"It's been two days and I've had no word from him. I don't know what I am supposed to do. Shouldn't I have heard from him by now? Shouldn't I be getting him an advocate?"
The two officers behind the desk looked me over. One, a chubby man, blond with brown, unintelligent eyes, grinned at me. It was a big, goofy grin. The other man's uniform looked crisp and well attended. His dark red hair and steely blue eyes looked familiar to me. It was familiar in a deja vu sort of way, the way something you know you've never seen can seem familiar. He spoke first.
"You have any idea what he was arrested for?" Something about him terrified me. Something about him cowed me. The blond guy was looking over my body like he would a succulent meal after a long fast, but any discomfort I felt originated in those blue eyes.
"I imagine it has something to do with his writing," I said, not wanting to implicate my husband but also not wanting to seem deceitful. I made a snap judgment to tell the truth.
"You realize he may not have been charged with anything, yet. We can keep him for a year before we hafta press charges." The blond guy said to my breasts.
"Yes. I just wanted to find out if there is
anything
I can do."
The two officers looked at each other immediately, meaningfully. Goofy grin on his face, never taking his eyes off of my breasts, the blond guy, pressed an intercom button. A man barking the word "yes" came through it. It must have beeped on his end or something.
The red head, the scary one, put his arm across the other's chest, stopping him from speaking. He said, "Sergeant Murond. I have a woman here inquiring about her recently arrested husband."
"So? I don't have time for this shit."
"Sir, this is the sort of thing you usually make time for."
"Right. Right. Bring her."
The red haired officer walked out from behind the desk and tool my upper arm. He was tall and lean, almost gangly but for some impressive shoulders. He lead me down a hall, two toned, a darker red on the bottom and a muted pink on top. It was the same color scheme in the office, where a portly man with huge, hairy hands sat behind a desk. The red head placed me in a chair in front of the desk.
The portly man said, "Check her for any contraband first, Detective Darns." He said this to the red haired man.
I thought, his name is Darns. Remember that.
I made to stand but Darns pushed me back in the seat gently. He kneeled before me and unbuttoned my blouse. He pulled it down, behind my shoulders. Then, gently, gently, he pulled each breast out of the bra so that it hung over, exposed and lifted. I sat in a rictus of fear and confusion. Any reaction at this point could be the wrong move and the knowledge of this rendered me immobile. Darns stood aside and Murond spoke.
"Good. I'll need you to remain this way as we have our little discussion. It's for your safety, really."
I clearly wasn't meant to believe this lie. I sat wishing my breasts were smaller, knowing what a spectacle they were. I took a deep breath. I had expected this. Not exactly this. But I had expected they might offer some sexual trade. And I had decided that this was a fair one. I would have sex with them if it came to that.
The door behind me opened and the blond man entered, handing a folder to Murond. Murond opened it a read through it as I sat with my large breasts getting cold, my nipples hardening. "Subversive literature. That is what he was arrested for. He's not been charged yet. Interrogations have not yet begun."
"Yes, sir," I said, still paralyzed, afraid even to ask the question I'd come to ask.
He stood with the folder in his hand, circled his desk and sat on it right in front of me. He lightly flicked my nipples with the edge of the folder and I squirmed, immediately regretting having done it.
"The interrogations don't have to be difficult for him. We could break him completely or just ask a few questions. The discretion is entirely ours." The folder edge kept moving over my nipples, it was maddening.
"Yes, sir." I forced myself to look in his eyes. I forced myself to say, "I intend to be very cooperative." The Sergeant and Darns exchanged a look and a derisive laugh.
The Sergeant said, "The cooperation we want from you...it probably goes much further than what you are imagining right now." He smirked as he spoke, like he knew a secret joke. "But first, let me make one thing very clear. Interrogations can be intense. Accidental deaths are fairly common and all authority is understanding when that happens. You know, if a few die to protect the peace, even if they're innocent, it's the greater good of society that we ultimately care about."
He never stopped moving the edge of that folder over my nipples. They were protruding out, now. At attention. "I see," I said. My heart was sinking.
"I'm not even convinced that subversive literature is something we need to be worried about. Not to be doing the sort of interrogations we do, where death is such a common happenstance. The morale of the police force. Now, that is something I find much more important. Life is about trade offs. It's about compromise. You need to offer something for our morale, that would make it worth my while to ensure your husband survives this next year."
Dread and certainty washed over me in hot waves. He's saying that he will kill my husband. And I've already offered my body. Why, then, the need to leverage my husband's life? "Of course, sir. Anything to help our men in green." I blinked and felt a tear fall down my cheek.
"The whole year, at any time, he could die. We have a whole year to interrogate."
"I understand, sir. A whole year." I felt another tear drop. My nose was filling and I sniffled.
"So, just to be perfectly clear, you are offering yourself for a year in exchange for your husband's life. You can back out of the deal at any moment if you feel the life of this man is not worth it. And you will. You will want to back out and run away many times. But, remember that a man's life is at stake." This whole thing was moving so fast, but this man was so comfortable with his speed. It was as though he did this every day.
"Yes. I don't think I'll forget that."
"Do you have a job?" He took a pair of scissors from his desk.
"I'm a math teacher."
"Not any more. You'll start work here tomorrow." Darns sat at the desk and took a pen. Murond kneeled in front of me and spread my legs apart as far as they would go, pushing my skirt all the way up . The third man stood behind me and held my arms back. "Don't contact the school. We will let them know you are needed here." He cut the crotch of my panties in half and pulled my pelvis to the end of the chair.
Darns said, "Tell me your full name."
I could hear how erratic my breathing had become. "Danny...I mean...Daniel Havershad." Darns wrote it down.
Murond pushed a finger inside me. "You will answer to the name Cunt when you are here. Cunt or Tits or Ass or Mouth. These are your names. It's almost always Cunt. Just get used to Cunt. The pussy is wet. This bodes well for you. Cunt knows its place. It prepares itself for use and service. That is a lesson we may be able to skip."
"Identity number?" Darns waited, pencil poised.
I could feel myself quivering. "7653832."