Cops and Robbers

"Oh, hi Markus. Yeah, you left that last night."

He grinned a bit sheepishly, and stepped into the room, shrugging his shoulders. "Happens to the best of 'em. Last night was not exactly our shinning moment of glory."

"You could say that. Have a seat." She beamed at him, and he took the opportunity, sliding out a chair and dropping down onto it. He had grown since she had last seen him at graduation, she realized, or more likely, had filled out. This was not some scrawny teenager with an attitude, this was a six foot plus man who probably weighed over two hundred pounds, having traded the long hippie hair for a short and sensible cut that went well with his tanned skin and brown eyes. "So what have you been doing?"

He shrugged again, placing the helmet on the table. "Well…after graduation I joined the Marines, did my time for god and country," he smiled as he said it, "with the planning being to do some time as an 03, an infantry man. Got in there, did fairly well in some things, got to live in California, which was pretty cool. Apparently I'm pretty good with a rifle, so I got to work on that a bit. Of course, 9/11 happens, I was at sea when it did. So I got to go into Afghanistan, do some stuff there, that was pretty cool. Then we went into Iraq, that kinda sucked, running around in a MOPP suit…those are the big chemical suits…came home…went back…sucked even more, all the roads blowing up all the damn time…came home…and got out! I originally wanted to be in the LAPD, but they weren't hiring. And life out there is damn expensive, so I decided to come east again. Got the whole west coast thing out of my system, CMPD was looking for experienced operators, and I fit that bill. So I came in, and been loving it ever since."

"Sounds like you've been keeping busy. I still think you should have gone to college. I thought Duke offered you a full ride?"

"They did. I'm going to school now, partially online, partially at night. Lots of good programs out there if you look for them. I did some coursework in the Marines, too. If I can lock up the whole degree thing, I get a massive pay raise." He wiggled his eyebrows, and she smiled. At least not all hope was lost yet.

"Good. You'll be better for it."

"I hope so. Listen…I really do feel bad about last night. Ahem…can I take you out to dinner sometime or something, make it up to you? Cut your grass, wash your car, whatever. Come talk to your class about the dangers of speeding…" He shrugged in the way that men do when they realized they are in over their head, but don't want to back out for fear of losing face. He noted that she was still smiling, which he took as a good sign, then she reached out and touched his hand.

"That's so nice of you. But you don't have to do that, according to some Internet research it happens more frequently then I thought it did."

"Frightening, isn't it? Back in the mid-nineties a two people died in Vegas when the wrong house got hit and the occupants defended themselves rather forcefully. Bounty Hunters, in that case, but still. But really, I want to take you out to dinner. I owe you at least that much."

"Your boss put you up to this?"

"Who?"

"Bradbury, is that his name?"

Markus laughed, shaking his head. "I don't work for him. He's with the FBI, and they are rather upset that their agent marked the wrong house. They are that way, don't like to admit their mistakes. But no, nobody put me up to this, just me trying to make up for a bad mistake, and spend some time with my favorite teacher from way back when."

"How does Friday sound?"

"Perfect."

Jamie had been married for the better part of eleven years now, having walked down the aisle pregnant with her first child. Only two months, but pregnant nonetheless, meaning that her marriage had gone straight into child care stage, the age of babysitters and bottles, of diapers and child proofing a house. She missed the days when she could just go out on a date, and she told her friend so.

"Oh, come on. I'm entitled to some fun, thank you!"

"Yes you are, and anything is better then that lug you keep bringing home." Jamie smiled at her reference to Mario, Mary's on again, off again boyfriend. "I would recommend you stop dating "M" names, but I know you won't listen to a friend that has your best interest at heart."

"Best interest my ass! All you want is to live your life vicariously through me."

"So what? I have to wait until Sandra's old enough to date to start channeling her selection of proper mates, so right now, you are all I have." She beamed, and Mary laughed. "Just be home by twelve."

"Okay, mom."

The brown (car dealers would call it champagne) pickup truck looked like it had been washed and waxed, and even the rims were gleaming when they walked down the walkway to where he had parked on the street. She wondered if it had been good dating etiquette on her part to leave her car in the driveway like that, but too late now.

He had shown up right on time, not too soon, not too late. Naturally she was not yet ready, not having really gotten ready for a date in a while. She was not even sure if he thought of this as a date, but his words the other day sure made it sound and feel like one. Coupled with the fact that Mario had not spoken to her since the revelation of what had happened and the fact that he had planned for his boys night out on this same day, she had put in extra effort.

He had brought a simple bouquet, not roses, and while she finished touching up, he had put it in a vase he found after she directed him by yelling, then he inspected her doors and played with Maggie for a bit, trying to keep all the dog hair on the dog, and his clothes as clean as possible. When she finally came down, dressed in a simple black skirt and a nice blue shirt, he smiled, and told her she looked amazing. The woman laughed, and then they were off.

To her, dinner out meant one of the many chain restaurants crowding Charlotte now, or maybe one of the stand-alone eateries that tried to compete with its franchised brethren in the strip malls and parking lots. Apparently he had other ideas as they rolled towards South Park, and then pulled into Phillips Place.

He opened the door for her each time she got in and out, and each time she beamed at him, not used to such a treat. When they got inside, he took her jacket and checked it, then the Maitre' D led them to a table, and he ordered a bottle of wine by memory.

"You've been practicing?"

"I'm not going to divulge my secrets." He grinned, and she leaned across the table, noticing that his eyes flicked to her cleavage for a second before he gained control of them and refocused on her eyes.

"Pretty please?"

"I did not cheat on my Senior Exit Project."

"Oh come on, I'm so over that." But she laughed at the memory. She had been convinced at the time that his girlfriend had been helping him, and had often used the "pretty please" phrase to coax him into admitting it. "And besides…I'm here now, having a good time."

And that trend continued. He told her about his time in the Marines, told her about the places he had been, about the terror of landing in Afghanistan in the middle of the night and climbing into the mountains to hunt terrorists, while they swapped memories from his time at Providence. She asked about Iraq, and he related the race to Baghdad, the hell of living in a chemical suit, and the exhilaration of climbing the palace walls to storm what many had thought would be the final redoubts of the Saddam terror regime.

He ordered dinner for her, and she could tell that he was torn by his choice, but he picked well, and had seeded her for what she thought she would be interested in, a rather slick move she complimented him on. He came back with several nice things that her clothes and make up accentuated, and she asked if he had read that in a magazine somewhere. He had, but would not reveal which one, making her laugh again.

She noticed that he did that a lot, that he kept her laughing, and that she liked it. It was not the serious kind of deep-seated policy debates that Mario insisted they have over dinner at Chili's, but a fun evening out with a person that was a good time. So when they finished the bottle of wine, and dinner, she did not object to him walking her down the block to one of those trendy new dance clubs.

She did a double take when recognizing some of her students, and watched as two of them recognized her as well. He had his arm around her, and she whispered in his ear, watching his face lit up when he saw them.

"Watch this." He smiled at her, then reached down and lifted his shirt just enough to expose his belt, where the badge was clipped. The girl's faces lit up in horror, and then they turned and slowly disappeared around the corner, abandoning their pursuit of Friday night drunkenness and debauchery with fake ID's.

Maybe it was by virtue of being a cop, maybe he just knew the guy, but somehow Markus bypassed the line, and instead walked right up to the door, high fived the massive man standing guard there, and walked inside. He got her another drink, then forced her out onto the dance floor despite her strenuous objections (don't you just go to bars to have a drink and hang out, she pleaded), and that was that.

He was a skilled dancer, and she would readily admit that she was not. But he did not seemed to mind, guiding her across the floor as the music rapidly changed from Salsa to Hip-Hop, to top 40, and back again. He seemed to know every song, kept her glass full, and after a while, she was pretty sure that she was a good dancer, too.

As the club started to fill, they drifted back outside, and walked down to the truck. He helped her inside, and they pulled out, heading back south. She was surprised when he took several turns that took them away from what she thought was their final destination, and then he pulled into an open field, turned the truck around, and got out.

She watched him walk around, and got out herself when he opened the door, following him to the back of the truck. He pulled down the tailgate, hoped up, then popped open the tool box and spread a blanket in the bed. She got the idea, climbed up with him, and they laid down, looking up at the stars.

"I hope we are forgiven for demolishing your peace the other night."

"No biggie. I got two new doors out of it, and a wonderful dinner." She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at the young man lying next to her. "Why did you bring me out here?'

"I could tell you were getting tipsy, and I did not want the night to end yet. So this is a relaxing kind of thing, which supposedly makes women more receptive to second dates."

"Is this a date?"

"I was hoping it was, the way you were dancing." He grinned, and she could see his teeth flashing in the moonlight.

"I have a boyfriend, you know." She was not sure why she said it, as she laid back down on her back, and maybe that is why she said it. To remind herself.

"You own a car, too. That would not a stop a car sales man from trying to get you to trade it in for a newer model."

"Good point." She looked over, and finally smiled back. "Did you really mean what you said the other night?"

"Ms Williamson…there are a lot of things that go on in deployed infantry battalions that one should not talk about in polite conversation. When we were at Blue Diamond, the camp in Iraq, people posted all kinds of pictures everywhere. Whole magazines, everything, Maxim, FHM, Playboy, Hustler, everything, got ripped up and hung on the walls. I never did that. I just think back on things in the past, and think back to women I desired."

"You thought about me?"

"Often. Still do." He smiled, and when he kissed her, she did not resist.

It was a soft kiss, tenuous and exploring, giving her the chance to pull back, teasing her with the gentle hint of tongue, as his hands reached out and pulled her closer. His body mashed to hers, and then he was really kissing her, hard and strong, holding her tight, pushing his tongue into her mouth and caressing her ass with one hand.

She moaned into the kiss, and when it broke she realized that he was half on top of her, kissing down her neck. She reached up and pushed him back, instantly making him stop and sit back up, as she smiled at him. "Is this what you want?"

"I want you. I've always wanted you."

"I don't normally give it up on the first date."

The look on his face turned rapidly from shock to dismay to glee, and then she realized that what he had meant was that he wanted to make out with her, fulfill a teenage fantasy of kissing his teacher, of grabbing her butt, and sucking her tongue. She turned beet red as he kissed her again, one hand slipping under her skirt and feeling her ass and thong as he pulled her against him again. "I'm glad to hear that teachers still have good morals. And I'm glad that I have a chance tonight to make you throw them away for the moment." And he kissed her again.

It was a slow, slow, slow progression. Somehow he managed to turn the radio on, and soft music came down from the Sirius satellites above, dancing through the air out of the back window. He took his time kissing her, touching and fondling her, rubbing her all over, and by the time she realized that he had removed her skirt and shirt, she was in her underwear already wondering, how his shirt had gotten into her hand, and how he had developed such a hard body with amazing six-pack abs and broad shoulders.

She moaned and writhed under his hands as he kissed every inch of her body, slowly exploring the flesh he had dreamed about for so long, taking his time, sucking her fingers and toes, licking her ass and tonguing her pussy through her thong, making her shake as he fingered her to her first orgasm of the night, and then held her as she caught her breath.

He seemed in no hurry, as if time meant nothing, stripping her of her bra, panties and shoes, and massaging her feet before he kissed his way to her exposed folds. She tried to push him away, but he was not to be deterred, and when his tongue hit her clit, she cried out.

Mary had never been a big fan of any man going down there. The lovers she had shared herself with all made a big deal of it, as if doing her a favor, and it was clear that it was a chore that most men suffered through in order to achieve their aim, which was to stick their dick in her, and get their nut off. Over time she had decided that most men considered about forty five seconds ample time in the basement, and then they would come back up.

For those reason she tended to discourage oral sex, not wanting to feel the lift up of getting her pussy licked without the release provided by orgasm. But she was weak from what his fingers had done to her, and in no position to defend herself, and just like that, she was shaking again.

The young man was incredibly skilled, she had to admit to herself, and he was sucking on her pussy with abandon, his tongue sliding in and out of her, flicking her clit, sucking and nibbling on it, as his hands roamed her body, caressing and fondling her, playing with her tits and supporting her hips as he tongue fucked her.

It was the first time she sweated during sex without really doing anything, and she was panting for air as he continued his relentless assault upon her pussy, seemingly undeterred by her thrashing legs and continuing pleas for him to stop torturing her like that. She begged for mercy, but all she got was another lighting bolt up her spine, making her scream out, and then just like that he was inside.

She was not sure how he propelled himself that fast, but he seemingly jumped from being crouched between her legs to being on top of her, his cock buried in her, slamming the air from her lungs, his arms wrapping her up, legs up over his elbows, and he was fucking her. Hard.

She wanted to scream, wanted to say something, actually it would be nice if her eyes would focus right about now, but all that failed her as motor skills abandoned her body, and bliss and pleasure battled for dominance in a soul dominated by the feeling of a thick cock in her pussy, pounding back and forth, the stars going in and out of focus above her, his breathing harsh and hot in her ear as he kissed her and nibbled on her nipples, sucking them and biting her all over.

Her hands were flopping hopelessly above him, and she wanted to grab something, but somehow her fingers were not responding, not listening, just tingling along with the rest of her as she got taken in the back of that truck, and for the first time experienced the true joy of a man putting his all into her.

His technique and focus were admirable, as he moved his hips back and forth in varying patterns of attack, changing his position and making sure that he hit her clit with each stroke, one hand gripping and squeezing her ass as the other clutched her tight, making them one as they romped in the back of the truck.

Suddenly he reared back, then leaned down, kissing her hard, forcing his lips onto hers, taking what little breath she had away, then his body seemed to freeze as he threw his head back and roared out loud. She felt his cock shaking and shuddering in her, and then suddenly her own body was exploding, the fireworks inside her pussy and brain overwhelming, and she gasped as she shook, his arms holding her close, both of them collapsing into one another, sucking wind, and holding each other tight.

Slowly they separated, and she looked down, watching him pull the condom off and stuff it back into the neatly torn wrapper. Sitting up she tried to remember when that had happened, then left it alone and was glad that he was so thoughtful.

When he pulled her into his arms, she did not resist, and another furious make out sessions followed. This time her breasts got all the attention they deserved and needed, and when he became hard again, she was not surprised.

"Ah…I think I should mention that I'm not a big fan of going down on men."

"Did I ask you to?"

"No, but eventually guys tend to."

"You know how to kill the mood, don't you?" He kissed her nose, then slowly turned her, so that her back was towards him, and his big dick pressing against her ass. She felt his fingers in her pussy and pressed against him, shuddering when it raced through her again.

"Sorry, did not mean to…ahhhhhh…." Her voice was cut off when he squeezed her clit and milked another orgasm out of her, and she closed her eyes, rolling onto her stomach. "Do whatever you please with me, I don't care. Tonight has been better then the last ten years of my sex life."

"Don't sell yourself short." He kissed her neck, then down her back, and she squealed when he stuffed his tongue up her ass.

Rolling away to protect herself, she looked down at his cock dangling between his legs, and reached for it, wrapping her hands around it, stroking it slowly. "It feels so good. Warm and hard."

"Be careful, you are playing with a loaded gun."

"Oh, officers…oh my god. I have to ask you this!"

"Go ahead." He kissed her forehead, and leaned forward, making it easier for her to stroke him, something he seemed to enjoy.

"Would you…oh my god, I can't believe I'm going to say this…would you handcuff a woman during sex."

"If she was down with that, and comfortable, sure. But not just during regular sex, just for the hell of it. It's like drinking, best enjoyed in small sips."

"I've always wanted to be handcuffed."

"Any other kinky desires?"

"I don't know if its kinky, but…you have any use for this?" She held up another condom, and he grinned, taking it from her hand as he kissed her.

She thought he would just put it on, stick it in her, and take her to the moon again, something she would have been perfectly fine with. But instead he flipped her over, stuck his tongue back up her ass, then pulled her up on all fours and entered her, one hand on her hip, the other fondling her breasts.