Urt

A baby cries, a cop dies, a day's pay on the wildside.

-Motley Crue

Ever since I was a kid, I always wanted in on the action. Every rough sport from football to wrestling to boxing. I remember winning the local MMA heavyweight championship only a week before shipping out to basic training for the Army. I did three combat tours with the Second Ranger Battalion before coming back home to Dempsey, Washington. Obviously my next move was getting a job with Dempsey PD. Which leads me to where I'm at now. Watching my undercover officer troll up and down the street in the rain, trying to entice prospective John's into paying her for sex.

As the lieutenant for the Dempsy Police Department's Third Precinct Community Action Team, this was one my duties. Previously known as the Street Crime Unit, the brass thought the team needed a softer image so renamed us for better PR. We still do the same damn job as we did before, just new and improved, I guess. Sitting in the warm Toyota Tacoma I was issued by the department, I can't help but feel a little sorry for Allison as she walks up and down Front Street, wearing a pink hoody, stained Daisy Duke shorts and a pair of thigh high leather boots.

Allison is usually a rather attractive latina woman with long black hair, and an athletic, muscular build. She was able to make herself look a little extra grungy by pulling her hair into a super tight ponytail, which pulled the skin on her face back, and adding a little bit of over the top makeup to her eyes and lips. A usual customer for the ladies on Front Street would probably make her right away, but to the average, run of the mill John, she would seem like a special deal.

"You guys nice and warm in the pickup?" She asks me and my partner Harry over the radio microphone in her ear.

I laugh before I take a sip of my coffee and answer her, "You know it, sister."

I see her give me a death glare through the rain spotted windshield and I can't help but give her a wide, toothy grin as I raise my coffee cup.

"You mess with the bull, man." Harry says.

"I'm not too worried, worst she'll do is cuss me out in Spanish or whatever the fuck." I say as I pull a tin of Copenhagen from my jacket pocket and put a half a golf ball sized lump in my lip.

"And that shit will kill ya."

"Yeah, not soon enough." I laugh.

Harry is a few years younger than me and a total health nut. I require all my people to workout for at least an hour a day for a couple reasons. The first being that I fought like hell for us to get a weight room just for the Community Action Team (or CAT Team), and the second reason being that we get in more fights and chases than any other division in the entire department. I need my people to be physically prepared at any moment. Harry takes it a step further by not drinking alcohol or caffeine and the guy would most likely die from a single milligram of nicotine. I on the otherhand, while not in bad shape for my age, do partake in multiple vices.

A black sedan pulls up to Allison and stops. Harry begins typing the license plate number into the tablet mounted in the pickup. I look through a spotting scope and see a young white guy with brown hair leaning over the passenger seat talking to her. Allison pops her hips side to side as she struts to the passenger window. She leans down and rests her forearms on the window. Harry and I listen to their conversation through Allison's earpiece.

"Hey, baby. You looking for some fun?" She asks with a heavier than usual Mexican accent.

"Hell yeah. I ain't ever seen a gal like you on this street." He says.

"Well, maybe you just aren't looking hard enough." She smiles before opening the door and getting in the car.

I pull up my radio and notify the other two cars that Allison has a bite. I put the pickup into drive and get ready to follow the sedan.

Allison tells the driver to pull into an alley just around the corner. It's a spot we always use, since it allows us to block the car in and get a good tactical advantage on the driver.

They get moving and we tail them. I continue to listen to their conversation.

"So what do you want, baby?" Allison asks.

"Well, I just want you to gag on my dick." He says.

"That's not too bad of a request."

"How much?"

"For a blowjob? 20 bucks." she says.

"No, I don't want just a blowjob. I wanna fuck that throat." He says.

"In that case, fifty dollars."

"Deal."

I look to Harry, "Can you believe this guy?"

"Hey, he just knows what he wants." Harry laughs.

I watch as they pull into the alley and stop. I tell the other cars to wait on the codeword, frazzled. Then, we all listen intently to the conversation being had in the car.

"I need payment up front." Allison says.

I can see through the sedan's back windshield, the guy has his hand on the back of Allison's head.

"Come on, girl. I gotta know that it's worth it first." He says.

"No, no, no." She says, "I gotta have at least a down payment, papi."

"Okay, fine."

I hear some paper shuffling around and finally his voice, "Here."

"Thanks, papi. Sorry, I'm just a little frazzled."

I put the pickup in drive and press the pedal to the floor. We pull up close behind the sedan and I hit the brakes, bringing us to a stop within three feet of the sedan's bumper. I jump out as soon as the pickup is in park with my Glock 45 drawn. Harry is holding an AR-15, outfitted with an optic and a forward grip under the barrel. The other two unmarked cars come down the other end of the alley and stop short in front of the sedan and get out with guns out.

I hold my pistol at the low-ready, which is with the barrel pointed at the ground halfway between me and the driver. I can see that Allison is maintaining her cover, acting just as surprised as the john. I know she has a Glock 43X in a holster under her hoody, but she will only draw that if the situation turns dire. The driver is visibly freaking out through the back windshield. It's moments like this that make me wish I had taken position in front of the car, so I could see the face of the driver.

"Dempsy PD! Turn the engine off and throw the keys out the window." I yell.

The driver doesn't move at all. It's not an uncommon response to a felony stop. People often freeze in these types of circumstances. I notice the brakelights are still activated, meaning he might not have put the car in park. I hope for Allison's sake, it is.

"Turn the engine off and throw the keys out the window."

The driver begins hitting the steering wheel, driving his whole body behind each hit.

"Driver! Turn the engine off and throw the keys out the window!" I yell for a third time.

It's oddly quiet. The only sounds I can hear are the low hums of the engines. I see the two unmarked units in front of the sedan with the four other members of the CAT Team. Among the four of them, two have AR-15's one has a pistol and the last has a 40mm grenade launcher loaded with less lethal foam rounds that have been known to knock a fucker out. Amongst the silence, I am happy that my people are so well trained. Generally, when you get six officers on a high-risk stop like this, everyone starts yelling and the driver has no idea who to listen to.

"Driver! Last warning, turn the engine off and throw the keys out the window. If you do not comply, we will be shooting gas into the vehicle." I yell.

Allison knows the drill. We will begin a countdown from five, once we get to three, she will jump out of the car and we'll immediately shoot a cannister of OC gas into the car. If she's unable to exit the car, we will buy time. If she says the word brazen, Tiny Martin up front will put a round between the driver's eyes.

"Driver! You have five seconds to comply." I yell, before grabbing the single shot 40mm grenade launcher from my floorboard. I previously loaded it with an OC cannister, or in laymen terms, pepper spray cannister.

"Five....."

I watch as the driver suddenly stops moving.

"Four...."

The fact that the driver isn't moving sends a chill down my spine. normally by now, they comply, I'm not too worried about sending a gas can through the window. It's just a use of force report I don't feel like writing. I hold the grenade launcher in my left hand and my pistol in my right. It's not exactly the academy-approved method but in the event things goes south, I wanna have my deadly force option ready.

"Three......" I yell, and Allison jumps out the passenger door and draws her gun. She begins walking backwards toward my pickup. I rest the barrel of the grenade launcher on the A-pillar of the pickup and squeeze the trigger. A loud thunk fills the air followed the sound of glass shattering. I toss the launcher back in the pickup and aim my pistol at the driver. Allison has moved to the spot where Harry was and Harry seamlessly hops in the bed of the pickup and props his elbows on the roof of the vehicle to steady his aim with the rifle.

I can already smell the OC entering the air. I open my mouth to give more commands, but I'm stopped in my tracks as the driver's door swings open. Time seems to stop. My vision seems to become like an eagle's. I see the foot come out the door. It's covered with a bright white and blue sneaker, the leg is in a black pair of skinny jeans. Next out is his hand as it plants itself on the side of the car. It's his left hand and I still can't see the right. His head comes out, for the first time I've noticed that he's one of those young, broccoli-haired dip-shits that probably gets perms and wears pajama bottoms to the gym. He starts to stand, his right hand is still obscured. I wonder if the guys in front can see it. Then I realize that we have committed the cardinal sin of boxing in the suspect, we have a horrible crossfire situation at the moment. The only way I can get a shot safely on the guy is if I leave the cover of the vehicle. I hope the others realize this but I can't assume, especially since no one brought it up earlier.

I start sidestepping to my left. He's now standing up straight. For a split second we lock eyes. I see something familiar, something I've seen in countless arrestees and enemy fighters. It's fear, the kid is scared and desperate. The combination of the two emotions means one of two things is about to happen, he's gonna try to run or he's gonna fight. Seeing as he has no easy escape routes, I'd bet my money on the latter.

The last thing I see is his right shoulder pivoting and the right elbow lifting. At the end of the arm is a black object. As my vision focuses, I notice it's a high point pistol, the felon's firearm of choice. It starts to raise in my direction. I lift my pistol two inches and I have the sights lined up on him. The sights are clear as a sunny day while he blurs. I place the sights center mass and begin slowly pressing the trigger. The one issue I've always had with Glocks is the trigger. The tension is too much, I'd prefer a simple, crisp trigger break but the Glock trigger is mushier than most. I keep pressing, using the center of the pad on my index finger. Suddenly the pistol fires, I release just enough to allow it to reset and squeeze again, then again. Almost in slow motion, the kid's arms fly out to his sides, the pistol falls out of his hand, and he crashes to the ground. Suddenly real time crashes back into my mind as the kid lays flat on the ground.

We all move in. I stand above the kid. It only takes me a second to see that he is dead. Two bullet holes to the center of his chest and a third between the eyes. I feel terrible to admit it but I am sorta impressed by my shooting. I mozambiqued him without even trying. And for those of you who aren't in the military or law enforcement community, the Mozambique Method of shooting is two shots to the chest and one to the head.

Tiny walks up and grabs one of the kid's wrists and rolls him over, kneels on his back and handcuffs him. Even though we know he's dead. Procedure dictates that we still restrain him just in case. I holster my pistol and tell Harry to notify Dispatch that we were just in a shooting. Almost immediately I can hear sirens in the distance.

This isn't the first person I've killed, but I still feel like I'm in a dreamlike haze. My vision is hazy and I feel like I'm walking on a cloud. I lightly and inconspicuously brush my hand over the crotch of my pants to make sure I didn't piss myself. I'm relieved when I don't feel any wetness. Just as I turn around, my phone begins ringing.

I fish it out of my pocket and look at the screen. It's my boss, Captain Shane Morrison. I slide my thumb across the screen and bring the phone to my ear.

"Hello?" I say.

"Kurt, you good over there?" He asks, his voice relatively calm.

"Yes, sir. Only the bad guy got shot."

"Good to hear." There's a quick pause, "And remember, don't say anything without a lawyer." He isn't supposed to tell me that. Since we're both administrators, we're not technically allowed to counsel or provide legal advice to officers after they've been in a shooting, but Shane and I like to think we're still street cops at heart so we'll slide those hints to our guys discreetly.

"Yes, sir." I say before hanging up the phone.

I slide the phone back in my pocket.

"Hey, Kurt!" Tiny says. "Come take a look at this."

I start walking over to him. Tiny had opened the trunk of the car. As I walk closer, I can see what he is talking about. I can see a layer of brown, separated into several packages, all wrapped in clear plastic. Once I'm within a few feet, the smell of vinegar hits me. It's heroin, at least fifty pounds.

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Allison's pussy is tight, but I am still easily able to glide in and out. I'm standing behind her, her beautiful, muscular body bent over in front of me. She is propped on her elbows so her head is slightly lower than her ass. Her vagina is hot and swollen, it drips on and around my cock as I slowly slide it in until my pelvis is pressing against her. She lets out a low moan as I slide my hand up the length of her back to her neck. I grip the nape firmly as I start driving my hips in and out of her.

"Fuuuuuuck, Kurt." She moans softly as I push her face into the bed.

I reach up and grab the ponytail on top of her head and begin thrusting faster and harder. Her heels come off the ground and she's driven to her toes each time I thrust my dick into her. I pull her head back and she lets out an animalistic growl as she grips my comforter. I let out a groan of my own as I slow down the pace.

"God damnit, back up." She says between gasps with a desperate tone.

I take a step back, my member sliding out of her. She lets out a small whimper as I exit her. I then throw a brisk slap against her plump ass cheek. She quickly whirls around and grabs my hard cock, it's still wet and slippery from her. She pushes me until my back is pressed against a wall. She lifts herself up on the tips of her toes, her left hand balancing herself on my shoulder while she strokes my shaft. Her lips are within an inch of mine as she gasps and smiles.

"I love tasting myself." She says before kissing my lips hard.

Her lips taste like oranges and bourbon, which leads me to believe she had a few old fashions before coming by my place. I bite her bottom lip and begin rubbing her dripping vagina and she moans as her legs buckle. She grabs my hair and pulls my head back.

"No, I'm the one in control here." She says before nibbling my neck.

I let out a light chuckle, "Yes, ma'am." I say.

She lets go of my hair and drops down to her knees as she strokes me. She looks up at me with her big, brown eyes and opens her mouth, taking the head between her lips before she starts sucking. Her mouth is warm, and she swirls her tongue around the head as she starts slowly taking more of me into her mouth. I run my hand over the top of her slicked back hair until her ponytail is between my thumb and forefinger, I grip it without pulling. I look down at her as she slowly bobs her head back and forth, the friction combined with the suction causes my body to tense and shudder at random intervals.

Her eyes roll up to look at mine. She slowly takes more of length until I touch the back of her throat. She stops for a second and moans before swallowing, taking more of my cock into her throat. She then slowly withdraws and then rapidly takes me all the way again, causing her to gag. The sound she makes awakens an animalistic feeling within me and I grab her hair and pull her to her feet before kissing her hard and throwing her onto the bed.

She lands on her hands and knees and I promptly enter her quivering pussy. I thrust hard, causing her to flatten out. I pin one of her wrists down and pull her head back. She's gasping and moaning. I can feel my cock throb inside her, only a few strokes from erupting. I thrust hard and fast, her moans get louder and breathier.

"I'm gonna cum." I moan.

"Do it! Cum for me, Kurt." She whimpers.

On the final thrust, the pressure in my genitals finally releases and I can't help but let out a long, loud groan as several loads shoot into her. To my surprise, I feel her body tense up under mine, and she lets out a primal scream as her whole body trembles.

After we both climax, we stay in our positions, trying to regain our composures. I release her wrist and unwrap her ponytail from around my hand and slowly pull out of her.

"Just hang tight." I say to her as I stumble toward the master bathroom.

"I'm not going anywhere." She says, lazily.

I walk into the bathroom and find a washcloth in one of the drawers. I wet it down with warm water and wring it out. When I walk back into the bedroom, Allison is laying on her back, looking up at the ceiling.

"How do you do that?" She asks.

"Do what?" I reply as I hand her the cloth.

"Fuck me like a slut but also make me feel like a princess."

"Well I don't know how I do that. I just do it."

She wipes herself clean and wads the cloth before tossing it at the hamper across the room. It isn't even close to the rim and hits the side. "Sorry, I'll get that. I gotta pee anyway."

"Don't worry about it." I say as I pick it up and toss it into the hamper.

Allison softly touches my shoulder as she walks past me and into the bathroom. I walk over to my dresser and grab a fresh tee shirt from the second drawer and a pair of briefs and a pair of gym shorts from the top drawer. I'm able to get all the clothes on before Allison comes out of the bathroom.

She's wearing my academy class t-shirt from about 20 years ago. While she does look great in an oversized shirt, her wearing mine falls in line with girlfriend behavior which she is most certainly not. She must notice the look on my face because she laughs.

"Don't worry, I'm not gonna keep it." She says playfully, "I just don't want to casually walk around naked.

"That's fair." I say, not really meaning it.

She quickly gets her panties and leggings on then exchanges my shirt for her own. "When does Kassy get home?" She asks me.

"Hockey practice gets done around five." I tell her.

"Well, lucky for you, I'll be gone before she gets home."

"Yeah, real lucky." I smile at her jokingly.

Allison doesn't stay much longer, once she gets her shoes on, she heads for the door.