Saturday, February 25, 2012

Book 'em!

Going through my pile-o-smut for Seattle, I came across this old piece. Yes, I suppose I am a little twisted. Isn't it fun?


Cops & Robbers
--Gina Marie

I was just leaving the Dunkin Donuts at 3rd & Jefferson when the call came in. Yes, it’s true, cops really do like hanging out in donut shops. We love the drama and cliché – the attention we get is all negative anyway. Might as well throw a little grease on the fire. And now that Dunkin has decent coffee, well, bonus.
The dispatcher reported a robbery in progress at a gas station/convenience store around the corner. Dispatch reported a six-foot tall white male perp with a gun. I accepted the call, flipped on my lights and gunned it down the street in my undercover car, a Dodge Charger.

Yeah, of course it’s a fucking dangerous business, but I love my job. Calls like this get always get my pulse racing, sweat beading in my armpits, adrenaline flooding my veins. As I raced to the call, I tried to prepare mentally for the scene. Would shots have been fired by the time I got there? Who was the perp? A pedigreed crook? A piker? Some kid on crystal meth? How would he react when a female cop came on the scene? Some whimper like puppies and come crawling to mommy. Others don’t give a shit who you are and will fight to the death.

I pulled in to the far edge of the parking lot across from the entrance and near the gas pumps. I got out of the car and went to the far edge of the building to size up the scene. A man dressed all in black with a green stocking cap pulled down low walked out of the store and took off across the parking lot, most likely tailing it for the apartment complex a few blocks away.

I took off after him, calling out, “Halt! Police, you’re under arrest. Drop your weapon!” The cocksucker kept running, so I turned on the juice and sprinted, tackling him when he tried to jump a low fence.

I got my hands onto his shoulders and shoved my knee in his crotch. “You freaking little piss ant,” I screamed at the perp twice my size. “You’re under arrest.” On your stomach, NOW! Hands behind your back!” I cuffed him and pulled him up by one of his cocked elbows. Then I read him his rights before walking him back and shoving him into the back of the Charger. He spewed profanities as we drove, but that shit doesn’t bother me. Goes with the territory.

About a mile from the station, as I turned onto a side street, I felt hot, moist air on my neck. I tried to bash the dude’s nose in with a backhand to the face, but he was already on me, hands around my neck. The car swerved off the road and came to rest on the side of the road. The perp was out of his cuffs and on me before I could get to my gun. He dragged me out of the car and shoved me to the ground.

“How does that feel, copper?” He growled. “You like being trapped like an animal?”

I struggled against him as he twisted my arms back for cuffing.

The perp pulled me up, my hands now cuffed behind my back, and slapped me hard on the ass as whispered, “You are a very bad cop!” I tried to kick him in the groin, but he was too powerful. He slapped me again and ran his hands down my sides.

“You can’t get away with this,” I sneered. “I’ll hunt you down and eat you alive.”

“Sorry baby,” ain’t gonna happen. You’re the prey tonight.”

His hands were on me then, pulling at my clothes, reaching between my legs, squeezing my breasts. There were no signs of life on the deserted side street except for our struggling.

The perp continued to feel me up. He ripped open my shirt and ran his tongue from below my navel to my throat, his hands grabbing everything they could. I could feel his hard cock pressing against my leg as he licked and grabbed like the crazy sonofabitch he was. I clawed and scratched at him, but he was huge, and I didn’t have a chance.

He slapped me hard across the face and let loose another string of profanities, cuffed me and shoved me into the car. He drove me to the station, cursing the entire way, before jumping out taking and off.

“Don’t let your guard down bitch,” he screamed as he ran away. “I’ll be back for you.”

When I walked in the front door, that fucking perp was sitting naked at my kitchen island, drinking a glass of merlot.

I sauntered over to him in my ripped uniform, my hands still locked behind my back.

My husband looked me and grinned, his forehead still shiny with sweat.

“Damn, that game’s a winner, baby!” he said. “You make a fine lady cop, but you’re my prisoner now. Ready for fingerprinting?”

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