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Basement Bound: A Stan Goldman/Barbara Moore Adventure

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2.

Following a basement "preemptive ritual thrashing" intended to make sure I remembered to keep my promises, I went straight upstairs to shower. Stan, as usual, went straight to bed, having satisfied his needs.

The warm pelting shower felt good on my smarting backside, so I remained there for a good long while, my mind meandering back and forth over what to think about my relationship with Stan, as well as my curiosity over that TV news story about Tina Travers, the missing girl whose fate intrigued me so, in part because I thought she looked so much like me.

I was aware that my relationship with Stan was, to say the least, a rather unconventional one. Back when we were both on the NYPD force, I had been thrust upon him as a rookie detective, replacing his long-time partner and pal. Stan had accepted the personnel change grudgingly ... after all I was a woman, and a young one at that ... what could possibly be worse? But over time he had grown to respect and embrace me as a trusted, albeit somewhat uncontrollable, colleague.

Stan and I soon developed a kind of classic love-hate relationship ... forged perhaps by the fact that we were in so many ways total opposites (my almost foolhardy impetuousness vs. his thorough, but plodding, professionalism, for example) ... fueled by quite unexpected, but mindbogglingly heated bouts of raw out-of-this-world kinky sex ... and cemented when Stan rescued me from a gruesome death by crucifixion in the so-called Bronx Crux Murders case ... a celebrated case for which, together, we gained acclaim and riches in the form of book royalties.

But, why? What was the attraction? Stan was, after all, considerably older than me, and hardly what anyone might call a looker. His appearance was slovenly at best ... old neckties and hopelessly out-of-style suits, stained with coffee stains, hot dog condiments and jelly oozed from dozens of Bismarcks. He had the drowsy eyes of a bloodhound and a bit of a pot ... ok more than a bit of a pot. And what could possibly be attractive to someone like me about a guy who was addicted to Seinfeld reruns? Geeze!

No, it's just weird chemistry, I thought, a wryly amused smile animating my face. Stan and I just got on, somehow, whether its eating out, hanging out, or fucking in bed. And, on the force, we worked well together as opposites. He knew how to hold me in check when my impetuous ... take action first, think about the implications later ... character was totally out of control. And I moved him to take possibly career-ending risks that he otherwise would never have dared contemplate.

And, well ... I have to admit ... with whom other than Stan could I explore the kinky dark side of my libido. With who else would I have willingly engaged in equipping a cellar dungeon where I could be punished for even thinking foolish things, much less for actually carrying them out? And who else would have willing indulged my longstanding desire to find out what it would be like to be hanged, and to try it out in a risky under cover assignment?

Yeah, believe it or not ... Stan was my man!

As I shut off the shower and stepped out onto the bathroom floor, the subject of Tina Travers took over my consciousness. Who was she? What had happened to her? What could I do to discover the answers to these questions? My intuition told me some kind of foul play was most certainly behind her disappearance.

I contemplated that as I turned to examine my backside in the bathroom mirror. It was still crisscrossed with red welts from the 10 cat lashes Stan had given me. They still stung even after a warm shower. I thought maybe I'd wake him and have him come into the bathroom to apply some salve. After all, the welts were his doing, right? But after stepping out into the bedroom I gave up on the idea. Stan was completely out for the night, sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, mouth wide open and snoring so loud it sounded like a freight train was rumbling through the bedroom.

I beat a retreat into the bathroom, salved my flaming back and tight little as best I could in the mirror, and donned the threadbare purple Vikings tee that I always wore to bed. I crept into bed, shoving Stan over to his own side, stretched myself out, crossed my hands on the pillow under my head and gazed at the ceiling.

I decided right then and there that despite Stan's warning, and the promise he demanded I keep, backed up by the threat of a trip to the basement for punishment, I was going to look into Tina's disappearance. Stan would be gone on the morrow, off on one of his weekly tramping expeditions into the wilds of upstate New York. Why he did that I didn't know, but I resolved that I would take advantage of the opportunity to do a little sleuthing.

Having made my decision, I could relax and it occurred to me that the best thing would be to have Stan help me out with that, but nothing short of an atomic attack was going to wake him. So, I went out into the guest room, laid myself down on the room's Victorian-style plush velveteen divan, lifted the hem of my Vikings tee, pulled it up over my breasts and head, and tossed it aside. Slowly I caressed my breasts, kneading their softness, mounding them and rolling both nipples between forefingers and thumbs. With both hands I traced a path down over my tummy until I felt the soft curls of my neatly trimmed little landing strip against the surface of my left palm.

Madiosi-2018-384-05-in bed.jpg

Sliding my hand over my mound, I plunged two fingers deep into my warm wetness. Slowly, methodically, I worked myself up, palming my clit, slipping a third finger in to join the previous two. With finger tips curled slightly, I stroked in and out, searching out and touching that rough spot, crossing my ankles and raising my knees as my excitement mounted ... little more, yes, ohhhhhhh ... so nice ... yes ... mmmmm ... stiffening, arching my back, going rigid and gripping the edge of the divan with my free hand. Seconds later, I came with a rush of pleasure that radiated through my thighs and a drawn out cry that echoed off the ceiling and throughout the house.

As i lay on my back panting, Stan stirred in the next room and said "Wahsssszzzat?

I rolled my eyes, sighed, recoverred my tee, padded back into the bedroom and crawled into bed on my side with my back to him.

******

Next morning I was brimming with excitement, watching impatiently as Stan took what seemed like forever to down his breakfast and sip his morning coffee. As soon as he had finished, I all but shoved him out the door, wishing him a good long hike. He looked at me a little funny, perhaps suspiciously, but grinned good naturedly and went off cheerfully.

As soon as he was out of sight, I hurried to my laptop, and began searching for news stories on Tina and her disappearance. I needed a lead ... a place to begin my sleuthing ... and then I found it. One story, mentioned the fact that Tina was last seen outside the Sunrise Cafe in nearby Sunnybrook. That's where I will start, I said to myself with an air of satisfaction. I copied a photo of Tina from the article onto my laptop, and printed a few copies on our printer. Armed with the photos, I grabbed the keys to Stan's car and headed out the door.

*******

Later that night, after dinner, with Stan curled up on the couch ready to watch yet another one of those stupid Seinfeld episodes, I cuddled up next to him and took the remote from his hand.

"What's up buttercup?" he said, looking at me curiously.

I punched him hard in the shoulder, having already told him to stop calling me that more times than I could remember.

"Ummmm ... I checked a few things out today."

"Oh, no! I knew it. You promised, Barb, remember? If you did what I'm thinking you did, it's going to be thirty lashes tonight on the X-frame! You and I are no longer cops ... leave the police work to others!"

"Calm down, Goldman. Hear me out."

"Do I have to?" he grumped, reaching unsuccessfully for the remote, which I had deftly slid under my butt and out of reach.

"Yes, you do! Listen, I didn't do anything that outrageous. I simply found out that Tina was last seen outside the Sunrise Cafe over in Sunnybrook, so I took your car and ...."

"You did what? Is it still in one piece?

"No, no ... relax ... it's out in the garage ... good as new ... though the gas tank is nearly empty. Now, as I was saying, I went to that cafe ...

Madiosi-2018-381-04-cafe1.jpg

... and showed Tina's picture around, and I turned up this woman ... a wait person there called Elaine ... who last saw her. Turns out Tina had lunch there just the day before yesterday, the day she disappeared. And what's more, this Elaine said she saw Tina get in a car when she left the cafe."

"Great, I'm sure the police already know that. They questioned the wait person too, right?"

"Yeah, but I found out something the police didn’t, Stan. I got Tina to describe to me how Tina behaved when she got into that car.”

“And the police didn’t?”

“No, not according to Elaine. She said they weren’t interested. They seemed to think she probably just went off with someone she knew and would eventually turn up.”

"Ok, I'll bite, what did Elaine tell you about her behavior when she got into that car?”

“She said she acted uneasy ... reluctant like.”

“And so you suspect she was being Shanghaied?”

“Yeah, I do. I think the local cops didn’t try hard enough. So I went looking for more witnesses and I found this kid sitting on a front porch down the street. He remembered the car, said it took off down the street really fast after it left the cafe. He also said it was one of those big black SUVs, with the dark tinted glass.”

“And did he report that to the police?”

“No, he tried, Stan. But they wouldn’t be bothered. Small town cops. You know how they are. You’ve often said so yourself. Bunch of rubes.”

“Don’t suppose he got the license?”

“Well, that’s the thing ... he got a partial.”

“Barb, you need to report this information to the local cops. Go see the chief”

“No, Stan. They won’t use it, but I can.”

"Did it ever occur to you that they might be right, Barb? How do we know there has even been a crime committed? We know nothing about Tina other than her name ... that’s all the news reports have released. Until something otherwise turns up, it’s just an ordinary missing persons case. Dime a dozen. Happens all the time.”

"No, Stan ... it's just my intuition. Tell you what. Tomorrow I think you and I should do some more checking. Maybe get some of the guys in the old precinct to check on that little license plate partial for us. Maybe see if they have anything on Tina, or an address for her parents? What do you say, Stan? I know I'm onto something. The local cops may not want to pursue it. But I smell foul play."

"Oh, brother. Look Barb, you and I have a contract. We're retired. We have money ... lots of it. We don't need to do this kind of thing anymore. I intend to hold you to our agreement. You did all of this behind my back today. Don't you feel just a little bit guilty? If not, you should! And you know the consequences. Come on, now, let's go down the basement now and get it over with."

"Does that mean, yes?... I asked standing up, slipping out of my dress, sliding my bra straps off my shoulders, leaning forward and reaching behind my back to undo my bra in what I hoped was a very suggestive pose.

"No, it doesn't, and don't play that cute sexy routine with me!"

"Well, what if we hear on the news tomorrow that another girl has gone missing? I have a feeling that we will. In fact, I'm almost certain that we will!"

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it, Barb .... for now, though, you have a date with the X-frame. Now get out of those kinis and get your sweet little ass down in the basement. I want to do this before the next Seinfeld is on!"

Madiosi-2018-386-05-andrews3.jpg
 
Barbaria1 said:
Stan, as usual, went straight to bed, having satisfied his needs.
Click to expand...
What did you want, some romantic cuddling?:rolleyes:
Barbaria1 said:
Back when we were both on the NYPD force, I had been thrust upon him as a rookie detective,
Click to expand...
Good choice of words, Moore.
Barbaria1 said:
With who else would I have willingly engaged in equipping a cellar dungeon where I could be punished for even thinking foolish things, much less for actually carrying them out? And who else would have willing indulged my longstanding desire to find out what it would be like to be hanged, and to try it out in a risky under cover assignment?
Click to expand...
Every man on CF, but other than that, no one...
Barbaria1 said:
decided right then and there that despite Stan's warning, and the promise he demanded I keep, backed up by the threat of a trip to the basement for punishment, I was going to look into Tina's disappearance.
Click to expand...
Of course you were.
Barbaria1 said:
Sliding my hand over my mound, I plunged two fingers deep into my warm wetness. Slowly, methodically, I worked myself up, palming my clit, slipping a third finger in to join the previous two. With finger tips curled slightly, I stroked in and out, searching out and touching that rough spot, crossing my ankles and raising my knees as my excitement mounted ... little more, yes, ohhhhhhh ... so nice ... yes ... mmmmm ... stiffening, arching my back, going rigid and gripping the edge of the divan with my free hand. Seconds later, I came with a rush of pleasure that radiated through my thighs and a drawn out cry that echoed off the ceiling and throughout the house.
Click to expand...
Film at 11
Barbaria1 said:
Armed with the photos, I grabbed the keys to Stan's car and headed out the door.
Click to expand...
Oh, God, there goes that car...
Barbaria1 said:
I want to do this before the next Seinfeld is on!"
Click to expand...
Priorities, Moore...
 
Barbaria1 said:
2.

Following a basement "preemptive ritual thrashing" intended to make sure I remembered to keep my promises, I went straight upstairs to shower. Stan, as usual, went straight to bed, having satisfied his needs.

The warm pelting shower felt good on my smarting backside, so I remained there for a good long while, my mind meandering back and forth over what to think about my relationship with Stan, as well as my curiosity over that TV news story about Tina Travers, the missing girl whose fate intrigued me so, in part because I thought she looked so much like me.

I was aware that my relationship with Stan was, to say the least, a rather unconventional one. Back when we were both on the NYPD force, I had been thrust upon him as a rookie detective, replacing his long-time partner and pal. Stan had accepted the personnel change grudgingly ... after all I was a woman, and a young one at that ... what could possibly be worse? But over time he had grown to respect and embrace me as a trusted, albeit somewhat uncontrollable, colleague.

Stan and I soon developed a kind of classic love-hate relationship ... forged perhaps by the fact that we were in so many ways total opposites (my almost foolhardy impetuousness vs. his thorough, but plodding, professionalism, for example) ... fueled by quite unexpected, but mindbogglingly heated bouts of raw out-of-this-world kinky sex ... and cemented when Stan rescued me from a gruesome death by crucifixion in the so-called Bronx Crux Murders case ... a celebrated case for which, together, we gained acclaim and riches in the form of book royalties.

But, why? What was the attraction? Stan was, after all, considerably older than me, and hardly what anyone might call a looker. His appearance was slovenly at best ... old neckties and hopelessly out-of-style suits, stained with coffee stains, hot dog condiments and jelly oozed from dozens of Bismarcks. He had the drowsy eyes of a bloodhound and a bit of a pot ... ok more than a bit of a pot. And what could possibly be attractive to someone like me about a guy who was addicted to Seinfeld reruns? Geeze!

No, it's just weird chemistry, I thought, a wryly amused smile animating my face. Stan and I just got on, somehow, whether its eating out, hanging out, or fucking in bed. And, on the force, we worked well together as opposites. He knew how to hold me in check when my impetuous ... take action first, think about the implications later ... character was totally out of control. And I moved him to take possibly career-ending risks that he otherwise would never have dared contemplate.

And, well ... I have to admit ... with whom other than Stan could I explore the kinky dark side of my libido. With who else would I have willingly engaged in equipping a cellar dungeon where I could be punished for even thinking foolish things, much less for actually carrying them out? And who else would have willing indulged my longstanding desire to find out what it would be like to be hanged, and to try it out in a risky under cover assignment?

Yeah, believe it or not ... Stan was my man!

As I shut off the shower and stepped out onto the bathroom floor, the subject of Tina Travers took over my consciousness. Who was she? What had happened to her? What could I do to discover the answers to these questions? My intuition told me some kind of foul play was most certainly behind her disappearance.

I contemplated that as I turned to examine my backside in the bathroom mirror. It was still crisscrossed with red welts from the 10 cat lashes Stan had given me. They still stung even after a warm shower. I thought maybe I'd wake him and have him come into the bathroom to apply some salve. After all, the welts were his doing, right? But after stepping out into the bedroom I gave up on the idea. Stan was completely out for the night, sprawled on his back in the middle of the bed, mouth wide open and snoring so loud it sounded like a freight train was rumbling through the bedroom.

I beat a retreat into the bathroom, salved my flaming back and tight little as best I could in the mirror, and donned the threadbare purple Vikings tee that I always wore to bed. I crept into bed, shoving Stan over to his own side, stretched myself out, crossed my hands on the pillow under my head and gazed at the ceiling.

I decided right then and there that despite Stan's warning, and the promise he demanded I keep, backed up by the threat of a trip to the basement for punishment, I was going to look into Tina's disappearance. Stan would be gone on the morrow, off on one of his weekly tramping expeditions into the wilds of upstate New York. Why he did that I didn't know, but I resolved that I would take advantage of the opportunity to do a little sleuthing.

Having made my decision, I could relax and it occurred to me that the best thing would be to have Stan help me out with that, but nothing short of an atomic attack was going to wake him. So, I went out into the guest room, laid myself down on the room's Victorian-style plush velveteen divan, lifted the hem of my Vikings tee, pulled it up over my breasts and head, and tossed it aside. Slowly I caressed my breasts, kneading their softness, mounding them and rolling both nipples between forefingers and thumbs. With both hands I traced a path down over my tummy until I felt the soft curls of my neatly trimmed little landing strip against the surface of my left palm.

View attachment 621644

Sliding my hand over my mound, I plunged two fingers deep into my warm wetness. Slowly, methodically, I worked myself up, palming my clit, slipping a third finger in to join the previous two. With finger tips curled slightly, I stroked in and out, searching out and touching that rough spot, crossing my ankles and raising my knees as my excitement mounted ... little more, yes, ohhhhhhh ... so nice ... yes ... mmmmm ... stiffening, arching my back, going rigid and gripping the edge of the divan with my free hand. Seconds later, I came with a rush of pleasure that radiated through my thighs and a drawn out cry that echoed off the ceiling and throughout the house.

As i lay on my back panting, Stan stirred in the next room and said "Wahsssszzzat?

I rolled my eyes, sighed, recoverred my tee, padded back into the bedroom and crawled into bed on my side with my back to him.

******

Next morning I was brimming with excitement, watching impatiently as Stan took what seemed like forever to down his breakfast and sip his morning coffee. As soon as he had finished, I all but shoved him out the door, wishing him a good long hike. He looked at me a little funny, perhaps suspiciously, but grinned good naturedly and went off cheerfully.

As soon as he was out of sight, I hurried to my laptop, and began searching for news stories on Tina and her disappearance. I needed a lead ... a place to begin my sleuthing ... and then I found it. One story, mentioned the fact that Tina was last seen outside the Sunrise Cafe in nearby Sunnybrook. That's where I will start, I said to myself with an air of satisfaction. I copied a photo of Tina from the article onto my laptop, and printed a few copies on our printer. Armed with the photos, I grabbed the keys to Stan's car and headed out the door.

*******

Later that night, after dinner, with Stan curled up on the couch ready to watch yet another one of those stupid Seinfeld episodes, I cuddled up next to him and took the remote from his hand.

"What's up buttercup?" he said, looking at me curiously.

I punched him hard in the shoulder, having already told him to stop calling me that more times than I could remember.

"Ummmm ... I checked a few things out today."

"Oh, no! I knew it. You promised, Barb, remember? If you did what I'm thinking you did, it's going to be thirty lashes tonight on the X-frame! You and I are no longer cops ... leave the police work to others!"

"Calm down, Goldman. Hear me out."

"Do I have to?" he grumped, reaching unsuccessfully for the remote, which I had deftly slid under my butt and out of reach.

"Yes, you do! Listen, I didn't do anything that outrageous. I simply found out that Tina was last seen outside the Sunrise Cafe over in Sunnybrook, so I took your car and ...."

"You did what? Is it still in one piece?

"No, no ... relax ... it's out in the garage ... good as new ... though the gas tank is nearly empty. Now, as I was saying, I went to that cafe ...

View attachment 621643

... and showed Tina's picture around, and I turned up this woman ... a wait person there called Elaine ... who last saw her. Turns out Tina had lunch there just the day before yesterday, the day she disappeared. And what's more, this Elaine said she saw Tina get in a car when she left the cafe."

"Great, I'm sure the police already know that. They questioned the wait person too, right?"

"Yeah, but I found out something the police didn’t, Stan. I got Tina to describe to me how Tina behaved when she got into that car.”

“And the police didn’t?”

“No, not according to Elaine. She said they weren’t interested. They seemed to think she probably just went off with someone she knew and would eventually turn up.”

"Ok, I'll bite, what did Elaine tell you about her behavior when she got into that car?”

“She said she acted uneasy ... reluctant like.”

“And so you suspect she was being Shanghaied?”

“Yeah, I do. I think the local cops didn’t try hard enough. So I went looking for more witnesses and I found this kid sitting on a front porch down the street. He remembered the car, said it took off down the street really fast after it left the cafe. He also said it was one of those big black SUVs, with the dark tinted glass.”

“And did he report that to the police?”

“No, he tried, Stan. But they wouldn’t be bothered. Small town cops. You know how they are. You’ve often said so yourself. Bunch of rubes.”

“Don’t suppose he got the license?”

“Well, that’s the thing ... he got a partial.”

“Barb, you need to report this information to the local cops. Go see the chief”

“No, Stan. They won’t use it, but I can.”

"Did it ever occur to you that they might be right, Barb? How do we know there has even been a crime committed? We know nothing about Tina other than her name ... that’s all the news reports have released. Until something otherwise turns up, it’s just an ordinary missing persons case. Dime a dozen. Happens all the time.”

"No, Stan ... it's just my intuition. Tell you what. Tomorrow I think you and I should do some more checking. Maybe get some of the guys in the old precinct to check on that little license plate partial for us. Maybe see if they have anything on Tina, or an address for her parents? What do you say, Stan? I know I'm onto something. The local cops may not want to pursue it. But I smell foul play."

"Oh, brother. Look Barb, you and I have a contract. We're retired. We have money ... lots of it. We don't need to do this kind of thing anymore. I intend to hold you to our agreement. You did all of this behind my back today. Don't you feel just a little bit guilty? If not, you should! And you know the consequences. Come on, now, let's go down the basement now and get it over with."

"Does that mean, yes?... I asked standing up, slipping out of my dress, sliding my bra straps off my shoulders, leaning forward and reaching behind my back to undo my bra in what I hoped was a very suggestive pose.

"No, it doesn't, and don't play that cute sexy routine with me!"

"Well, what if we hear on the news tomorrow that another girl has gone missing? I have a feeling that we will. In fact, I'm almost certain that we will!"

"We'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it, Barb .... for now, though, you have a date with the X-frame. Now get out of those kinis and get your sweet little ass down in the basement. I want to do this before the next Seinfeld is on!"

View attachment 621645
Click to expand...
Barbaria1 said:
But over time he had grown to respect and embrace me as a trusted, albeit somewhat uncontrollable, colleague.
Click to expand...
Really?:rolleyes:
Barbaria1 said:
a guy who was addicted to Seinfeld reruns?
Click to expand...
"Not that there's anything wrong with that":popcorn:
 
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