Tamara - The Case Of The (corrupted) Suits (10) (Patreon)

Tamara - The Case Of The Corrupted Suits - Chapter 2

(Damn! Where Is The Zipper? - Movimento 3)

Part 10

Two hours after Tamara's encounter with Arlen Falke, and Sam's encounter with NS Wehr agent Robert's fists, they were both back on the plane, sitting there somewhat downcast. Sam's eye was swollen, and he cooled the bruise with some ice dampened with a gauze pad. He was also still wiping the blood from his split lip. He had faced many trained and experienced fighters, but this 'dog' was on another level. Never before had he seen anyone with that volume of muscle move so agile, fast and flexible.

"If I didn't know he was flesh and blood, I'd say he was inhuman," he said toTamara.

But it was more the fact that, because of him, Tamara almost had her head cracked open, that bothered him most.

She didn't know why, but as they waited for the pilot to perform the system check, Tamara approached him with a small first aid kit. Instead of sitting next to him, or standing before him in a slightly bent over pose, Tamara straddled his legs and centered herself on Sam's thighs, almost as if she were a young college girl or teenager.

"Gods, Sam, what a mess of a lip, let me give you a good clean up," she said as she sat on top of him.

"You can complain if you want," she said dipping a gauze pad in 96% pure alcohol.

But Sam was really concerned about something else. She had sat herself so tight against his torso, that it was impossible not to smell that fresh, feminine scent she gave off. Almost as if on purpose, Tamara occasionally shifted her hips, as if she was trying to get more comfortable. Something his body evidently liked, as his little friend inside his trousers seemed to want to create a further discomfort, so that she could continue to get comfortable.

"Tamara, I. . ." he started without knowing what to say exactly, "I. . ."

Tamara squealed for him not to speak, and put a finger on his lips. Those lips that had always seemed to her an endless well of obscenities. Which she now discovered to be high and full. She couldn't help but wonder if Sam would be an 'A' in kissing or an 'A-plus', sucking on other lips. . . and if his perverted tongue would pervert her as well.

Sam instead made a mental effort to think of things that would help him to keep his best friend from growing up.

Now, just as they thought the plane was about to take off, the captain came out of the cockpit and apologised. There were hydraulic problems with the wing flaps and their take-off would be delayed. Tamara made a quiet comment, which Sam didn't quite understand, but the delay in the flight seemed to cheer her up. Tamara quickly climbed off him, but not before giving him a small kiss on the cheek next to the wound.

Sam, stunned, almost dropped the gauze on the floor, but quickly brought his hand to hold it to his lip. And after hesitating and wondering about what to do, he went into automatic mode, and asked the captain for the repair time. The captain, who had been distracted by looking at something in a bundle of papers in his hand, had not seen what was happening. He looked up at Sam's question, looked thoughtful and then just shrugged his shoulders.

"Come on Sami, it's your turn to look for a hotel, just in case," said Tamara taking her bag from the plane, "I think I'm going to take the opportunity to do some shopping. I'd like to take a nice souvenir from here. It's not every day you can be in the Imperial City."

Sam was caught off guard by that 'Sami' as Tamara reached for her mobile phone to order a taxi to pick her up at the municipal airport. Sam tried to regain his composure.

"Tamara. . ." Sam was about to say something, but when Tamara turned around to hear what he had to say, then, seeing her still wearing that mysterious smile, he shut up and just said, ". . .OK, I'll take care of the hotel, I think I owe you for that."

"Owe me what?" she said without waiting for an answer, and headed towards the exit door of the Jet. "I didn't really notice the sweet face you put on, when you get soft, but honestly, I prefer the wild 'male' who attacked that asshole who insulted me."

That said, Tamara left the jet to go to the main entrance of the airport building to wait there for her taxi.

Sam was once again left with something to ask Tamara, in other circumstances he would have done so, but Tamara was puzzling him today. He sighed in resignation at having missed another opportunity. He threw away the gauze with which he was cleaning the wound on his lip, took his smartphone out of his pocket, while with the other hand he grabbed his backpack, and started to look for a hotel where they could rest.

Almost two hours later, after looking at several hotels recommended by a search engine, Sam, coming into the lobby from his hotel room where he had left his things, tried to call Tamara for the twelfth time. He wanted to make sure she knew where he had gotten two rooms for the night. An hour earlier, the jet pilot had called him to inform him that he would not be able to get a mechanic to check and repair the wing failure that day. And that they would not be able to take off until the next day at the earliest.

Sam went back up to his room and straight into the bathroom, grabbed a face towel, dampened it with cold water and ran it over his lip wound while he tried to redial his partner's number. The wound seemed unwilling to close, and it was due to the swelling of the lip. At the slightest gesture, expression or attempt to say a word, the wound reopened, making him immediately notice the warmth of the first drop of blood.

"Damn it Tamara," he said, thinking out loud, more in a worried tone than anything else, when he heard again the 'rejected call' tone of the smarthphone, "Why don't you take my call? I know I'm being an asshole when you're around. . . but at least take my call so I know you're okay."

Sam came out of the bathroom and was on his way to open the window curtains and just four steps away from the curtain he wanted to pull back he stopped. There was something in the air, a smell of a fragrance that was very familiar. And familiar to Sam as the difference in the weight of his pistol with a single bullet or none at all.

Immediately he dropped his mobile phone and quickly reached for his personal weapon. But before he had grabbed it, the light on the bedside table flickered on and Sam's eyes widened in astonishment.

to be contined. . .