The Cop's Offer

I was in a fallow field in the heat of the summer and waiting for a buyer that I thought was running late. When I saw the squad car barreling down the dirt road, I knew it had been a set-up.

It was not a well-planned operation, as there was a fast-moving irrigation canal not 10 steps from where I was standing. By the time the cop made his way to where I was, we both knew the evidence was gone. I had thrown it into the canal as soon as I saw him. By now that powder was gone and he knew it. That didn't stop him from arresting me. He was pissed.

He was rough and did a very thorough frisk although there was no female office present. He seemed awfully enthusiastic about checking to make sure I had nothing hidden in my bra. He also checked up on my downstairs pretty good - it wasn't third base - but just a small piece of cloth away. I wasn't really surprised. If he was trying to get on my nerves, he had no idea what kind life I had lived at home.

Once I was in the back of his car in the 100+ degree summer heat, the nice officer decided to get chatty. This also was not a new tactic. I got to sit in the back in the stifling hot air of the car while he stood outside talking to me through the half cracked front window. I was ready for the questions and for the heat. If that was all he had for me, I would have been fine.

The questions were so predictable. Where did I get it? What was it? How much was I selling it for? Did I know what the punishment was for selling drugs near the high school? Why was I not carrying any ID? Loaded questions you would be a fool to answer, and never mind what my Miranda rights were. This was a small town and they did things their own way.

I lost my ID, had no idea what he was talking about, and I was in this field because I had needed to pee. Playing stupid is easy and I was good at it.

Eventually, though, the conversation changed course. The nice officer wanted to let me know he knew me and everything about me. He asked me about my boyfriend using his name. It was hard to say I didn't know Ronnie - we had been living together - but all I did was just act like I didn't know anything, which in many ways was true.

When I wouldn't crack, he got abusive, asking me what it was like to turn tricks at the truck stop. (I had done this, but not in a long time as it didn't pay well - but I'd been popped for hooking before and we both knew it.) He asked me how much I charged and if I took it up the ass. I didn't take the bait and just ignored the questions. A lawyer of Ronnie's had driven that into my head.

Finally, he decided to get personal - and took after my mom and dad. It was a dumb move on his part. He had no idea what kind of a monster my parents had been. But it got interesting.

"I was sorry to hear your daddy died," he said.

I am sure he wasn't. No one in town had liked my dad. His job as a payroll manager at the local packing plant had made him an incredibly unpopular guy. He was the guy who delivered the layoff slips and docked your pay when you were late, and he was an asshole on top of it.

The cop said, "Just as well though. Being married to that bitch must have been hell."

I'm sure he had that part right.

While I listened from the back of the police car, this cop told me something I had suspected for years - my mom had never been exactly faithful to my dad. I had been mentally divorced from them for so long that it shouldn't have bothered me, but hearing the details was troubling.

It turned out that my mom got around plenty - and her reputation was well known. She preferred uniforms- cops, firemen, and soldiers when they came through town.

She loved it in cars out in the fields but was wilder when they sprang for a motel room.

She wouldn't go home with any of them - not if they were married anyway. (She had her standards - she wouldn't have sex in another woman's bed.)

He also shared specific positions. "She likes to be on top you know," he told me. "She probably didn't learn to sit on your daddy's face instead of his dick until after you and your sister were born, but she told me once it was the only time old Roy actually used that mouth other than for kissing his bosses ass."

He went on and on as I roasted in the car. Talking shit about my mother. Finally, after describing in detail the kinds of underwear she wore under her work clothes and how she had probably "taken one on the chin" in that very police car back seat, he got back to me.

If the other part had been unpleasant, and my situation in the backseat wasn't already a small slice of hell, things were getting there fast.

He told me that they had been watching me and my friends and sometime soon we were all "going to get our wings clipped." He told me that Ronnie had been in trouble before - which I knew - but had an amazing lawyer, which wouldn't be a factor this time.

"This time when we get him, it's going to be by the book and airtight."

Then he started the bargain.

"You going to like prison?" He asked. "Eat some carpet - be a dyke's bitch? You think they are going to love you in there? The dykes will, but the blackies will knife your ass just for being pretty." He added "You'll be dead will before your sentence runs out. Probably about 20 years before."

Then I got the pitch - I'd been told there would be one. They would want me turn states evidence and roll over on my friends, and if I did they'd give me a light sentence. That was the standard pitch. This was going to be a fishing trip for the cops to try to gather evidence.

Except it wasn't. Instead, I got something much easier to pass up.

"You want protection? I can give it to you. Me and my friends at the station."

He opened the door to the backseat then. A good thing too, as I was about to pass out from the lack of air.

"You see, your momma is getting old and her titties droop. We figured you might take her place."

With that he opened his zipper and pulled himself out. It was pretty obvious he'd enjoyed reminiscing about his wild times with my mother. I think he expected me to open right up and take him in - his dick was close enough to my face that I could have spit on it and hit the hole.

The very idea was revolting to me. He was an older heavy guy, a cop, and if he was to be believed, he had fucked my mom. What could be less attractive?

This wasn't my first rodeo though. When your hands are cuffed behind you and you're in the middle of a deserted field is not the time to say anything too provocative. At the very least, you wind up banged up from resisting arrest. At worst you wind up buried under a cornfield probably after getting ass fucked and strangled.

I just kept quiet and waited.

Eventually, though no words were spoken he got the message. His cock was wilting in the heat and I think he understood I wasn't going to help him with that - not willingly anyway.

He gave me a few words of encouragement, telling me that cop dick was the key to my freedom. I wouldn't be asked to bend any direction that Ronnie hadn't bent me and there might even be some money or stash in it for me. I sensed he had given this speech before - and didn't believe a word of it anyway. If I depended on the men in blue to keep me free, I'd be on my knees and elbows at all hours and we both knew it.

Eventually, sensing his unease on how to move forward, I said, "Are you planning on raping me? Cause if you aren't, maybe we should end this." I was a line I had used before with men who were a little too forward. I usually brought them to their senses, but his cold stare scared me. It was like he was considering it, so I made him a peace offering.

"I'll tell you what, I know Brenda's back up at the truck stop. You go see her and tell her if she'll treat you right, I'll slip her something later will make her feel good too."

Brenda was a hooker who worked the truckers and she had told me about how she sucked a lot of cop dick to stay out of jail. I'd seen her more than once in the back of this assholes cop car, so I assumed he liked the service.

Eventually, he put his cock away, but not before I had noted the size, shape and distinguishing marks. (You never knew when something like that might come in handy.) He took out a cigarette which he smoked with a slow anger.

He scowled and asked me why he wasn't as good as all the truckers I'd sucked off. He said he might just fuck my mouth anyway, and maybe he'd try some other parts of me besides, but I kind of sensed his heart wasn't in it. He got off on making women submit, I could tell.

Eventually, he made the signal for me to turn around. He uncuffed me, letting me know that this wasn't over and I'd be pretty sorry that I hadn't swallowed my pride and his dick when I'd had the chance.

I walked away about $300 poorer due to the drugs I'd had to drop into the canal. More devastating was the way that the cop had peeled away my dignity. For that I wanted to kill him.

Brenda told me later that he'd been a very bad man to her later that day and I had to find her some pain pills so she could sit down. I did and was silently grateful it was her instead of me.

I stayed away from his as much as I could, and he never got close enough to catch me doing anything else for a long time, but then we all got hit hard. It was more than a year later. Ronnie was still in jail and the trial wasn't even over yet.

I woke up in a hospital after an overdose. He was there, grinning like a fucking Cheshire Cat. I had been handcuffed to the bed siderails. I could see he had a hard-on just by looking at him. It was too late then to negotiate.