Sacrifice

Camila leaned against the brick wall and took a pull on her cigarette, savoring a flavor made all the richer from being a vice she so rarely indulged. As she expelled the smoke, she appreciated how the cloud she created obscured the half-moon above; like she personally had a say in how it showed itself to the world. It was incredibly silly, but oddly comforting.

"No smoking on the premises, ma'am. This is city property."

The voice was deep, firm, and not used to being told no. Camila couldn't wait to tell it no.

"My taxes paid for this wall." She bent her neck, nonchalantly swept her silky, ebon hair over one mostly-bare shoulder, and shifted her head just enough to eye the intruder obliquely. "And you, obviously."

"Me?" The man wasn't about to be put off, and his stiff-soled shoes tapped audibly on the asphalt of the empty alley beneath them when he began walking. "This is gonna be a good one. How do you figure you're paying for me?"

Now Camila looked at him full-on, taking in the way his amused blue eyes danced with mirth at her gall. How his thick neck strained the collar of his tux... while his thick everything else strained the rest. "You're a cop, right? Don't deny it. Calling me ma'am... scolding me... looking like you're smuggling cantaloupes in that jacket you're too big for. Hell, you gonna tell me that I need to take a bite out of crime next?"

He grunted and stepped closer. "Very least, it's a better use for your mouth than sucking on that thing." He nodded once at her little white cancer stick. After a pause, he shrugged, gave a smirk, and thumped his big chest once. "Okay, you got me; true blue all day long." He was looming then, only feet from her. "So... what now, scofflaw?"

Camila narrowed her eyes, struggling to keep her cool. "That's up to you, flatfoot." She ignored the sound he made. "I'm going to finish my treat, then I'm going to litter. You should probably go inside and call for backup." She casually pointed behind him at the window through which noise and light was streaming. "I'm guessing that party in there's full of your copper pals, and they're all just waiting to show me who's boss."

He grunted. "Think I need them to deal with you?" He closed with her then, planting one bulging arm on the wall next to her head and leaning in. "I already got ideas on what's happening next, and I'm pretty sure I can get it done all by my lonesome."

She turned fully to him, fixing him hard with her hazel eyes. "Jesus, such a sad stereotype. Cocky policeman lording it over the little brown girl." She sneered at him, then blew a puff of smoke in his face. "Fuck the police."

"Deal."

His hand was snaked through the opening of her dress and engulfing one breast almost quicker than Camila would have believed possible. Her lids shot up, and when her full lips parted in a gasp, his own were right there, sealing them shut again. She grunted into his mouth, and the grunt became a groan when his fingers on her flesh shifted so he could pinch her nipple and give a tug. When his tongue made its first sweep across hers, she knew she was in trouble.

Still, she wasn't done in. Not by a longshot. As the man kept massaging and tweaking her most sensitive spots, Camila rallied, flinging her cigarette away in order to slither her long-nailed fingers into his scruffy blonde hair to get a firm grip. When she pulled his face from hers, it was his turn to gasp and groan, and she took advantage of the opening to push back on the concrete slab he called a chest with one of her thin, but deceptively strong arms. It was like fighting an avalanche, but she managed to get some space between them, though not his fingers off her tit.

"Huh, huh..." Camila gulped to regain her breath, and flicked her gaze down to where the brute's hand was still in her dress, under her bra, and staking a claim on her body. "That... you think that was... hmmm... that's going to get you..."

"You have the right, and the fucking obligation, to remain silent, scofflaw." He growled at Camila and yanked his hand free, removing it from her goose-pimpled skin almost as quickly as he'd forced it there. Before she could cackle in triumph, the hand's twin easily and insistently loosened her fingers from around his hair and pulled her arm down, pressing it, along with the other, tight to her sides. He leered down at her then, wetting his lips as he took in the sight of her; one freed boob swaying, the crisp air making the brown nipple hard as diamond. The air, and those damned blue eyes, she had to admit.

Well, to herself, that was. To him, she just laughed. "What, never seen Chicana titty before?" She wriggled in his iron grip, making it jiggle. "Maybe just not one this nice. Well, don't get used to... eep!"

She hated the sound of her squawk as he effortlessly turned her so her back was to him, but that immediately became a distant concern when he slid the shoulder straps of her dress all the way off, lowered her bodice and bra so that both those nice titties were exposed, and then gave a good long grope to them on the journey upward. At the end of that quick trip, he gripped her wiry arms to pin them easily above her head, against the brick, where he held them in place with just one of his meaty paws.

An indignant huff was Camila's only response before his other hand slid along her leg, slightly bent at the knee, tracing the slit at the side of the dress's skirt before sweeping the silk aside through the part, then throwing the whole thing up and over her round, firm ass.

He made a low, indeterminate hum. "No panties. Indecent exposure and a health violation."

"Health...?" Camila craned her neck to try to give him a death glare, but the sound of a zip was the only warning she got before she felt what had to be a baseball being shoved into her absolutely flooded twat. A baseball, and the bat it was stuck on. Had to be. By that point, they were deep into Never Never Land, and all she could do was grit her teeth, brace her arms, and try to ready herself for what was coming.

"Fuuuuccckkkk..." The long, breathy moan was birthed and nurtured with every inch sliding into her. "Oh... oh my godddd..." The cop's hips were flush with hers in no time flat, and Camila could only gyrate her pelvis with small motions, every nerve ending below her waist screaming at her to give them time to adapt.

Nope. She managed to bend her elbows and slide her body about half a foot forward, just enough to give her a good run up to let her slam herself back down all the way, then do it again, then again... making that monster skewer her right up to her fucking navel, by the feel of it.

"Good... good lord... are all criminals as..." The cop let go of her hands to grip her by her narrow waist with both of his. Camila didn't think to move hers, though. In fact, she needed them right where they were. "Fuck!" He began jack-hammering her then. "...as tight as you?"

"I'm the tightest you'll ever have, flatfooooooo... oh shit!" Camila half thought that the cop's dick had to be holding her up at that point, the climax racing through her was that debilitating. He bellowed then too, and it was a wonder he was able to get his big member free of her greedy pussy in time to shoot his load against the wall.

With her head lolling weakly, Camila nonetheless was able to see him whitewashing the brick next to her through slitted eyes, and she had to laugh. "Graffiti? What happened to this being city property, copper?"

He grunted. "I pay taxes too."

She halfheartedly slid her dress down over her bare ass and tried to straighten up. Turning back towards her impromptu interrogator, she managed to get one of her breasts back home before yet another voice rang out through the night.

"What the hell is this?"

"Shit." Both Camila and the cop groaned at once, and she double-timed it in getting presentable while he moved his bulky frame between her and the newcomer, screening her indiscretion pretty thoroughly, she had to admit.

Not just hers, she noticed when she glanced down. "Link... tiger's still out of the cage." She had to bite her lip to keep from giggling.

He looked down at her with wide eyes and wiggled his outstretched hands. "Well... hurry it up and I'll take care of it!" His low hiss nearly made her lose it.

"Oh no... it's my turn, copper." With that, and a sigh, Camila ran her fingers lightly along the ruddy, only partially-deflated flesh, making sure to get a good shiver from him before she promptly and neatly tucked the tool away until next time.

"Christ, are you two done yet?" The interloper had one hand over his eyes the other fiddled nervously with his bowtie. "I swear, ten years and you dirty degenerates still carry on like it's your last day on Earth."

"Zip it, Gary!" Camila barked out at him while she maneuvered her now-chaste body past Link's cringing form. "You know he hates it when you point out how horny he is!"

Gary peeked from between his fingers, hoping it was safe. "Not enough to get him to stop." Seeing he was in the clear, the thin man faced them both full on, hands on hips. "I still say you owe me for running interference at your reception."

Camila tilted her head, all innocence. "Owe? How do you figure? I mean... what else is a best man for, if not making sure the guests don't go looking for the bride and groom when they're fucking each other rotten in the dressing room?"

"Okay, okay... memory lane should not be this filthy." Link finally turned too, scratching sheepishly at his head, then pointing at the wall. Specifically, what he left there. "Uh... sorry. There's probably, I dunno... a mop somewhere I can get..."

Gary shook his head wearily. "This is the Civic Center, Lincoln. You think you're the first two to make use of this little back alley? I guarantee you just put on a new layer. The latest of many." He shuddered. "Filthy indeed. Anyway, it's time."

Link gave a groan, one far removed from those of only minutes earlier, but just as honest. "Do I really have to go through with this?" He snapped to attention, just short of mocking. "Commissioner, sir, I humbly request a transfer."

Gary looked to the sky as if for deliverance, then finally sought his ally. "Cammy... help me."

Camila promptly weaved her fingers around her the back of husband's neck, gave him a long kiss, and then held his cheeks in both hands. As always, unable to help herself, she ran a thumb across the old scar curving from his right temple to the corner of his mouth. "Link, my hero... you know this isn't really for you."

Officer Lincoln Winters sighed and looked long and deep into his bride's earnest, gorgeous eyes. "So I've been told." He kissed her this time, quickly and sweetly, and then extended an elbow for her to loop her arm through. "All right then. Let's do this thing that I still don't think needs to be done."

Camila beamed up at him with pride as the three made their way around the side of the expansive building and towards the entrance, a twinkle in her eye. "Such a dutiful flatfoot. Makes a scofflaw proud."

Link burst out with a short laugh. "I live to put the serve in Serve and Protect."

Camila leaned her head against her husband's broad shoulder... then gave his washboard stomach a hard jab with her nails. "That's an incentive for you to work on the dirty talk, mister." She snorted indignantly. "Heath violation?" She rolled her shoulders. "Almost made me dry up right then and there."

As the pair entered the Civic Center—and Gary tried and failed to ignore their banter—Link surreptitiously rubbed at his stomach, but his grin at her was as warm as the sun. "Lies." He made a quick swipe at his crotch seconds before they came to the big crowd waiting for them. "My polygraph says so."

Camila tried to meet the eager faces of the people with one that was smooth. She tried. She really did.

__________

"All right, folks, as much as I know you love your humble Police Commissioner, and as amazingly skilled as I know I am at public speaking..." Gary leaned too close to the mic and the feedback from the surrounding speakers came off like it was laughing at him. "...I know I'm not the one you people want to hear from. So, in the interest of keeping this lovely crowd from turning into an unruly mob, I'll give you something much more enjoyable. Please welcome Doctor Camila Winters."

Gary stepped aside with an arm outstretched, and as Camila stood from her seat at the back of the dais, the rolling thunder of applause accompanied her to the mic. She stood there for a second, taking in the packed space, noting the panoply of expressions meeting her. Eagerness, anticipation, pride, but above all... appreciation. The men and women in formal wear scattered wide that very obviously wished they were in their normal blue uniforms, the local media and their cameras, even the Mayor herself; they were all well-and-good, but it was the others that Camila drank in. The vast sea of bright eyes and smiling mouths.

A little boy on his father's shoulders turning his head to and fro to try to glimpse what he came there for. The old couple leaning on each other, stoically enduring being on their feet with everyone else. The two young women, barely old enough for the label, holding each other's hands as their bodies shifted with suppressed anticipation. The man in the stained, ill-fitting dress shirt who looked as uncomfortable as it was possible to get, but wasn't about to be absent from the event.

They, and many more just like them, were all there for Link, and none wanted to be anywhere else in that moment.

"I am... I'm just..." Camila put a hand over her mouth, then dropped it to her chest. "I feel like my heart is going to burst! You people... I have no words." Laughs, even some sympathetic sniffles, were the response. "It makes me so, so happy to know that this city loves my husband as much as I do." She grinned and gave an exaggerated wink. "Well... almost as much. I get to live with him, after all. Trust me, that does a lot to fill a girl from the barrio right to the top. Honestly, I feel bad for you sorry lot, but our house isn't quite big enough to fit all of you." More laughs this time, even a couple of claps.

Camila knew what she would see the second she turned her head to the shadowed wings and what was waiting. Sure enough, there was her colossus of a mate, shifting uncomfortably, and with a face so red that the crowd probably saw the glow. All right, you lug. I'll quit dragging it out.

"Thank-you, earnestly, for coming tonight." Camila really had to take a deep breath then to center herself. "He hates this, I can't lie. He hates it because he doesn't think he deserves it. What do you say to that?"

She honestly marveled that she wasn't pushed back a few steps from the force of the conjoined shout of denial issuing from hundreds of lungs simultaneously. "Thought so. All right then, here he is, Officer Lincoln Winters, maybe not quite as you're used to seeing him, but spruced up and ready for what's coming to him!"

As she stepped back, Camila did her best to send her sympathy with her eyes when Link and the Mayor came together in the middle of the platform. Here he was, out in front of the people he saw every evening while walking his beat, and he looked like he was facing a firing squad. When the Mayor settled the medallion on the ribbon—newly minted just for him—around his neck he seemed in real danger of collapsing under its weight.

The rest of the ceremony was brief. The Mayor said a few words about how proud the city was of its staunch defender, how much his efforts were appreciated, then she stepped aside herself, let Link approach the mic, tried not to laugh when all he said was; thanks, this is great... and then the real reason for the entire shindig began.

Camila was torn on whether to just let the tide ebb naturally, or throw her beloved a life preserver. In the end, she contented herself with staying at his side for support.

"Officer Winters... I just... when you stopped that pair from robbing us blind... We wouldn't be in business still if it wasn't for you."

"I thought... the next time that shipping container opened... I'd be... that they would... Thank-you... God above, thank-you so much..."

"I can still see that knife sticking out of me. Every second I have now is because of you."

"What you told me... after. It saved me. I mean that."

Again and again. Gushing, teary, given with hearty handshakes and trembling embraces; the outpouring of thankfulness, of bone-deep gratitude, kept coming for most of an hour. The whole time, Link tried to get words in edgewise, saying; It was my duty... I'm so glad it's better for you now... Thanks for the kind words... and it was painfully obvious to Camila that he was floundering, uncomfortable with all of it, but especially with not knowing how to respond properly.

"Remember, this isn't for you, Hero." Camila managed to whisper quickly in his ear during a rare lull. "They just need you to know. It makes them feel... content if you feel appreciated. They don't need any more from you than a smile."

Link nodded lightly, though didn't seem entirely convinced. He powered through, well enough, and eventually the night was over. The people had their say. They celebrated their hero. All was right with the world. So, with a goodbye to Gary—and quiet thanks from Camila for making the whole thing happen—the Winters returned home.

"You know, I've always wondered how much booze it'd take to force us to sleep on the lawn." Camila chortled as she watched Link go through the entire ritual of disengaging the heavy bars and industrial-strength locks that protected their home from the outside world. As she did, she tapped one of the thick—though ornately lovely—iron bars shielding the window next to her, making it give a solid hum. "'Cause we ain't getting in if our fingers aren't bringing their A-game, that's for sure."

Link chuckled too. "Sadly, I don't think it'd take much, since neither of us ever drink. A couple shots, a few beers... and it's camping time till we sober up."

"Couple? Few? C'mon, beefy... you're selling yourself short." Camila hugged him from behind to illustrate the point with how wide she had to stretch her arms to do it. "Bet you could pound a whole bunch and do the deed."

Link stiffened. "Maybe. We'll never know."

Camila wanted to kick herself. Of course they'd never know, and she was ashamed she'd drawn attention to that fact. They never indulged for the same reason all the security was put in place. After the third revenge-fueled home invasion that ended with crimson-stained carpeting and uselessly regretful thugs... Camila and Lincoln jointly decided that vigilance would be their goddamned clarion call going forward.

Secure home and ready bodies, always. That meant no getting drunk, or even tipsy. It was a shame, but she'd learned to adjust. Besides, she was a Doctor, not an alcoholic. She knew it was better anyways.

In the end, it was a small faux pas, and Camila was already forming plans to make up for it.

"Well, beefiest one, maybe you won't be pounding beers and doing the deed... but you can do a different deed while pounding something else." As she walked backwards through the successfully opened door into the house she loved, Camila smirked and bent to gather her skirts in both hands. Slowly, teasingly, she pulled them up her long, stocking-clad legs, putting a little show on with her gyrations and sways, until she got the dress up and over herself completely. Once she was standing there in nothing but that fancy bra and panty set her husband couldn't help but salivate over, she bit her lip coquettishly and played with her long, black hair.