Cops And Hookers

I began this as something else, but someone close to me made me redraft it. It is dedicated to Sarah. The Sarah in this story in no way resembles the Sarah for whom the story is written.

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Up to the day she got shot Lt. Faith O'Bannon believed she was all that and bulletproof. She stood 5'10" and weighed around 140 lbs. Her coppery hair was cut to a severe regulation style and length. Her eyes were almost the color of vintage coke bottles, a disconcerting light opaline green. She was not beautiful in the conventional sense, but she wasn't unattractive, either; if she stood out in a crowd, it was more because of sex appeal, vitality and self confidence, than for pure physical beauty. Off duty she was a jeans and t-shirt girl, her 34D breasts, slim waist and long supple legs all adding to her allure. She was a twelve year veteran of the NYPD.

She had begun her rookie years doing foot patrol, even though she had a degree from NYU in law enforcement. Like every other rookie, she loathed the long hours on her feet, and never ending, unreasonable, blind hatred the citizens of New York display towards their police department. In the first two years she kept mostly to herself, spending her free time expanding her knowledge of police procedure and studying for the first grueling civil service exam, which should she pass, would put her in line for promotion to sergeant. While she 'pounded a beat' she had been knifed superficially in the back, shot at during a drive-by and couldn't count how many times she had been slapped, punched, chased and bitten by dogs, rescued hissing, scratching and biting cats from trees or being verbally abused, not to mention being spat upon by irate citizens. She had, had serious thoughts of quitting the force, until she received her first promotion. She gained a partner and together they shared a patrol car and things became infinitely better.

Her new partner was Rachel Meyers; a ten year veteran who took the young woman under her wing. Rachel was an 'outed' lesbian, with a slightly bottom-heavy figure who's main gripe in life was that her figure was 34 24 38 and she could never find an 'off the rack bikini' to fit, but she was happily involved with a senior assistant district attorney, and never once made any sexual advances towards Faith, which was more than could be said for more than half her male colleagues. Until she was partnered with Rachel, Faith had dated and slept with a few of her male counterparts, but somehow, although she liked them and enjoyed the camaraderie, there was simply no 'spark'. After her promotion she spent far more time studying for promotion, practicing with firearms and martial arts, than involving herself romantically.

Rachel's guidance did not end when they logged off shift. She became her young partner's confidant and mentor, in NYPD vernacular, her rabbi. In subtle ways Faith began to emulate Rachel, so it came as no surprise to the departmental heads, when Faith began to seek out the company and the friendship of the females within and outside the precinct, before again seeking out only male friendships. Secretly they chalked it up to her partner's influence rather than Faith's own choice, all her new relationships being platonic in nature, so there was no proof that Faith had 'crossed the line' sexually, and it was merely precinct gossip that persisted the three years Rachel and Faith were teamed up together, the dyke and the cupcake.

A few months after Faith had passed the competitive civil service examinations and was qualified for further promotion should a post fall vacant, her partnership with Rachel was broken up and Faith was promoted to sergeant and moved to Sex Crimes, where she was partnered with a senior male detective, Lieutenant Tom Lucian, a veteran with almost twenty years experience and on the fast track for promotion, himself. Together, over the next three years they investigated rapes, molestations, prostitution and all crimes where sex was involved, or the motivation. Due to her obvious intelligence and the fact she had single-handedly tracked down and arrested a violent serial rapist, she had come to the notice of the press, the deputy chiefs and finally the Borough Commander.

Outwardly it seemed that the departmental heads of her precinct were right in their assessment that Faith had briefly been under Rachel's undesirable lesbian influence. As a newly promoted sergeant, she thrived in her latest appointment, she and Tom worked well together, within a year their department's arrest record and quotas of solved crimes were by far the best in the division, if not the city. A position they maintained thereafter. On a personal level she seemed to have no regular boyfriend, but continued to maintain a strict regimen of study and work that left little time for a social life. She got on really well with Tom's wife and was treated like a favorite aunt by his kids. It appeared she had little contact with her ex-partner. Division began 'grooming' Faith for bigger things. Secretly, she still visited her 'rabbi' and remained as close as ever.

Bigger things happened within a few months of her passing the highest civil service proficiency exam. With a looming mayoral election due in the fall, the incumbent Mayor and the Police Chief announced that they were going to restructure the way crime were being fought in the city. Among the many change, new division was being formed to handle sex crimes, and newly promoted Captain Tom Lucian would report directly to Inspector McKenzie, who in turn reported directly to the Deputy Chief. His deputy would be newly promoted Lieutenant Faith O'Bannon, together with a squad of carefully chosen officers and specialists; they would liaise with the sex crimes departments within every precinct in the city. The Unit would have city-wide jurisdiction, with liaison officers in every Borough, and have close links with the FBI. In fact, both Faith and Tom, prior to the Mayor's announcement had spent three months at Quantico studying FBI methods and building relationships with agents who specialized in all forms of sex related crimes. At the age of 30, Faith was one of the youngest female police lieutenants in New York's history.

The Mayor was re-elected, the Sex Crimes Unit or SCU as it became known, was about the only promise the politicians kept, and was a success from inception. It kept Tom was almost permanently anchored to his office at Divisional Head Quarters, leaving Faith to oversee the unit's day to day running. The SCU not only investigated day to day rapes and crimes, where sex had been the motivator but, tracking down vicious serial rapists who raped and sometimes murdered their victims. Due to the changing times and technology they also tracked sexual predators and pedophiles on the internet. Computer operators monitored 'chat rooms' and lured electronic perpetrators out from behind the anonymity of 'screen-names' into the open with 'sting operations' and back-tracing their IP addresses. They also liaised with Interpol, sharing information with police agencies around the world, and were involved in successful arrests and prosecutions, globally.

In the twelve years that she had been a police officer, Faith had also built up a large network of informants, both paid, and unpaid. These informants came from many diverse places; some were merely outraged hotel concierges, others were concerned citizens or anti-pornography groups or self-styled internet monitors, but there were also petty criminals, addicts, hookers, call-girls or exotic dancers. Some were people who were or had been victims of the crimes she had investigated and were willing to help, for whatever reason.

One of these informants called Faith on her cellular phone, late in the afternoon, while she was in her car, between appointments. "Is that Lt O'Bannon?" a breathless voice asked.

"Yes, who is calling?" Faith asked.

"This is Montana, you know, from Randy's Rumba Room, off Bleecker and Charles." Came whispered reply.

Montana...Mentally Faith pictured Montana and her rap sheet; she had arrested the woman about a year ago for prostitution. Real Name Sarah Wallace, a.k.a. Montana: Emigrated from London England 2002.Arrested for public lewdness, prostitution or drug possession at least a dozen times. She was in her late 20's, with a face of a corrupted angel. Innocent yet decadent with almond shaped washed-out blue eyes that had seen too much; long bleached blonde hair that hung down her back. Her breasts were naturally large, at least a 36C and silicone free, beneath them, a trim belly, shaven genitals and long well muscled, dancer's legs. If you washed off the make up she could be the girl-next-door. She used to spend most of her money on cocaine until Faith arrested her. On being released she continued to 'dance' at Randy's Rumba Room, a few nights a week, because Faith suspected the owner of the sleazy strip joint was blackmailing her. The place was run by a wannabe mobster who pimped out his 'dancers' and sold a little smack in the back office. Montana/Sarah had confided in Faith that even though Faith had arrested her, because she had been treated with dignity, after paying a fine she would have to return to the club, but would be willing to act as an informer for her. She had given Faith many tips about club owner Randy William's illegal activities, in fact, she had reported on Randy's illegal activities constantly up till a few weeks ago, but nothing yet that had been substantial enough to warrant an arrest. She had also genuinely tried to clean up, and had volunteered to go into outpatient drug rehab, and dry out. Every meeting and appointment was religiously kept, and she remained drug free, her weekly drug tests all came back negative. She resumed a health care course during the day and stayed out of trouble. She had never once asked for any compensation either.

"What can I do for you Montana?" She asked.

Montana's British accent obviously came from breeding and education, a far cry from the seedy strip club, she worked for. "It's what I can do for you, Lieutenant." She pronounced it Left-tenant. " You have always been fair, treated me better than I deserve, this time, this time I've got the goods on Randy, I promise I have proof that he's dealing drugs, guns, and bribing cops. Not penny ante stuff, real evidence, and I'm willing to testify. Can we meet somewhere?" Montana whispered.

"Where and when?" Came the curt response.

"I'm dancing the late shift; you can always swing by the club for a 'table-dance'. I'll let you go as far as you want." She giggled, "Or we can meet after I finish. There's a Starbucks open all night on Bleecker just near the club, I can meet you there at about 2:30, if you don't want to watch me to dance for you."

"Its not that I wouldn't enjoy watching you dance, but I think Randy would suspect something if I arrested him right after I took you for a table dance, Montana, so I'll see you at Starbucks."

"At 2:30 then, please, I have really good information this time, I know you can use it, see you at Starbucks, I have to go now, bye."

Faith continued along her way, finishing off her appointment with a city official, before reporting back to Tom, where they discussed the recent reversals the Unit had endured where suspects walked free because previously water-tight cases seemed to disintegrate and witnesses change their testimony on the stand. They agreed that someone within their Unit was supplying information to the criminals they were trying to get off the streets. They would launch an internal investigation with internal affairs help in the morning. She logging off, driving home in her official unmarked car home before showering and slipping into a comfortable pair of denims and opaline green t-shirt that matched the unusual hue of her eyes. Her unmarked car was identical to a police cruiser, except for the paintwork. It also was fitted with a GPS transmitter, and she didn't want her comings and goings monitored, so she chose her own car, a two year old red Honda coupe that she was still making payments on, and after making sure she had no 'tail', she headed towards her rabbi's apartment.

Ray was always glad to see her ex-partner. Their apartment was the one place where the young police officer could truly relax and be in the company of people who shared her sexual preferences. She had skillfully helped navigate Faith's rise from the ranks, carefully guiding her past the pitfalls and traps that naïve lesbians like herself had fallen prey to when she had begun her own career. She realized once she had come 'out' that there would be no big promotions and she was destined to retire a sergeant, no matter how highly qualified she was, there was little possibility of attaining a lieutenant's shield except of course as a 'token' to the gay-lesbian community. Carrie, her lover for the past 9 years was equally plateau-ed in her job as a senior assistant district attorney. Together they plotted and planned behind the scenes with Faith, helped her over agonizing crushes, and steering her away from relationships that could jeopardize her career, keeping her on track, professionally. They were sincerely happy for her achievements, treating her like a favorite younger sister, a little sister whose sexual preferences they'd guard to the grave.

Carrie had made them a casserole dinner, and the three, sat back as old friends do, eating dinner while they chatted earnestly about the problems and reversals she had recently discovered at SCU, and listening to Carrie's views from the ADA's office and Rachel's levelheaded advice. After that they laughed and snickered while swapping gossip and regaling each other about the odd situations mutual acquaintances found themselves in, or giggled, while reliving some of the silly incidents involving dumb 'perps' they had arrested during their time together as patrol officers. It was close to 1:00 when Faith kissed her two friends good night, as usual, she promised to phone them first and let them know if she ever was in any trouble.

New York never sleeps, even at 1:45 AM, the streets thronged with cars and people, Faith found a parking spot a couple of blocks from Starbucks, and decided to kill time by doing some window shopping until 2:30, checking for 'knock-offs' of Gucci, Dior and other designer labels in boutiques that never seemed to stay open for longer than a week, depending on the merchandise they offered for sale.

Three quarters of an hour can drag by, when you are not really interested in what you are looking at. She hesitated before finally entering the strip club. The noise inside was deafening. It may have been a warm evening outside, but inside the seedy club, it was sweltering, Faith stood just inside an alcove, beside the inner doorway, where she had a clear view of the stage, yet, remain partially hidden in the shadows. The club was only about half full, most of the patrons were men, and they clustered around tables loaded with beer bottles, and looked up at a tatty stage, set slightly above eyelevel. Music with re-worked bass thumped through enormous speakers set in every corner, A pale blond gyrated to R.Kelly's "Bump and grind "while displaying her vagina, to the men who would have leered at her, even if she were fully dressed and in pigtails, dancing to the "Teddy bear's picnic"

The lights came on briefly, as the music died, the club's announcer, whipped up his audience. "Give Callie a big hand Ladies and Gentlemen... Callie." He droned before announcing the next dancer. "Ladies and gentlemen direct from London England, I give you, Montana."

Garishly made up with dark mascara and eye shadow, almost unrecognizable, Montana stepped out onto the rickety stage. She was wearing a tall Western hat and a gaudy poncho, her legs were encased in leather chaps, her feet thrust into high heeled western boots. She twirled on the stage, the poncho lifted waist high, displaying, from behind, her well muscled legs and naked supple ass. Soft Cell's "Tainted Love" thumped out of the sound system, as she almost slithered up to the brass pole, embedded center stage. Marc Almond's 'campy' voice jarred Montana's actions; she mimed and swayed with the music, obviously professionally choreographed, and well rehearsed. In a flash the poncho disappeared, leaving Montana wearing only the hat, chaps and boots. Her breasts jiggled, her body movements describing an angel, wanton with a tainted sensual need to love and be loved, like the words to the song she was dancing to. A flashing strobe captured her actions, silver cache-ing her movements and presenting a series of erotic monochrome stills; as Montana captivated the audience into a breathless silence. Marc Almond wailed about his twisted love for Christian Andrews, the strobe faded, Montana's body was painted in reds, blues, yellows, greens, and a haze of smoke swirled at her feet she posed, in an erotic montage of sexuality, each nuance touching Faith's soul. The Enthralled police woman watched in awe, her throat dry, as the music began to build up to its finale and Montana bent down, her legs wide at the ankles, showing the stunned audience her beautiful behind, and exquisite genitals. The chaps were cunningly pulled free of her body, she stood naked, forlorn and vulnerable, exposed, in front of the leering men, clad in a Stedson and boots; the angel had fallen from Heaven. The music faded to silence...

Faith was shaking, she knew she was physically aroused by Montana; yet, she was angry, so fucking angry she wanted to rip every man in the bar to shreds, she almost staggered from the pungent bar, and into the relative cool, but polluted air outside. Her breath came back to her finally after a few minutes of walking and she regained her composure. She sauntered into the coffee shop at the appointed time and ordered a coffee and cream from a busy clerk and looked around for Montana, but knowing the stripper wouldn't arrive for at least another 10 minutes. Even at 2:30 the coffee shop was a hive of activity, she found a booth close to the door, in the front of the store where she could look out the window. She sat sipping her coffee and keeping an eye out for her informant. Montana hurried into Starbucks 15 minutes late looking furtively behind her. She wore nondescript jeans, and a form concealing blouse, her face was scrubbed clean of make up alluding to the 'girl-next-door' impression, her peroxide flaxen hair was woven into a thick French braid that hung down her back, she wore a tartan flat cap, complete with a pom-pom, the peak pulled low down her forehead. After ordering her coffee she slipped into the booth opposite Faith.

"Thank you for coming Lieutenant, this is for you. " She said handing Faith a digital camera that, although thicker, resembled a credit card and was attached to a key-ring.

"Whats this about Montana?" Faith asked taking the camera.

"It starts with some pictures of Randy and these new Russian guys that are his partners now. You can see pictures in the back of the club, where they're selling guns for stolen credit cards, doing coke or fucking some of us, then I managed to take some of the girls that still do blow, doing one of your cops, Angelo Sacotta, when Randy got him all coked up, and we all watched when Randy fucked him in the ass, Randy is blackmailing him, which I think you'd be interested in." She said with brutal honesty, "There are pictures of a whole stack of dope that the Russians are dealing, and also some pictures of illegal Russian girls Randy and the Russians smuggled into New York to be hookers, dancers and such, Randy has five new girls, some of them can't even speak English, one of the Russian dudes, Serge, beat the crap outta one of them, Natalie her name is, when she tried to run away. Because I'm doing my Personal Care course again I've been told to look after her. She just lays there and cries when she isn't high on the Dilaudid suppositories that the bastards sticks up her pussy when I'm not around to keep her quiet, it's an illegal drug, and I'll never graduate if my lecturers find out. When she's stoned they let johns in back, to fuck her, I've got pics of that too. It's not right! You have to stop them Lieutenant."