Interrogation

Over time, Nathan Walker slowly forgot about Officer Amber Bateman. Things were going well with Ashley and she was home more often. She'd gotten local flights and was home twice a week usually.

Sure, he saw Bateman cruising around town now and then but she acted as if she didn't notice Nate anymore. He certainly didn't mind flying under any policeman's--or woman's--radar but he did find himself thinking back to the things that went on as he hung inverted in his garage and by the dim light of the back of the park. And that one time she pulled him over.

Whatever it'd been, Bateman must've gotten it out of her system. Nate was glad of that but, if he were honest with himself, a little dejected that she'd lost interest in him.

But he had Ashley.

And had her quite a bit more often nowadays.

It was about two months later that Ashley had to fill in for a sick stewardess for an international run. Instead of being home two or three nights a week, Ashley would be gone for a week-long stretch. Yes, it would be hard--in more ways than one--to be without her but Nate would manage. He always had.

On an overcast Thursday evening, Ashley called him. Unless any of her connections got delayed, she would see him the following Monday. Six days without relief worked on his nerves and he couldn't wait to calm his nerves with her when she got back into town.

Nate had called it a day at the office and was heading to the bedroom to change into his shorts and shoes for his daily run when he heard the doorbell ring.

He was caught off-guard when he opened the door to Officer Bateman leaning against the door frame.

"Uh--hi," Nate said.

Bateman smiled at him and looked him up and down. "I see you're alone again for a while."

"Not really," he lied. "Ashley's due back tonight."

Bateman popped a piece of Juicy Fruit in her mouth, worked it a moment, and said, "No, she's not. She won't be back for another three."

Nate's face clouded. "How in the hell do you know that?"

The gum rolled around and Bateman grinned. "Should never lie to an officer of the law, Walker. Part of my job is to know things people don't think I know."

"Just leave me alone," Nate said. "I prefer to have as little to do with the police as possible."

"Well, Nate, you've been on my radar since you moved in here and as such, I need you down at the station to answer a few questions."

"About what?"

"Doesn't matter what," Bateman said suddenly becoming all cop.

Nate felt his anger rise. "You have to tell me. You know and I know I mind my own business. Other than getting pulled over by you--and otherwise harassed--I've never been in any trouble."

"Come on, Walker," Bateman motioned and put a hand on her Taser.

"Are you going to arrest me?"

Bateman moved her Taser hand back toward her handcuffs. "If I have to. Keep giving me shit and I might enjoy doing just that."

"So I'm not under arrest?"

Bateman stepped into Nate's personal space. She was shorter than him but just as intimidating as any man. "That's debatable at the moment. I'm not asking you again."

Nate clenched a fist around the doorknob hard enough to turn his knuckles white and locked the front door then followed Bateman to her cruiser.

The ride was only six blocks but felt longer as Nate looked through the mesh of the cage. If he'd not been under arrest then why was he not allowed to ride in the front seat? These questions were ones that he decided to keep to himself. He wanted to be done with this charade and get back home and if he had to humor Officer Bateman to do it, he would.

Bateman wheeled the car to the rear of a plain brick building that still had a fallout shelter sign hanging on the front. They pulled to a stop at a double door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL only. Beside them sat the red conversion van that served as an ambulance and the white pickup with a tool body emblazoned with the word RESCUE.

Nate followed Bateman into the building which felt a little claustrophobic with the low-ceilinged hallway.

"What is this about?" he tried again.

He passed a door marked PROCESSING/INTAKE and another marked VISITATION. Bateman didn't answer him until they came to a door marked INTERVIEW.

"Just routine," she said and held the door open for him.

The room was pitch black until Bateman flicked on the light. Inside was a steel table and two chairs, the table bolted to the floor. Along the back wall was a brickwork of file storage boxes marked with the years, some had ruptured papers at the corners. Across from that was a six-foot-long mirror. Nate corrected himself. One-way glass. He'd seen enough crime shows to know cops and witnesses sat on the other side.

"Have a seat," Bateman said. She remained standing as Nate took the chair farthest from the door.

Nate waved his hand over his chest. "Okay, officer. I'm here. How may I help you." He hoped he didn't sound too sarcastic but was sure it sounded very much so.

Bateman worked her gum thoughtfully for a few moments with that unsettling, knowing grin of hers Nate had come to dislike. "I want you to put on a little show for me."

"I thought you had questions." He gazed levelly at her.

"Excuse me. Will you put on a little show for me?"

Nate put his face in his hands and said through his fingers, "What kind of show?"

"I would like to see how good you are at an arousing display of the male figure. I'm curious how well your career would've gone as a male stripper."

Nate leaned back in the chair and laughed mirthlessly. "You've got to be kidding!"

The grin never left her face. "Not at all. I'll be behind the one-way and you'll put on your show for me."

"That's it!" Nate cried slapping his hands on the steel table. It rang deafeningly in the small room. "I'm leaving."

Bateman checked her fingernails, took a deep breath, and was uncomfortably silent for a long time.

Nathan stood, and moved toward her and the door.

"I hear the SEC is not too keen on their day traders having any sort of criminal conviction," Bateman said conversationally.

"Which I don't have," Nate hissed.

Bateman met his eyes. "Not yet. Do you know, Nate, how many little laws each of us unwittingly violates in a given day?"

"No."

"Neither do I. But it seems the criminal code--federal and state--is so convoluted that if a determined DA were to search long and hard enough, he'd most certainly find a felony or two hanging out there somewhere."

Nate felt like someone was gripping a rug to snatch from under his feet.

"Besides," Bateman went on, "if you were still in here on Monday, what would your preciously little Ashley think about her boyfriend being in lockup?"

Impotent rage blossomed in him but he swallowed it back down into the pit of his stomach where it glowed. "You wouldn't dare."

Bateman stepped to him, all pleasantry gone, and simply nodded. Then she turned and opened the door to leave. "By the way, the door locks from the outside."

Alone in the interview room--what used to be called an "interrogation room"--Nate stood looking at himself in the mirror. He was visibly huffing and didn't like the looks of himself in this state.

He knew he wasn't getting out of this until he satisfied Bateman's twisted desires. He called them twisted but he supposed in other contexts he wouldn't begrudge a woman approaching the prime of her sexuality the opportunity to indulge in her fantasies and desires. But, this one was using the power of the state to bend him to her will.

Of course, from a purely physical standpoint, it hadn't been unpleasant at all once he gave in to her. Then there was the fact he was sort of a victim, helpless to do anything but allow her to use him for her pleasure. After all, it'd been nothing but handjobs so far and just how bad of a thing was that to happen? Was it really cheating?

Nate stood in front of the glass and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. The truth was, he did get a bit turned on sometimes looking at himself getting undressed in front of the mirror. Normally he did it without thinking but if he had gone a while without release like he had now...

He opened the shirt revealing his bare torso and let it slide off his arms and to the floor as he kicked off his shoes. It might have been easier to have had some music to gyrate to, but since there was none, Nate went for a simple strip show. He cupped himself through his slacks and felt a little full then watched his own fingers find the belt buckle and loosen it.

Ashley liked to watch him strip sometimes and he certainly loved to see her strip. She'd been a dancer for a short while in college and still knew her moves. Nate held onto that as he slowly slid his zipper down. The bulge under the blue material of his bikini briefs pushed through the opening a bit and he toyed with the edges of his fly, spreading it so more of the bulge was protruding.

He hoped Officer Amber Bateman was enjoying the view behind that one-way mirror.

Nate unbuttoned his slacks and let them slither around his ankles and he was reminded of the way his jogging shorts had done that as he stood spread against Bateman's police cruiser that night in the park. He stepped out of the pants slipped his socks off and stood clad only in his bikini briefs. They showed him off quite well, he thought, admiring the ridge of his penis pointing down and slightly to the right. It was more pronounced than usual because of the thoughts of Ashley playing through his mind coupled with the intrusive memories of the things Bateman had done to him.

Things that might have happily allowed to happen if he hadn't felt so helpless at the time.

Nate slid his hand over the briefs caressing himself and causing the ridge to grow thicker, longer. He could make out the flare of the head of his cock now, the ridge that divided it from the shaft.

Ashley loved to trail her fingernails over this swelling until it pressed harder and harder against the material of his underwear. She cooed as the briefs became more and more confining and then would sometimes straddle him, her sex just below his. Nate would feel himself pound against the cotton desperate to escape the confines while Ashley delighted in his squirming for a long moment before she lifted the waistband over him and allowed him to spring free.

As then, he was now sporting a thick, blue ridge and he stood to the side admiring the rounded jut of it. He longed to achieve a full erection in the open air but he would make Bateman wait. Nate stood inches from the mirror and slid his hands over his chest and abdomen, down toward his groin and back up, studiously avoiding the rise of himself.

Nate raised his arms over his head and could almost touch the low ceiling as he pressed his body against the glass. He felt the flat, hard surface against his manhood and it felt good to rock his hips and slide himself across the surface. He ached dully down there as he backed away. His cock was about as hard as it could get inside the briefs and would soon need to come out to relieve the discomfort.

He had trimmed his pubic hair close this morning and shaved the base of his cock and his entire scrotum. Ashley liked it that way and Bateman had admired that fact the first time they'd met as Nate dangled in his predicament of being stuck on an inversion table

Slowly Nate pulled the waistband of his briefs down enough to reveal an inch or so of his swollen flesh then pulled the briefs back up. He was starting to enjoy this.

"You want to see this don't you, Bateman?" he asked as he made the same move again, revealing a little more of himself. "I know you do, otherwise you wouldn't have taken me in your hands those three times." Nate pulled the bikinis down farther and farther, revealing more of his length. He watched his reflection as the darker part of his shaft came into view followed by the purple-pink rim of the head then with a final whisper of cotton, his cock sprang free.

He was mostly, but not completely, erect and his penis stuck out with a gentle bow downward. His bikini briefs dropped to the floor and Nate gripped himself and slowly stroked as he cupped his smooth balls.

When he released himself, the flesh stood throbbing in an upward curve toward the ceiling. He turned to the side again admiring the shape. It was not unlike a parenthesis and in the right position, it could pound Ashley's G-spot into damp submission.

Again, he stretched to the ceiling pressing his body against the one-way mirror. He was reminded of that time Bateman had shoved him naked against the side of her cruiser and the way the flat, cool glass felt against the bottom of his erection. Nate assumed the position, spreading his arms and legs wide and sandwiching his penis between his abdomen and the glass so Bateman could get a good look.

"You like it don't you, Amber?" he said staring at his own reflection. He spied the steel table in the mirror and backed away. Clenching his groin, Nate made his penis bounce several times then turned and gave Bateman a good look at his toned backside. He considered telling her to come in here and kiss it for threatening his livelihood and forcing him to do this.

Nate lay back on the cool steel, his legs dangling off the end. He turned his head and looked at himself. His cock lay along his abdomen, the bow in it only allowing the head to touch his stomach just below the navel. It bounced several more times as he clenched his groin again, then he trailed his fingers along the sensitive underside.

He'd never been a fan of long, slow masturbation sessions--unless it was Ashley doing it either to herself or to him--but Nate figured if he put on a good show for Bateman, she'd stay off his back awhile. He curled his fingers around himself and closed his eyes as he stroked.

By now, Nate had more or less convinced himself nothing he had done could be construed as cheating on his girlfriend. What he was doing at the moment was really no different than masturbating on a webcam for a stranger. That was something that he'd watched Ashley do a few times. But once her schedule got so booked, she'd stopped doing it at all. Nate, for his part, had no real desire to masturbate in a chatroom on video by himself. Alone, intimate, private sex was his preference.

Of course, the other stuff Bateman had done to him--he'd been forced into it. He was a victim. Just like now. Right?

His logic relieved most of the guilt of what he was doing now and Nate decided he would enjoy it to its fullest and began to moan as he rode the plateau of his arousal.

His mind drifted away from thoughts of guilt and Ashley and he discovered he was wondering what Bateman was doing on the other side of that one-way mirror.

Amber Bateman probably was a looker outside of that unflattering uniform and utilitarian bun in which she always had her hair imprisoned. No makeup either. All business. She was taller and thicker than Ashley, but she was not fat. Bateman had curves, breasts, and not the waif-like form of most models, not what most men went for these days. What would her breasts look like exposed for him to see? Did she shave or did she have a brownish-blonde tuft of hair leading the way to her sex?

Maybe Bateman's whole problem was she felt unattractive and used her police power to force men to share their bodies with her. It was just possible that Nathan Walker wasn't the first attractive man Bateman had--call it what it was--assaulted.

Nate had learned that people who are subject to infatuation to the extent Bateman was with him often burn hot and then grow cold once the novelty has worn off or something else comes along that grabs their attention.

Or maybe Bateman needed a boyfriend who wasn't intimidated by her position of authority.

In the meantime, he was the object of her attention and, at the moment, she was the object of his.

He wondered what she looked like under all those trappings of the state. Was it possible she was just on the other side of that wall as naked as he was doing the same things to herself? Were they mutually masturbating?

Nate was beginning to drip precum onto his stomach. He was getting close and he rolled off the table and stood and leaned back against the side giving Bateman a good view of his throbbing, dripping flesh and the two swollen orbs swinging below.

If he had not been a faithful man, he would have suggested Bateman did a bit more to him than give him a handjob as he swung inverted on that table in his garage. Receiving oral sex in that position might have been a unique experience.

But these thoughts, Nate would push sweep toward the dustbin of his memory and do his best to forget once this was over. To say such a thing to Bateman might gain him even more unwanted attention, pleasurable or otherwise.

Nate sat in the chair and slid down until his rear balanced on the edge of it and resumed stroking himself languidly. He neared the brink and then slowed down. Another drop of precum dripped and landed in a dark spot on the floor. His balls felt swollen and tight and began to ache pleasurably in preparation for release.

If he was going to have to do this, he was going to make Amber Bateman wait for the money shot.

Instead of pounding out his climax, Nate balanced himself on the edge, stroking himself to as close to inevitability as he dared and then letting go. He could see himself throbbing even at a distance of more than a yard from the one-way mirror. Purple veins laced his length and the center underside of his shaft stood out in thick relief. He caressed his balls then slid his hands around his throbbing member and up his flat stomach then back down, avoiding his erection. Naturally, he wanted to stimulate it but Nate resisted the strong urge and let Bateman admire his turgid flesh for a while longer.

Nate danced his fingers along the sensitive underside, the touch causing that tell-tale feeling of swelling deep in his pelvis as he moved close to the edge again. His testicles crawled and ached a bit more urgently as they drew up almost to either side of the base of his penis.

This zone between the urgent need for release and the desire to live on the pleasurable high wire at the edge is where Nathan kept himself as long as he could. How long, he couldn't say. The fog of intense ecstasy hid any real sense of time he had and he was only aware of the need to drain himself and the sensation of clear fluid that was now leaking almost constantly from him.

"Are you ready, Officer Bateman?" Nate said to his reflection. He didn't know where she might be behind that glass so he spoke to his own form. "Are you ready to watch me explode, Amber? This is what you want isn't it?"

It was not entirely unexpected that there was no reply. Nate dragged out his pleasure a few seconds longer, his breathing becoming loud and fast in the small room.

"I'm going to cum now," he breathed. "Watch." Nate gripped himself firmly and began stroking slowly. When he reached the edge, he kept going until he went over.

He moaned so loudly it was almost a roar as a gout of white fluid almost as thick as a number two pencil leaped from his cock and arched high into the air to splatter in a long, dark streak on the cement floor. Nate thrust his hips up as the next stream blew onto the floor and he released himself as a third jet erupted followed by a weaker fourth and a largely dripping fifth that ran out of the tip, down the shaft to finally drip off his balls.

The rest of his orgasm leaked out as the spasming of his penis gradually subsided. He let his head loll back, aware that he still stood erect. Though he could have, he wasn't going to go for a second one. He was giving Bateman exactly as much as she asked for and nothing more.

Nate stood and began to dress. He didn't like that sticky feeling as he worked himself back into his slacks and he had to be careful as he pulled the zipper over his mostly hard manhood.