Vice Cop: The Beginning
New York City, 1985
Hudson Banach's Polish father had been a cop in the post-World War IIdays, a Poznan, and he had retired years ago to start a family in America. He told Hudson of his many experiences in those often dangerous times whenItaly was just coming off its darkest days. His stories and accounts were full ofintrigue and adventure, lurid tales of the Mafia and espionage. His mother's Italian/Sicilian brother, Vittorio, had been a Carabinieri, Italian police officer, and was still active as a cop. He would shower Hudson with gifts and further tales of excitement as he caught the bad guys whose "evils" Hudson did not understand until he became an adult. Now, at the age of 21, he was sure the stories his father told were more than likely embellished with some lies andexaggerations. But the influence his father and uncle Giorgiohad on him was strong enough to arouse in him a desire to be a cop.
Hudson became a rookie cop, sworn to a life of service and protection of civilians, in a ceremony attended by his Sicilian mother, oozing with pride, and his even prouder father. New York City in the mid 80's wasprobably as dangerous as Italy when Mafia reigned, when even seemingly decent and powerful figures were in fact crooks. New York City's underworld was that of illegal prostitution, crime waves, jewelry theft, con artistry and drug traffic. All of this was right there, just beneath the surface and Hudson, still a rookie was eager to see some action, to do his job. But it wasn't easy........
Hudson was six feet tall, ruggedly handsome, with dark, jet-black hair, cut short, a strong chin, brown eyes and a powerful, big, strong physique. He had once been very slender but before his decision to be in law enforcement he worked out at a gym religiously, lifting weights, doing cardio, and frequented the same gym for years. Before long, he developed muscles and a more confident attitude. People said he was a dead ringer for actor Sylvester Stalone and even his voice was somewhat similar His training as a cop was especially difficult, not so much because he was not fit for it, but because he had lived a pampered life as a New York City teen. His mother, being Sicilian, and not cheap in the least, made gourmet meals and cooked with style often, not only on the times the Italian family visited. He had grown up with her cooking. He had also learned to appreciate the opera, which was his secret passion he told no one about in the force. He had also become interested in classical music through an old professorwho took him to concerts in Lincoln Center. He was aware of his Italian heritage, and for that matter, his Polish, but growing up American he became somewhat spoiled. There was no girl he could not have. No girl ever really put up any resistance or turned him down. He had a string of girlfriends and lovers in New York and New Jersey and his sexual exploits had a touch of vice.
There was the time he had met a beautiful Canadian girl at a dance club, where to the strains of festive pop songs by Oingo Boingo they drank themselves silly and ended up having a tryst in an alley by the parking lot.
"What's your name?" he had asked her.
"Does it matter?" she said, with a devilish smile, "are you going to rock my world or not? Ever do it in public?"
"Uhhh...uhh...no, not really. You?"
"Lots of times. In Calgary I got into lots of trouble for it. Some people are too square or too jealous because they're not fucking the way they should."
She was a beautiful girl with blue eyes and her hair was blonde. To Hudson, she looked like a classy girl who probably did kinky things and acted all crazy simply for the act of rebellion itself. Her parents probably had money, she had probably gone to some boarding school run by nuns and she was most likely even engaged to marry some boring wealthy industrialist type. Here she was, her blonde hair falling down her back like spun gold. She began to unbutton her blouse, freeing herself from her bra. Hudson did not know what kind of sex she was into or wanted so he tried to read her mentally. He was going to remove his red dress shirt when she stopped him with her hand on his chest.
"No, don't move a muscle. I know what I'm doing. I may be drunk but I know what I'm doing," she said with a giggle that echoed in the parking lot.
Hudson looked around and noticed some people walking on the street in the distance, talking, enjoying their Saturday night in New York City, and he was worried the young people at the club where they had just beeen were going to see them. He did not want anyone to recognize him. He was now a cop and this would not do at all. But his fears and anxities slipped away as soon as the nameless girl fell to her knees and undid his belt and unzipped his jeans.
"Uhh...pretty girl? Do you think we should do this?"
"Oh, don't be so lame. Be daring," she said, almost reprimanding him.
Her fingers were deftly stroking his cock, which began to get hard and grow against her palm. She was quiet now, and all he could hear was her breathing. She continued to stroke his cock, caressing the shaft, and then she gently presed her lips against it. Her lips were soft and sensual, making him feel a wave of pleasure that surprised him. He moaned and closed his eyes. The girl opened her mouth, slowly commencing her fellatio. It was not as if it was their first time. She had evidently done this before, not being hesitant to do it, and Hudson had been orally pleasured by women before. But there was something about the skillful way she used her mouth, her tongue, her hands, a special talent she possessed for this type of thing. He threw back his head and his hands were on her hair, gently pulling on her blonde tresses.
"You like that, baby?" she whispered.
"Fuck, yeah, don't stop. Mmmm. Feels so good."
Her ass was raised off the street as she crouched now and she continued to lave his hardened cock. Her tongue wrapped itself around the head and she flicked her tongue, like a serpent would, and felt his pleasure become her own. Slowly, gratefully, she took his penis into her mouth, down her throat like some piece of food. She was moaning and making gagging noises as she began to take it deeper down her throat. This caused Hudson to grunt uncontrollably and his hips began to buck automatically. The music from the dance club blared down the street, the 80's pop music reaching their little enclosure in the alley right by the parking lot. When the music began to pulse, and when it seemed like sexually provocative rock, the girl began to devour his cock with intensity.
"Oaahh, fuck....aah God.." Hudson cried out, ready to burst.
He was going to pull out, as he was now set to ejaculate, but she again stopped him with her hand, silently suggesting that she wanted him to cum in her mouth. Hudson groaned and his big body shook as she swallowed his cum. Afterward, she was silent, but yet satisfied, and she looked up at him and smiled. Hudson composed himself, remembering he was sort of in public. Perhaps some passing crowd had seen them. Perhaps not. It was too late to do anything about it. It had been so naughty and so indiscreet but so fun.
The girl grabbed her purse which had fallen to the floor. "I better go," she said, "it's getting late."
Just like that, thought Hudson. But then again, it was to be expected. The girl did not bother to tell him her name, eventhough he had when they had met over drinks at the club. During their bumping and grinding sort of dance she did not make much conversation. Hudson knew it was going to be like this. He'd never see this girl again. And perhaps it was better that way. She might spot him when he was on duty, she might blab in her air-headed way to some person that she had given a cop a blowjob in public, a sort of thing that could be mistaken for consorting with a prostitute, a thing that was indecent behavior and the sort of thing a cop would put a stop to. "So, listen," she said, as she was walking away down the dark street, turning to look at him, " I....I come to this club now and then. Maybe we might run into each other again. We can always talk if you want."
"No thanks," he said, "it's not....something I want to do."
She nodded as if she didn't care at any rate and walked down the street, her beautiful body bathed in the glow of a street light.............
TWO It was not long afterward when Hudson, off-duty, was on his way to visit the Music Professor he had befriended to talk about hooking up with a girl, a student of his at New York University, and attending a piano concerto at Carnegie Hall. He did not want to walk, or drive, the reason owing to the fact he had a desire to familiarize himself with subways, bus stops and streets which would help him as a cop. Hudson was glad he was out of uniform and taking a much needed day off. He was wearing a small chain which hung over his navel and his shirt was unbuttoned to reveal his hairy chest. His slacks were dark and vintage. His hair had been slicked back. His good looks and good clothes did not go unnoticed by the other women in the street as he approached the subway. Some of them winked at him or smiled flirtatiously.
He felt like he could have strutted to the beat of "Staying Alive" like in the opening scene to Saturday Night Fever. He was excited about meeting the girl the Professor, whose name was Ezra Goldstein, Jewish, over 60. He told him the girl was of mixed white and black blood, around his age, and absolutely gorgeous. Hudson did not like that Professor Goldstein did not elaborate and provide him with a more accurate description of the girl's body, other than "thin". But to Goldstein, every young girl was "thin" and Hudson knew that not every girl was built the same. Lord, no. Some had curves, bigger breasts, some had cuter faces, some had accentuated behinds, some did not. The Professor was so old fashioned that he did not bother to really strike up his interest in the girl's physique.
Why, he probably thought they'd care more about the opera and symphony. Not that he didn't' enjoy the arts, but he wanted to a partner who would also satisfy his sexual desires. It was something the Professor did not understand, coming from a different time, when men wore hats and ladies didn't smoke or wear pants and as he put it "men were men and dames were real dames". Hudson figured he was probably talking about the 1940's. The Professor had known many famous conductors and opera singers who frequented the Metropolitan Opera House. He was an old, white-haired, fragile man with only his memories to hold on to. His wife had passed away of lung cancer, having smoked herself to death. He had himself quit smoking thanks to Hudson's repeated advice against it.
Hudson stepped into the subway, taking a seat next to a rather large, fat woman holding a baby that didn't stop crying. Normally, Hudson didn't mind hearing babies cry, but today he was a little on edge. His nerves were taut. Something was in the air and he id not know whether it was his growing excitement and impatience regarding meeting this girl or something else, something more sinister and unspoken. Another girl sat next to him on the other end. He did not bother to look into her direction. She had long blonde hair that flowed down her back and something about her, as absurd as it was (he was looking at her from behind) seemed oddly familiar. Even the way she breathed.....the way she was fidgeting with her lovely fingers.
As he was checking her out, the subway train made a stop. As some got up to exit, and as the doors opened, a commotion broke out. A man, wearing black, looking insane, fresh off an asylum or jail or something, stormed inside and wielded a gun. His eyes were dark and his voice was loud and angry:
"Everyone stay where you are. I'm taking this train and some hostages and we'll wait until my little buddies come by."
