Cops and Robbers

"What are you doing here?" In their almost year of dating, he had never come to the school, never called the school, she was not even sure he had known where Providence was on Highway 51. But he was here now, and as he got close, she could smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Your little boy toy had me arrested the other night…that was fucked up! I lost two clients over that!" It was probably not good for business as a lawyer when you have your own run in's with the law. But that sounded like a personal problem.

"Mario, I have to ask you to leave, you need to check in with…"

"Shut up, bitch!" He stepped aside, and looked at the flowers on her desk. "That motherfucker is the most flowery bitch I ever did see. Bit light in the boots, ain't he?"

"What?"

"I bet he's a fucking faggot!" He seemingly spit the words out, and she shrank back, just as Brad walked back into the room.

"Is there a problem?" The young teacher tried to step around the raging boyfriend, but the man pushed him backwards, sending him tumbling into the wall next to the door as the shorter man roared forward, pushing over a desk. The students now were all concentrated in the back of the room, with the exception of one, who was advancing on the man.

"You heard the lady, you have to leave." James Crallen was a beast at the age of eighteen, somebody who had been passed grade to grade because of his ability to stop anybody, at anytime, anyplace on the football field. Ms Williamson was the first teacher who had really made him learn, somebody who had finally shown him how to enjoy reading, and somebody who had pushed him past thinking of everything of the gridiron as a diversion from the point of life. And nobody was going to push her around.

"Motherfucker…" Mario lunged, but that is a bad idea with a two hundred ten pounder who is used to slapping around kids heavier then him, and dressed up in pads. The shoulder tackle was a devastating blow that rocked the older mans world and sent him to the ground, stumbling over two desks.

Mary screamed, stumbling backwards herself away from the falling man, which distracted her from two more forms entering the room as one of the assistant principals and the Police Officer assigned to the school crowded the room. Officer Marte was only 5'5" herself, but she was known for her no-nonsense attitude, and her cuffing technique was even slicker then Markus. She also had a very good headlock that allowed her to drag the man from the room and to her office even as he sputtered and screamed about lawsuits.

"You okay, ma'am?" James had stood back up, dusting himself off. He towered over here, and she nodded, then hugged the boy out of instinct. He smiled somewhat self consciously, patting her on the back.

"Thanks."

"No problem. You always told me that football would lead to greater things in life, and I guess you were right."

The school was abuzz for the rest of the day with what had happened, despite the fact that it involved only two teachers, and eight students, one of whom walked with his head held high, and who arrived a bit early for her seventh period English class, sitting between two girls who adoringly had him retell the story over and over. Mary smiled as she watched it, knowing that James was not exactly what one would call popular with the ladies. Which was unfortunate, as she knew him to be a kind human being.

"Ms Williamson?" The voice drew her looks to the door where a larger figure was flowing into the room with the students, and her jaw dropped.

Markus was dressed in jeans that were probably about a size to big, in the trendy baggy style, hanging over brown boots that were unlaced and splayed open, the same way that teenagers with no sense did. His white logo t-shirt was tucked in, with the larger dress shirt unbuttoned over it. Black Oakley sunglasses were pushed up onto his badge, and his gold badge hung shining around his neck. She could see the radio on his belt on one side, and the gun on the other, both underneath the flowing shirt.

"Oh my god, is that how you dress to go to work?"

"I work in gangs, okay!" He seemed somewhat distraught when she started laughing, tapping his foot as if rather annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Oh my god, you look…good!" She nodded, emphasizing the last word, suddenly aware of the eyes in the room on them, so she pointed to the hallway, and he led the way.

"What are you doing here?"

"Heard what happened over the radio, came by to see if you were cool. Ladies in the front office said go right up."

Of course. The Providence front office was staffed by women older the Abraham, who probably remembered Markus, the kid who sent them a massive bouquet of roses every valentines day, and who never had an absence charged to him, despite the fact that he came and went as he pleased.

"Well, I'm fine. Jesus, what is this, a damn museum? Everybody just walks right in!"

"Relax, I'm leaving again. Damn, I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He seemed hurt and wounded by her apparent anger, and she grabbed his arm as he went to turn, pulling him back. He almost leaned down and kissed her, then remember where they were and stopped himself.

"Ah…damn. You know…I'm sorry." He smiled, and she nodded.

"You're here now, might as well do something useful. Remember how you offered to talk to my class about drugs?"

"Did I?"

"I'm sure they want to hear about that more then they do about "Pride and Prejudice."

"You know I read that book in Afghanistan."

"You did not."

"If I can prove it, will you let me…" He leaned down and whispered in her ear, watching her recoil and pull back.

"The proof better be iron clad."

"It will be." He walked into the room, and watched her shut the door, then sat on the front of her desk.

"Always wanted to do that. Hey guys, my name is Markus Branden, class of 2000, and I'm here to talk to you guys…"

The room stood empty, the occasional echo of feet in the hallway reaching their ears as he helped her straighten up. She had been pleasantly surprised by how easy it was for him to speak of drugs, abusive relationships, and the danger of gang membership, flowing from one topic to the next, parrying all questions about their personal lives, and backing up hard facts with stories of destroyed lives right here in Charlotte.

It had also not escaped her attention how some of her students shamelessly flirted with him, two going so far as to ask for his phone number, email, Instant Message handle, anything. He had put the phone number to the Gang hotline on the board, and everybody had dutifully copied it down, but he had also told them that it was not a date line, so not to bother if they did not want to seriously help keep the city gang free. It was the first time she had seen him in a setting with other women, and it confirmed her suspicion that the effect he had on her was not restricted to her. He was a genuine hottie.

"Do you always have that affect on women?"

"What's that?"

"Do they always just try to throw themselves at you?"

"You didn't."

"I was naked in my bedroom."

"I'm talking about when I was your student."

"You were a student!"

"One can dream."

He walked over, taking her in his arms, and kissing her, long and hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth, one hand grabbing her ass, making her moan. He did not break the connection, kept teasing her, toying with her, forcing her to pull away when she finally needed air, the hunger in her eyes apparent.

"I've always wanted to do you on that desk."

"No way!"

"I don't think you can stop me." He was at the door, pushing it shut and locking it before she realized what he was doing, then had her back in his arms, bending her over the desk.

She really struggled now, but he was so much stronger, kissing her all over, her hands when she pushed at him, her lips when she protested, sucking her nipples through her shirt and demi-bra, one hand up her skirt, toying with her pussy through her thong, and she knew it was futile. He would do what he would do, and all she could do was try to stop him for appearance sake.

He was very meticulous in the way he did it, turning her so that she was face down over the desk, and if she moved her arms too much she risked knocking something off, which would make an incredible racket. Her skirt was already around her hips, and she had faintly heard his zipper go down. "Can't believe you are doing this to me in that ridiculous outfit," she hissed under her breath.

"Stop complaining already." Then he pushed his tongue into her pussy, and she almost bit her tongue off to keep from screaming.

He was fast and furious, lashing her pussy, sucking her clit and nibbling it, and combined with the moment, it did not take long for her to flood. He pulled himself back up, and then he was inside her, his thick cock filling her, and he was slowly fucking her, with deep hard strokes.

She relaxed in his arms, their lips coming together as they kissed, both of them enjoying the moment. "You don't know how long I've dreamed of this."

"You are a freak."

"You ain't seen nothing yet. When I really get going, I'm swinging from the rafters in a leopard print thong."

"Must be your time in California." She shuddered when his cock pushed her over again, and he bit her neck, slamming himself deep into her as he changed his angle, hitting her clit more, and making her moan.

"Must be." Then he really went to work.

Jamie was not sure if she should be disgusted or amused, and the emotions were clearly struggling on her face, finally settling into a sort of half smile, then she just shook her head and sipped her tea. "That's sick."

"It was pretty good, actually."

"Sick."

"You're the one that told me how great it was to have Matt come to your office, and get a little lunch time loving!" Mary threw her hands up, leaning back in her chair. "And besides, the other day when Mario was here, we did it on this very table."

Jamie shrieked, pushing away from the table and starring at the gray metal surface as if it might leap up and attack her at any moment. Her friend laughed out loud, and she grinned, setting her cup back down. "How is old Mario?"

"In jail for assault. When Markus arrested him the other day was like his first offense, ever, so he was out on his own cognizance. But then today happened, and so that got cancelled, and now he has to sit until tomorrow, when the magistrate can see him."

"Sounds like fun."

"Yeah. He called me earlier to formally apologize and break up with me. I think his lawyer side is kicking in, and he's trying to keep the whole from getting any deeper."

"Good move."

Mary nodded, then her look got serious, and she leaned across the table. "I need to ask you something, as a woman and a close friend."

"Dating younger guys is both socially acceptable and a good idea these days."

"Thanks smart ass, but this is serious." Her look said so, as well.

"Shoot."

"Markus…we had a bet going, one I was sure I would win. But I lost. And I…well…I bet him that he could…could…"

"Tie you up? I thought you've always wanted that."

"No…"

"Spank you? Kinky."

"Jesus, Jamie…"

"Put it up your ass."

The words hung between them, and the look on Mary's face made it clear to her friend that she had hit jackpot. The grin on Jamie's face was about a mile wide, and she leaned back in her own chair, satisfied with her sleuthing. "What do you want to know?"

"Have you ever…"

"Naturally. I have a good book about it, but I guess he wants to do it sooner rather then later."

"What's the book?"

"Toni Bentley, an erotic memoir. I have some other ones, but that is the main one. When I was pregnant with Sandra Matt first brought it up. Naturally, he came prepared, with more research, books, articles, and websites then a damn doctoral thesis, and a very well constructed argument about how he was fine with no sex, and he had no problem whacking it, but would I maybe be open to this? And he purchased some toys for practice and rehearsal…by the way, I made him go to all the seedy little stores, I didn't ever go there, he brought home some porn so I could see what it looks like, and he was very patient with me."

"But you did it?"

"Yes. And I still occasionally enjoy it. It's like champagne, something we enjoy on the few times when we can ditch the kids and do something special."

Mary nodded, somewhat surprised by that turn of events. Jamie was by no means a sexual purist, despite her strident claims to the title, yet she had somehow thought that the woman who kept a framed copy of an article about herself from her college newspaper over her desk would not be down like that. The article was titled "Campus Feminazi strikes again, going after male sports." Title IX was something that got the young mother very fired up, be it when speaking at a dinner party, or when yelling down somebody at a PTA meeting.

"So what do you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning, and walk me through it."

She disliked gated communities, always had, and always would. They seemed dishonest, un-American almost, but then again, she disliked that phrase as well. But it was his choice to live in such a bunker mentality, and she could understand where it would be appealing for a young cop, one who probably wanted to impress the ladies with his nice pad, and she smiled at that thought as she rolled past the open gate, and watched it close in her rear view mirror.

The buildings were in two rows, facing each other across the parking lot that ran between them. He lived in the center, and she parked next to his truck, smiling at the memories it evoked. Turning off the engine, she sat for a moment, contemplating what he had told her. Smiling, she climbed out and descended the stairs to his ground level apartment, knocking on the door.

The apartment was surprisingly clean for a young bachelor to be living in it. A two bedroom deal, the master bedroom held a massive four post bed, and art he had picked up during his time in the Middle East. The living room was home to an expansive leather set, and the big TV that no young man can be without, as well as a sound system that he probably used to blast the rap she figured he needed to get into character to dress the way he had the other day.

The kitchen was clean and well lit, and stocked with all the gadgets an overzealous shopper can come away from Bed, Bath & Beyond with. He even had several small plants growing on his windowsill. The last bedroom was outfitted as an office, with various pictures showing certain key moments of his time in the service framed in a sort of time line around the walls. She was impressed, and she told him so.

"A friend of mine helped me decorate."

"A girl?"

"He's kind of effeminate." He smiled, kissing her on the lips, then gently pushed her down on the couch. It was the kind of make out session that she had found so sorely lacking in her life, a slow, sensual dance of lips and bodies, the kind of connection that takes a while to establish, the one that strips you awareness of everything around you, and lets you focus on just your partner, as he focuses on you.

When he pulled away she was suddenly aware that he had managed to undress her entirely without her even realizing it, and that her clothes were in a pile next to them. He led her to the table that was already set, and then served his "famous family recipe" for pasta, which she had to admit was pretty good, even though the company probably helped, and any meal feed to you by a gorgeous young man while sitting on his lap with his dick poking at your butt through his pants has a certain ambiance all of its own.

The bottle of wine he opened disappeared with the meal, but he had another one at hand, one he brought with them as he carried her into the bedroom. She was anxious and a bit scared, and he could tell, but her fears melted away as he gently laid her down, and took her back into his arms.

He let her undress him, his lips seemingly always finding their way to hers, and then she was looking at his gloriously naked body, stroking his cock with her small hands, feeling it pulse, its heat, and she moaned out against herself when she thought about what he wanted to do to her.

Against herself, she was still not used to his way of doing business, to the way he seemed to just relax and slip from one thing to another, with no regard for time, playing her body like a piano. It was a gentle process, one that seemingly lasted forever as they played with one another. It was the type of thing she had always dreamed of, romping in a bed with a man that wanted nothing more then to please her, a man who moved from eating her to manually stimulating her and back, who kissed her lips in between, who sucked her toes, he whispered dirty and naughty things in her ear, who was everywhere and nowhere at once, who pushed her boundaries and asked her to do things she normally would not do, who coaxed her body to sweat and to shudder, and who seemingly effortlessly made her moan and beg for more, who took her to the edge, letting her look over, holding her back from the fall, then roughly pushed her into the current of bliss, and had her screaming his name without having entered her yet.

And then he did. She cried out as it happened, her legs up over his shoulders, the actual moment a release for her that triggered a powerful orgasm. She panted and begged for it, and then he gave it to her, making her scream out loud, and he was fucking her in his wild ways, and the release was so powerful she feared she might black out. But that might be fun, too.

His pillow whispers did not stop, and all she could do was hold on for the ride, then her body shook again. He pulled back, kissing on her, fondling her, and she grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back down.

Slowly they kissed, and he cradled her in his arms, caressing her longingly, until she relaxed, letting him kiss his way down her body. He made another stop at her pussy, this time being gentler to it, taking his time until she relaxed and spread her legs again. She felt him teasing her ass, felt him lubing it up, felt her breath catch.

Slowly he wrapped her legs around his waist, reaching down and propping her head up. They kissed, long and soft, and then he let her look down, watching as he pushed into her. Despite her misgivings, she had read the book that Jamie had told her about, had mentally steeled herself for this moment, and yet, in the end it was all for naught. Just like getting punched in the face, you can watch boxing movies all you want, the real thing will never be what you expect

She threw her head back, the sensations intensity overwhelming her, a gurgling sound passing her lips as he popped past the anal ring and entered her. Their lips locked again and she held on tight as he filled her all the way.

Her legs squeezed him, and then he pulled back, pushing back in, one hand between them as the other ran through her hair, and then he was squeezing her clit, and she screamed out loud, everything fading.

She would never remember what rhythm he had, never remember how he kissed her, how he held her, how he caressed and toyed with her, how was all over her, in her, holding her, the millions of things that were happening around them and in her as he took her and made her all his. All she remembered was the explosion in her clitoris that raced up her spine like a wild fire, a fire that held her and burned her, a sensation that did not let go until suddenly she felt him shake and moan, and even then only slowly let her go.

They collapsed into one another, her body pushing him out without her having to think about it, kissing and cuddling. Her hair was matted to her head, and he had to hold her for what seemed like a small eternity before she could stop panting like a wet dog. Finally he carried her into the bathroom, disposing the condom as she cleaned herself up. He indicated the shower with a nod of his head, and she smiled, letting him lift her over the rim. The curtain was a nice tropical scene, and when he turned on the massive overhead showerhead and slowly washed her, it was easy to picture yourself under a waterfall in the Bahamas, and she leaned into him as he wrapped a thick towel around her, slowly drying her.