The Spreading Chestnut Tree


"Officer Vecchio," said Welsh, placing both palms flat on Huey's desk and resting his weight on them. "Would you be able to inform me of the location of Constable Fraser? I was told he returned from his vacation yesterday, and the lest person to see him was you." He paused. "And I think I would rather not know why you are painting my detective's fingernails."

Huey snatched his hand off Frannie's thigh while she calmly closed up the bottle of nail polish. "Be careful with that hand until the polish dries," when she admonished him. "Remember what happened last time." She hopped off Huey's desk and put the bottle polish back in the pocket of her uniform. "Sorry, Lieutenant. He's taken a couple of days leave, gone down to Florida to see Ray and Kowalski."

"Florida?" said Welsh, ignoring Huey's waving hand and mouthing no, no, no behind Frannie. "What the hell are they doing in Florida? I thought they were visiting Kowalski's parents?"

"Don't you remember, Lieutenant?" Frannie asked. "You were telling me how well the Rays were doing in Tampa this week. I told Fraser, and he went down to see them."

Welsh opened his mouth, made a sound, then stopped. He closed his mouth, opened it again, and this time closed it without making another sound. Behind Frannie, Huey was shaking his head sadly. He opened his mouth one more time, and took a deep, resigned breath. "Your helpfulness to Constable Fraser can not be overestimated, Officer Vecchio," he said, at last. "I think... I think I need to be somewhere else right now." He straightened and walked back towards his office, rubbing his temples and muttering something under his breath.

Frannie stared after him, crinkling her brow. "I'm worried about the Lieutenant," she said. "He seems overtired, don't you think?"

As she turned around, Huey hastily schooled his expression into something deadpan. "I wouldn't worry about it," he said. "It's been a long week, is all." He reached out one arm, looped his fingers through her belt loops, and yanked her back. Frannie's butt smacked onto the surface of the desk and she let out her breath in a foomph. "In fact, I wouldn't recommend thinking about Lieutenant Welsh right now, at all." He released her belt loops to rub small circles against her back.

Frannie grinned, and leaned back until she was resting her weight against Huey's arm. "What should I be thinking about?"

"The fact that our schedules are synchronized, for once," he said. "And we can both leave..." he checked his watch. "Five minutes ago." He snaked his arm around Frannie's waist, and she fell back a little, her head resting on his shoulder and her lips close to his ear.

"Then, Detective Huey, would you care to join me in an afternoon conventional?"

Constitutional, he didn't say, as her warm breath brushed against his ear. Why don't you just say "walk"? he didn't even think, not anymore. "I thought you'd never ask, Officer Vecchio," he said.


They walked from Huey's car to his apartment, crunching through leaves just starting to fade from yellow, purple, and red to a crunchier brown. Huey on link his arm from Frannie's and took a couple of steps ahead of her to kick the sidewalk clear of windblown sticks. One of the sticks, adorned with large, green, spiky seedpods, got stuck in his trouser cuff.

"Chestnuts!" shrieked Frannie.

"What?" asked Huey, disentangling the twig -- branch, practically -- from his leg.

"It's horse chestnuts," said Frannie, taking it from him. "We used to play with these when I was a kid. Ray and Maria and I, I mean." She took the chestnuts and waved at him gaily. "We had a chestnut tree on our street, and we'd each take a branch and we'd fight with them, like swords, you know?" She bent down, teetering on her stiletto heels, and grabbed another branch of chestnuts. "Here, try it."

Bemused, Huey held out his branch, and Frannie whacked hard it with her own. Both chestnuts on Huey's stick went flying off, and burst open on the sidewalk, shiny brown nuts peeking out from the split green cases. Frannie looked up at him, eyes shining. "See, Jack?"

He reached out his hand toward her, and seemed surprised to realise he still held the denuded branch. He dropped the branch at her feet and rested his knuckles lightly against her cheek. "I see," he said, and leaned down to kiss her.

Her arms snaked around his back, under his suit jacket. Frannie hadn't dropped her own chestnuts, and Huey felt the prickly casings tangle in his shoulder holster, but he didn't stop. The Chicago air was sharp and cold, but Frannie's lips were so incredibly warm. He licked his way into her mouth, and she made a not-so-quiet sound against his lips.

"Inside?" he asked, pulling away from her mouth with effort.

"Uh-huh," she said, tugging him back down, and he laughed, still kissing her, fumbling for his key.

Once inside, Frannie wasted no time in kicking off her shoes. As she lost three inches of height, Huey slipped one hand under her ass to hold her up. She squirmed, rubbing her ass against his growing erection, then rubbing back again against his hand.

Frannie reached up without breaking the kiss and shucked Huey's jacket from his shoulders. As it fell, the lining caught in a horse chestnut, still tangled with his holder. It yanked him slightly off balance, and as he let go of Frannie in an effort to keep from falling, she slid down the front of his body, her soft belly rubbing against him.

"Jesus," he said, and placed his hands on her shoulders to move her back. She looked up at him, lips wet and swollen. "Just, have to, my gun," he said, hoping she would understand, since right now he didn't think he had such great control of language.

She nodded, unsmiling, eyes huge. He unloaded his gun as quickly as possible, locked both gun and ammunition in their drawer. When he turned back to Frannie, she had unbuttoned her own shirt, unzipped her uniform trousers. She leaned against the counter, head back, eyes closed. One hand was circling a nipple over the demi-cup of her very pink, very lacy bra. The other had snaked into her pants, and he could see the outline of it moving, slow at first, then faster, her wrist above her zipper circling.

He caught his breath, and Frannie opened her eyes. "Done with your gun?" she asked.

He didn't answer. One short step forward, and then Huey fell to his knees, pressing his lips against the blue polyester, breathing out hotly over Frannie's moving hand. He reached up for her waistband, grabbing belt, trousers, and underwear together, and tugged sharply downward. As the cloth moved down her hips, his lips pressed against her knuckles. He breathed against her hand while he pulled her pants down far enough for her to step out of them. Frannie's hand stilled his Huey slid his hands back up her warm thighs, pressing into the soft skin of her ass. Slowly, oh so slowly, she withdrew her hand, until he caught it with his lips and sucked her two dripping fingers into his mouth.

He licked them clean, sucking hard against the taste. When she whimpered, he let them slide reluctantly past his lips.

"Jack," she said above his head, almost whispering.

"Frannie," he said, reverently. He flexed his fingers deep into the flesh of her ass and drew her hips forward. Reaching out with his tongue, he parted her labia. Damp, swollen, he pressed his mouth against her clitoris and sucked. She shrieked above him and almost fell, more of her weight falling against his face. Gorgeous.

Frannie brought both of her hands down, rested them on his hair, rubbed her thumbs against his temples. Huey slid his left hand around to her front, rested it on her belly, then brought it down. When he slid two finger into her he sucked even harder, and the sound that came out of her made him almost impossibly hard.

"Oh god oh god oh jesus maria god oh god," she said above him, and he twisted his wrist around and curled his fingers just so toward the front of her pelvis, just as he pulled his lips back and ran his tongue over her in one slow lap. She convulsed around him, and the only thing that kept both his hands on her instead of reaching down to free himself and bring himself off in -- what would it take, now? three strokes? two? -- was the conviction that no amount of his own orgasms could feel as good as hers against his mouth, around his fingers, her perfect ass clenching and unclenching in his grip.

When her shaking eased, he slowly drew back, pulling his fingers from her. Straightening his creaking knees, he lay back for a moment on the floor; he didn't think he could move very far for a moment.

"Oof!" he said, when Frannie collapsed none too gently on top of him. Still hard enough to pound nails, he was content for just this moment to look up at her. "Frannie," he said, and stopped, unable to form any more coherent thoughts than that.

But she just whispered "shh," and laid one finger against his own wet mouth. She straddled him, rubbing her wet groin against his still-clothed erection, and smiled. "We've got all afternoon," she said, and leaned down for yet one more kiss.