They say that a person's entire life flashes before their eyes when they know they are going to die.
I don't believe that is true, I do know that the last three years did, though. I answered the knock on my door, expecting to be told where to go work, my heart skipped a beat when I saw the two goons standing there. They just shoved their way in, then stepped aside, separating themselves.
I am a cop, I work narcotics, and undercover. It isn't a lifestyle that lends itself to anything even remotely approaching normalcy. No wife, no family. Not even any friends that I could really talk to.
The only good part is the shit we handled was never touched by any of us, business was business. Touch it and there would be a short paragraph in the newspaper, that had been made clear. Just one time things had gotten heavy, I was in the back seat as we drove downtown, grabbed a guy off the corner. He had been skimming or using, I didn't ask. They just grabbed him, jerked him into the car. I will always remember his face as he turned to look at me, knowing. I just sat there. They pulled down an alley, put four rounds into him and got back into the car and we drove off.
I didn't ask and nobody said anything, we drove back to a tavern and had some beer.
Drinking and smoking pot was the norm, so I did it too. There were women around a lot. Round and soft and stupid mostly, uninteresting to me.
In the movies and on TV help is close by, plus there is the "wire" worn that records everything.
They burst in just in time and save the day.
I knew there would be no one coming to save me.
No wire, either. That would just get you dead.
In the real world we live as one of those we are trying to investigate, we become just like them. Any communications with headquarters is rare, even the go between is only informed rarely.
Kristen served as my communication, she was also undercover but from all outward appearances she was just a hooker I used from time to time. She came to my apartment through the back late at night. I kept her up to date, she left and passed on the names and information I managed to collect.
I had known her for several years, she was married which I didn't consider a good thing. I never even thought of her in any other way other than just as a partner. In those days we resented even having women around. I guess headquarters was right, she was the best choice, I just didn't like the married part or even the female part.
Especially a very pretty female that was maybe 130 pounds soaking wet.
Equality be damned, when we are dealing with perps that will just cap someone and then eat a sandwich on the way home, women are a disadvantage.
It didn't take me too long to realize that Kristen could actually handle herself, a few times we had to really roust some asshole and she was not the least bit adverse to kicking them in the balls. It took awhile but she earned my respect. We were partners for almost two years.
She transferred, I found myself missing her. After two years of total trust and working together, we get to know a person pretty well.
A few years later I made detective, and went undercover. I became a punk, a street hood, slowly working my way inside. The surprise was that Kristen was my contact.
Risks are part of the job, it was my ass that was out there on the line most of the time. Kristen showed up, stayed for an hour or so maybe once every week or two, then left. It seemed reasonably safe, right?
I still am not sure exactly what caused the suspicion, but I knew the two goons sent to roust me around had no concerns at all with just popping me and leaving. I knew this because we had already lost one man that tried to get inside the gang of assholes we were trying to crack.
Three fucking years and I still didn't have a clue how they got the product in or out. Someone showed up, told me where to be and I went. Then it was a few days of cutting and packaging, they handed me a wad of cash and told me to get lost. Three fucking years and so far I had gotten pretty much nowhere. There seemed to be no end to the supply, whoever was behind it all was pretty big and well connected, that much was obvious.
Now they suspected me and I wasn't real sure why. Both of these pricks were the size of gorillas, too.
"You a fucking cop, Danny?" Art shoved me backwards the instant the door opened, I saw Barry right behind him. Barry was even bigger than Art, he had a huge gut. He claimed to be Italian but he looked to be Hawaiian. Art was just fucking ugly.
Both of them were scowling at me, nothing new there though.
"What the fuck are you talking about, a cop?" I yelled back. I was thinking of my piece in the drawer by my bed. Barry just walked over and jerked the drawer open, stuffed my piece in his pants. Art gave me another shove, my knees hit the edge of the bed and I sat down.
"Don't give us any fucking shit, we saw the bitch coming in and out."
"You know which one, asshole."
"So what, a guy has needs, what the fuck!"
"Sneaking up the back, too?"
"Hey, I got neighbors, for Christ's sake."
"Same damn broad every fucking time, motherfucker. How come you never have nobody else?" He had his fat hands around my neck now.
"I like her, what the fuck is wrong with that?" I managed to get out.
"Same fucking cunt for at least six months, whatcha gonna do, marry her?" I would have answered but I couldn't.
Just then there was a knock on the back door. Real bad fucking timing, it was almost like they expected her though. At least Art let go of my neck.
Barry opened it, reached out and grabbed a startled Kristen and jerked her inside, slamming the door.
"What the hell, hey, I ain't doing any three of you for less than $200 each." She protested, yelling.
Damn quick thinking, I thought. Her slight frame had no chance in getting loose from Barry's grip but she tried.
"Ow, you are hurting me." She whimpered. He shoved her back onto the bed beside me.
"So you are fucking this bitch, Danny? Well, fuck her, then." Art's face turned into his impression of a grin.
"What? Hey, some stuff is private, damn it." I told him.
"No way am I going for this shit." Kristen said, trying to get up. That just got her slammed back against the bed again.
"You say you are fucking her, so fuck her. Prove it!" He reached inside his coat and produced a piece.
"Hey, guys.....No need for that shit." Kristen said, alarm in her voice.
"Shut the fuck up, bitch!" Art glared at her.
"Yea, and get it off." Barry said, a leer cracking his face.
"Hey, if you want to watch it will cost you..." She said.
"Get it off, you ain't getting shit!" He yelled at her, waving a pistol.
Kristen looked at me, she managed a shrug. But I saw the fear in her eyes. Her hands came up and she began to trip the buttons on her blouse. The two goons just stood there and watched. She stood up, slid the blouse off her shoulders, revealing a soft black bra.
Just then her pager went off. Barry reached for her pocketbook, pulled it out and looked at it.
"Who's this?" He demanded.
"Because I fucking told you to call the motherfucker, that's why!" He took a step towards her.
"OK, OK," She said. She pushed the number into her cell.
"Hi, I am returning your call."
"Sure, $200." She listened for a second.
"$300 that way, honey."
"OK, call me back when you decide." She hung up.
"Cheap motherfucker!" She muttered, playing the hooker role to perfection.
I knew about the fake ad she had running, she usually just didn't answer them. But if anyone checked on her, she seemed to be just a prostitute from all outward appearances.
Both Art and Barry laughed at her calling the john a cheap motherfucker. It made me feel more at ease.
Kristen stood there in just her dark slacks and black bra, hesitant. Then her body language changed, her hand brushed back an imaginary stray hair, she tipped her shoulders back, lifting her breasts. They both were watching her closely.
"So what do you guys want? Do you want to watch, or join in? There are some things I don't do."
"Get on with it." Barry told her.
"Look, I don't know what's going on, I just need to make a living." She told him.
"Well, get to making a fucking living then."
"Right here in front of ...both of you?"
"Yea, right here in front of both of us! If you are a fucking hooker, then it's no big deal. If not, then...." He let that sentence hang ominously.
She looked at me, I was still sitting there, not sure of what to do. She shrugged again.
"What the fuck, why not?" She reached back and tripped the catch on her bra, slid it off. I looked at her, her breasts were small and round, capped with soft pink nipples. She undid her slacks and pushed them off. She stood there for a second in just a pair of thin pink panties, then she slid them down, too. She was completely bare, an obvious wax job. I looked her up and down, doing my best to appear interested.
She was beautiful, that was clear.
"Well, at least you got good taste, Danny." Art croaked out what sounded like a laugh.
I still sat there fully clothed. Kristen sat down beside me, my eyes met hers. She managed to cover what she was thinking, she had no other choice. Her hands reached down and she tripped my pants, freeing me.
I was limp as a noodle. Kristen reached down and tugged off my pants and briefs.
"What's the matter, can't get it up?" Barry grinned at me.
"Hell, not with you assholes standing there staring at me!"
"Give him some help." Art told her.
She reached down and began to pump my limp cock, there was no way that I could see that it was ever going to work. I did not want to do this, not with my partner and my friend. But Kristen knew what to do, I began to slowly erect.
"Maybe Danny ain't queer after all!" Barry guffawed, acting proud of his own wisecrack.
"Hey, baby, suck it a little bit, that might work." Art told her. They were both staring at her nude body, Barry even moved over so he could get a clearer look at her bare pussy. She saw the motion and moved her right leg up, letting him see between her legs. His expression changed to one of lust.
I knew I had to do something, I reached out and touched her bare breast, her eyes met mine again. Then she leaned down and engulfed me, working her lips over my stiffening member. She was enthusiastic about it from all outward appearances, that did it for me, I swelled to my full size.
Finally erect, I turned towards her. She leaned over and pulled open my desk drawer, found a package of condoms. I kept them there, even though I almost never had a chance to use them. I would take a couple with me to a place I knew about once in awhile, that was it.
"Bareback!" Art ordered.
"What? No way, I don't...." She started to protest but stopped when she saw the look on his face.
"Do it or else." He said flatly. I glanced at Barry, he was getting off on this, still staring at Kristen.
She sighed, then just lay back and opened her legs. I rolled over on top of her, her eyes met mine again. Reaching down, I pressed myself against her. I felt my cock slide first an inch or two, then finally I was all the way in. It was a struggle, she wasn't damp.
But then her body betrayed her and reacted, I felt her become slippery as her hips began to come up to meet me. I didn't last very long. I felt myself starting to orgasm, just before I did I pulled out, letting it fly all over her stomach and breasts.
I rolled off of her, lay back. Both Art and Barry were now sitting in my chairs, just watching. They looked at each other grinning, then back at us.
"Motherfucker, what the fuck was that, about $400 a minute?" Barry busted up laughing.
"OK. Fuck it, let's get the hell out of here." Art said, getting up.
"Hey, wait a minute. I want to get me some of that!" Barry said. I felt Kristen stiffen slightly when he said that.
"We ain't got time, get the bitch's number and call her. We gotta go report." Then he turned to me.
"OK. Just remember, we are watching your fucking ass, one fuck up and you get it." He waved the gun again.
"Two hundred bucks, sweetie." Kristen smiled, jotting down a phone number and handing it to Barry. He looked at it and grinned, stuck the piece of paper in his pocket. Then he reached out and grabbed one of her bare breasts, squeezed it.
"I will show you what a real piece of meat can do, baby." He leered at her.
They both got up and left, leaving us both nearly naked. I still had my shirt on, I got up and reached for my pants. Kristen pulled on her slacks, I pointedly didn't look at her as she dressed.
When I did turn, she was using a tissue to wipe her breasts. She caught my glance, turned away and slid her bra and blouse on.
"Thank you for....pulling out, Danny." She told me in a quiet voice.
"I am so sorry, Kristen." I didn't know what else to say.
"It's all right, we didn't have a choice." Her voice was still very quiet.
"What do we do now?" I asked.
"Nothing. Nothing at all. It didn't happen." She turned and looked at me. There was a trace of a tear in her eyes.
It was just a week later when we took down the warehouse, the only bad part was when we went in Barry reached for his pistol and I wasn't the one to take him out. One of the others on the team got that pleasure. Art was taken in a highway stop a few hours later.
I saw him as they brought him in in handcuffs, he spotted me and glared.
"I knew it, motherfucker." He growled at me.
"You are fucking dead!"
"Go for it in 50 years, if you still can." I grinned at him.
I was sitting at my desk completing the reports when I looked up to see Tony, Kristen's husband walk in. He worked in another department, I had only seen him once or twice before.
He came up to me, smiled.
"Kris told me what happened. I just wanted to say thank you, she could have been killed."
I nodded, not really knowing what to say. We just looked at each other for a moment, then he turned to go.
"Tony?" I said.
"You have one hell of a woman there, the truth is ....she saved me. Tell her I said to transfer to traffic."
He just nodded, and walked out.