Marshalling Her Heart

By G.G. Royale

Tears had caused Sorcha O’Rourke’s fake eyelashes to peel a bit off her eyelids and her mascara to run in black lines down her face. Marshall Tillie Sands tried to think of it as some kind of war paint, put on by a brave Amazon about to go into battle, but all she could see was the scared witness sitting in front of her. The girl had put far too much time into her makeup for the trial anyway. Showing a little vulnerability certainly wouldn’t hurt the state’s case.

Tillie passed a tissue to Sorcha, and Sorcha wiped the streaks off her face.

“How much longer?” she asked.

Tillie pulled her cell phone off its belt clip and checked the time. As she repositioned it, she couldn’t help but notice Sorcha’s eyes on her holster and sidearm. “Shouldn’t be much longer. Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“Knowing your father’s in there, just on the other side of that door, and you can’t talk to him.”

Sorcha raised her chin just a smidge, and Tillie knew she’d managed to get through to her.

“My father rejected me when I came out to him.” She wiped her eyes now. “He deserves what he gets.”

“Well, just make sure the defense and jury doesn’t think this is all about vengeance.” Tillie knew it wasn’t; she’d spent enough time with Sorcha over the last few weeks to know the girl had a good head and a good heart. She’d also spent time with her as the lawyers coached her on how to make sure the jury felt sympathy for her rejection rather than ire at her betrayal of her father. “So you’re feeling okay about this?”

“Yes, I can do it. Just be ready to get me out of here when the time comes.”

Timmy “Two-Tone” O’Rourke would have thugs positioned to take down anyone that testified against him. Even his own daughter. Tillie wouldn’t let that happen. And she had more than dedication for her job to motivate. Over the last few weeks, she’d fallen for Sorcha, but she just couldn’t do anything about it. She would have to live with her feelings and move past them when the case was over and Sorcha had moved on into witness protection.

“No one’s ever been hurt in my custody,” Tillie said. “You won’t be the first.”

The bailiff came into the small room where they waited and motioned silently for Sorcha to enter the courtroom with him. Tillie offered her a final, reassuring smile before the witness got up and left. Tillie watched her ass as she left the room.

Tillie waited, pacing. She didn’t want to be seen in the courtroom by anyone. If they saw her, they might be able to figure out who she was and use her to get to Sorcha. Her number one job as a marshal was to ensure no harm came to Sorcha while in her custody. Or while she adjusted to her new life as Gillian Graves of Morro Bay, California.

Tillie shook her head. She prayed that Sorcha didn’t stick out like a sore thumb in the small, coastal town, but it would certainly be a hard transition for the girl. Going from being the privileged daughter of a Boston gangster to working a nine to five, buying groceries like everyone else… Tillie didn’t know how some of the witnesses managed it. Plus, there wasn’t a huge alternative lifestyle population there. Tillie hoped it didn’t make Sorcha restless.

After more than an hour, Sorcha returned to the room. Her fake eyelashes had fallen off completely, and only a few smudges and smears hinted at the makeup she had applied earlier. She must have cried it off completely, Tillie thought. She moved forward and wrapped her arms around Sorcha. Sorcha took a few shaky breaths before she hugged Tillie in return. Tillie liked the girl, more than she ought to, on too many levels. She hated to see her in pain. She wanted to kiss her and tell her it would be okay, that she would protect her, but she couldn’t She wished she could offer Sorcha some distraction, but that would hardly be appropriate, no matter how wonderful she could make Sorcha feel in her arms.

She pushed away before any more thoughts of seduction could enter her mind. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Sorcha nodded.

It was time to move on.

* * *

Tillie tossed sharpened pencils into the pressed tile ceiling of her small, strip-mall office. Outside the window, she could see the gray of the day: drizzly, cold, icky all around. That was Morro Bay for you, she thought dismally. She really wanted to head back to the main office, but Sorcha…Gillian, she reminded herself, was having a harder time adjusting than anyone expected.

Tillie’s partner had gone home for the weekend to see his wife and kids in Los Angeles, so she sat there, trying to keep herself occupied, ready at a moment’s notice should she need to deal with the next breakdown.

Speak of the devil…

Gillian came in, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed. Tillie had become far too familiar with that look. This was the look Gillian got when she’d done something right on the line of giving herself away.

She sat down at Tillie’s desk and started to explain, something about searching for someone online, making a contact with a childhood friend, someone who didn’t even live near her dad, but nevertheless --

Tillie raised a hand, silencing Gillian. She shook her head. “Why do you keep doing this?” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she couldn’t quite manage it. “I’ve explained the rules. I’ve explained why they are important. The office won’t let me stay here forever. You know that, right?” She’d already extended her stay weeks beyond what had originally been required. Any longer and they might decide Gillian was a lost cause. If the marshals weren’t there to offer protection, God help her. “Even if you keep doing this…especially if you keep doing this, they will pull me off your case. And it will look bad for me.”

Tillie heard Gillian’s voice catch in her throat. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“You’re making friends at work, aren’t you?”

“That’s not what I mean.” Gillian lifted her gaze, and for the first time, Tillie saw another look there, a look she knew about as well as Gillian’s other look, though she’d never seen it on this girl. “I know what you like,” she said, her voice a little breathless. “I can tell. And you’ve treated me so well.”

Tillie started shaking her head again. “Whatever you think you know is irrelevant.” Tillie stood and paced. “That’s not a line I can cross with a witness. I won’t get involved like that.”

“But you can’t deny you want me.”

Tillie stopped and stared at Gillian. She’d at least done a good job adapting to certain aspect of life. She’d died her blond hair a dark chestnut and kept it pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She’d turned in her designer clothes for jeans and button-fronts from K-Mart, though she still wore high, strappy sandals, giving a nice length and shape to her legs. She’d even simplified her makeup, going for softer, cleaner shades. Tillie couldn’t deny the woman’s beauty. She couldn’t deny the attraction, either. But duty came first. “Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, realizing her resolution had already started to fade.

Gillian stood and stopped Tillie in her path. “Marshal Sands, you are required to keep me safe.”

“I know.”

“You are required to see that no harm comes to me.”

“I know.”

“Then how can you break my heart?”

Tillie couldn’t hold back. She took Gillian into her arms and kissed her, a kiss she’d wanted since she’d first seen the girl, scared and emotionally wounded, sitting in police custody. She’d wanted to protect that girl, to make sure all the bad things in her life went away for good. No, she couldn’t refuse her any longer. She’d done it for too long already.

Gillian tasted like coffee and the sugary sweetness of her lip-gloss. Tillie ran her hands up the other woman’s back, feeling the ridge of her vertebrae through her clothes, the fine hairs at the back of her neck. She held her head, running her fingers into Gillian’s dark locks and feeling their softness.

Gillian’s tongue teased at the crease of Tillie’s lips, and Tillie let her own join it, touching and tagging. A small voice in the back of Tillie’s head told her to stop, but she ignored it. She knew she could still protect Gillian after this…whatever this turned into.

Gillian pushed back slightly. “I never did all those things.”

“What things?” Tillie asked, caressing Gillian’s cheek with her own, feeling the softness there.

“The searches, the phone calls… I just said I did so I had an excuse to see you.”

Relief flooded through Tillie, and she kissed Gillian again, this time nearly suffocating herself with the intensity of it. “I knew you were a smart girl,” she finally said after stopping for a breath. “Close the blinds. Lock the door.”

Gillian did and then came back to the center of the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, she started unbuttoning her short-sleeve camp shirt. She peeled back the front to reveal her breasts to Tillie, and Tillie swallowed. She’d gone a long time without a lover, and from the close surveillance she kept on Gillian, she knew the other woman had the same problem. Tillie moved toward Gillian and ran her hands down her front, feeling the smooth flesh. Her pussy dampened at even that small touch. Gillian finished taking her shirt off and undid the clasp on her bra. That fell to the floor. Tillie fondled Gillian’s bare breasts, looking at the contrast between her dark, tanned hands and Gillian’s creamy flesh. The small, rosy nipples peaked under her ministrations, and Tillie leaned down and licked one, then the other, tasting baby powder and just a hint of the donut grease from the shop where Gillian worked. Tillie took a deep breath and then straightened up.

“Come on.” She took Tillie’s hand and pulled her into the back of the office. There, a twin bed was shoved against one wall of the back office, a coffee maker, microwave, and mini fridge took up a table on the other side of the room. Gillian and her partner sometimes took turns sleeping and monitoring, and the bed was a convenient place to catch a quick nap.

Now it would be a convenient place to catch a quick snatch. Tillie began to undress, dropping her black blazer to the floor. She carefully laid down her gun, phone, and badge on the table, and then threw the rest of her clothes to the ground. Gillian finished stripping too, and soon the two women stood there, eyeing each other, drinking in the beauty of the other woman’s body. Tillie couldn’t imagine, now that she’d come this far, how she’d managed to keep Gillian at arm’s length all those months they’d spent together. Now it seemed so inevitable. Gillian was not a stupid girl that needed Tillie’s protection. She just needed her.

Tillie pushed Gillian down on the bed then kneeled down between her legs. The old vinyl tiles felt cool on her bare knees. She ran her hands up Gillian’s thighs, feeling the smooth, hairless skin, the taut muscle beneath. Tillie loved the feel of Gillian’s body beneath her hands, and there were so many things she could do to it and with it. She wished she had toys -- ropes, crops, dildos -- but she’d have to make do.

Gillian was a natural blond, but not even a light dusting of hair covered her sex; she’d shaved it clean. When Tillie leaned in and inhaled, she smelled the same sweetness of frying donuts, baby powder, and that bittersweet aroma of arousal. Tillie just looked at her cunt, rubbing the insides of Gillian’s thighs, brushing her thumbs against the pussy lips. She appreciated the contrast of pale skin to rosy interior, Gillian’s arousal betrayed by the beads of moisture forming on her lips and dripping down onto the sheets.

Tillie’s mouth watered with anticipation. She couldn’t wait to taste, to devour, to hear Gillian’s cries of ecstasy. She wondered if the neighbors in the old strip mall would hear them through the walls. She almost hoped they did. She wanted to shout out her discovery: I have a lover!

Unable to hold back any longer, Tillie finally leaned in and licked. Almost immediately, Gillian’s hands tangled into Tillie’s short, practical hairstyle, using the hold to guide her, encourage her… Tillie’s fingers found pussy and rear and delved into moistness, scissoring and thrusting and forcing.

She could hear Gillian’s panting as she worked. Her breaths became ragged, but the grip on Tillie’s hair never faltered. Gillian brought one leg up, catching the edge of the mattress with her heel, bending the knee up and away, opening herself more for Tillie.

Tillie’s own pussy wept, wanting attention, but every hand had other duties.

She could feel Gillian’s body tighten beneath her, the muscles bunching and straining. She would come soon, Tillie knew. She increased the pace of finger and tongue.

Gillian cried out, announcing her release to the room, and she took no time to recover. She guided Tillie up to the bed by her hair and pushed the woman against the wall. Gillian delved between her legs, the fervor of her own climax seeming to drive her on, some sort of ruthless inspiration to see Tillie come too.

Tillie felt completely mastered, her body not her own, but instead a tool of Gillian’s desire. The woman’s tongue pounded into her; fingers gripped with bruising force.  Tillie grew light headed. She could barely breathe through the erotic assault on her body.

Her body tensed, her orgasm gathering like a swarm of angry bees. Her body shook. The bed creaked, and she could not take it any longer.

Tillie screamed out too, her ears rang, and Gillian grinned up at her, a look of triumph plastered across her face.

In the afterglow, the two women lay intertwined on the narrow bed, fingers stroking each other’s bodies idly, learning the paths of skin, the secrets of their anatomy.

“So,” Tillie began after a languid silence, “Gillian didn’t send flowers to Sorcha O’Rourke’s mother’s grave on Mother’s Day?”

Gillian sounded a tinge mournful when she answered. “Nope.”

“And Gillian didn’t order a box of pastries from Sorcha’s favorite Boston bakery shipped to Morro Bay?”

“No.” Gillian giggled.

“And Gillian didn’t friend Sorcha’s dentist’s daughter on Facebook?”

“Oh hell no.”

Tillie ran her hand up the smooth skin of Gillian’s thigh, not seeing an end to her fascination with that particular plain of flesh. She felt more at ease than she had in weeks. She thought she’d had the most difficult witness ever, but instead she just had a girl with a crush on her. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I don’t know.” A small smile touched her lips. “I guess I wanted to watch you squirm for a little bit. You have to admit the delay made it very hot.”

Tillie raised her eyebrows and nodded. She looked at the ceiling. It definitely had felt quite scorching. Hotter than anything.

“I guess this mean you’ll move on, then?” Gillian asked. Tillie could definitely hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Well, it is policy to assign me to another witness once you’ve settled. But Morro Bay is a lovely place for vacations, particularly if I were, say, transferred to the Los Angeles branch permanently.”

“Will we be able to keep it a secret?”

Tillie glanced at her new lover and knew she didn’t want this to turn into a one-time thing. Even if it meant risking her career with the marshals, she needed to see Gillian again. She needed to be with Gillian. “We’ll try as long as we can. It wouldn’t be unheard of for me to check in once in a while.”

She leaned in for another kiss, and Gillian melted against her. Yeah, thought Tillie. I’ll be checking in quite a bit.