When she came to rest, she looked down into my face, smiling and still gyrating on my exhausted organ. Her smile beamed so brightly. “Did you have a good time, sweetie?” She was whispering still.
“Any better and I’d swear you were trying to kill me,” I whispered.
“I had a nice time, too, Rick. It was very nice.”
During a few minutes of postcoital bliss, I was again struck by how well spoken she was. She spoke with a Southern accent to be sure, though sometimes she enunciated, speaking so clearly.
But when you’re a prostitute, time is money. And while I was grateful for every second she spent with me, it was certainly not enough. Once dressed, I joined Ed and Juan out on the balcony for another smoke while she finished getting herself together.
On her way out, she made eye contact with all of us, smiled, nodded, and turned to leave. Suddenly, she stopped and took a couple steps toward me, shook my hand again, and gave me a kiss on my cheek. She whispered, “I’ve never been anybody’s first time before. I’m glad I was yours. And you were fantastic. Inspiring. I mean it. I wanted to say good night, Rick. Good luck to you. I’m so glad I met you.” No longer shaking my hand, she held it. During those moments, looking into each other’s eyes … into each other’s souls, not a word was said, but everything that needed to be, was being said. We’d “shared the sweet taste of a moment’s love.”
“Good night, Trisha. It was even better to meet you,” I whispered back.
Again she started to leave, and again, she stopped and stepped back for another kiss to my cheek. “You’re the first one who’s asked me my name.”
Now, our fingers were lightly intertwining, gently stroking. Sitting here, writing this now, I can still feel that last moist peck on my cheek.
When the guys saw her kiss me, they suddenly came forward to get theirs, too, but none was to be had. Naturally, they asked me what got me the special treatment. I denied any knowledge; still not wanting to admit this was my first time.
She smiled so damn brightly, and then turned and left. Our fingers slowly parted.
The next night, we went back to where Juan originally met up with her, but she was nowhere to be found. We never saw her again.
Had I been anything other than a stupid boy, I would’ve better appreciated her extra efforts. Even as naïve as I was then, part of my brain read all the gyrations, the twisting, and the writhing, skeptically. But looking back from the vantage point of a man nearly fifty years old, part of my brain likes to think she was genuinely caught up in the moment. Perhaps she was emotionally invested in giving me a good time, while taking one. Could it have been an act? Of course. But why bother? Ed and Juan said she was very “vanilla.” (Pun intended.) That she just sat up, wiped off, and said, “Send in the next.” Ed refused, which is why she came to the door naked.
Writing this story, memories of her fly at me so fast I have to swat them away. She was so well spoken, certainly not stupid, and definitely nobody’s fool. Was she a college student, working her way through to graduation? Was she just down on her luck and needed quick cash? One can go nuts thinking of the endless possibilities.
I suppose if there is any one moral to this story, it’s that there is no substitute for professionalism! We’ve all heard clichés about the hooker with the heart of gold, or the beautiful woman down on her luck who turns to prostitution. I’ve dealt with many hookers over the years as a police officer in Grand Crossings district, on Chicago’s South Side (never contractually), and I have never seen a prettier, classier prostitute. Never.
My friends and I will always jeer, “Ah, there’s no such thing!” But after a moment’s reflection, I always say, “Well, you know, there was this one girl, once … a long time ago …”
SOLDIER
I was that which others did not want to be.
I went where others feared to go and did what others failed to do.
I asked nothing from those who gave nothing,
and reluctantly accepted the thought of eternal loneliness, should I fail.
I have seen the face of terror, felt the cold sting of fear,
and shared the sweet taste of a moment of love.
I have cried, pained and hoped, but most of all …
I have lived times others would say were best forgotten.
At least someday I will be able to say I was proud of what I was—
A Soldier.
—Read by CSM Charles B. Morris,
Congressional Medal of Honor,
29 June 1966 RVN, at his retirement ceremony in 1985
To Protect and Serve
Shakir Rashaan
The mantra of any officer worth their shield is “to protect and to serve.”
Well, I’m not an officer yet, but I’ve lived by that mantra ever since I was a little kid, when I stood up to a bully who tried to take my best friend’s lunch money in third grade. In high school, my sheer height and size made me an imposing presence, and the female friends I had swooned and bragged over having me as a “bodyguard.”
Sometimes it is better to be in the right place at the right time … and come to the rescue of the right person. A sexy-ass woman would be preferred, of course. You know, just in case she wanted to show her “gratitude” in her time of distress.
I never thought I would put that mantra to good use, or knew just how I would be protecting and serving.
I left my criminology class on a Friday, walking down to the parking lot to get in my car and head to my internship at the Zone 5 Precinct in downtown Atlanta. I was looking forward to some fun over the weekend, taking my mind off concentrating on criminal profiles and trends for a change. I took the internship at the Special Victims Unit because I wanted to be a detective when I graduated. I considered myself lucky to be selected as one of the interns, even though the work was tedious and repetitive. The way I saw it, this was a way in to be where I wanted to be, and it was only for half the school year, so I was cool with it.
Especially when I found out that I was assigned to Detective Berrera’s detail about a week into the internship. She was one of about three female detectives in the unit, and it was lust at first sight for me.
Seeing her every day after class was well worth the trip.
Detective Berrera was a stunningly beautiful woman. She stood about five foot eight with a rich caramel complexion and had curves to die for, even though she kinda hid them under the pantsuits that she wore most of the time. I guessed it was part of the persona of the female detectives in SVU to try not to be overly sensual or sexual, considering the type of cases that they were trying to solve. She had a natural beauty, you know, the kind that makeup only enhances. She was pretty without makeup, I mean really pretty, and I had her pegged for around late thirties, early forties or so, but she definitely didn’t look like it. I often found myself daydreaming during class or at the precinct about seeing her out somewhere away from work, just to see if there is a softer side to her, something more exotic, maybe even freaky.
Hey, a brotha can dream, can’t he?
Anyway, I moved through traffic, trying to shake images of Detective Berrera “reading me my rights” and searching me in a way that would definitely be a violation of police procedure. I definitely enjoyed working for her, but the more I was around her, the more I preferred to be doing a lot of work under her, behind her, and on top of her.
The only problem was I couldn’t get up the nerve to approach her in that manner. It wasn’t like I was on the APD payroll yet, but I didn’t want to put myself in a position where I could jeopardize any goodwill that I had built with her or the other detectives in the unit.
Not just to get my dick wet. I’m not that desperate.
Now, I know it sounds crazy that a grown man would act like a horny teenager around a woman he has an affinity for, but that’s what I felt like around her. I did whatever it took to make sure she noticed me and could see that I was dedicated and serious about being a detective, hoping that I would impress
her enough to earn a compliment or a “good job, Drew,” or something. Even though I stood nearly a foot taller than her and had her by at least a good 75 to 100 pounds, I might as well have been five-foot-nothing with platform shoes on trying hard to see eye-to-eye with the object of my desires.
I honestly think that she noticed my desires for her because every few days or so, she would break from her usual routine of wearing pantsuits and wear a skirt to work. She would deliberately walk past my desk whenever she had to take care of a task sometimes, and there would be other times when I swore that she wanted me to get a good look at a pair of legs that I fantasize about spreading on at least a daily basis. It took time to adjust and function normally on those days because it felt like she purposely wore the skirts to torture me and get a reaction out of me. Sometimes she wore light makeup and lipstick, but it was never more than once every other week.
It was a cat-and-mouse game that went on for the majority of the semester.
I usually offered to escort her to her car since it was normally around one a.m. when we left the precinct. For the past few weeks, she’d politely turned me down, letting me know that she was a big girl and she could handle herself pretty well without an escort. I had no problems with her rejecting my offers. I mean, she has been a detective for a long time, so I tried to not make it look like I was begging to protect her. I’m not a stalker or anything like that.
Damn, that sounded weak, now that I thought about it. Oh, well, I’d just have to live with it until I got my nerves under control.
The evening shift came and went quickly tonight, and it almost took me by surprise that it was nearly midnight already. I was going through my usual routine of clearing out the files and reports from the week, trying to keep the workload from being too heavy when I came back on Monday night, when Detective Berrera walked by my desk. She leaned in close, giving me the impression that she didn’t want a lot of ears to hear what she was about to tell me.
“I just wanted you to know that I’ve been watching you the last few weeks and observing the work that you’ve been putting in.” She locked eyes with me as she spoke. “I’m impressed by your work ethic, Drew. You might be able to earn your way into the unit after you graduate next year.”
I sat in my chair, stunned and unable to break the eye contact between us. I was a little bit confused, because I’d never mentioned to anyone that I would be finishing up my senior year next year. The reason I kept it to myself was that I’d dropped out of college with a year remaining because I felt college wasn’t for me and that I didn’t need a degree. I took a few gigs as a bouncer and some personal security here and there, but they barely paid the bills, so I eventually came back to my senses and decided to finish what I’d started so I could be legit and make some real money.
“Thank you, Detective Berrera,” I responded, trying to suppress the smile that threatened to spread across my face. “I didn’t realize you knew when I graduated.”
Damn, kid, that was the only thing that you could come up with? I scolded myself for the weak-ass comeback. Yeah, that was real smooth, alright.
I couldn’t resist the way she sat on the desk that I was working from. Tonight was that rare night that she wore a skirt, and it rode up her legs, giving me a tantalizing up-close-and-personal view of how thick they really were. I struggled to keep eye contact with her, as I didn’t want to come across as if I couldn’t control the heat that made its way across my body. My mind began playing tricks on me, because I thought I caught a grin on her face.
Could she have been playing me, just to see how I would react?
Her skirt kept rising, showing more of her thighs. My eyes darted back and forth, stealing glances every chance that I got, fueling my desires to have her with each peek inside. I could trace her hips with my eyes, watching them sway as she was saying something to me. If I’d been paying better attention, I would have figured out that she was trying to tell me that it was time to go home.
“Drew …” She called my name, breaking my thoughts. “It’s time to head home. Shift’s over.”
Damn. This day went quicker than I wanted it to.
“I still have a few more things to finish up around here, ma’am,” I replied, cooling down to regain my composure. “I should be done in about ten minutes or so.”
“Alright, but don’t stick around longer than that, okay?” she told me, slipping down from the desk. She leaned against the desk again, almost as if she wanted to linger a little longer.
“No problem,” I answered, trying to get back to my paperwork.
As I watched her walk away from the desk, I enjoyed the view of her hips and ass swaying away from me. I wanted to ask for the umpteenth time if she wanted me to escort her to her vehicle, but I decided against it. The last thing I needed to cap off my night was another rejection from her.
I finally got things done about five minutes later. I had a sudden urge to leave and get my weekend started with a drink or two. I got to the parking lot and was near my truck when I heard a woman scream, “Get off me, I’m a detective!”
I ran in the direction of where I heard the screams, and I saw Detective Berrera struggling to fight off a would-be mugger. He had her pinned against the back of her SUV, a knife to her throat.
Instincts took over instantly.
My adrenaline reached sky-high levels as I ran as quickly as I could and tackled the mugger to the ground, wrapping his arms behind his back and taking the mask off his head. His screams of pain didn’t faze me—all I could hear was the heightened pace of my heartbeat as I barked out orders for him to remain silent. Once I had his arms pinned and he couldn’t move, I took my cell phone out and called for an officer to be dispatched to the area to take the mugger to jail.
Once my senses began to return to me, I heard something that I didn’t expect to hear. Sitting against her SUV, trying to quiet her sobs to keep me from hearing her, was Detective Berrera.
I moved to her quickly, trying to assess her injuries and find out if she needed an ambulance. The EMTs finally arrived at the same time as the officers and took her to the back of the ambulance. She tried to protest that she was okay, but eventually the EMTs won that battle.
After I gave the officers my statement, I walked back over to the ambulance to check on her. She was just exiting the back of the ambulance and was startled when she saw me standing in front of her.
Her eyes expressed her embarrassment that she’d let someone get the drop on her. I didn’t really care, I was just glad that she was safe. I stared back, trying to express that she had not lost any respect from me. In fact, seeing her this vulnerable made her even more attractive to me.
“I’m glad I did get my work done early,” I quipped, trying to lighten the moment and take her mind off the incident. I smiled at my attempt at humor, secretly wishing that she understood that I wasn’t trying to make fun of her.
She managed a smile, her eyes searching mine. I couldn’t imagine what she was looking for, but I needed her to stop looking at me like that. I wasn’t her boyfriend or anything like that, but her body language and the look in her eyes surged through me, making me weak.
“Thank you for taking him down. I don’t know how he managed to catch me off guard,” Detective Berrera finally managed. “And yeah, it was a good thing that you did finish early.” She licked her lips while staring at me, and it drove me crazy feeling the heat between us. I kept trying to convince myself that she was not trying to seduce me, especially after what just happened to her. I mean, this couldn’t be happening, right?
I saw her trembling and wanted to wrap my arms around her to try and calm her. I hesitated, unsure of whether to touch her or not. After all, she was my supervisor.
But the rules of engagement had changed just a little bit. I guess keeping a mugger from harming someone would do that. I decided against pulling that move in case I was reading her the wrong way. I was starting to calm down from the high, and I didn’t want to make any mistakes no
w.
It wasn’t hard to ask her this time, considering she had just been roughed up a bit. “Ma’am, would you please allow me to provide an escort home? I want to make sure you’re safe and sound.”
Detective Berrera nodded this time, which surprised me. “Drew, thank you, I would like that very much. And please, you can call me Yvonne.”
Wow, we’re on a first-name basis now?
This was turning into a helluva day after all.
I helped her gather her things and get them into her SUV, closing her door while getting another look at her thighs again. It didn’t bother me that they were a little bruised from the attack. She still looked good as hell to me. I felt a little ashamed that I was still lusting after her even now after such a traumatic experience, but I couldn’t help myself. After her eyes connected with mine again after shutting her door, those lustful thoughts only intensified for me.
We got to her house without further incident, and once she parked in the garage, I got out of my truck to meet her just outside the garage to make a last contact before leaving.
“Drew,” Yvonne called to me. “Could you help me with my bags?”
I obliged her, walking to the driver’s side of the truck to open the back door.
Everything happened at once.