Linda Baylor perched on a folding chair in the back of the Vice squad room as Captain Spalding strode through the cluster of cops waiting for their daily briefing. The metal chair, uncomfortable at the best of times, was made all the worse by the micro-mini skirt she wore which prevented crossing her legs or even slouching. Linda didn't want to flash her assets to the guys on the team before her actual assignment.

As usual, she was on hooker detail. She'd spend the afternoon and twilight hours strolling Washington Avenue in God-awful spike heels, her tootsies as painful as years ago when she briefly danced on point in the Poughkeepsie City Junior Ballet Corps.

"Looking good, Baylor!" Sid Campos gave her a Groucho Marx leer complete with mimed cigar.

He was a good guy, and an excellent cop to have watching when she was on the prowl. "You my pimp du jour?" she asked.

He shook his head, still pretending to smoke his stogie. "I'm undercover over at the convention center. Gem and jewelry show, lots of sticky fingers."

No wonder he was nicely decked out in a suit and tie instead of a slick jacket and pork pie hat.

Sid waggled the invisible cigar to her right. "But where's your partner in crime?"

"Lizzie Thorpe is on maternity leave," she reminded. "Due to drop any day now."

"Hey, hey!" Spalding called from the podium. "Come to attention, we have a busy day ahead of us, folks."

Just as he began his morning spiel, Minnie Kaplan slipped through the door a few feet away from Linda. Accustomed to seeing her in a crisp blue regulation uniform and black rimmed glasses, Linda's mouth went dry at the sight. Minnie wore a crocheted pink wool mini and thigh-high, black vinyl boots. With her hair teased out into a giant ‘fro, no black framed glasses, and huge gold hoop earrings, she was a vision. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure that she must be the replacement for Lizzie.

"Join me in welcoming Sergeant Minnie Kaplan to Vice," Spalding announced.

Male voices shouted greetings, and a few cat calls. Minnie grinned and waved. She took the chair next to Linda, acting almost nervous and shy when she settled in.

"First day in plainclothes?" Linda whispered. "You'll do great."

"Just glad to be out of records, sister." Minnie laughed.

"Linda, you and Minnie will work together," Spalding continued when the noise had died down. "Because Campos and Nevins are on the convention hall for the next three days, Starsky and Hutchinson will be your liaisons."

"This could be fun at that," Minnie remarked. "Maybe we could take a spin in that trashy boy's flashy car."


The bright red Torino with the white stripe cruised slowly past, Hutch glancing toward the girls on the corner for a moment as if admiring the pulchritude. Linda cocked a hip, swinging her tiny drawstring purse and leaning against the brick building behind her to get the weight off her left foot. She knew well that both Starsky and Hutch could see her. She liked the guys, had worked with them before, and had no problem admiring their assets whatsoever. Men simply didn't turn her on the way women did.

She turned her head enough to watch Minnie saunter out of the hotel they were using to arrest the johns. With the orange glow of the smog accented sunset behind her, Minnie embodied goddess incarnate. Her chocolatey skin had a radiance all its own, imbuing that little crocheted dress with pure sex.

Linda sighed, allowing herself the chance to dream, just a little. She'd set all those fantasies aside the day she put on the blue cadet cap at the police academy. It had been a long, long time since those halcyon days as a dancer, when she'd dallied with the prima ballerina, Karen Sykes. They'd perfected their pas de deux on stage and off, but Karen had her sights set on the American Ballet Theatre. That meant a move to New York-and kowtowing to the attentions of the powerful men in charge. She hadn't broken Linda's heart, but had crushed it badly.

Always aware that her stubborn spirit would rebel in such an atmosphere, Linda had sought out a place where she could thrive. Her parents had been appalled to hear that their pretty, feminine dancer daughter was becoming a cop. The police force was even more male dominated than the ballet world, but here she could be fierce, prove that women were strong, tough and smart. And she had. She was still in the lower levels of power, but she planned to climb the brass ranks, become a captain someday.

Which meant she shouldn't entertain thoughts of disrobing fellow officers. Yet, she truly wanted to ask Minnie over for a drink and then slowly peel that pink dress off her shoulders.

"Hey, slut--" a slurred voice said to Linda's left. "Got the time a'day?"

She could smell the alcohol even with her head turned. Damn, way to ruin a fantasy. "What's your pleasure?" she began, pasting on her patented smile.

He grabbed her arm, forcing her back against the wall so hard she felt her top ride up and the brick scrape her skin. "Hey, mister..." she started angrily as he punched her in the gut. Breath caught in her chest, Linda couldn't fight as he dragged her around the corner, into a darkened alley. Had anyone seen them? Where was back-up?

Trying to pull in a decent breath, she realized that he wasn't drunk on alcohol, only power. A huge brute, probably played football in high school and then the muscle all had gone to fat. He held up a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, splashing the contents across her face and bosom.

"Let's see if you're a redhead down below, huh?" he leered.

Conditioned to fight, Linda twisted to the left, raising her bent leg as if about to do a plié. She slammed her knee into his genitals with all the force she could muster despite sufficient air in her lungs.

Asshole howled, staggering, still hanging onto her arm, which bent her sideways.

"Get your hands off her!" a voice commanded with authority.

"Now hookers got guns?" he snarled, shoving Linda to the debris covered pavement.

"BCPD," Minnie corrected, in absolute regulation shooting stance. "And this shoots real bullets. On the ground, hands behind your head, or I take a practice shot like my mama showed me how."

He laughed derisively until Minnie took two steps in, lowering the angle of her shot to the space between his legs. At that distance, there was no chance of missing.

With a muttered curse, Asshole got down on all fours, eventually flattening himself to the ground, hands behind his neck.

It was, when Linda got a good look at the weapon, the tiniest pistol she had ever seen outside of an old fashioned western. A derringer, her slightly addled brain identified as she fished the handcuffs out of her little purse.

"Sergeant Linda Baylor," she whispered in his ear, forcing the metal bracelets around his thick wrists. It was a tight fit, but she wasn't sympathetic.

"Well, looky here, Hutch." Starsky's voice boomed around the narrow walls of the alley. "The girls got the drop on this perv."

"What took you so long?" Minnie groused, catching Linda's eye.

Linda felt a jolt of electricity down to her clit. Good God, how was she going to work next to the woman if just a glance did that?

"Starsky's still perfecting his parallel parking," Hutch deadpanned. "Care if we take this wisenheimer off your hands?"

"Take him away." Linda waved her hand generously, very aware of her wet top, nipples quite prominent through the clingy fabric.

Starsky hauled the huge man to his feet, giving him an irritated shake in the process. "Hutch, calling him a wisenheimer's way too good for this asshole."

"Just trying to increase my vocabulary." Hutch shrugged. "Do you two ladies need a ride back to the station?"

"I drove," Minnie said with a slight smile. "If you book him in, we'll finish the paperwork when we get there."

"Terrific." Starsky shoved the asshole toward Hutch, flashing a salute at Minnie and Linda.

"See you later," Hutch said over his shoulder, leading the attacker away.

"I have to ask," Linda said, coming to her knees, trying not to think what covered the pavement. "Where do you hide that gun?"

"Trade secret, honey." Minnie took hold of her hand, pulling her gently to her feet.

The damned spike heels wobbled, sending her crashing into the other woman's arms.

"Hey, hey!" Minnie soothed, hugging her close.

Linda was embarrassed to realize that she was trembling, on the verge of tears. She'd been assaulted before, it had never caused this sort of reaction! Her face was buried in Minnie's shoulder and her wet chest pushed up against Minnie's breasts, their nipples hard as pebbles.

"I'm getting you all wet!" Linda protested, staring into beautiful brown eyes.

"No matter, sugar," Minnie said softly, angling them farther back into the dim alley. She pressed her lips ever so briefly against Linda's-more of a caress than an actual kiss.

Linda gasped, clinging to her shoulders, unwilling to let go. She deepened the kiss, putting all her desire in. It might be the only time she ever had an opportunity to do so.

"I wondered," Minnie murmured, adding sweet kisses all over her cheeks and eyelids.

"You did?" Linda whispered in wonderment, stroking the skin on the back of Minnie's neck. Smooth and soft as satin.

"I hoped," Minnie amended, almost shyly, in view of what they'd just been doing. "You've got me singing, ‘White girls are so pretty, hair like Chinese silk..."

"Black girls are delicious, chocolate flavored love..." Linda sang the other half of the song from Hair, elated. "I did an off, off, off Broadway production of Hair right before I left New York."

"Be still my heart," Minnie said, running her hands down Linda's back to cup her butt. "Next I'll be craving Strawberry Hill wine."

Linda shivered, from the cuddle or her damp clothes in the cooling evening weather, she wasn't sure. "Hate that flavor."

"Let's get you into some dry clothes," Minnie clucked fondly. "The guys will be wondering where we got to."

"Work, work, work." Linda pretended to complain, but her heart was flying. Minnie had been watching her, too!


Paperwork out of the way, Linda followed Minnie in her own car to a small house in the low hills only minutes outside Bay City. Amazingly, they lived four miles apart.

"My mama left this place to me," Minnie said, opening the front door.

"And you haven't changed a thing?" Linda grinned, taking in the overstuffed chairs complete with antimacassars. A handmade braided rug graced the wooden floor and framed family photos were clustered across a round table.

"Been pursuing my career, you know," Minnie said in a snooty voice. "Sit down. I've got something better than Boone's Farm in the fridge and..."

"I'd rather do this." Linda slid her arms around Minnie's slim waist, kissing the base of her neck. Without the spike heels, they were nearly the same height.

"I do like the way you think, sugar," Minnie purred, running her fingers under the green t-shirt Linda had put on at the station. "I enjoyed watching you change out of those damned hooker threads but now let's get comfortable..." She tugged the fabric up and over Linda's head.

Linda stepped back to unfasten the hook on her jeans skirt. It dropped to her feet, leaving her in bikini panties and a black lace bra.

"Beautiful," Minnie said with a smile, working down the zipper of her slacks.

"You're taking your time," Linda chided, reaching out to touch the flat abdomen revealed when Minnie took off her pants.

Minnie sighed, holding out her hand to lead Linda down a short hallway. She dropped her periwinkle blue top along the way, the clothing strewn like a trail of breadcrumbs behind them.

It was bliss from the moment Linda curled up on the quilt with Minnie, peppering kisses across her breasts. Minnie managed to unsnap Linda's bra with one hand, all the while kissing her mouth, insistent tongue darting inside. Linda's nipples hardened, zingy arousal increasing in her groin.

"Wanted this so much," Linda whispered against Minnie's warm, sweet skin. "We never talked much, but I saw you."

"Goes both ways." Minnie stroked the flat of her palm down to the cleft between Linda's legs and under the elastic of the panties she still wore. "All those men, nothing wrong with them, but they all think your eyes are bugging out ‘cause of their pecs and cocks."

She lazily stretched the nylon panties down Linda's thighs. Holding still, Linda could barely breathe. She wanted Minnie's long, slender fingers twiddling her clit in the worst way. "Trashy girl," she admonished lightly, using Minnie's favorite phrase.

"And then there's the black and white thing," Minnie said, sounding sad. "Times are changing but we still haven't quite reached Dr. King's dream of being judged by the content of my character and not by the color of my skin."

"Amen, sister," Linda said, grasping her hand to give it a squeeze. "Some day, we're going to step into power. Can you imagine a woman in the White House?"

"Can you imagine a black man in that White House?" Minnie shrugged. "About as fanciful."

"Right now, the only thing I can imagine is seeing you spread naked on the bed, just for me," Linda prompted gently.

"That one becomes reality so easily." Minnie's pensive mood lightened and she grinned. "These ol' panties need to go into the wash anyway." She lifted her bottom slightly as Linda slid off the lacy underwear.  

The rush of touching Minnie, of brushing her fingers across the area she knew to be so sensitive, was intoxicating. Linda licked her lips, stimulating Minnie's clit with little strokes and tickles. Minnie arched back, moaning passionately.

"It's been a long time since..." Linda started, remembering those long past days when she'd tongued Karen an hour before the Poughkeepsie premiere of La Sylphide.

"You're doing fine in my book," Minnie encouraged.

Linda used her tongue to torment and rouse her lover's libido. It worked. Minnie clutched the quilt with both hands, stiffening as she climaxed.

"Was it me, or the thought of a black man in the oval office, that did it?" Linda lay down beside her, breathing in the scent of her arousal.

"Combination of both, sugar." Minnie laughed, latching onto Linda's nipples. She sucked and licked Linda's breasts, dipping her left hand into the space between Linda's legs.

So turned on, that was all it took. Linda cried out as that wonderful orgasm ripped through her body. For a few moments, all she wanted to do was swim in the lazy stream of what Minnie had created.

"Your fantasy?" Minnie whispered in her ear, kissing the lobe.

"Me, captain of Vice, you captain of...?"

"Homicide," Minnie said with a decisive nod. "I can boss those two scoundrels, Starsky and Hutch, around."

"Don't you do that already?" Linda laughed.

"Ah, but then I'd get paid better for it," Minnie added. "All this exercise makes me hungry. I can whip up some red beans and rice, maybe some sausage, to go with the wine?"

"I knew we were made for each other," Linda bounced slightly on the bed. "A woman who will cook for me? I'm in heaven."

"White girls give me chills..." Minnie sang, sashaying her round butt in time to the music, "And when she touches my shoulder, that's the touch that thrills."

The End

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