Warnings: Sexually explicit, includes woman-to-woman sex, bad language. Set in New Zealand http://.nz.com so some words and phrases may be unfamiliar.
Illustrated version go here. Return to Karen's Homepage.  Copyright Karen Malevich 1999.
Comments welcome: Email Karen
 

PART 2
 

The thirty miles into Wellington flew by quickly as Logan treated the Mazda with even more disregard than usual.

The morning had passed in a sleepy daze. She had crawled back into bed after Frith had left and dozed until the late morning sun woke her with its heat. Once fully awake, she stared at the ceiling of her bedroom for a while, thoughts and feelings and memories of the night swirling through her mind. How had this happened? 'The usual way,' she snorted to herself and with that she dragged herself out of bed and into her day.

She remembered the small pile of documents she had stolen from the farm and searched the house and the car for them. She realised Frith had probably taken them.

So, to progress she needed several things. Frith. Those documents. A meeting with Jack, her missing source. An entry into Tall Trees. And all four things were in Wellington.

Some quick searching of the on-line white pages and she had Frith's home address narrowed down to two possible choices. Had she mentioned which web company she was working for? A quick visit to the dot-co-dot-nz TTL website revealed the name of the web design company. Frith, then Jack. She almost convinced herself that was a sound investigative tactic.

Parking was its own usual torment. A city like Wellington, which is crammed into a very small space between steep hills and the busy harbour, relies on public transport to facilitate the movement of worker drones into the paper-consumed bureaucracies of central government.

Logan turned into a car-parking building near Te Papa, the new national museum. Allen Street was right across the road and she could easily see the sign for Solaris Consulting. The old three-story stone masonry building did not boast a lift, so she bounded up to the top floor reception area.

Not surprisingly, for a small company, there was no receptionist - just a bell inviting her to ring it. As she reached out to tap the bell, she heard a familiar voice from a meeting room adjacent to the foyer. She snatched back her hand and stood frozen in place. God, there were two familiar voices and she had no trouble in placing both of them. Frith's warm alto tones and Sarah's higher pitched voice. Logan cursed under her breath. The rumble of a male voice entered what was apparently turning into an argument.

"Ms. Harris! How can we investigate a potential breach of security when you can't tell us anything about it?" That must be Wiremu Kale, the owner, thought Logan.

"Wiremu," Sarah purred, "you must see our dilemma. Investigating something ..... delicate, can as easily do the damage the troublemaker sought in the first place."

"So, you can't tell me why you are taking all the Tall Trees development work back? Are you giving it to another company? Is this really about dissatisfaction with our work?"

Frith's voice floated through the doorway. "Is it me in particular?" she asked.

"Well, Ms Buchanan, your involvement with Greenpeace IS potentially a factor, minor, I admit. But TTL is reviewing security as part of a world-wide project towards e-commerce. You know how it is - head office twitches and we all get jerked around," Sarah laughed lightly. "With any luck, we'll be able to restart the work in a couple of weeks. And we WILL come back to you, I promise. Now, is this everything?"

Papers and disks were now being shuffled and obviously being placed in briefcases. The meeting was ending. Logan glanced around the reception, but there was nowhere to hide. She opened the glass door on the opposite side of the foyer from the meeting room and slid into the first doorway.

Wiremu and Frith said their farewells to the Tall Trees Communications Manager. As soon as she had disappeared down the stairs, they looked at each other and, by common understanding, headed  for the roof stairs.

"Friiiiiiith......" Wiremu dragged her name out. "What's going on?"

Frith waited until they were up on the roof. The winter sun made her shade her eyes as she considered what to tell her employer. Could he be of help? Or would he just be royally irritated?

"Well," she said cautiously, "She didn't take the work away, not really. We still have a contract and she made no mention of varying that."

"Not that!" he snapped. "What's this deal with Greenpeace?"

"I have no idea," she said. "I used to do volunteer work with them. Got out a year or so ago. I can't recall anything wildly outrageous about Tall Trees - I certainly wasn't involved in the research or investigations or anything. I just wrote their local propaganda."

"SHE clearly thinks it's an issue."

"It sounded like bullshit to me."

"But she's obviously done a background check on you. Christ, maybe she's done one on me, too." Wiremu's worried face looked even more anxious. "If she thinks you having worked for Greenpeace is a problem, then the fact that Brian works for the Dominion might be just as bad."

Seeing the possibility of the potentially lucrative TTL contract about to go down the toilet, Wiremu frowned and hauled out his packet of cigarettes. Lighting one, he absently offered a cigarette to Frith. She took one, equally absently. Only when she put her hand out for the lighter, did he register the unusual fact.

"Frith! I thought you didn't smoke?"

"Willy, there's a lot of things about me you don't know," she replied. "Some things even I didn't suspect."

"I'm beginning to see that. Care to enlighten me?"

"Know thyself. I'll let you know when I've figured it out myself. So I guess there's no more work for me this month? I've got a life to organise."

"A social life?" he asked. "You don't mean of the romantic variety, do you? Oh my god! You do! At last! Details, details!"

Logan waited patiently, hidden behind the heating unit, as they extinguished the cigarettes and vanished down the stairs, Frith audibly fending off Wiremu's curiosity.

Greenpeace. Sarah. And a journalist named Brian. The mix was slowly mutating. But she really needed to find Jack, and soon. She hated flying blind and suspected that a big piece of the puzzle would be illuminated by her secret-squirrel friend.

She descended the stairs. Should she see Frith now or was she more a part of the mystery than she had let on so far?

'I want those documents,' she thought.

Once again in the reception area, Logan firmly struck the bell. As the sound died away, both Wiremu and Frith appeared from different offices.

Logan dazzled Frith with a broad grin. The blonde woman blushed furiously. Wiremu caught the smile and the blush, and grinned himself.

"I'll leave you to it," he smirked and disappeared back into his office.

Frith and Logan stood staring at each other for a moment, until Frith remembered where she was.

"Come on in," she invited, standing beside her office doorway.

Logan walked in, trying to wipe the grin from her face and failing miserably.

"I... um ... was after those papers," she muttered. She was not sure how to act. Last night had been primal, intense, exciting, amazing. But was it purely situational? How did she feel about this woman? How did Frith feel about her?

Frith followed her in, closing the door behind her. She simply walked up to Logan, put her arms around the taller woman's waist and hugged her. Logan nearly wept in gratitude, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She returned the hug. As the hug lasted, it became an embrace. Logan bent her head, searching out Frith's eyes.

Frith melted as she saw the emotion in the other woman's eyes. She lifted her face. Lips met and lingered. Hands touched and explored. Tongues stroked and caressed. Before they fully realised it, Frith's shirt was open and Logan was bending to kiss her breasts. Stooping, she lifted Frith on to the desk and slipped her hands around Frith's back, fumbling with her bra.

"No!" panted Frith. She slipped off the desk and out of Logan's embrace. Logan's flushed features stilled.

"Not here," Frith continued.

"But Frith...." Logan murmured, as she advanced on the blonde woman, "You know you want to..." The smile was more salacious this time.

Frith felt her willpower rapidly evaporating. At that moment, just as Logan was reaching out for her, Wiremu's voice sounded on the other side of the door.

"Frith? You presentable?"

Logan raised an eyebrow as Frith fumbled her clothes back into a semblance of order.

"Sure, come on in," she called, as she turned and walked towards the window.

Wiremu sidled into the room. One look at the faces of both women and the slightly disheveled state of Frith's top, left Wiremu in no doubt that he had interrupted Frith's 'social life'.

"Sorry, girls," he said, fighting to keep a straight face.

Another look at Logan's face and he stiffened.

"Logan Kendrick?" he stammered.

Frith moved forward to introduce her boss, but Logan smoothly held out her hand and said, "Wiremu Kale, I presume?"

The blonde woman's jaw dropped.

Turning at her slight gasp, Logan smirked.

"I believe you're a friend of Brian Cowley. At the Dominion?"

"So...." he muttered, "there is something going on."

The women glanced at each other.

Wiremu caught the look.

"C'mon, Frith. Tall Trees security shut-down. Sarah Harris in here - smarmy, intimidating bitch. You and Greenpeace ... and now -"

A deep voice behind them interrupted, " - and now, Logan Kendrick."

Three heads snapped toward the doorway. A tall, brown-haired man stood in the frame.

"Well, well, well. Jacky-boy, as I live and die," drawled Logan.  "I was just coming to see you."

"Oh yeah," said Wiremu. "Frith, there's someone here to see you."

Frith groaned and held her head.

"Does anyone else have a headache?" she asked.
 

Everyone started to talk at once. As the gabble of voices rose, Logan walked over to the whiteboard on the wall and wrote in big letters HAS SARAH BUGGED THIS OFFICE?

That shut them up.

LET'S GO TO .....?

They stared at one another. Frith took the pen and wrote her address. Jack and Logan looked at each other and nodded.

Logan retrieved the pen. SPLIT UP. 60 MINUTES.

Jack took up the conversation. "Well, I better be going," he said. "Frith, it was lovely to meet you. Logan, let's meet at the Paradiso Bar in, say, ten minutes?"

"Great idea, Jack," Logan practically cooed. Frith shot her a very surprised look. "We have so much catching up to do." The tone in her voice shouted the implication that the catching up would be in the bedroom.

Wiremu and Frith did their best in 'remembering' appointments that would take them out of the office. As they were about to head down the stairs, Logan grabbed Frith by the hand.

"Let them go first and draw whatever tail Sarah may have left out there," she murmured quietly in Frith's ear. "Is there a back way out of this place?"

Frith nodded, and they waited as first Jack, then Wiremu left the building.

Down the stairs, Frith led Logan behind the staircase and out a rear door into a tidy alley. Logan was impressed, the gentrification of this part of town even extended to the alleyways.

She took the lead then and within minutes they were at Logan's Mazda.

"Get in the back and lie down."

"Oooh - just the invitation I've been waiting for," Frith half-joked as she slid into the back seat.

They waited in the car-park for a good five minutes, Logan scanning the surrounding area for any sign they had been followed. In total silence.

Finally, Frith spoke. "How much longer?"

"Now should be okay."

Logan drove out of the car-park and turned north along Oriental Parade. The Parade was popular with pedestrians, roller-bladers and joggers at lunchtime, as well as many trades-people eating their home-packed lunch in vans and work-cars. She kept an eye in the rear-vision mirror, looking for any following vehicles. None were apparent.

She drove fairly directly to Frith's house, high up on Mt Victoria. The twisting, winding, narrow streets of Roseneath meant they traveled slowly, but it still only took them another few minutes. As she parked (illegally on the sidewalk, of course) Logan considered the next step.

Turning to Frith, who was levering herself upright, she said, "I'm going in first to make sure there are no unwelcome visitors. Gimme your house keys."

Frith pulled them out of her satchel. "Here. It's this one, in the top lock," she said. "How long should I wait before coming in?"

"If I'm not back in five minutes, skedaddle. Head back to your office and wait for me or Jack to contact you."

"Why Jack?"

"He's a spy," Logan grinned. "And, I'm pretty sure, one of the good guys."

"Be careful," Frith reached out and touched Logan's arm. Logan grabbed Frith's hand and kissed it.

"I will," she promised. "Don't move." And with that she was out of the car and jogging up the steps.

She slowed to a walk as the path to Frith's house turned off from its neighbours. Wellington suburbs were worse than rabbit warrens. A watcher could be up any of these other paths, or even clear across the central city on the Kelburn hill, watching with high-powered equipment. Privacy was much sought-after but seldom achieved in this town.

Frith's house was well hidden from its neighbours - the judicial use of trees, shrubs and the natural curve of the hill allowing a modicum of separation. It was a 1920's weatherboard house, painted white with a dark green trim on the windowsills and door frames. The path leveled out as it approached the house and crossed a small grassed area with some early daffodils and a late flowering daphne bush giving off its sharp perfume.

Up the last few steps to the front door, Logan peered in the stained-glass surrounds. Nothing obvious. She walked around the house as best she could, making the acquaintance of an elderly black and white cat at the back door.

She returned to the front-door and let herself in.

Inside, the hallway was wood paneled, kauri timber Logan guessed. White plaster walls contrasted with the golden wood, reaching high to the ceiling some twelve feet above. Three rooms opened off the hall. Quickly she looked in each room.

Two were bedrooms, one obviously a spare room. The other door led into a living room.

Everything looked in place. At the end of the hall, with a door into the living room, was the kitchen. It was modern within the constraints of the era of the house - new benches, cupboards and appliances. Off the kitchen was the laundry and bathroom, and a porch for the back door. The black and white cat poked its head in the cat door but scurried off when Logan tested the back door lock.

She felt guiltly (that she checked) and relieved that it was apparent that only one person lived here - one toothbrush, one towel on the towel-rail, one coffee mug in the drying rack.

Time to get Frith, before she took off.

As she walked quietly down the path, she stopped dead in her tracks as she heard footsteps coming up. She ducked behind a large hydrangea and waited. 'Oh for christ's sake,' she groaned to herself, as Frith walked past her. 'Can't you follow simple instructions?' Logan knew she was being a little unreasonable. Unless you had experienced the down-side of the cloak-and-dagger life, it always seemed preposterous that people could be hurt, or worse, by blundering in unawares.

A quick mental flash of the screams of a middle-aged woman, clutching her young child to her as they died at the hands of her assailant. The smell of blood filled her senses. The sickening sound of metal in flesh .....

Logan swallowed hard - the nausea from the too-vivid memory threatening to overwhelm her.

"Frith!" she hissed, and had a slight satisfaction of seeing the younger woman jump. "I told you to wait for me."

She jumped down from her hiding place and they walked the remaining distance together.

Back inside the house, Logan quietly said, "Let's go on to the verandah." As Frith went to answer, Logan placed her finger on her lips and gestured - 'show me'.

She led the way out though the living-room, with its high stud and tall sash windows, on to a generous verandah looking out over a breath-taking view of Wellington harbour. The house was not as exposed as it might have been, partially obscured by the pine trees and macrocarpas of the city's green-belt.

Once outside, Logan closed the french-doors and talked more normally. Her frame of mind was shaken, her normal resilience to surprises was  corroding under the weight of her memories.

"Jack will bring some bug-scanners," she said. "Until then it is best to wait out here. Now - are you going to tell me everything?"

Frith looked at her in shock.

"What do you mean?" she gasped.

Logan snorted. "I'm not a strong believer in coincidences," she stated. "First, Sarah Harris at Solaris. Then Jack. And me - was that just an accident too? What do you want from me?"

Her grip on Frith's arm grew tighter. She cried out, "Logan! You're hurting me!"

"Sorry," snapped Logan, but her grip slackened only slightly. "Well?"

Just then a gentle knock at the door interrupted the tense scene.

"That'll be Jack. Let him in." Logan released Frith's arm abruptly. She rubbed at it, looking away, unable to meet Logan's eyes.

Jack had a black sports bag with him. Once inside the front-door, he motioned for Frith to be quiet. Working quickly, he checked the two phones, lightfittings, tables, and door and window frames with a scanner.

Frith followed him from room to room, anxious for the moment not to be alone with Logan.

Logan stayed out on the balcony, glowering. Fear for Frith flooded through her, so apparently unsuited to be playing this kind of game, mixed with suspicion about her motivation for being in the game at all. Logan had been prepared to accept the way they met, but hearing Sarah's voice had shaken her.

Was Frith being played by an expert? Did Frith know she was being played? Surely not, her heart pleaded.

She considered Sarah Harris, the Communications Manager for Tall Trees. Last seen, or more accurately heard, by Logan, screaming obscenities and hurling clothes as the depth of the betrayal became apparent. Logan knew about betrayal from personal experience. She had deceived others - a thousand times.

The last time had had consequences so horrific that she had just packed up and walked away. And spent the next three months in therapy and exile, trying to find absolution.

Jack finished his work and joined Logan on the verandah. She was leaning on the railing, gloomily staring out over the harbour. He recognised this mood and knew enough not to irritate her. All her beauty, intelligence and spirit hid a violence he had witnessed several times and did not particularly wish to see again.

He leaned beside her, not speaking for a long moment, planning his approach. This meeting with Logan needed to go exactly right.

"You wanted me?" he eventually asked. It was their old joke, based on his long standing desire to be more than friends and her decision to remain merely comrades. Jack McKechnie had been her contact in the Fraud Squad as Logan investigated do-gooders, usually with their hands in the till. Her ability to move without some of the procedural constraints of the Police Department complemented his access to intelligence data. Together they had made a formidable, though unofficial, team. Until three months ago.

Three long months ago, when her world had shattered around her. Jack had been first on the scene and witnessed the carnage. He had whisked Logan away to the safety of a private clinic, where no questions were asked. He had seen her only once since that dark day. The woman he had met with then had not been the same vibrant woman he loved. She had been a shadow, a wraith. Defensive, haunted and subdued. His heart had cried for his friend, but he had walked away. She had not wanted him, even then.

"Yes," she finally replied, turning towards him. "And I suspect you know why."

"Tall Trees," he said simply.

"Is it serious?" she asked.

"Yup."

Although Logan was tall, Jack still towered over her. His unremarkable, good-looking face was at her level as he stooped. Logan thought idly, as she had many times, 'Must make being undercover a bitch.' She waited for him to continue.

"So, what's the deal with you and Ms Buchanan?" His slightly snarky questioned intimated he suspected more than a professional relationship.

Logan ignored his implied question.

"I ran into her out at a hydroponics place up the Kapiti Coast." She noticed his tiny reaction, quickly controlled. "She had a bit of trouble with a security guard."

"I guess you know about the involvement of her company, Solaris, with Tall Trees? Of course you do, you were there."

Logan returned her gaze to the city.

"Let's wait until Mr Kale gets here, shall we? I only want to hear this story once," she said, evenly.

As if on cue, Wiremu's dark head appeared, bobbing up the path.

"Okay inside?" she asked.

"Sure, nothing there. And no sign of any surveillance, though in this neighbourhood it's way too easy to set up a directional mike or telephoto camera in any of those houses," he gestured at the surrounding villas and apartments.

Most of the houses in Roseneath were wooden villas built in the 1910's and 1920's. They were old but well cared for - the sunny aspects, the views, the beautiful trees of the green-belt and the proximity to the city made it the most desirable locale in the city.

Logan frowned. How could Frith afford to own a house here? Or even rent one without a room-mate?

Inside, Frith let her employer into the hall. She motioned him to precede her into the livingroom. Taking a steadying breath, she followed him in as Jack and Logan came in through the french-doors opposite.

"Right," said Jack. "It's safer in here - no bugs and away from prying eyes."

"Why don't you start, Jack?" suggested Logan. "I don't believe Mr Kale or Ms Buchanan have any idea who the fuck you are." The bitter note in her voice startled Jack. He raised his hands in a calming gesture.

"I'm Jack Wilson. I've worked with Logan before, on fraud investigations. Now I'm seconded somewhere a bit more security conscious .... let's just say .... for the government."

Logan was not surprised to hear Jack use a false name. But it did indicate a lack of trust of some or all of their companions. 'Including me?' she wondered cynically. Perhaps he was going to use this meeting to tempt some information, or someone, into the open.

"It seems that someone in the New Zealand government is assisting Tall Trees to break our border control for genetically engineered organisms. What exactly they are sneaking in the back-door .... well, we don't know precisely what yet. But my information is that a hybrid has been created of a common grass and what was once a disease carried only by insects. An contagious epidemic disease. It's adapting from an arthropod vector to an organic one."

He paused, inviting reaction or comment.

"My god," exclaimed Wiremu, "You don't mean biological weapons? Here in New Zealand?"

"It's not certain that they are biological weapons, not exactly," replied Jack.

"Then what?" asked Logan, curtly.

"Rather than biological terrorism, like setting off a canister of anthrax in New York, this seems to be more like biological sabotage. Longer term damage rather than short-term devastation. But, as I said, we don't know for certain."

Wiremu looked pale. "And why would anyone in their right minds want to unleash something like that here in New Zealand?" He turned to Frith in appeal. "We haven't got up anyone's noses lately, have we? I mean, like the French blowing up the Rainbow Warrior?"

Frith was silent. She was too aware of the cold suspicion pouring off Logan's presence. Suspicion aimed directly at her.

Jack answered him. "It may not be directed at us. We may be being used as some kind of laboratory or testing ground. For an assault on a similar type of country."

BINGO! If Frith could have gone any paler, she would have. In fact, she looked like she was about to .......

Wiremu leapt to the blonde's side and supported her on the couch. Logan and Jack exchanged glances over his head as he held her, rubbing  her back gently. "C'mon Frith. Snap out of it. Pull yourself together, babe."

He turned to the others. "A glass of water would help," he suggested firmly.

Logan walked into the kitchen, looking for the elusive cupboard with the glasses. Jack joined her in the search.

As the faucet ran, Logan asked, "What's going on with Frith? What's your interest in her?"

Jack did not seem surprised by the quiet question. His voice, equally quiet, was urgent and rapid.

"Wonder how she can afford this place on a part-time contract with a small computer company? She's only 25. She has strong contacts with Greenpeace - no, more than just her sister - it's Darryl Booth in particular. He has some kind of hold over her. Combined with the fact her parents are major shareholders in -"

He was interrupted by Wiremu opening the living room door. "Good god, how long does a simple glass of water take? If this is the state of efficiency in our secret services....." he trailed off as he disappeared into the other room, glass firmly in hand. They heard the murmur of voices.

"Shareholders? In what - not Tall Trees?"

"Yup. Major players too. Her dad used to be on the Board, until a year ago or so."

"Fuck," swore Logan. "And the Greenpeace thing? What about that slime, Booth?"

"She was having an affair with him," Jack said.  "Usual story, I guess. She wanted the thrill of a grown-up affair. He panted over her in front of everyone. Even his wife, I heard."

It was Logan's turn to go pale. She leaned back against the kitchen bench.

The investigation she had started into Darryl Booth, the local New Zealand head of Greenpeace, had come to an abrupt halt when the embattled Director had suffered a nervous breakdown. She had moved on to more promising stories, leaving the investigation up to the authorities - up to Jack.

She tried to turn her thoughts from the mental image of Frith with Darryl.

"Where did that thing go? After I ditched it, I mean," she asked.

"It turned into a criminal case, rather than a fraud investigation," he replied. "Not accepting kickbacks, as we initially figured. More like extortion."

She saw Frith's passion flushed face, half hidden by a man's naked shoulder.

"Extortion?" she muttered weakly.

"He had something on Tall Trees, something big. And she was involved. Not just sexually, though I'm sure it was hot and heavy."

Frith's naked body moving against his urgently..

"This bio-weapon thing?" Logan was feeling sick now.

"Maybe," replied Jack.

She closed her eyes, but the vision remained.

Frith was being fucked from behind by the man, her body arching in ecstasy.

He leaned closer. Time for the kill. "Logan ..... he had something tangible. Evidence. I don't know what. And it's gone. She must have it."

Logan turned the faucet on full and splashed a handful of water into her face.

"I've been waiting for her to make a move for nearly twelve months. And look who she just happens to run in to. You. She's using you, Kendrick. She's just fucking your brains out like she did that shit-head. I hope she's dynamite in the sack."

The sounds of Frith's voice raised at the moment of orgasm, and the animalistic grunts of her lover, filled Logan's mind.

"Something the matter, lover girl?" Jack sneered.

"You PRICK!" she shouted, as she swung her fist viciously, hitting Jack flush on the jaw. The big man went down in a heap.

As the thud echoed around the surfaces of the kitchen, the door swung open and two inquisitive faces peered cautiously in. Eyes widened as they saw Jack on the floor and Logan vigorously rubbing her hand.

"What the heck is going on?" asked Frith. She was still pale.

Logan controlled herself with an effort. She swung around to face the two workmates.

"Just a difference of opinion," she said, coolly.

Frith's expression was skeptical.

"Riiight. And I'm the Queen of Sheba."

"Well, your majesty," came Jack's voice, "if you'll just move your pretty backside....?" He raised himself off the kitchen floor. "Nice clean floor," he commented. "Good cleaning lady?"

"Jack!" snarled Logan, warningly.

"Playtime over?" he asked lightly. "I'm outta here, then."

He went into the hallway, grabbed his bag of tricks and left. His mission accomplished, Logan was now primed and ready to explode. And all he needed to do was stand back and wait for the smoke to clear. Somewhere in the debris would be the missing piece he needed to finish this business.

In the ten seconds his departure took, Frith and Wiremu stared open-mouthed at Logan. She looked nonchalant, or attempted to. Frith noted the damp hair and ashen face.

Turning, she dragged Wiremu into the living room.

"Boss ..... why don't you head off back to work? Nothing's going to happen here."

He protested, but allowed Frith to bundle him out the front door. In a few moments, he found himself standing on the steps outside the firmly shut front door of Frith's house.

By the time Frith got back into the kitchen, Logan had gone. There was no sign of her in the living room, nor on the deck. The hallway and spare bedroom were empty. As she walked into her bedroom, the door swung shut behind her and she was grabbed firmly and shoved against the wall. Logan's body pressed against her, driving the breath from Frith's body.

"What have you done to me?" hissed Logan. "You've told me nothing but lies. You made me hit my best friend." Her voice cracked. "I've known you for forty-eight hours and ...."

"And what?" Frith fought to draw breath. "Did I touch you ... as deeply as you've touched me? Logan .... I.... what do you want from me?"

The grip around her arms tightened convulsively.

"Tell me the truth. That's all I need. The truth."

The proximity of Logan’s body began working its magic on Frith.  Despite, or maybe because of, the barely suppressed violence emanating from the taller woman, Frith was almost instantly in a state of high arousal. Fighting for a little space, she managed to free her arms, snaking them around Logan’s body and holding the dark angry woman close to her. She sought out now familiar blue eyes and, maintaining eye contact, kissed Logan.  The kiss was surprisingly gentle, lips exploring softly.

Logan was struggling with her emotions, one part of her relishing the surprising tenderness, wanting to let herself be gentled by the small blonde woman who was holding her tight, as if her life depended on it.  But the adrenaline in her body was not so easily soothed.  Her hand still throbbed dully, a reminder of having punched Jack.  And the memory of punching Jack was enough for her mind to play even crueler games on her vulnerable psyche. The image of Frith, naked, on all fours, being fucked from behind by that bastard Darryl Booth, flooded her mind.

Logan shook her head, trying to erase the unwelcome picture in her head. Her doubts about Frith’s motives were too present and too threatening for gentleness. Using her body to keep Frith still, she reached behind her back and grabbed Frith's wrists and forced them above the blonde woman's head, pinning them against the wall effectively immobilising the smaller woman.  Strong enough to hold Frith's wrists with one hand, with the other she ripped her shirt open and pushed her bra up and over her breasts.  Logan bent her head and sucked a nipple into her mouth - hard.  After a short time she raised her head, her teeth grazing over the hard nipple as her mouth retreated.

It was Logan’s turn to make eye contact, her gaze hard, drilling into the blonde woman's eyes.

"So, what will it be? You ready to talk, or shall I take you now? You'd like it a little rough, wouldn't you? I bet you're already wet for me. If I keep your mouth busy, at least it won't be able to tell any more lies." Logan pressed Frith’s hands a little harder against the wall for emphasis. She reclaimed a breast, roughly massaging it.

By now Frith’s anger was on the rise.

"For Christ's sake Logan, cut the macho bullshit and cool it.  If you would behave like a rational human being for a second I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.  Let me go." She struggled against the hold Logan had on her. It was to no avail, her strength being no match for Logan’s.

Frith was now really pissed. Serious action was required. Dredging up lesson two of the YWCA's self defence class she raised her foot, and jammed it down on Logan’s instep.

"Ow! Fuck, fuck, fuck and double fuck". The pain in Logan's foot instantly cleared the journalist's head and she released Frith’s hands.

Frith, enjoying the victory for a moment, rammed home the point, spitting out her words.

"Don't you ever do that again. I will not stand for it. How dare you behave like some testosterone-laden jerk? I have had enough of those in my life. I do not need another one. I don't give a fuck who you are or what you think of me. Got it?"

Frith stood, hands on her hips, glaring up at Logan, taking in short sharp breaths.

Logan, however, was made of tough stuff, used to staring down politicians and captains of industry. She also knew when retreat was the best strategic option.

"I don't suppose I’d get away with telling you that you are beautiful when you're angry?" A crooked half-smile sketched across Logan’s face in an apology of sorts.

Frith’s temper, as impressive as it was, was quick to arrive and equally quick to disappear. Taking in another deep calming breath, she gave a small smile.

"If that's as close as you are going to get to saying sorry, I guess I’ll take it."

"No, you get a proper apology. I'm sorry a behaved like a ‘testosterone-laden jerk’. I do that sometimes. I'm sorry you found out this soon. I'm really sorry if I hurt you, Frith."

The look of genuine regret in Logan’s eyes was all that Frith needed. She reached out for Logan and took her in her arms, giving her an almost chaste peck on the lips.

She smiled again.

"A few useful bits of information for the journalist. One. You didn't hurt me. Two. You did piss me off.  Three. I was wet for you. Four. I think I probably would like it rough with you, just another time when you are not angry. Five. I forgive you and six, what we need to do now is talk. Come with me."

Frith gave Logan a quick kiss on the cheek and left the tall gobsmacked woman, heading for the bathroom. She adjusted her disheveled clothing as she went.

Fifteen minutes preparation and the two women were ensconced in the old fashioned claw foot tub, the fragrance of bath oil carried on steam filling the room. Logan was seated between Frith’s legs, leaning back against the other woman even as she leaned back against the bath.

No significant conversation had been exchanged, rather the two women had given into the charms of undressing each other and slowly submerging themselves in the hot water, finding their current comfortable position.

Frith decided it was time to get on with the hard stuff.  She ran a cloth over Logan's broad shoulders and kissed her on the temple.

"So, you ready to hear the sordid details of the life and times of Frith Buchanan? What would you like to know?"

Logan weighed up the possible questions, pissed off with herself that the first one to pop into her head was whether or not Frith had enjoyed fucking Darryl. Jesus, a few months out of circulation and she was behaving like a jealous schoolgirl. Safer territory was needed, at least to start.

"Tell me about your parents."

"It's all a bit banal, really. Your classic poor, little, rich girl story. My family is rich, they own property, this house. The one they are currently living in is in Milan. An apartment in Manhattan, a farm in Ireland and probably a couple others I have forgotten about. Anyway, you get the idea.

"My parents care a lot about money and position and knowing the right people.  My mother still hasn't recovered from being seated four down from Jackie Onassis at a lunch sometime in the mid seventies.  It's been like that all my life, the right schools, the right languages, the right clothes, for Christ's sake, even ballet lessons and I've got two left feet".

Logan reflexively stretched her bruised foot, wincing slightly. The move did not escape Frith’s notice and she lent down and kissed her shoulder.

"Sorry about your foot. Anyway, my sister and I both went to boarding school from about age seven. We looked out for each other, mum and dad were usually away somewhere. There's one good thing about being bought up the way we were. You get independent fast, learn to think for yourself. By the time Serena and I were teenagers we understood where all the money came from, inherited blue chip stocks mostly in companies with really shaky environmental records. Exxon, Union Carbide, BP, Tall Trees - you name it, if it fucked up the environment, we had it," Frith laughed mirthlessly.

"That's why I got involved in Greenpeace, trying to make up for it I guess. God, that sounds so naïve now. My parents found that out after I was arrested in a demonstration. They threatened to cut me off, we had a huge fight.  Looking back the Greenpeace thing was just the straw that broke the camel's back.  We're just so different, different values…everything. Now I try and live as independently as I can, although this is still their house. I'm as much of a hypocrite as they are."

Logan stroked Frith’s thigh, encouraging her to continue.  "You're not a hypocrite, you're trying to live as best you can.  It's pretty much what everyone does. Is that why you drive that old Suzuki Samurai?"

Frith laughed quietly again, but with some amusement this time. "Yeah. Dad wanted to buy me a Land Cruiser. A year or so ago they decided to retry buying our affection. Christmas present that time, I think. I wanted a RAV4, but I could only afford a ten-year-old Sammy. It's cute and functional --"

"Like you?"

"Gee, thanks," said Frith. "Functional, huh?"

"Cute," said Logan affectionately.

Frith blushed slightly.

"I'm saving up to buy a new one - a Vitara. Those RAV4's are still too pricey. Anyway, when I was at Greenpeace, one of the guys, well, Darryl Booth actually, was doing some work on Tall Trees, thinking there was maybe something shady going on.  It was public knowledge that one of their subsidiaries was still logging native forests. Dad was on the board of directors at that point. He owned about 15% of the company. Darryl wanted me to get information from him."

Logan was confused. She was sure she knew all the main players on the Tall Trees board from her previous investigations into insider trading and there wasn't a Buchanan among them.

"What's your father's name?"

"Alexander Richardson.  I use my maternal grandmother's name.  Another futile attempt at independence I guess."

On hearing the name Logan immediately conjured up a picture of the man in question - blond, short, rugged, good looking in impeccably cut suits.  Sandy Richardson was probably on the periphery of the insider trading that had been going on at Tall Trees but had got out just in time, resigning his directorship and divesting quite a large percentage of his shares.  Logan had tried but none of the dirt that had taken down two other office holders would stick on the very slick Mr Richardson.

Logan gave no hint that she knew who Frith’s father was as the blonde woman stretched a little to get comfortable and continued her story.

"There's not a lot else really. I was stupid enough to believe Darryl was investigating for the greater good, so I agreed to help him, digging up what I could about Dad which wasn't much. I eventually figured out that Darryl’s motives were somewhat more basic .... and after he .... well,  I was silently cheering when you came into the Greenpeace office that day and did him over. I've never seen anyone go so white. And I thought I loved him. Jesus..."  Frith sighed and wound her arms around Logan tightly, drawing comfort from the feel of her skin.

Logan nodded.  "Darryl was in way too deep. He didn't have the balls to play games with the big boys and extortion is a big boys game." A pause, then she casually continued, "So what did Darryl have on Tall Trees?"

"I never knew. But he used to make nasty jokes about American farms. When Jack said that thing .... about a country like New Zealand ... I wondered if that ... if... that was what ....." she trailed off.

"Come on, enough of this. Let's get out of the bath or we are both going to be like prunes."

Logan stood, the water cascading down her body and stepped out of the bath. Reaching down she offered a hand to Frith, helping her to her feet. She grabbed a large fluffy bath towel, still warm from the heated rail and wrapped the smaller woman up in it, patting her gently dry.

Frith’s openness about her family and about Darryl had disarmed Logan.  She wasn't used to such honesty. The people she had lived and loved with generally wanted something from her, which meant that exchanges of information or body fluid were generally conditional, part of a complex system of barter that Logan no longer found tenable.

Wrapping another large towel around herself she lead Frith from the bathroom and back into the bedroom. Logan dropped her own towel to the floor, deliberately displaying her body for Frith.

"You have to be anywhere in a hurry?" The tall woman was at her seductive best, but she knew that if she were being honest with herself this wasn't about seduction or even lust or the thrill of the chase. This was something more.

Frith indicated with a shake of her head that she had no other pressing engagements.  Right now she couldn't imagine anything on earth that would be important enough to warrant walking away from the beautiful naked woman in front of her.

"Good," said Logan. "Come here."

Logan took Frith in her arms and kissed her. Soon Frith’s towel was also on the floor, the women exploring each others skin, rendered even more soft and smooth and fragrant from the bath oil.

By mutual, unspoken agreement they got into the bed, snuggling under the covers, clinging to the warmth of each others body until the chill of the sheets disappeared.  If their first night together was characterised by urgency and passion, this afternoon was calm and gentle, both of them taking time to stroke and taste and explore without haste.  Neither of them felt the need to accelerate the pace toward climax, rather they reveled in the sweet, tense arousal. Soft kisses were exchanged along with lingering touches, limbs intertwined so that it was difficult to tell where one woman began and the other finished.

Eventually the meandering journey became little more purposeful, bodies pressing into each other a little more urgently.

Logan leaned up on one elbow, cupping one of Frith’s breasts, her thumb teasing a very alert nipple.

"Show me."

"Show you what?"  Frith’s voice quizzical.

"You said last night that you don't usually come with other people, that you get yourself off. I want to see. Show me," Logan repeated, encouraging the other woman.

"Oh...." Frith hesitated and searched Logan’s face for some re-assurance.

"Please show me." Logan pushed the covers off them, the sight of their tangled limbs beautifully erotic. She nuzzled Frith’s neck and pressed her thigh between the other woman's legs.  She reached over and took Frith’s hand, threading their fingers together, gliding their hands over Frith’s body.

Frith moaned  - the feeling of being simultaneously stroked by Logan and herself was unbelievable.

"Show me." The words whispered in her ear gave her confidence in her body and its reactions.

Frith took the initiative and directed their joined hands, fingertips tracing a increasingly heated path over her breasts and across her stomach and into her pubic hair where they paused, stroking quietly.  Logan was content to let Frith lead, enjoying the wonderful sight of Frith’s body stretched out, her eyes closed, their joined hands weaving a little magic over her.  Almost by accident fingers playing in pubic hair traveled a little further south, slipping gently between Frith’s legs which parted instinctively, her hips arching off the bed.

Frith had almost lost the ability to tell whose hand was whose and who exactly was creating the sensations in her cunt.  All she knew was she felt safe and in control and loved.  If there was surprise that the "love" word had entered her head, it wasn't sufficient to distract her from leading the dance of hands underway between her legs.

And soon the sensation was just enough, aided a little by Logan taking a nipple between her lips and running her tongue back and forth over its tip.

"Oh ... Logan...." The blonde woman moaned her lover's name as she quietly and intensely climaxed.

After a few minutes, reaching for Logan, Frith insinuated herself back into her arms, kissing her collar bone. "That was lovely." Frith looked up and smiled. "You are lovely."

Logan grinned happily and squeezed the blonde woman tightly. "So are you."

It crossed Frith’s mind that maybe she should rouse herself a little and make love to Logan but, really, the sense of calm pervading her body was too wonderful to deny.  She felt her eyelids getting heavy as an incongruous thought flitted through her mind.

"Logan," she murmured sleepily, " Do you really think Sarah Harris bugged my office?" And with that, she drifted off.

Logan kissed the woman in her arms on the top of her head and wished her ‘sweet dreams'.

Her thoughts inevitably turned to less pleasant concerns, specifically the unanswered questions surrounding Tall Trees and the associated cast of characters. Covering Frith with the sheet and duvet, she slipped from the bed.
 

She looked  out the bay window of Frith's bedroom, over the harbour towards Wellington central city. Frith's confession had moved her - but the dilemma remained. What to do now? How to get closer to Tall Trees?

Face it, the issue was - how would she approach Sarah? Did Sarah know she was involved yet? How deeply involved was Sarah herself? She had been a trifle melodramatic with the warning about the Communications Manager for Tall Trees having possibly bugged Frith's office at Solaris Consulting. If she had, Wiremu and Jack had cheerfully and loudly announced Logan's name.

As Frith moved in her sleep on the bed, Logan thought about the last woman to love her. Sarah Harris. The buxom blonde woman had caught her eye immediately at the Tall Trees stockholder meeting Logan had covertly attended. She had been employed for the night by the catering company, a favour owed by a friend.

To be fair, Sarah had caught the eye and the libido of most men and not a few of the women present as well. Her generous figure, poured into a tight red dress, had shrieked sex, sex, sex and more sex to Logan's starving senses.

Logan had been quietly dating Tall Trees Chief Executive, Alan Gadsby, at the time. In fact, he had asked her to investigate the possibility of insider trading by one of his senior managers. But the sexual component of their relationship had not advanced as far as Logan had wanted. He seemed to be weighing her up as potential marriage material, rather than a roll in the hay. She had briefly considered it too. Having just turned  thirty and feeling alone, suffering one of the frequent bouts of mild depression which plagued her life, she thought about the future.

Sarah had just blown that all away with a single wink and smirk. Logan gritted her teeth and rejected Sarah's initial overture with her business
card. The blonde had squared up to the challenge and flirted furiously with her all night, until she followed Logan into the women's bathroom.
Logan was washing her hands,  when the door had opened and closed behind her. She paid no attention, until the pressure of hands reaching straight for her breasts registered in her brain along with the fragrance of a Gaultier perfume.

Logan had known immediately who it was. Two seconds of delicious pressure on her breasts was all it took to decide to blow off the angle she was investigating and a potential alliance with a powerful man.

"Darling, you really do have the most gorgeous tits. I just had to touch them". Sarah pulled Logan into the closest stall and claimed her mouth.  Her hands reached down and lifted Logan's skirt up and over her thighs. She ended the kiss and spoke again, her words as useful as her hands in teasing Logan.

"You have had me so hot for it all night, sashaying around in your little catering drag. It was all I could do not do bend you over the hors-d'oeuvres table, rip your knickers off and have you in front of all one hundred and fifty of those boring little stockholders.  Now, wouldn't that have gotten their dividends up?"

The humour enabled Logan to recover a little and to take some of the initiative back.  "I may have gorgeous tits but you ... you have the most fuckable body I have seen in a long, long time, and fuck you is what I am going to do."

Logan turned the other woman, forcing her hard up against the cool wall of the toilet stall. It faintly crossed Logan’s mind that perhaps she should close the door, but Sarah's butt grinding into her groin was shorting out important connections in her brain, rendering her incapable of carrying out any manual activity that did not require her hands on Sarah's soft, full flesh.

Reaching down Logan grasped the hem of the red velvet dress, the colour and texture of the fabric presaging two of the more salient qualities of Sarah's cunt.  The dress ascended Sarah's body, up over thighs, buttocks, rounded belly and full breasts until it was bunched under her armpits.

"Jesus ... fucking ... christ." Logan let out a long breath and took in the picture that was Sarah - a pornographer's wet dream.  The woman went for the classic accoutrement of sexual fantasy, sheer seamed black stockings and garter belt the only underwear she saw fit to wear.  Logan grabbed Sarah by the waist and pulled her back from the wall so she was slightly bent at the hips, the blonde using her elbows to brace herself.

The months of celibate game-playing with Alan Gadsby resulted in a degree of sexual frustration Logan had rarely experienced in her generally promiscuous life. A beautiful woman was practically naked in front of her in a semi-public bathroom, stockinged legs spread for her. Logan didn't know whether she wanted to bury her fingers or her face in the cunt on offer. Sarah, however, knew what she wanted.

"Get your fingers in me - now." A thrust of round backside added emphasis.

Logan, never the most compliant of women, decided on this occasion to do as she was told. Logan shaped her body against Sarah's. Her mouth tasted tender skin on a neck hidden under curly blonde hair, her left hand reached around and firmly grasped a heavy breast, while her dominant right slid down the cleft between full buttocks and, on encountering a gratifying degree of lubrication, two fingers began fucking Sarah.

The woman in the disheveled red dress arched backwards into the touch and met Logan’s thrusts stroke for stroke. "Oh yes, darling woman, fuck me."

Logan’s own cunt was throbbing, signaling a very strong interest in its own direct involvement. Reluctantly releasing Sarah's breast, Logan slid her hand down pliant flesh seeking out the blonde woman's clitoris, now using both her hands in synchronisation to ratchet Sarah's arousal up even further. Logan’s firm hold on the woman also enabled her to maneuver her long legs either side of Sarah's rocking hip, the subsequent explosion of sensation in her own sex making her lose her rhythm briefly.

"Easy, darling, we can do this together." Sarah slowed her own movements, generously allowing Logan to catch up. Soon the two women, strangers, were moving together with a precision that would have had even the Russian judges reaching for the number ten score card.

The  click of the outer door handle being turned gave them a nanosecond's warning that they were about to have company. The woman who
walked in was an old friend and drinking buddy of Logan's. She was also the caterer who had organised Logan’s undercover presence that evening and a woman not easily phased. Walking past the love nest that was the third toilet stall from the end, she shrieked slightly in shock at the image reflected in the mirror. She recovered quickly.

"Jesus, Kendrick! Trust you, you filthy bitch!"

Leaning casually against the marble vanity unit, she laughingly absorbed the sight of the sweaty panting women in front of her.

"Well, much as I would like to suggest that I stay and watch the finale, the meeting has just broken up and in about three minutes twenty five rich women with full bladders will be providing you with more of an audience that even you could brazen out."

The woman grinned broadly.

Sarah had rolled her eyes at the interruption and addressed the tall dark woman whose hands were still buried between her legs.

"Well, sweetheart, much as I hate to suggest a detour so close to our destination, it does appear that a little decorum is the order of the day."

Within minutes the two women were outside the hotel, running and giggling along the brightly lit pedestrian precinct of Cuba Street. After one brief pause when one pulled the other into a darkened doorway and kissed her wildly, they arrived at Sarah's building. Barely in the lift, it started again. Hands, lips, thighs, arms - all pressed into the service of completion of sexual gratification.

The investigation into insider trading in Tall Trees was on hiatus.
 

Frith drifted from a light sleep to a waking doze. She had heard Logan get up, but she hadn't left the house, so Frith relaxed.

Confession is good for the soul. A true cliché, Frith thought, but only if all was confessed. She had not been able to tell Logan the whole truth. She was too afraid of losing her now. Maybe later, when this was all over.

She lay there, considering the woman she was rapidly falling in love with. Was it love? The sex was fantastic. And there was something about Logan which really attracted her. Maybe it was the mix of utter competence, her dark good looks, the ever-present sense of danger and violence - and the underlying feeling that this complicated woman somehow ... needed her too.

She glanced out the sash-window at the lengthening shadows of late afternoon. Soon the sun would shine directly in, before descending behind Tinakori Hill across the city. Time to get on with it - whatever it was. Maybe Logan had a plan.

Frith dragged the white cotton sheet off the bed, wrapping it around her as she walked out into the livingroom. Logan was standing at the north bay window, staring out at Somes Island in the middle of Wellington Harbour. Frith cleared her throat gently, as Logan turned towards her. Gods, she was beautiful. Dressed in only a superman t-shirt and her blue jeans, Logan made every other standard of aesthetic beauty Frith had ever known seem insipid and shallow. She wanted to touch that beauty and power, to inhale it, to make it a part of her own skin, to consume the tall woman and make them one. Then the shadows which plagued her own life would surely be banished. Together they could form one whole undamaged person.

Some of her longing must have shown in her face, for Logan crossed the room and drew her to the couch. Unwrapping Frith from the cocoon she was in, Logan tenderly kissed and caressed her. Clothes and sheet were removed, the manifestation of love needing no mundane apparel. The darkness could wait. For these moments they had each other.
 

The Burning Tree Part 3
 

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