Crimson Echoes of Fury

Riots, violence, misplaced fervor, prejudice… Police Detective Beau Lassiter couldn’t take anymore. At least not today. The second he was relieved by Sergeant Nixon, he grabbed his hat and exchanged the police station for the wet summer night. Forget that it was 1944 and a world war was reaching its zenith in Europe: here in Los Angeles, citizen and immigrant attacked each other’s throats like savages. Why? It was complex. As the story went, Mexican-Americans in the city refused to abide by cloth rationing regulations and continued wearing their traditional flamboyant “zoot” suits. This raised the indignation of everyone else, especially servicemen, and quickly escalated into street fights, vandalism of Mexican businesses and homes, and blatant racism.

Lassiter tried to sort it out. The scenes from the past weeks were stark and violent and stained his every resting thought. As he treaded his way through the streets towards home, hands in pockets, hat pulled low, completely ignoring the rain, he wondered what the right course was. He wasn’t sure all the Mexican-Americans, sneeringly dubbed “pachucos” by angry jingoes, were guilty. And even if they were, did they deserve getting assaulted in the street? Were they playing the traitor by rebelling against rationing guidelines? To Lassiter, being a cop meant protecting citizens and upholding the law, and beating and arresting these people didn’t seem to fit that. But which side was right? Both seemed extreme. Some of the officers on the force had organized what they called the “Vengeance Squad” to deal with the Mexican rebels on their off time. Lassiter wouldn’t dream of joining them. But this was wartime and everyone needed to conform to the laws, inconvenient though they might be. If the pachucos weren’t obeying, they’d have to take consequences.

Glancing down an alley, Lassiter noticed a young couple, evidently Mexican by their clothing, walking slowly in the opposite direction. The man’s head was bandaged, probably a result of the riot last night. He leaned on the woman’s shoulder as she gently led him along. Lassiter let out a troubled breath. Then he settled his wet hat more firmly on his head and kept walking. All he wanted was home, and sleep. And Lydia.

The thought of his wife brought a softness to his eyes and a quicker rhythm to his gait. He hadn’t seen her since early yesterday morning. Good grief! Over twenty-four hours away from the most tender, beautiful girl on earth. Lassiter felt a sudden burning to take her in his arms and just feel her, warm and gentle and loving, close to him.

Lydia Lassiter was at the window overlooking the street, watering the fern in its blue pot, and saw her husband come up the path. A bright smile lit her eyes, and she hastily set down the watering can. A brief look in the mirror satisfied her that she looked all right. After all, she’d tried to make herself look nice for whenever her husband got home. Slim, with just the right ratio of muscle, long smooth legs that curved even more alluringly when she wore heels, wide-shouldered, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, Lydia could have won any man. She was just so glad that her man was named Beau Lassiter.

He stepped in the door just as she entered the hall, and he smiled at the sight of her. She returned the favor. His husband was so handsome and strong, a quiet, thinking type of man with burnished light brown hair and curious green-gray eyes. Standing six-one to her five-two and possessing a trim, muscular, bronzed body, he always melted Lydia afresh when she took a good look at him, which she was doing now.

“Hello, darling,” were his first words.

“Hello, darling,” she smiled back, coming up and folding her arms around his neck.

“Kiss?” he asked.

Gladly she met his lips with hers, sensing his stressed muscles relaxing and his hands resting in contentment around her waist.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone so long, and without calling you either,” he apologized.

She just shook her head sweetly. “It’s all right. I know things aren’t easy these days. How’s Captain Graves?”

“Oh, fine.”

“And how’s the detective I’m in love with?” she added, lowering her voice to something more seductive.

He looked down into her eyes again, read all the love there, and smiled. “He was very tired, but he saw this gorgeous girl at the apartment he called at and decided to stick around for the evening… maybe all night.”

“Ohh, he must be a devil! I hope he doesn’t do anything improper,” Lydia chuckled archly.

“Well… if I know him, he might try to get the girl to go to bed with him,” Beau continued in a slightly lower, more intimate tone.

“I know him too, and I don’t see how she could refuse him,” she answered. Then she laughed. “Oh, baby, you look so tired! I’ll be glad to go to bed with you. But you’ve been gone for more than a day and you need something to eat and a nap and a hot bath…”

“Take a bath with me,” he pleaded. “That’ll relax me for sure.”

She gazed up at him for a second with love in her eyes, plus some desire. “All right. But first a little supper. Come on, you handsome detective you.”

Once she’d watched him wolf down some warm chicken pot pie, she sent him to their room for a nap. He slept for two hours, then emerged for another bite of something. Lydia told him to take his time while she hurried upstairs to fill the bathtub.

After a snack, Beau hung the coat and hat he’d tossed onto the sofa neatly in the hall closet and thought about how blest he was to have this home nest and a wonderful wife. If he knew Lydia (and he figured he did), she was probably making the little bathroom a haven of delight for him. The weariness of the long day was still there, but thinking about his wife stripping down and stepping into the hot water with him made the blood surge in his body. A little more energetically, he climbed the stairs.

Lydia was nowhere to be seen, he realized when he poked his head into the bathroom. A couple of candles warmed the room with a golden glow, and he caught the very faint sound of music from the radio in the bedroom. He smiled to himself. This nook felt a million miles away from police headquarters.

He was shortly undressed and settled down in the hot bubbly water. In moments, he was relaxed, almost ready to fall asleep.

Then he heard the door open and peeked up. Lydia had come in, wearing only a slip. Her thighs swiveled lusciously with each step, drawing Beau’s eyes. She gently led him to the edge of the tub and leaned against the wall, facing him. He quickly followed suit, feeling a surge of anticipation. She looked like a goddess, her skin glistening in the candlelight. He reached out and gently cupped her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheekbone. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of his cologne and the warmth of his hand. He leaned in slowly, their lips brushing before finally meeting in a passionate embrace. The water swirled around them as they lost themselves in each other’s arms, the heat intensifying with every passing moment. He pulled her closer, her body pressed against his, and began to kiss her with a deep, fervent hunger. Her hand moved up his chest, her fingers digging into his flesh as she responded to his touch. The passion escalated as they moved from the tub and onto the plush rug, the scent of her perfume mingling with the steam in the air. As she released him, she quickly grabbed a towel and began to dry off, her movements slow and deliberate, clearly relishing the sensation of his touch.

Once he’d finished drying off, he stepped out of the bathroom and found her in the bedroom. She was lounging on the bed, her slip still on, her hair cascading over her shoulders. He slowly approached her, his eyes never leaving hers, and gently pulled the slip down, revealing her smooth, pale skin beneath. She looked up at him, a playful smile on her lips, and leaned into his touch. As he continued to explore her body, she responded with increasing enthusiasm, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest, her lips moaning with pleasure. They spent the next hour lost in a world of sensation, their bodies intertwined, their hearts beating in unison. The heat from their bodies filled the room, creating a haze of passion that enveloped them both. Finally, exhausted but satisfied, they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies intertwined, lost in the blissful aftermath of their encounter.

Later that evening, after a delicious dinner of steak and potatoes, Beau found Lydia in the living room, curled up on the sofa with a book. He sat down beside her and gently stroked her hair, watching as she turned the pages with a contented sigh. The feeling of her soft hair against his palm was a welcome distraction from the day’s events, a reminder of the simple pleasures in life. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with affection, and leaned her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, holding her close, and they remained like that for a long time, lost in each other’s company. As he felt her body relax beneath his touch, he knew that this was exactly where he belonged – in the arms of his beloved wife, in their cozy home nest. It was a perfect moment, a testament to the enduring power of love and companionship, a refuge from the chaos and violence of the outside world. And as he gazed into her eyes, he realized that he wouldn’t trade this life, this love, for anything in the world. The thought of his wife brought a softness to his eyes and a quicker rhythm to his gait. He hadn’t seen her since early yesterday morning. Good grief! Over twenty-four hours away from the most tender, beautiful girl on earth. Lassiter felt a sudden burning to take her in his arms and just feel her, warm and gentle and loving, close to him.

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