Hot Karl

"I did." Collins, from across the room. The instructors loved her because she had that command presence. She took charge. Like she was now, like she had when she gave Jacobsen his nickname. "It ain't brilliant. It's obvious, Weber. The man's mysterious, and he's the shit. So why not name him after a mysterious sex act that involves shit?"

"Plus," Julie Lindberg put in casually from the next bunk over, "his name's Karl. So."

"Yeah."

"Just... fuck." I was still giggling. "The thought of him taking a dump on me."

Collins brayed a laugh. "Don't lie, Weber. You'd eat his shit just to see where it came from."

"Well," I sighed, turning sideways on the narrow bunk, "but what did you think of him today? Sergeant Symmes was all pissy with him."

"Yeah," sighed Meghan Benjamin. She was the married one. "Because he's not as hung as Jacobsen is, probably. He was looking at you, Julie." Benjamin propped herself up on her elbow to look across the beds at me. "And you, Colleen."

"Who was looking?" I raised my eyebrows. "Sergeant Symmes?"

"Symmes?" Collins barked her laugh again. She claimed to have been in the Army, and had a low opinion of the phony-tough act the instructors put on. "Shit, Weber. Symmes looks at all of us. That dude clearly gets no ass. He's always staring." She laced her fingers behind her head. "Probably whacking it right now, thinking of us." We all paused at that, pondering. Nobody liked Symmes, but after five weeks without cock he was starting to look okay.

"No," Benjamin sighed. "Hot Karl. Hot Karl was making eyes at the two of you."

"At me?" Lindberg gave a little fist-pump. "No doubt, bitches! That guy wants a piece of me, he can have it." She already had an offer, from East Adams PD. Most of the rest of us were just doing the Lettuce on a wish and a prayer.

"When you guys were doing that roleplay. The traffic stop," Benjamin went on. I felt a twinge of embarrassment. I'd not done a very good job on that simulation.

"Think we'll roleplay, like, vice? Later?" Collins raised her eyebrows at all of us down the line. "I'll be the hooker, Jacobsen can be the john."

I summoned up my courage. Collins was a badass, but I figured it was time I started developing some command presence of my own. "It wasn't you he was looking at, Kelly," I told her evenly.

"Ooooh!" Benjamin's mouth dropped open. "Burn!"

"Fuck you, whore," Collins told me, but she didn't really mean it.

Our fifth, Moriah, came drifting out of the shower. She was older, and already had a gig with the Staties. "Who's the whore?" she asked curiously, dripping on the linoleum.

"Weber."

"I'm no whore." I shrugged. "Kelly's just pissed that Hot Karl was staring at me today."

"Oh, fuck yeah," Moriah agreed. "Dude, his eyes were riveted to your chest."

"He was looking at me, too," Lindberg ventured.

"Oh. Well, I didn't see that," Moriah shrugged. "I think he likes 'em curvy. From what I can tell." She dropped her towel and stood there nude, still hot at 32. "Like, me?" she added, glancing down at her tall, athletic self. "He'd kick me to the curb and go find someone who could give him a boob-job."

"Someone like me," I put in loudly, beginning to enjoy this. The thought of Jacobsen looking at me was making me damp. Though, to be fair, I didn't like giving out titfucks... but these girls hardly needed to know that. "He could slip his dick right between these babies," I gloated, jiggling my breasts, "and then he could take a shit on them afterward!" I had the biggest boobs in the class, easily, though probably the biggest ass too. Not that I got too many complaints about that.

Curves go along with being short, usually.

"You're gross," Collins announced after a pause, and we all subsided into the usual chuckles.

I'd had fun at the Lettuce, all in all, even though I'd barely gotten laid there: just that single unsatisfying fuck from Matt Crossfield one day after combatives training. We'd been paired together for sparring, I'd thought there was a spark, and I'd let him take me in the supply closet at the firing range. He'd left me disappointed. Dude actually faked it; he'd gone all twitchy and gaspy, and I'd been pleased because even when I don't cum, I always make sure the guy does. But then, when I'd gone into the bathroom to scrape his spooge out of my pussy? Nothing. Nada. Dry as a bone.

So it had been a time of great horniness, and on the morning of graduation, when my then-boyfriend Leon had shown up with some flowers and a nice bracelet as a graduation gift, I'd taken him into a bathroom right before the ceremony, thrown the flowers in the trash, and made him fuck me from behind in one of the stalls. Then I'd headed out, gotten my certificate, and landed an interview that same day with the St Agnes County Sheriffs.

* * *

A couple weeks after my deer encounter I was clearing a fenderbender over on Miles Rd, trying in vain to keep a teenager from hyperventilating after she'd rear-ended a Karen in a minivan. "Calm down," I advised. "Just breathe." The girl had transparently been texting while driving, but still I thought the soccer mom was being a little hard on her.

"Goddamn little bitch, crashing into my car," she was muttering now as I wrote the ticket; I just rolled my eyes and let her see me do it. "What? You have something to say, officer?"

"It's deputy," I replied with weary professionalism, "and relax, ma'am. I'm writing her a ticket. Let that be enough. You're free to go," I told her pointedly.

"Of course I'm free to go," she sneered. "Like I did anything wrong here?"

I trained my eyes slowly onto hers and waited, thinking maybe she'd be intimidated, though I wasn't hopeful. "You've exchanged insurance, ma'am, so you have a nice day." Then I ignored her, hoping she'd take the hint; I really wasn't in the mood to disentangle a pissing contest between a needlessly irate soccer mom and a hypoxic adolescent.

I suppose I should have been a little nervous that two such unbalanced individuals would soon be using the road. But hell, our sisters and brothers in the ambulance services need something to fill their day, too.

My radio velcroed, the speaker raspy; I'd gotten crumbs in it from the chips and salsa I'd had for lunch. "Unit Four. Dispatch. Over."

Sighing, I thumbed the handset. "I'm still 10-50 on that rear-ender. ETA is probably about five or ten minutes? Over."

"Great. Call back. Out."

"Ma'am, really," I pushed, signing the girl's ticket with a flourish, "there's no need for you to stay around here. Everything is settled."

"I want to press charges!" I stared at her a moment, and at least she had the shame to blush slightly when I peered at her rear bumper and found nothing but some chipped paint. "I know my rights!"

Do you? Do you indeed? "Ma'am, I'm writing her a motor vehicle citation. That, plus her insurance, should conclude the matter. Though you're always welcome to seek legal representation."

"From where?" she demanded. "The district attorney?"

"No." I tore the ticket from my book and turned back toward the girl. "Commercials on late-night basic cable shows usually offer a wide selection of the kinds of legal services I'd recommend for something this minor. Now. You'll excuse me." I didn't wait for her to squawk as I spun to deal with the teenager, and it wasn't until I was back in my rig and halfway down the block that I remembered to call Dispatch back. "This is Four. What's up?"

I could almost hear the smirk in her voice. "You've got a reputation now, Unit Four."

I scowled. "What's that? Over?"

"Another 10-54. Captain loved your report on the last one."

I frowned. The 10-code rang a bell... oh. Yes. "Animal? Another deer strike?"

"Negative, Unit Four. Homeowner's reporting a bear in a tree. Over."

I felt my mouth drop open, the radio etiquette flying out the open window of my rig. "What the hell am I supposed to do about a bear in a tree? Over?"

"No idea. We've got a call in for Conservation, but no go so far. They seem busy, and the homeowner keeps calling." I could hear Dispatch laughing. At me. "4110 Brayler Rd, over on the west side. Let me know if you need backup once you get there." A pause, then a helpful prod. "It's not a very big bear, apparently. Out."

I stared down at the radio mic. A fucking bear? Where was I all of a sudden, fucking Canada? I'd never really heard about any bears this far south. "Goddamn!" I seethed, throwing the handset onto the passenger seat while I flipped on my blue-lights; I was in no mood for stop signs all of a sudden, and besides, I was on a legit call.

My mind swirled with fantasies: I had an AR-15 in the back of the vehicle. The bear might be vicious, snarling. Maybe threatening a treehouse or something. With kids inside. And TV trucks. And Deputy Colleen Weber, stepping coolly up with a nod and a wisecrack like Dirty Harry, shooting the bear and Saving The World without even removing my shades. I even had my one-liners ready for the TV news crews: "It was bearly anything. But it could have been a grizzly situation."

Perfect.

I roared up to the house on Brayler, the mountains once again looming to my right, and tooted my siren at a small cluster of neighbors who'd gathered in the yard of one of the ugly new McMansions they're putting up out there. I saw a few dads and a pair of moms among a cluster of kids, all gawking up at a big elm tree in the side yard of a '90s-era house. Throwing my rig into the nearest convenient space, I peered out the windshield at the tree to check out my foe.

And I saw nothing up there.

One of the moms was coming around to greet me as I slid out of the drivers' seat and made sure my Stetson was squared over my French braid. "Good afternoon, ma'am," I said gravely. "I'm told there's a bear problem?"

"Yes. Right up in the tree." I nodded, following her pointing finger and seeing... nothing. Just some clumps of leaves among the branches. I gave it several seconds before I cleared my throat.

"Um. Ma'am, I'm having difficulty seeing it..."

"Yes, I know. It's a tiny little thing," she giggled. One of the kids was standing right at the base of the damn tree. I bit back a warning. "Just up there. Where the top branch kicks out off to the left, right over that nest?"

"Must be going after the baby birds," a dad put in helpfully. He'd come up to join his wife. I saw nice legs in a pair of shorts. "But who knows? I've got a ladder in the garage, if that's how you want to do this?"

I had no fucking clue how I wanted to do this, but these gaggle-assed rubes would never know that. "In situations like this, sir, it's generally better to tranquilize or euthanize." I was making all this up. Hell, I still couldn't even see the goddamn thing. I had a sudden pulse of insight. "Let me get in touch with a warden from Fish & Game."

"Okay." The woman frowned. "Wait. Did you say euthanize?"

"Yes ma'am," I nodded tightly. "It's always unfortunate, but public safety trumps animal safety." Besides, I really wanted to blow the shit out of a bear. Though, now that I knew it was just a baby, my predatory instincts were rapidly fading. "Let's hope it won't come to that. Let me see what the warden says. Meanwhile, I think it's best if that girl came out from under the tree?"

"Nah. She's fine." Dad seemed singularly unworried. "She's been under there for an hour looking up at it. She'd freak out if I told her to leave now." I looked away; fucking pussy of a parent. Manage your kids, dammit! "She'll duck out soon, anyway. Mickey Mouse Clubhouse is coming on soon."

But he'd already faded from my world, because I was texting Karl Jacobsen. I decided it wouldn't hurt to be a bit flirty. You busy?

He replied right away, which sent a little pulse to my pussy. Why?

Bear in a tree. Brayler Road. The public needs your protection. LOL. I added a laughing emoji; Karl seemed like the last person on earth who would ever actually laugh out loud. But it's habit for me to throw that shit into texts. Can you come give me a hand?

The reply came more slowly this time, but eventually I grinned at my phone. "The warden says he'll be here in ten minutes." I nodded soberly. "It's a good thing you live so close to Ray Peak Park. That's where they hang out."

"Oh." The mom paused and glanced around her little suburban street. "We do?"

I stopped myself from rolling my eyes, still trying to spot the damn bear. "About two miles west of you, ma'am. Best hiking in the state. Hunting, fishing..."

"Oh," mom said again, totally unimpressed. I decided there was nothing interesting about her, and turned away.

"I'll just monitor my radio until F&G shows up," I told the world, loftily: code for hanging out in my rig, surfing my Pixboox feed, and that's precisely what I was doing when the Fish and Game pickup truck cruised up, easing in behind me. I peered into the rearview, counting heads behind the grimed windshield, figuring out whether he'd come alone.

Nope.

I hopped out and approached their vehicle with that affable smile I thought of as important for interagency cooperation, adjusting my shades. "Hey!" I called when the driver's door opened. "Thanks for coming out."

"No problem." My heart trembled a little as Karl unfolded himself from behind the wheel. "Hi, Weber."

"Jacobsen." I glanced over as Luchese came steaming around the hood, glancing curiously around. "Nice to see you again."

"Don't pull this shit again, Deputy," she told me flatly. "We have radios. It's not necessary for you to establish personal communications with Warden Jacobsen. Got it?" She spun slowly, craning her neck up at the big elm. "Not that it looks like we're all that necessary here, right Karl?"

"Maybe," he replied quietly, his voice always stirring my pussy. Goddamn, the man was fine. I felt like I could smell him. He was shading his eyes as he stared up at the tree. "So. A bear?"

"Yes!" I still couldn't see the motherfucker, but I pointed anyway. "A grizzly?"

"Impossible," Luchese snapped. "Grizzlies don't come this far south. It's a black bear, I can tell from here. No biggie." She could tell from here? What the fuck? I still just saw leafy clumps up there. "See it, Karl?"

"Yep." He was nodding. "Won't he come down eventually?"

"Probably." She glanced at me. "How long's it been up there?"

I had no clue. "I just got here," I blurted.

She sighed impatiently. "Karl, go find the homeowner. You know the deal." She watched as Karl passed a veiled look over us, then her eyes joined mine to follow his progress onto the front yard. "I'm so glad he took your call," she frumped to me, and I felt a chill run down my spine.

Bitch.

"He told be to let him know if I ever needed anything," I shrugged.

She scowled. "I'll bet he did," she muttered. "Gonna give him another lift?" she taunts. "You know, let him have a ride?"

Enough of this shit. "What's your problem?" I retorted. I was thoroughly sick of her already.

"I don't want a cheap fucking sheriff sniffing around him like some bitch."

I sighed, my head cocked at her. Fine. She wanted to have this conversation? No problem. "Look, what stick is up your ass?" I demanded quietly. "What's this shit about?"

Her eyes narrowed behind the aviator shades. "It's about you. Your little texts to him. Emojis. Your wandering eyes. Your fluttery little voice around him. Your tits. Your ass. All that shit."

I laughed in disbelief, drawing a glance from some of the locals standing over by the tree. "You're fucking serious, aren't you?" I marveled.

"Don't deny you're attracted to him," she pressed. "Whatever. He's fucking hot. But when your little infatuation starts getting him all excited about getting called out to your special little emergencies? The ones I have to ride along for? That's my problem, too."

I stared. "He's not excited about coming out to help me," I shook my head, but inside my heart lurched.

"Oh yes he is," she hissed. "He brought you up for two days after your last little problem. Whatever you did to him in that fucking truck of yours on the way to the animal sanctuary had him all glassy-eyed and moon-faced the next day. Then today, once you texted him, he couldn't get us out here fast enough."

I felt a slow, triumphant smile spreading across my face. "Maybe," I told her softly, "it's not just that he's excited about seeing me. Maybe he's excited about getting away from your ice-bitch ass for a few seconds." I nodded as she fumed. "That's probably it. You're not enough woman for him, that's all." I winked, enjoying this, feeling my power. "Maybe you should put out for him. If you think you've got what he wants."

"Fuck you," she snapped.

"No?" I pushed with a sadistic smile. "You're afraid you can't take his dick, or something?" I laughed gaily, my hand resting on my gun. And so was hers. "I'm sorry you're so jealous of me... Kelly, was it?" I purred sweetly. "It really is too bad when we girls can't stick together."

Her nostrils were flaring now. "Look," she spat, "he's married, you goddamn twat. Married. To my sister. Is that enough for you? Is it pretty clear to you now why I want your ass to stay away from him?"

I reeled back, amazed. Two thoughts collided in my brain: fuck! is he really into me? And, up against that, the bludgeoning realization that Karl was taken, whisked off the market by some fortunate whore who probably didn't even know how lucky she was. Belatedly, I realized that Kelly Luchese had been Karl's hook, his in, the contact that had gotten him a spot in Fish & Game. She'd been looking after her brother-in-law, and then she'd gotten herself partnered with him, and why?

To keep an eye on him. Bitch.

I made myself smirk, feeling my whole face relax as I thought of something really brutal, really cutting. Nodding, I made sure my voice was steady. "You know," I began quietly, "it really is sad when a woman gets jealous about her sister's man."

"Fuck you." She was louder this time, and as I looked at her quivering beside the hood of her truck I became suddenly aware that she wanted to go. This big bitch wanted to tear my head off and piss down my neck. She hated me in that moment, and just as I was thinking it might be a good idea to prepare to get hit, right out here in the bright sunshine in front of a shitload of civilians, Karl called out from the tree. She stirred. "We might be here awhile, Deputy Weber," she told me with a slow, teeth-clenched smile. "So. Feel free to just get the hell away from me. Understand?"

I nodded. "Oh, I think I understand you quite well, Kelly." She seemed like the kind of woman who'd hate having her first name used. I jerked my head over to where Karl stood planted at the base of the elm with his hands on his hips, staring up. "Thanks for all the help. Don't bother telling Karl bye for me," I added with a curl to my lip, "I'll text him later."

"Bitch." She said it to the back of my Stetson, though, as I strode away.

* * *

"Jesus, babe." Craig's breath was a hot, humid blast in my ear as I smeared my body over his and smashed my head into his pillow, exhausted, my hips killing me. It hadn't taken me long to cum, but that second time? That one took a little more writhing. Thank God Craig had lasted.

Sore hips were worth it, though. I'd tried to imagine he was Karl, but it just didn't work.

He'd done okay, as always. I'd dated a lot of men, and not all of them could get me off; his penis was intriguingly curved, which definitely worked for me. It was still in me now, fat, still pulsing, plugging my greasy snatch with his pleasant girth. That was the right word, I reflected, my nostrils full of his sweat: pleasant. His dick was fine. I moved my hips now, feeling him slither, shivering with the liquid joy of it.