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Tears begin to flow again... this time in happiness.
“I was scared,” the meekness of my own voice bringing disgust.
“It’s okay. I am here to protect you,” Sergeant Kelly’s voice soothes.
“But is it not fascinating... they not only took your balls... but your pride... all self esteem as well. You are as timorous as a neurotic cat... have been so nicely transformed into a frightened little girl.”
The mattress dips again. I hear water running. Sergeant Kelly has moved to the bathroom. She returns and lifts the covers. With my disgrace, my head remains under the pillow. I cannot face her. Then I feel warm wetness about my cheeks. Her touch is soothing... tender... she washes. In my haste I did not take the time to cleanse the remnants of this evening’s coupling.
“Deep within you enjoyed being with Mr. Depraved TV producer, Renee. It is something ingrained... and you should know, though you’re probably aware, that it is lucrative as well.”
The warm wet cloth swaths along my inner thighs, right and left. Then she teases, tantalizes where Mr. Depraved entered me. Her touch is divine and with penis secured the tip benefits from her tendance as well.
Then the covers ruffle, yet for some reason I still cannot shift my head from under the pillow. I remain shaking. Then I feel more warmth. I feel the smoothness of feminine flesh. Sergeant Kelly slips under the covers and presses herself against me. And she is as naked as me!
My trembling stops. I revel in what I have felt so rarely... the intense desire for which was quashed when my testicles plunked into a waiting metal dish.
The strong knowing hands begin to push and press at my head and shoulders. I have an inkling of her desires... her wants. I adjust myself accordingly. Head from under the pillow, eyes closed, I slip lower under the covers. And indeed Sergeant Rogers is without a shred of covering. My heart leaps as in moving lower there comes the fragrance of her love nest.
“I trust you can still please a woman, Renee. The doctor took the time to modify, imbuing you with that which can offer pleasure in place of that tiny organ you prefer to keep hidden.”
She softly laughs again. I know to begin licking. Thinking of my Greenwich Village episode, I will not need water... I enjoy her taste.
***
I serve naked, as always, Sergeant Kelly finds a robe. It barely fits and her fine breasts challenge the ‘V’ at the neck formed by the lapels.
It is Sunday morning. The adrenaline of last night’s ordeal finally dissipating... the expenditure of energy and lust in unending cunnilingus... we slept late in exhaustion. I awakened her with my tongue.
“You have not been entirely truthful with me, Renee,” Sergeant Kelly lectures, taking an offered cup of coffee from the tray.
I have an inkling of what she references. It required someone with considerable resources and boldness to confront a New York City police officer in such a manner... seizing her on the sidewalk of a busy street.
Yet she endured.
“Did they take the money?” I find I must humbly inquire.
She shakes her head reaching for some toast.
“Not money they were after. They wanted something... something I promised them.”
She chews. I remain ashamed in not helping her... coming to her aid. I still harbor fear... yet the dauntless Sergeant Kelly takes breakfast most serenely.
“You know Pablo Escobar, Renee. And I’m not saying ‘of him’... I am saying that you know him,” her tone most direct.
I bashfully nod. Weeks ago... during my ‘arrest’... in narrating my life story... my life of transformation... I omitted all reference to Pablo Escobar and the frightening encounters at the Waldorf. Deep within... I know it is he who has for some reason found interest in Sergeant Kelly. But I do not know why. So I can no longer hold within the story. To some degree, I have duped my protector... and last night could have been very dangerous for her. So I break down... slowly and in great detail telling of Miss Ramona... Miss Maria... and the Waldorf affair.
Sergeant Kelly listens intently, but at the end comes her only comment, “Think I’m going to get you a hood... a cunnilingus hood. Tight rubber... smooth... without sight... without sound... it will help you focus.”
***
New York, New York
Sergeant Kelly Rogers
Mid Sunday afternoon I depart Renee’s apartment. I need to think. Though I feigned a degree if indifference, I am somewhat incredulous over the story Renee told.
Considering what Pablo Escobar is offering me to deliver Renee, these women must have had the cojones to separate him from what is presumably a considerable sum!
