Julie & Jill

Julie’s eyes fluttered open. Light spilled through the sides of the blinds and awakened her senses. She heard something sizzling and smelled something wonderful. After using the bathroom, she pulled on a long T-shirt and headed downstairs. She was greeted by Julie’s cheerful, upbeat voice. “Hi.” “Hi.” “Sleep well?” Julie nodded. “Smells great. What’s cooking?” “Eggs, bacon, and hash browns.” Julie admired Jill’s long, firm body as she moved about. All she wore was a sky-blue half-shirt with bright white panties, which glowed against her tanned skin. She moved with happy, confident strides. Her straight, shiny ebony hair bounced along with her movements, brushing her shoulders seductively. “This is delicious!” Julie exclaimed as the two began eating not much later. “Not bad for a busy RN who usually eats in Italian diners or at her mom’s place, huh?” Julie nodded, then did most of the cleaning up after they were done eating. Jill noticed that Julie’s expression had become rather solemn as she was loading the dishes in the dishwasher. “What’s wrong, babe?” she asked. “Oh,” said Julie, snapping out of her reverie. “I’m not sure.” “What do you mean?” asked Jill, forehead creased with confusion and concern. “Well,” said Julie hesitantly. “Julie, if you’re having any doubts…” “Oh, no, that’s not it at all,” Julie insisted. “This has nothing to do with us. At least not as far as us having a relationship goes.” “Then what is it, honey?” “I don’t know. I just have a bad vibe.” “Any idea what it could mean?” Julie shook her head. “I wish I did.” Jill looked thoughtful a moment, then said, “Well, let’s not dwell on it for now unless something more concrete comes to you, ok?” Julie agreed, and they went off to take a shower together. First, they soaped each other down with an invigorating vanilla-scented shower gel, then they began to wash their hair. Jill helped Julie with hers, making sure not to put it up on Julie’s head and swish it around as she instructed. “That’d only knot it up like crazy,” said Julie. “Just let the shampoo work its way down and gently knead the length of it like this,” Julie said, demonstrating. “Gosh, how do you do it every day?” Jill asked with amazement. “I don’t. I do it every other day.” “Even that seems like an awful lot of work.” “You get used to it.” After rinsing the soap from their hair and bodies, Jill got a little fresh. She began by kissing Julie’s sweet lips, then gradually moved down to swirl her tongue around each breast. After that, she dropped even lower, kissing Julie’s firm flat tummy. She dropped lower still to Julie’s neatly trimmed pussy. Julie placed a foot on the side of the tub to allow Jill better access to her red, swollen clit. She was weak-kneed and shaky with desire. The water temperature seemed to rise several degrees as the tension built between her legs with each stroke of Jill’s expert tongue. She moaned in ecstasy. As Jill’s own passion mounted, she began to lick at Julie more hungrily. Afterward, they took a few moments to catch their breath before rinsing off one last time and wringing out their hair. -------------------------------------------------------------- They saw the cruisers and the coroner’s van as soon as they approached Julie’s building. “What’s going on here?” Jill wondered aloud. “I don’t know,” said Julie. “I wonder if this is connected to that bad feeling you had earlier.” Julie shrugged. Jill parked the SUV, and the two got out and headed for the building. “Let’s see if we can find out what’s up,” said Jill. The coroner’s van took off through the crowds of curious people who had gathered. Police officers, both in uniform as well as not, stood in various clumps. “What happened?” asked Julie as they approached an African-American detective. “Do you live here?” he asked. Julie nodded. “I do, but she doesn’t.” “Can I have your name, ma’am?” Julie told him and was asked to wait a moment while the detective went and spoke to another detective as well as a couple of uniformed officers. The detective returned with a female detective at his side. She pulled a pair of handcuffs from the pocket of her jacket. “Julie Welles,” she began, “I’m placing you under arrest for the suspicion of the murder of April Emerson.” “What!” both Julie and Jill shrieked at once. “She was with me,” Jill insisted as she took hold of Julie’s purse and duffel bag. “Since when?” asked the African-American cop. “Since yesterday afternoon.” “You have a right to remain silent,” the lady cop continued. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” “Check somebody named Barry Davis,” Julie urged. “They had a fight. We both saw it. I didn’t kill anybody!” Julie screamed. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed to you.” “We’ll get this taken care of, Julie. Don’t you worry. I’ll look out for your apartment and get them to go after the right person.” “Do you understand your rights, Miss Welles?” “I understand. It’s you who doesn’t understand. You’ve got the wrong person.” “The detectives began to lead Julie away. They placed her in the back of a squad car and headed off for the police station.” Once at the station, Julie’s handcuffs were taken off, and she was seated in a small room with a table and a few chairs. The detectives took seats opposite her. The African-American cop pressed the ‘play’ button on the tape recorder that sat in the middle of the table. “This is Detective Biasman,” he said. “Present with me is Detective Horne and suspect Julie Welles, who has been properly Mirandized. What can you tell us about April Emerson, Miss Welles?” The two detectives looked at Julie with anticipation. “I can’t tell you much more than that she had a fight with her boyfriend, or at least someone I assumed was her boyfriend.” “What can you tell us about that?” “Just that they came storming out of her apartment one night with her screaming, ‘I hate you, Barry Davis, and don’t you ever come back,’ then he went down the elevator and she went back inside her place.” “Anything else?” “No,” said Julie. “Oh, well, the reason we ask is that witnesses have come forth to tell us that you and Miss Emerson often had it out with each other and that you didn’t exactly like this person.” “I didn’t kill her either, and this is all I’ll say without a lawyer.” “We know you’ve had neighbor troubles in the past. We know about the girl you assaulted back east.” Julie remained silent. “Help us help you. Tell us all you know, Miss Welles.” “That is all I know. That and the fact that I’m entitled to a phone call, so if you’re not going to release me, I’d like to call a lawyer before we speak anymore.” “That’d only make things worse,” Biasman said while his lady partner continued her silent, close-lipped stare. “For you, perhaps,” replied Julie. “Look. If you did it, your best bet is to come clean if you want any chances of the judge being more lenient with you in the end.” Julie looked Biasman straight in the eye. “I don’t confess to things I didn’t do. Check out the name I gave you and either charge me or release me.” Biasman was growing increasingly frustrated with Julie’s lack of intimidation by his threats, and when the detective realized he wasn’t going to get the confession he wanted from Julie, she was booked, photographed, fingerprinted, and placed in a small holding cell with nothing but a cement bench and a toilet with a four-foot wall surrounding it. Two other women were present. An older one lay sleeping on the cement bench while a younger one lay asleep on the floor. A phone was on the wall by the door. Julie picked it up and dialed Jill’s number.