Detective Cox - The Bargain

This story has the same protagonist as Undercover Cop: Captured, but the events here take place before that operation, so our detective is not yet traumatised. Most of the character's description has been copied from the other story, so that readers do not need to check there in order to learn who Angelica is.

I changed the perspective in this story to first person, because I think it fits the storyline much better.

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INTRODUCTION

My name is Angelica Cox and I am a homicide detective. The main reason I did not become a fighter was because I am too smart. I have the posture, strength and tenacity, but my brain would simply not have enough challenges in a ring, no matter the sport. Which job is adequate when you are strong AND smart? Twenty year old Angel had thought that joining the police sounded like a good idea. Ten years later detective Cox thinks it had been an awesome idea!

Since we mentioned... Cox. Having a last name the same as a Hollywood/TV celebrity is cool, right? Well, maybe in Hollywood, where sexual services for directors or producers in exchange for a role are customary (unless these men prefer little boys), being named "COCKS' is fine. It is a completely different matter in the police, where a day without a sexual joke or innuendo is considered wasted. Exchanges like the one below were pretty common.

"Hey, Cocks! Do you like 'em Big and Black?"

"I might've, but your mother hoards them all."

But I was born standing tall and talking back, so I was in my element. I could not imagine being a Hollywood prostitute (also known as an actress), just with a different kind of currency. And when I stood, I was indeed tall.

I am a real amazon, 180 centimetres tall, athletic body, broad shoulders, full firm round buttocks from infinite number of squats, endless powerful legs and surprisingly large natural D-cup breasts, which looked perfectly sized for my wide chest. Complete the look with a gorgeous (but not angelic) face, large round blue eyes, long thick wavy blonde hair and you'll get a detective that does not look like one at all. But just like Colombo had used his clumsiness and scruffy appearance to his advantage, so did I with my sexbomb looks. No-one expected a big brain to go with such a body; they were all in for a surprise.

Double surprise even, because I took as much care of my body as of my mind. I regularly worked out hard, stretched twice a day and practised martial arts. I became a warrior after all, but not a mindless gladiator serving only for the purpose of entertaining equally mindless crowds. I was fighting for law and order, however grandiloquent that may sound.

My outfits did not exactly follow the dress code of my work place. Short skirts, high heels, tight pants, deep cleavages - I wore them all and almost miraculously never got in any serious trouble with my superiors. Of course there were some who claimed that my entire career was based on sexual favours, but they simply envied my good looks and intellect.

I am still single and do not have any mid-term plans of changing that status. I am aware that I have a difficult character, narcissistic personality and am as much dedicated to personal improvement as to my work. A relationship would only get in the way. That does not mean I shy away from men, quite the opposite; I have a stable company of friends with benefits with whom I regularly meet. I prefer to avoid "romancing" with colleagues, but I am not completely against that idea. I am not a "never say never" kind of person though, after all I had said "Never!" to drugs; there was enough excitement in my life (including sex), so I do not need any artificial supplements. "Drugs are for stupid people'' is my motto and I hate stupid people.

INVESTIGATION

Another day, another homicide, another investigation. I might have made it sound boring or mundane, so don't get me wrong, I love my job and the challenge that comes with unravelling the truth. Unfortunately my partner was sick and because of staff shortages I would need to solve this case on my own. It did not bother me too much, I had full confidence in my own abilities.

The place where the body had been found added spice to the investigation. The building hosted a restaurant, a hotel and a luxurious apartment; it all belonged to Michael Bradford. More than once Mr Bradford had been suspected of illegal activities like gambling, money laundering, drug trafficking and pimping, but neither of the cases had enough evidence to put him behind bars. Those were all small fries compared to homicide, and while Mr Bradford was not a suspect yet, it would be a significant achievement to prove his guilt. But I was getting ahead of myself; I had to be observant and methodical, these were the methods to a successful investigation, not wishful thinking.

By the time I arrived at the place the cops had already secured the crime scene.

"What have you got, Johnson?" were my first words to the officer at the spot.

That might sound impolite, but there was a reason for such behaviour. Long time ago, even before I became a policewoman, people of the precinct had decided to skip the 'Good morning' part when there was a dead body present.

"White, middle-aged man. Seems to have been shot in the chest. Employees of the restaurant found the body," officer Johnson told me what else he had learnt so far.

Jerry, because that was his first name, was still young, a few years younger than me, but a really good cop. The only thing unprofessional about his behaviour was his gaze. As he talked he eyed my body from head to toe; I ignored that, because it was our little game. To be specific my outfit was far from being professional either, as usual.

I was wearing a white blouse which might have been considered classy, if not for the cleavage which offered a generous glimpse of my large breasts. My brown leather skirt was too short to be called professional either, it reached almost to the middle of my thighs, so I guess it could be called decent. It paired really well with the knee-high boots on ten centimetre tall block heels and light jacket, both also made of brown leather. My legs were covered in sheer tan pantyhose. Some might say that this outfit was more suitable for a night out, but that was my style for work. I looked hot and I knew it, but that would not stop me from conducting an investigation, quite the opposite.

I listened attentively to Johnson as he led me towards the body.

"You said he was shot," I remarked when we got there.

"Just my initial observation. The coroner is on his way."

"There's no blood. If he was shot it didn't happen here."

"Someone moved the body?"

"Might be. Show me the witnesses."

The employees were waiting to be interrogated in the kitchen; as Johnson led me there we were joined by HIM. I have heard of Michael Bradford, but I had never seen any of his photos, yet when he approached us I was certain we were dealing with the owner of the entire establishment. He was tall, athletic and ridiculously handsome; he could look me in the eye when I was in high heels which was not common. Mr Bradford was immaculately dressed, but more importantly he oozed masculinity and confidence. If not for the fact that I was a detective and had an equally strong character I might have fallen for his charm right there and then.

"Mr Bradford, I presume?" I asked.

"That's right. And who is this beautiful lady being escorted by the police?" he said with a charming smile.

"Detective Cox. I'm in charge of this case."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, detective," he did not miss his stride and was still charming, "I'll do whatever I can to help you solve this case."

"Thank you, I appreciate your cooperation," my words were formal, but my voice was not; I made it just slightly flirty. I decided to match him in the game, after all I was already dressed for the part.

"Thank you, officer Johnson. I'll take care of the witnesses, make sure that the crime scene remains secure."

"Yes, ma'am."

Mr Bradford led me around the place, I interrogated his employees, who were also cooperative, they gave me the footage from their CCTV system; overall they offered anything law-abiding citizens would. At least that's how it was supposed to appear, because I sensed there was something missing. Eventually only one person remained to be interrogated - the host himself.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Bradford," I said in the same flirty voice, "I will need your testimony as well."

"Of course, detective. Maybe we could hold this conversation in my office?"

"Lead the way."

I was wondering what his intentions were, but decided to continue our little game, for now. The information I had gathered so far did not seem sufficient to catch the murderer, so I was hoping I could squeeze out more from the host. We entered the elevator and began to ride up.

"I wasn't aware that our police force has such gorgeous detectives," Mr Bradford said in a casual charming voice.

He was surprisingly good at maintaining eye contact, I was almost disappointed; almost, because I love challenges.

"You make it sound as if smart girls can't also be pretty."

"I feel like whatever I'll say now will be held against me."

"It will, but you've already renounced your right to remain silent."

"In that case I'll testify that I admire your wits as much as your beauty."

"Among the virtues I admire most, honesty is at the top of the list."

"I'm being completely honest..." it felt as if he did not finish the sentence.

"... so far?" I added with a seductive smile, but received no response.

The elevator transported us to the top floor, the boss' home and office. Getting out required a password to be typed into a controller; apparently Mr Bradford did not consider it necessary to conceal it from me, I spotted and memorised the combination, even though I doubted it would be useful. Of course he could always change the password after my departure. Beyond the door was a corridor with fancy veneer and expensive looking ornaments; all remained tasteful, but reminded the guests of the luxury of the place. We crossed the corridor and reached a heavy wooden door; Mr Bradford, ever the gentleman, opened them for me. The room inside did not look like an office, more like a lounge, spacious and of course luxurious.

"Very nice office you have, Mr Bradford," I remarked with a smirk.

"I thought that the saloon might be more comfortable. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

A detective usually should not accept drinks from witnesses, much less suspects (which Mr Bradford was not yet), but they should not flirt with them either. Plus I genuinely wanted a coffee.

"Yes, thank you. A cup of cappuccino, please," it was still morning after all.

"Please, take a seat. I'll be right back," the host gestured towards one of the couches in the middle of the room. He then went to the kitchen to prepare the drinks himself.

There was a moderately large low coffee table with three small couches on three of its sides; all looked quite cosy and comfortable. The fourth side was directed towards a huge window which stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Instead of sitting down I approached the window, it offered a spectacular sight onto the city below. I enjoyed the skyline while in my head sorting out the facts which I had learnt so far; I was trying to locate the inaccuracies in the testimonies of the employees, so I could use them against their employer. Soon the host returned with two coffees and placed them on the table.

"The drinks are served," he announced with a charming smile.

"Thank you," I matched his smile and sat down on one of the couches.

I crossed my legs and twisted my body slightly; my skirt was tight, so it hiked up giving an even better view of my legs. I then leaned forward to reach for my coffee. All the while I was not looking at Bradford, this gave him the opportunity to admire my body; obviously I noticed it, because I was expecting exactly that kind of reaction. If he did not do it, I would need to consider the risk of him being a homosexual and thus my teasing strategy would be pointless. Fortunately the host had all the proper male reactions. I sipped my coffee, put the cup away, reached into my purse for the notebook and finally raised my gaze onto Michael Bradford. I offered him one more charming smile and started my work.

"Let's begin with the most important question. Where were you last night, Mr Bradford?" my tone turned professional, but I maintained the seductive pose.

"Right here detective. With a group of friends," the host acted relaxed and confident. I had to admit that he was a worthy opponent.

I noted all the names and their phone numbers; the alibi would have to be checked, but I was certain that all of the people he listed would confirm his story. I then proceeded to the rest of the standard questions. This procedure was almost a routine, only adjusted to the specifics of each case. I spiced the interrogation by occasionally re-crossing my legs or leaning forward when reaching for my coffee, thus offering a glimpse into my cleavage. Bradford was trying to be discreet, but he was constantly checking out my body. I could not tell whether I managed to distract him enough, so that he would make a slip in his testimony. The host was undeniably attracted to me, but for now managed to maintain composure.

Bradford was equally cooperative the entire time and his testimony was coherent and sounded truthfully. Yet I had a constant suspicion that there was a second bottom and he was withholding something from me; but no questions or teasing could get it out of him. It seemed that I would have to return to him when I obtained more evidence or traces. Too bad, because I was hoping for some more excitement when Michael Bradford was concerned; at least our little game has been pleasant.

"Thank you, Mr Bradford," I changed my voice to the flirty one, "I appreciate your cooperation and the coffee, it was delicious. I'll call you if I have any more questions."

"The pleasure is all mine, detective," the host's voice matched mine, "let me walk you out."

I stood up and so did Bradford, he escorted me towards the elevator. I walked slowly and swayed my hips to the sides; when playing a game do it until the end.

"Detective..." the host said before we exited the room.

"Yes, Mr Bradford?" I stopped and gave him an inquiring yet sweet look.

"As a law-abiding citizen I would very much like to see this case solved, especially since a dead man had been found in my restaurant."

"Is there something more you would like to tell me?" my voice remained charming.

"Would you be willing to do me a favour if I offered you help?"

So there was a second bottom after all.

"I'll see what I can do. What is the kind of help you're offering?"

"Information. One that isn't necessarily directly involved with the case, but might lead to the murderer."

"How do you know it was a murder?" I was still all sweet and innocent.

"I've seen the body before you arrived. The victim seemed to have been shot, so I assumed he was murdered."

"Of course," I left it at that for now, "about that information...?"

"Yes, of course. But first the favour, if you don't mind."

"I didn't think you were so impatient, Mr Bradford. What can I do for you?"

For a moment he remained silent, then he said:

"Would you give me a lap dance?"

Ha! It required some effort to remain silent. So he was not so immune to my charm after all. I never thought he would be so bold though.

"Mr Bradford, I'm a police detective on duty. Such behaviour would be improper. But for the sake of good cooperation let's say I'll consider the proposal IF your information turns out to be useful."

"All right, detective. I trust in your fairness. Let me bring something more to drink, so you can wet your lips while you listen."

I agreed to the drink proposal, then asked for the way to the bathroom. When I returned Bradford was already sitting on the couch and the drinks were waiting on the table; they looked a bit suspicious, as if there was more than just juice in the glasses. I once again assumed my sexy pose and let the host have a good look at my body; I wanted to remind him that he would need to earn the possibility of a lap dance. I took a sip of the drink and confirmed my suspicions, it included alcohol; and it wasn't even ten yet. Oh well... Bradford began to speak as I was swallowing. The information he provided was interesting to say the least. It indeed was not directly connected with the body, but seemed promising, if put under further investigation. If Bradford was making the whole story up he would have to spin it rather thickly; such a hypothesis was not impossible, although improbable. What he was telling me seemed to be filling the holes I had sensed earlier.

The idea of performing a lap dance sounded bold, but also oddly attractive, even though it could be taking the whole seduction game a bit too far. Before I agreed I had to ask a few more questions though. I first reached for my drink and found out it was empty; it was so tasty that I did not even notice when I had finished it.

"Let me refill that," the host proposed and I did not object.

After he returned with a new drink I asked him a few questions and he answered them dutifully. If I were to be fair I would have to admit that Bradford earned his lap dance, thanks to the new information I had a much broader field to work on. Even though as a police detective on duty I should not behave in such a manner, I WANTED to do it; the excitement of the seduction was pushing me in that direction. After all it would not be THAT bad, I would keep all of my clothes on.

"Did I earn my reward, detective?" the host asked, once again flashing his charming smile.

"I believe you did, Mr Bradford," I replied, matching his tone and expression, "just remember - no touching," I added.

I took one more sip of my drink, stood up and fixed my skirt, because it had hiked up once again. The fake modesty was important before a lap dance, just a tiny addition of teasing. While I did that Bradford pushed his couch back to offer me more space. In slow deliberate steps I walked around the table swaying my hips to the sides. Of course I could just perform a short half-hearted lap dance and not bother with its quality, but when I did something I always wanted to do it properly. I had performed lap dances in the past and I was aware that they could be entertaining to both sides, even in such unusual circumstances.

I approached the host, spread my legs slightly and began to sway my body in front of him; I maintained the activity for several seconds, he scanned my body from head to toe. I made a step forward, so that his legs were now between mine, I continued to sway my body sensually. I kept my arms by my sides and moved them in rhythm, but did not touch my body just yet. I bent my knees and squatted down until my skirt touched Bradford's legs, I danced in that position for a moment, then straightened back up. I pushed Bradford's legs apart and stepped between them; slowly, step by step, I turned around. I bent forward until my torso was perpendicular to my legs; my skirt still covered my buttocks, but only barely. I slapped one of them playfully, the sound on the leather was surprisingly loud; then I straightened back up. I was certain that he had sneaked a glance at my white lace panties. I once again began to sway my body to the unheard music; this time I was also slowly roaming my hands over my curves. With my back still turned toward Bradford I bent my knees and began to lower my buttocks towards his lap; I stopped right before the fabrics of our clothes touched. I continued to sway my body and occasionally rubbed my booty slightly over the man's crotch; I could not feel it yet, but I was certain that he had an erection.