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The Sort of Naked and the Dead

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The mortuary was as cold as the corpses it held. Perhaps that was why the corpses were cold. Who could tell in this mixed-up world? But as cold as the mortuary was… it was also hot. Very hot.

Super hot. But in a metaphorical sense that was all about the feeling DC Anne Oldman got from looking at Dr. Natasha Sachet's arse.

"Bitch!" said Dr. Sachet.

"Slattern!" shot back Oldman.

"Cow!"

"Tramp!"

Anne Oldman's eyes stayed focused on Sachet's beautiful lips as they formed 'cheap trash' ...so perfectly that Oldman was wet instantly. Well, not literally instantly. That would be an indication of a potential medical problem. The point is, Oldman was aroused. Sexually.

Jack Cloth looked broodingly at the corpse. A snorkeling accident, the preliminary report said. The swimmer had accidentally swum into a bunch of knives. Eight times.

Jack Cloth shook his head. "I've never seen anything like this. Five times, yes, even six. But EIGHT?"

Sachet was looking at Oldman. Oldman abruptly realized she'd forgotten to return the insult she'd barely heard as she blatantly checked out Sachet's incredibly kissable lips. Oldman didn't have insults in her. Just lust. Pure lust. And nausea, because the corpse stank of rot and seaweed. But mainly lust.

"We should discuss this later," said Oldman.

Sachet's eyes darkened.

Oldman's equally dark eyes looked back. She licked her lips.

"I loathe you," said Sachet.

"Because you're a nasty old bitch," said Oldman, leaning closer, reaching out to brush a lock of hair from out of Sachet's eyes.

Sachet turned her face to suck on Oldman's fingers, drawing it out. "Get fucked," she said as she pulled her head back.

Oldman yanked the front of Sachet's coat to toss her over the corpse and leapt up to straddle her. "Oh, I plan to!"

"I was examining that! Oh, fuck's sake, not again," protested Jack.

"You're out of your league!" yelled Sachet before kissing Oldman fiercely, sliding her tongue between Oldman's lips. Oldman rocked her hips, getting as much friction as she could.

The corpse made a rhythmic squishing sound.

"Oh, I'm right in my league and league means your fanny. To be clear," said Oldman.

"The stench of low tide, a hand up my jacksie, and your sleeve soaked to the skin, you know how to show a girl a good time," purred Sachet.

"You know what the boys down the station say about you?" said Oldman, nibbling Sachet's ear.

The door slammed open as Des and Asap came in with latest news.

"Guv? You need to get a better look at this," said Des.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, Des. Save it for later."

Des pulled out his camera and took a few snaps. "Got it, Guv."

"The knifings were no accident," said Asap, who couldn't see past Des. "We've got a murder on our hands!"

"Sorry, you harridan," moaned Oldman. "The job… oh God... calls."

She hopped off Sachet and walked out, tidying her hair. Anne Oldman was, after all, the consummate professional...