, in fact”.
“Good, why don’t you get everything set up over there, from a nice vantage point, while I continue living out a few minutes of my school girl fantasy, and finally get a peak at Peter Avareses’ bare naked tootsies” cooed Heather, while unlacing Pete’s second boot.
“Sure thing girlfriend, you just go on and have your little foot fun” remarked Addie, “that’s pretty much what this night is all about now anyway. Both of these officers are going to be very sorry they stumbled into the middle of our little plans. And they’re both going to get to know us, and each other, quite a bit better before the night is through”!
While Addie chuckled over these thoughts, Heather returned her focus to Pete’s feet, and tossed his boots off to the side after quickly glancing at the insole to see the size. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of the elastic tops of his right black athletic sock, and began slowly peeling it down his ankle, under his heel, and rolling it down the sole of his foot and over the ball of his foot, before tugging it off over his hairy, masculine toes. Looking down, she felt a sexual stirring as she glanced at his sweaty, sock marked size 11’s. She lightly caressed her fingers over the deep indents that his shoes and socks had left behind on his feet. Heather just loved sock marks on feet, since it always meant that the feet in question had only recently been rescued from the stuffy confines of a pair of sweaty shoes and socks. Pete’s feet certainly did not disappoint, and she savored the moment that had been so long coming as she plucked some sock lint from between his big toe and his second toe. Pulling on the hairs on his big toe, she bent down a bit further, bringing her nose to right over top of his long toes before taking a quick wiff.
“Whew, Petey, your poor piggies have been cooped up in those stuffy boots and socks for far too long, my dear, and they’re just a slight bit stinky” Heather quipped, enjoying the moment while trying to get a slight rise out of her captive, “but not to worry, since they’ll have plenty of time to air out now”!
With that, she reached out and made equally short work of his left sock, leaving him standing there completely barefoot, and feeling more than a little self conscious about the thought of having his feet scrutinized by a room full of sadistic women. He tried to hide his feet, curling the toes of his left foot over the top of his right foot, and vice versa.
“Now now Pete, don’t be shy” reassured Heather, “those sexy man feet of yours are certainly nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about. You’ve got some damned fine feet there, fella, so no sense trying to go and hide them”.
Seemingly wanting to drive the point home, Heather reached down and pulled his left foot off the floor and up towards here face. Grabbing firmly on each side of his foot, Heather stuck out her tongue and began to lick the underside of Pete’s toes one by one. She worked her tongue and lips over and around each toe, almost as if to make quick oral love to each of his five digits. This caused Pete to once again pull on his bindings, and in tandem once again sent Morgan thrashing slightly about on the other end of the rope that bound Pete’s wrists over his head.
“Hey, Heather, knock it off already…that freakin’ tickles like crazy!!” screamed Pete, while trying to gain any sense of his composure.
“Well that’s the idea, silly.” replied Heather, “How else do you think we’re going to reduce the two of you to the humiliating state of modesty. Why, we’re going to tickle torture you both of course!”
“What!! The hell you are you crazy psycho bitches!” screeched Morgan, as the full realization of their doomed plight finally started to drive itself home. “Untie us both right now, give Pete back his shoes and socks, and let us go. Otherwise the two of you are totally screwed. Who the heck do you think you’re dealing with here?”
“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about that, Officer Albright” came Addie’s reply from her position about 10 feet away. “We’re perfectly well aware of who we’re ‘dealing with’. That’s why we’re capturing it all for posterity sake, and for safekeeping. It will be our little leverage and insurance policy to make sure the events of tonight never make it past the four people in this room. We want both of you to forget this night ever happened. Well, at least the parts that involve incriminating us anyways. The rest of it I’m sure will be branded into your psyche forever, at least if Heather and I do our jobs right!”
Heather was less interested in the conversation, and instead continued her unrelenting tickle assault on Pete’s bare-naked feet. She alternated between using her scratchy tongue to assault his ped’s, and changed it up every once in a while by dragging her long fingernails over Pete’s wrinkled white soles. Each of the two tactics elicited new bouts of agony for Pete, who had never in his life had his feet touched by anyone! Seeming to derive her motivation from Pete’s tortured reactions, Heather began to alternate between tickling the soles and sucking the toes of Pete’s left foot with delivering the identical treatment to his bare right foot as well.
“Oh my goodness, Pete, your feet are absolutely DELICIOUS!!” cooed Heather, as she began to work herself into a heighted sense of sexual frenzy of her own.
“OK, enough with the foot talk, Heather” came the remark from Addie, “after all not all of us are as into feet as you are for crying out loud!”
“You know, I think that more people are into feet than let on” replied Heather, quick to defend her fetish, “in fact, I’ll bet people that didn’t even think they had a foot fetish would be at least mildly turned on at the sight of a sexy pair of feet”.
“Well, why don’t we put that theory to the test, then?” offered Addie.
“What did you have in mind?” Heather questioned.
“Oh, I don’t know” remarked Addie, already setting her devious mind to work, “why don’t we test things out on Mr Petey feety over there. If he’s an average guy, without a professed penchant for the lower extremities, as I think we can surmise is the case here, then why don’t we reveal some feet for him and watch for his, uhhh….reaction?”
“Wow, what a fantastic idea” Heather all but panted, “lemme go first!”
“Have at it girlfriend, he’s all yours” extended Addie graciously, “this is your silly school girl fantasy after all!”
With that, Heather dropped Pete’s writhing sweaty bare foot from her grasp, and instead made her way with trembling hands towards his belt buckle. Unclasping the buckle in nanoseconds, she tugged his leather belt from the loops while popping the button on his trousers.
“Heather, what the fuck are you doing” Pete said in voiced resistance, “this has gone far enough. You’ve had your fun, now let that be enough!”
“Oh, my dear naïve Pete” came Heather’s chuckle laced retort, “this hasn’t gone ANYWHERE yet! But rest assured, it’s starting to head somewhere fun now!”
Pete, in equal frustration and embarrassment, glanced towards Morgan in an effort to offer a gestured apology, but couldnt help noticing the look of slightly peaked curiosity that had come over her. In fact, she made little effort to conceal the fact that she was glancing back and forth between his dancing bare feet, and the waistband of his shorts that Heather had a taken a firm grasp on.
“We’re just going to go ahead and take these off ya, Petey” explained Heather, as she tugged his shorts down his hairy legs before peeling them completely off from under his naked feet.
Pete felt utterly mortified now, standing there barefoot in his grey boxer briefs and uniform shirt, with the shirttails now hanging freely just above the elastic waistband of his underwear.
“And we’re gonna need to give your fella a little breathing room of his own” quipped Heather, as she undid the button on the front fly of his boxers, “since something tells me he’s gonna be ‘up’ for a little surprise in a minute!”
Once she was satisfied that the newly elected test subject was ready for their little experiment, she sat down on the floor in front of Pete and began rolling the cuffs of her jeans up and over the tops of her long leather boots. After crisply cuffing the jeans, she began to unzip her left boot before grabbing it by the top and tugging it down over her wool sock clad left foot. She continued this action with her right foot, and was soon foot stripping her boots to the accompaniment of Addie’s whistling and cat calling before she began humming Cocker’s “Leave Your Hat On”.
“You like that Petey” questioned Addie, making sure to lock eyes with him while she said it, “you a fan of Cocker?” She emphasized the ‘cock’ when offering the question, just for good measure.
“Don’t distract him Addie” whined Heather, “you’ll contaminate the experiment if you shift his focus!”
Convinced once again that she was the center of everyone’s attention, she began slowly peeling her thick wool hiking sock off of the milky white heel of her left foot, before sliding them down her wrinkled soles and plucking them off of her candy apple red pedicured toes. Once de-socked, she flexed and curled the toes of her left foot reflexively, wiggling them back and forth in front of Pete’s boxer clad midsection.
“Mmmmm, it does feel good to air out the ol’ tootsies, doesn’t it Pete” taunted Heather, all the while focusing her eyes on the slight outline of his flaccid cock, "and it looks like I'm sporting some pretty damn sexy sock marks of my own!"
Pete tried to keep his face from turning as red as the polish on Heather’s toes, but judging by the heat he felt rushing to his cheeks he was guessing he was doing a pretty bad job of hiding his humiliation and embarrassment. Glancing at Morgan, he caught her staring as well before glaring up and back at him in an apologetic yet somehow flirtatious gesture. And to make matters worse, he could feel the ever-so-slight stirring starting to circulate in his cock. It seemed that his cheeks weren’t the only place that the blood was rushing!
Meanwhile, Heather was relieving her right foot of it’s confining wool cocoon, and was soon flexing and wiggling all ten of her naked toes in his direction. She began rubbing her sweaty feet back and forth over one another, as if trying to start a fire between them, then shifted to playing footsies with Pete’s own slightly damp bare feet. She began sliding her toes over the tops of his feet, before playfully using her own long toes to pinch and pull at the hair on Pete’s toes and on the tops of his feet.
“Well, it looks like Petey feety is only at about a DefCon 2, Heather” remarked Addie in snide fashion, “so maybe he’s really not a foot guy after all!”
“Hmmm, I wonder” answered Heather, as she flipped onto her knees, "maybe it's just a matter of exactly whose feet are stripped for him!" With that, she began crawling towards the canvas tactical boot clad feet of one Officer Morgan Albright, of the Malvern Police Department!
TO BE CONTINUED...
Part 2 will ramp up the tickle/foot fun, promise!!
