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Majestic V

Date: 1/31/2016, Categories: Dark Fantasy, Extreme, Hardcore, Young, Author: Me4Lgs, Rating: 90, Source: sexstories.com

Chapter Eleven "Betsy... Betsy Morrison." The slim little twelve-year-old was startled to hear a man calling her name. The young usherette had just stepped down from the bus and stood staring in surprise at the man who sat in the car by the curb. "Betsy? Come over here for a second, I want to talk to you." She'd only taken a few steps in the direction of the curb when Betsy noticed something that unnerved her completely. The man behind the wheel looked like her daddy. He looked more like him than Mr. Baker, the theater chain manager did!! "Do I know you? I... I don't think that I know you," Betsy stammered as she bent down and peered into the car. "You'd better leave me alone or I'll... call the police!" The man in the car just grinned at her and opened a leather case that he took out of his pocket. The slim little brunette saw the badge gleaming in the shining rays of the sun and almost cried out loud. I knew it!! I knew that I would get in trouble!! "Get in, kid," the policeman said quietly. "I just want to talk to you, don't get yourself in an uproar!" He even sounded like her father and, despite the fear and nervous twitches that she felt racing over her body, Betsy was aware of the slow itch of excitement that was creeping along her blood stream. The man in the car motioned for Betsy to get in and after a few moments hesitation she got in. He knew her name. She couldn't run away from him. The man turned his head, checked the oncoming traffic then, without a word to ... her, he pulled his car into the slow lane and drove away from the bus stop corner. She waited, not trusting herself to say the right thing. But as the time passed, Betsy found it harder and harder. "Am I... Am I under arrest?" The man laughed. He didn't chuckle or giggle, he threw his big head back and roared at her. "Awwww, honey. Do I look like a dude who would arrest a sweet little pumpkin like you?" She didn't know why, but the fear ebbed away and a shy, questioning smile eased the serious planes of Betsy's pretty face. Without warning the man pulled the car back to the curb. They were parked in a quiet, warehouse area. There were no pedestrians, no one to see them talking. "No, you're not under arrest, Betsy," the man said gently. "I just think that you're a confused little girl who's caught up in something that she can't handle." The fear came back and Betsy stiffened. He was right, of course, but she couldn't admit it. She didn't trust him, no matter how nice he seemed. Almost as if he could read her thoughts, the policeman reached into his suit coat pocket and handed her a small, printed card. "My name is Jim Richards, Betsy. Take my card. I know that you don't want to talk to me now, but I think that you will soon." Betsy stared in fascination at the crisp, white card. It read Detective James Richards and it included a phone number and the police department crest. Jim Richards smiled at her and laid a gentle hand on Betsy's arm. "You're in over your head, kid. I don't ...