FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #7

“She's a local.” he said to himself.

He knew it as soon as he saw her shivering out there on the corner.

“Hey, sweetheart?” he leered out of the passenger-side window.

She didn’t look happy, but managed a convincing smile.

“You out here to work, or you just freezin’ your ass off for the hell of it?”

That made her wince a little. She wasn’t used to them coming on so strong, probably. Just coming right out with it like that, not shy at all about it. Very businesslike. He bet that was usually her line.

She recovered quickly, her smile hardly faltering. “You looking for a date, sweetheart?”

He flipped the doorhandle and pushed the door open.

“Get in.”

 

He had one of those big, round heads. No neck. Like a linebacker. His black Stetson hat and mirrored glasses looked almost cartoonishly small in relation. He bared most of his teeth when he smiled, thin-lipped and humorless. They were perfectly white and symmetrical, except for his two large, crooked canines. He was mean-looking and ugly. Also cocky. She’d have to watch it with him. There was the little stiletto tucked away in her left boot, but she didn’t know if it would be enough this time. Still, she got in.

 “You, darling,” he said with a big, toothy grin “are under arrest.”

Jesus Christ, and here she'd been planning to roll the fucker. She'd been reaching for the knife as he was reaching for what turned out to be his badge. He stuck it right under her nose, in case there was any mistaking. The way he read her rights, she could tell he was smiling. He copped a couple feels while he was frisking her. No harm done. At least he didn't find the knife.

“You must be new here, little girl.” he said as he pulled the tie-cuffs around her wrists, just a little too tight. “Mosta the girls working out here know me by now. Didn’t they tell you about the big bad wolf?”

“I guess nobody loves me.” she said. He laughed at that.

She was a little surprised when he sat her down on the bed and pulled the cuffs off. Not worried, exactly. Not yet. She already knew the worst that he could do to her. It wasn’t any worse than what anyone else could do. Or had.

“Here’s the deal.” he said, standing in front of her. His arms were crossed over his barrel chest, and he was frowning so intensely she almost burst out laughing. Here it comes now. The speech, followed by her well-practiced acts of contrition. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ ‘Yes, I repent.’ ‘No, I’ll never do this again.’ Maybe he was a soft touch; maybe she’d be back at it in no time. Maybe it had stopped raining, even.

“Now, I can either take you in and book you,” he said, pointing at her tits. “Or…”

He unfolded his arms, one hand drifting down to where the baton dangled from his belt.

“We can help each other out.”

Oh, she thought. So that’s what he’s after. She should have known…all cops got off on this power trip shit. He wouldn’t be the first pig to pull the “pay for play” routine. It was another hazard of the trade. Like paying taxes.

She reached for his belt, half-smiling and shaking her head. He didn’t stop her, not outright. He stood over her, grinning strangely, his eyes hidden behind black mirrors. There was something peculiar about his grin that made her nervous…like he was keeping a secret, and was pleased with himself for doing it. She had his cock in her hand when he finally backed up.

“Whoa, now…” he laughed, zipping up his fly. “You not gonna get off that easy. No, ma’am.”

She sat back on the bed, not bothering to conceal her confusion. It was her growing impatience that she was trying hard now to hide. That, and the fear.

“Not that I won’t take you up on that,” he said. “Sooner or later.”

It was a small town, he’d explained. No women on the force. Small-town politics and the like…the town council wouldn’t hear of it. And the shitkickers around town didn’t go in much for the fag trade. “Learned that the hard way.” He’d chuckled. “One of my best deputies is still in the hospital with a broken everything.”

They were sitting in his corvette, parked outside the convenience store. She rubbed her wrists, but never looked away from him. If anyone had happened to notice them there, they would have taken them for father and daughter. His stoical, yet righteous air of authority. Her contemptuous humility.

“Town council knew I was sittin’ here, talking about deputizin’ you…” he said

“Now…” he said, tapping his black cigarillo in the ashtray, not looking anywhere but straight ahead at the brown boy in the store window behind the cash register. “If you cross me on this, I’ll make a hooking charge look like a fuckin’ jaywalk. I’ll ream your stupid ass.”

He wasn’t lying. The look she caught in the rearview mirror meant he wasn’t fucking around anymore. There was something, even apart from his badge or his physical presence, scared the hell out of her.

“Now, I’m gonna call you on this here payphone.” he pointed to it, “What hours you working?”

“Dusk ‘til dawn.” she said. He turned to her then, baring a smile that made it look like he tasted something bad.

“Don’t…” he warned. “When?”

“I usually get up around noon. Takes me a while to put my face on.”

“Let’s call it one, then.”

And that was that. He told her to get the fuck out of his car.

 

Sure enough, the phone rang at one o’clock sharp the next day. She could already see some john cruising the block, giving her the twice-over. She guessed third time would be the charm.

“Whores ‘r’ us, how can I help you?” she said with a lilt in her voice.

“Cute. Sucked any good dick lately?” Funny.

“Not yet. Got my mission for me, Charlie?” she thrust one of her hips out, the way she remembered Farah Fawcett doing. It made her laugh a little. He cleared his throat; he was done joking now.

“I’m gonna be comin’ around there in my prowler. You get that trick to pull over behind that gutted Shop ‘n’ Save. Keep him hard. I want to catch the fucker in the act.” he hung up on the last word.

Fucking cops. High school bullies turned public servants. Picking on whores and crackheads now that they were fat and their dicks didn’t work anymore. She remembered his type. They’d hurt her once, and now it looked like they’d never let up.

He was parking when she turned away from the phone. Staring at her. That same open-mouthed, hungry look that they all had. They all had the same weakness; they all shared the same appetite. She leaned into the passenger side.

“Hey, there.” He smiled at her forwardness, her accessibility. She made this so much easier.

 

The cop – Sheriff John Brownley, the name badge said – leaned into the window as the guy came. The thrill of the orgasm which flushed his face was immediately overcome with alarm. He sat there dumbly, his prick still spitting.

“Took your sweet time,” she said, opening her door.

“Put that thing away and come out with your hands up.” he said pleasantly.

 

He didn’t try anything with her until a couple weeks into their partnership. They’d made some good busts, all told. About a dozen gobsmacked shit-kickers filled the county lockup.

They were sitting, just waiting in his prowler, when he’d grabbed the back of her neck and shoved it into his lap. It took him a while to cum; he gave her mouth and the back of her throat a good going over before he’d finished.

She choked, spitting out of her window.

“You at least could have warned me,” she said.

 

After a while, she almost started to like him. He had an easy manner, a good sense of humor. He didn’t pull anymore rough stuff; that had just been to put her in her place, she assumed. They’d fucked since, but he’d been a little more old-fashioned in his approach. He’d take his pecker out and wag it at her, smiling.

It didn’t surprise her much, when he started telling her to ask for the cash up front. And started pocketing half of it. Slipping that greasy, wadded-up cash into the pocket of his shirt, right under his badge. She had to admit it was fun, watching those johns getting crawled up on, caught with their pants down, so to speak. To see the panic and fear hot on the heels of their groaning, sweaty pleasure.

She knew he was married; he made no secret about it. She felt the ring on his finger when he felt up inside her. She even came a couple times herself. Something so weird about it all, so taboo. Him fucking her all decked-out in his cop uniform, right down to the mirrored shades, sometimes even in the back seat of his squad car.

She started to see his mean side when one of the johns made a run for it. He’d tackled him at the knees, like a football player. Then he’d beaten him unconscious. She saw the look in his eyes while he did it; it rivaled any look he gave her when they were grinding away in angry coitus. It was then that she started carrying the stiletto again.

 

Pretty soon, he was taking all the money. She didn’t bother trying to argue.

She recognized the parson, even in his street clothes. He was more nervous than any trick she’d ever met. His face was covered in sweat, his mouth and hands trembling. His eyes couldn’t seem to stay still. He almost pulled away as she approached the car. Almost.

“Hey, there.” she said. He jumped at the sound of her voice. She’d have to be gentle with this one, he was scaring like a goddamn guinea pig. “What can I do you for?” It was one of her favorite lines. It seemed to put him a little more at ease. Not much.

“I….I, uh…” he was swallowing thickly, a dry white foam at the corner of his lips. “I…I just, uh…”

“Calm down, honey. Let me just take it from here.”

She stepped into the car and he pulled away from the curb, tires screeching a little. He couldn’t seem to look directly at her. He spoke with his eyes pointed at the glove compartment, her shoes, the rearview mirror. She felt sorry for him, to tell the truth. Seeing them this nervous usually made her laugh. But he was just pathetic.

“You just pull in here, behind the Shop…” she hesitated. She knew he’d be waiting there, just around the corner. Probably crouching in the bushes. Fucking nutcase. “Pull in down the road apiece, up here in this alleyway.”

She just couldn’t do it to him. He looked like he wouldn’t even be able to go through with it. And he had so much to lose. She still took the money, though.

When John had found out, he’d beaten the living shit out of her. She wasn’t fit to work for a week after, and even then tricks were complaining about all the bruises. His eyes had just gone dead. He hadn’t said anything. He’d just set about her with his belt. That same look in his eyes, from before, when he’d beat that trick half dead.

 

back to Contest #7