The Officer

It was the simple fact that I had a pussy instead of a cock between my legs that made my made my commanding officers, let alone my peers, question my capabilities and effectiveness not only as an officer but as lead detective as well. It wasn't even as though I was a rookie cop either. No, I'd been on this damn force for 3 years now yet the brass have never failed to come down on me at every chance they gotten. I've yet to find the answer to if it's the fact that I work by the book or that my arrest record and case closure is shining, that irritates them more.

"Probably both," I think aloud rolling my eyes, "fuck 'em".

It wasn't as though my parents were exactly on board with their only daughter joining the force either. They'd rather I'd become something that appeals more to my "fragile" nature as a woman. A more demure profession that didn't have me surrounded by men constantly in a pissing contest. There were plenty of good cops in the field of course but it seemed to be the particular unit I was assigned to that was reminiscent of a cesspool. It was another reason my parents had tried to convince me to become something more womanly. Not happening. Damn did everyone just agree to pit against me for shits and giggles?

It's not that I'm not in touch with the feminine aspects of my personality either. Quite the opposite actually. Something I've exhibited on many Friday nights at O'rouke's. A smirk and the sway of my hips as I approached a bar stool had beckoned plenty of sailors to their deaths so to say. Hiding my femininity while exuding a tough as nails exterior while at work was seemingly beginning to become a harder performance to maintain. On top of that It's tempting to give in like everyone else down at the station and bend the rules for personal gain. I would be lying if I said the temptation wasn't steadily gnawing at the back of my mind with each day I had to endure another snide comment or lewd joke thrown in my direction. I had earned my place and titles through hard work and upheld the oath I swore to my badge and to the public. I haven't participated in playing the moral game of good cop/bad cop outside of the interrogation room and I highly doubt that day will ever come. My familiar thoughts are broken by Velma's weathered voice rumbling out from the radio on my dash.

"56 we're gonna need you to check out a possible suspect sighting over on the East side. You need backup?"

I roll my eyes once again annoyed. I know Velma means well. She's been one of my only reprieves at work apart from 2 other detectives I see once in a while around the bullpen. The words of my male counterparts echo in my mind once again like the gunshots that have rung from the trusted pistol at my hip have on more then one occasion.

"I got it Velma. On my way. Over."

I drive my way slowly through the now nearly abandoned buildings that makes up the East side. I pull off into spot that constructs me from view and wait outside the address I was given. Nothing yet. I wait, my convenience store coffee cold and stale in the center console as I sit in readied silence. My eyes scan back and forth waiting to detect a trace of movement, a ripple in the landscape, waiting to see if my suspect has indeed made the concrete fortress before me his hideout.

An hour passes. I'm used to this. The waiting. The biding of my time as I dutifully scan my perimeter. Back. Forth. Back. Forth. The seconds that fill the minutes elongate while I sit. It's another part of the job that I do in detail though. The silence starts matching the heat that hangs around me, getting heavier and more stifling. My thoughts from earlier start lining the edges of my vision. How easy it'd be to shut everyone up and give in to temptation. I could become just another asshole detective like them. The constant feeling of having to prove myself creates a deep-seated craving to exert my power. To prove to everyone around me that I'm a forced to be reckoned with and to be taken as such. It's a dark thought I know. It calls to me when I do get a rare few moments to sleep and waits in the shadows for me to say the word to command it into action. The allure of the play of my power. It's a game I know I'd win easily.

Gray and black catch my attention. Well I'll be damned if I didn't just catch a fucking break as I quietly slip out of my door and approach the suspect from behind. My ability to be lithe and stealthy have always been second-to-none.

"Hands where I can see them."

The suspect freezes, obviously surprised to hear a voice behind him. I'm not sure what his next move will be but I'm prepared for the decision he'll make in response to my command. Surrender or run. He's bigger then me. I can see the way his shirt stretches to accommodate the muscles of his back. A dark stain traces the center, a giveaway he's feeling the heat biting into his skin as well. He's taller too. He's almost towering above me, momentarily blocking the rays of the sun from shining into my face. Yes he's got his build and stature going for him but neither is a deterrent for me. Neither will end up winning in his favor against me in the end either.

"I said hands up! Get on the ground, Now!"

My voice is a rough bark and I'm used to projecting it in a way that's laced with authority. Any hints that allude to moments of when it's soft and breathy and at the mercy of another are tucked away behind the demeanor I'm taking on. No, right now this man is at the mercy of me.

Without preamble he launches himself forward. I immediately set foot to chase him. There's no need to shoot. Yet. He's setting a quick pace as he weaves around the corner of a building. Thrill and irritation lance through me as I pursue him. It's the ultimate cat and mouse and at this moment I'm a lion hunting a gazelle. My breathing is quick but thankfully I've been diligent with staying on top of my physical stamina. He's still weaving but I'm gaining. I look ahead and see a way to cut him off. I veer to my right and push myself into a full sprint. He thinks he's gotten away. I ambush him and propel myself from my spot against a wall and with a exothermic burst I'm tackling him to the ground.

He plants face first onto the ground with me pinning myself to his back. The slickness of his sweaty skin causes me to slide forward, the side of my body connecting firmly with the ground. It's only seconds and then he's on top of me, fighting to restrain my hands above my head with his own to overtake me. He's looming over me and I'm trying to find purchase against him with my body planted firmly against the hard Earth beneath me. I can feel his hot breathe come out in pants against my face and neck as I'm struggling to right myself and apprehend him. I can feel the power of his arms gripping mine together and the muscles of his thighs assert dominance over mine, locking them in their place spread around his hips. My chest is heaving and the thought that he's besting me is beginning to become not only a possibility but a fact. I can see his face from my position and for a quick second I take notice of how handsome he is and how suggestive this position would be in any other situation. Who the fuck am I kidding, it's suggestive in this situation too. Those dark thoughts of wanting to assert my dominance creep back into the forefront of my mind and I imagine how this would feel if I were the one to straddling that excruciatingly hard body of his.

My mind is ripped back to the situation at present. I realize my gun is unclipped and I know I'm fucked. He hasn't reached for it though. He doesn't reach for it at all in fact and it catches me off-guard. He's just there on top of me with my limbs strapped down as if by steel at his mercy. My skin is drenched not only from the heat but by our exertion now as well. Sticky strands oh my hair paste themselves to my forehead as I try to asses the situation. This exact moment is when he decides to look down at me with eyes that are bore into me and if I wasn't fucked before I sure as hell am now. My throat restricts as we hold eye contact and for a moment it's like I'm not the to-be arresting officer and he's not the suspect wanted for God knows what. This whole thing has escalated way too quickly and is playing out nowhere near how I thought it would 15 minutes ago as I sat in my cruiser. As if he knows, as if he can sense my internal monologue, he smiles down at me. A gloating, predatory smile that conveys I'm right where he wants me.

"Pretty little thing aren't you."

His voice is deep and filled with humor and I want to knock the shit eating grin off his face. I can feel my ears heat in embarrassment as his tone flutters against my stomach, and lower still, as my world flies completely off-kilter.

"Given up already have we? Pity. Guess they shouldn't have sent a woman 'eh."

I should have just shot him. I should have shot him and it would have spared me the condescension that's making itself apparent by his teasing. I feel myself gain some leverage underneath my foot. In a ego-driven combination of not wanting to let him win and a muddy sense of self-preservation I'm able to catch him by surprise and flip him back over before landing a solid punch to his face, knocking him out. The crack of it echoes off the buildings on either side of us and it ignites a sick sense of pride in myself. I cuff him before rising to stand over him.

"Well you're about to get arrested by a woman you fucking dumbass!"

It's not like he could hear me saying it from his unconscious state but it felt damned good saying it nonetheless. I wipe the blood that's trickled from the corner of my lips with my arm, taking a hard elbow sometime during our scuffle. I suck as much oxygen into my burning body as I can. My irritation simmers dangerously as his words are added to the collection of the ones I already keep from my sexist colleagues and family.

"Fuck this shit."

I keep glancing at you in my rearview and we make eye contact. You haven't stopped running your mouth since I put you in the back of my cruiser. It's starting to grate on my nerves even further past their breaking point and I'd give anything just to get you to stop talking. I sigh audibly as a dark thought crosses my mind. It's darker than any thought I've entertained before and even more tempting. I mull it over. My mind caresses every curve of it, lingers on the things I'd be giving up by giving in. I've played by the rules this long. Everyone has their boiling point though right? That one moment that is a catalyst that categorizes everything as before or after its occurrence. This thought is sinister and it enticingly seduces me the longer I contemplate it. I guess today is that metaphorical day I never thought would come. From this moment forward my personal motto of saying fuck it will now take on a double meaning.

"Dispatch I'll be late getting back to the station, hit traffic," I say into the radio. Velma and booking can wait.

I catch your curious eyes in the mirror again, "Alright smart-ass...my turn..."

"Lose the clothes, sit down. Hands on the arm rests," I motion to the chair with a nod of my head in it's direction, "I'm trusting you to do as I've said or its back to the station."

You do as I've said. I saunter towards you slowly and lean in, close enough to breath your air but not close enough to touch you. The damn of everything I've held back for years, the comments I've heard and the infractions held against me have all culminated and combusted leaving me ready to seek retribution.

"Mmmm let's play a game. First I'm going to run my hands all over every part of you. Then do the same with my lips. And if you're a really good boy, I'll show you just how dangerous my mouth can be. Tonight is all about your pleasure and how it hangs in the balance at my mercy. I'm going to show you exactly how much power I hold over you. Though I'm tempted to put that smart mouth of yours to good use on myself," I look deeply into your eyes as I speak, making sure you can see the fire smoldering in mine.

"But...if you move, if you lift these hands of yours to try to touch me, I really will take out my cuffs again and lock you to this chair. I'll remove myself completely from you, and I'll finish what I've started by myself over there in the bathroom, and you can sit alone here until I'm done and then ride back to the station with a case of blue balls added to the other charges you've incurred. Understand?" I ask as the corner of my mouth lifts into a smile.

You study my face, slightly unsure, I can tell you have a pension for liking to be in control, but you ultimately agree.

"Good. Game on."