Patrick (Pat to his friends), one of New York's finest, a NYC Cop, spent as little time as possible at the precinct station dealing with paperwork and the like, he much preferred to be out 'on the job', doing what he liked doing best, being on the streets, looking at people, observing and dealing with situations that perps and crazy people in the Big Apple figured they could get away with. Being stuck in an office just didn't cut it as far as he was concerned.
Pat wasn't a true New Yorker, it was his misfortune to have been born elsewhere but after graduating High School he had chosen the police as a career and after finishing Police Academy had been assigned to the Bronx precinct and in a few years had come to know the city very well. Not that he would ever know as much as Eddie, his buddy, a big black guy out of Queens who he shared their patrol car with. Eddie had lived nowhere else and knew the city like the back of his hand. Eddie knew everything and as they patrolled the Bronx and beyond he shared with Pat lots of details about the places and buildings that they drove by and passed insights of what went on behind closed doors that would never be found in guidebooks.
Yeah, Eddie was great at sharing secrets and Pat was grateful for that as he had a few secrets of his own and it made him feel better to speculate that some of what he thought about could enhanced by what Eddie had told him.
White Plains road cuts through the length of the Bronx and shares the route with an elevated section of the Subway. It is a main thoroughfare running south to north and serves, amongst other reasons, as a convenient route from JFK to New England and the Hamptons for the well-heeled and others to get out of the city. The less well-heeled and those that live there know it more as a street of apartments and tenements, businesses, stores and other establishments and vacant lots which under the shadow of the railway provide plenty to attract Pat and Eddie's attention as they cruised by. Eddie could be guaranteed to provide a story about most of them.
Pat listened with amusement to some of the more fancible tales but there was one place that Eddie pointed out that really caught his interest for if what he said was true then it sounded to be, well, too good to be true and just the place to visit when he was off-duty. It was a non-descript doorway between an office-supplies outlet and a drycleaners. It would hardly be noticed during working hours but come night time, Eddie said, it would be open for business, attracting a clientele of mainly Jamaicans who came to enjoy Reggae music and Rum and, "oh yeah, having their dicks sucked by the white waitresses."
Pat didn't ask if Eddie was speaking from experience but it was that last snippet of information that really caught Pat's attention; one of Pat's secrets was having a fascination with interracial porn. It wasn't something that he would to admit to but he had the fantasy of seeing white women doing just that and, at the same time, there was nothing he liked better than to jerk his stubby dick while watching videos of white sluts sucking on stiff black cocks. Eddie's mention of it happening for real behind that drab door really got his imagination working.
Pat didn't know Eddie well enough to tell him that he had developed an interest in Reggae and as a consequence had got to know the 'Reggae Club' very well. In his off-duty hours it became his preferred choice of entertainment and although it seemed he was the only white male face to be seen there it was accepted by the others that his interest was mainly in hearing the Caribbean music that was constantly pumping out. He certainly gave a very good impression that was his reason to attend as he sat on a stool at the bar, patting his feet and laughingly trying to mime to the patois. In reality his attention was set on the white waitresses who tended the booths and tables and the intriguing absences they made from time to time when they disappeared in the direction of the men's' restroom with a black man in tow. It didn't require much imagination to guess what they were serving up.
The place was run by an attractive 50-something Jamaican lady named Tina. She tended the bar and kept the drinks flowing and her husband (Pat assumed he was her husband) occupied himself on the other side of the room tending turntables and keeping the music flowing.
Over the next few months Pat became a kind of fixture at the bar and Tina spent time between drink orders chatting and getting used to serving a white guy. Whilst Pat didn't get to know too much about Tina, as the Rum flowed she certainly learned a lot about him and loosened his tongue. She soon found out he was a cop but accepted his reassurance that his interest in the club was purely personal and nothing whatsoever to do with might be going on with the business; she learned that he liked the idea of black men fucking white women (although he had no recollection on how that subject had been broached); she also learned that he was aware that black men tended to be 'better-endowed' than white (again, it must have been that Rum that caused that admission to be shared).
In exchange for all that information Tina hinted that the waitresses did provide 'extras' to the customers on request.. but only if they asked nicely. She then went on to identify the girls who were working the shift that night and Pat admitted to her that he found one in particular, a dark haired beauty, to be particularly attractive, ".. the one over there, with the red shoes. She always seems to be, uh, kinda busy."
Tina smiled at his obtuse manner of speaking but got the drift and said, "That'll be Lisa or 'Loose Lisa' as she's known to everyone."
Pat nodded his thanks for the information and thereafter kept his eye on her movements as she worked the room. Now knowing her name his interest was piqued further when, once again, she disappeared in the direction of the door to the men's room. He used the excuse of needing a pee to go and follow.
As he stood at the urinal he noted that there were three stalls and only one was occupied. Beneath the door he could see a pair of red stiletto clad feet pointing his way and between them a pair of pants pooled around the ankles of someone who must have been standing before whoever it was seated on the toilet. The noises that were floating around could only be attributed to the lucky guy being sucked off and it took no stretch of the imagination to know it was Lisa, the dark-haired beauty, who was providing 'extras'.
He listened for a few moments and when he heard the guy's grunts getting louder he applied his police detecting skills and suspected the guy must be spurting his load down her throat. Had Pat had more presence of mind he could of gone into the vacant adjacent stall and peered through the glory hole in the wall and had his suspicion confirmed.. but he didn't, instead he decided it was time to get out of there before the cubicle door opened. He shook the drips from his stiff stubby dick and returned to his seat at the bar.
Tina noted his return, refilled his glass and said, "So, did you get any?"
He laughed, "Nah, I went for a piss, nothing like that... anyways, girls like that ain't gonna be interested in a guy like me not with all these studs around.." he added ruefully.
It was as he spoke that Lisa came to the bar bearing an empty tray that was about to be refilled. She chose the gap between Pat and another customer to shout the order to Tina which pleased Pat greatly as it was the first time she had been that close to him. She smiled an apology for invading his space but he told her it was no problem and secretly delighted in having her standing there close enough for him to look down her cleavage and look at her tits knowing that they had doubtless been mauled by some black guy only a few minutes before. She, for her part, let him look. After all, it was part of the job description.
Tina completed the order and placed the drinks on the tray and then, knowing Pat's interest, said mischievously, "Hey Lisa, you ever let a white boy take a shot at ya?"
Lisa got the drift of what was being suggested and ignoring Pat's presence said, "Not lately. I hear tell they ain't got much worthwhile bothering with."
