Being seniors had gotten to our heads and we weren’t thinking right. It was just after graduation. The summer before my friends and I would all be going our separate ways. It started out as a joke, because we didn’t get to have any kind of senior prank, when we started talking about egging the school in some kind of revenge. That’s when someone mentioned they knew where a teacher lived. At first we started asking each other if any of us knew about others but we didn’t. So that was the one and we decided the easiest thing to do would be to T.P. the trees and egg the place.
Getting the supplies was easy enough as our parents had plenty around our houses. We went to just about every one, snuck by them, our parents weren’t home, and a few even flat out asked if they could have them to which they agreed. There were two car loads of us, five in each one.
Being a skinny guy I was stuck in the back between my two friends Matt and Eric. David drove and Ted was as usual in the passenger seat. The other car got there slightly before us. It was close to midnight and there weren’t many street or houselights. We did the T.P. first, then the eggs, and finally someone started to yell a victorious yell before we all ran back to our cars. I was smashed between the two when we got back inside and our car pulled away, going a separate direction from the other one. We laughed and yelled as we got more comfortable, congratulated each other and ourselves for what we had just done. David squealed tire and we all laughed as we felt we’d be home soon.
It was several songs later. We were almost back. And that’s when we heard the sirens as red and blue lights flashed behind us. Dave looked in the rear view mirror and we all got quiet. There was a tension, an emptiness in the car. We looked around at each other, each of us unsure what we should do. I felt very small. My hand on my knee I worked the denim with my finger.
“Is everyone buckled up?” Dave asked.
“I am,” Ted said.
“Hold on,” Matt said.
I tried to say that I wasn’t but Eric turned into me as he reached for his seat belt. I let out a groan of pain as I felt his elbow dig into me. He reached down, the back of his hand against my ass he grabbed the buckle. I tried to shift but couldn’t get to my seat belt.
“Wait, wait,” I said.
“Too late,” David said.
He pulled the car to the side of the road, turned off the music. We heard the cop car pull in behind us, the headlights flooded our car. I wanted desperately to be anywhere else but I knew I couldn’t escape. We had been foolish. We had done something wrong. It was all over.
“Turn the car off, keep your hands on the steering wheel and remain in the car,” a voice over a loud speaker called out to us.
David turned off the car, placed his hands on the steering wheel. No one wanted to move, no one wanted to get out of the car.
“I want the driver to open the door slowly and step out of the car.”
We looked to David who opened the car door, stepped out slowly, and turned back towards the cop car.
“Lay down on your stomach.”
He did.
“Now, I want to the passenger to do the same thing. Get out of the car slowly, step out slowly, and lay down on your stomach.”
We looked to Ted who did as he was commanded.
“Now, starting on the right side, I want the passenger in the back to get out.”
I looked to Matt who unbuckled his seat belt, which now seemed pointless, and watched him get out of the car, lay down on his stomach. I looked to Eric next to me. He was commanded to do the same thing. It was just me there in the car. For one moment I thought about jumping into the driver’s seat and trying to get away, anything, just one more moment of freedom, one more moment of not having to confront reality.
“You in the car, I want you to step out of the back slowly on the left side, step around your friend and move to the rear where I want you to lay down on your stomach.”
“Here we go,” I said aloud to myself.
I moved out of the car. There was Eric on the ground. I felt a cool breeze, closed my eyes momentarily in the harsh light, and stuck my hands up in the air. The air smelled of dirt and flowers, maybe something wild. I opened my eyes and looked to the cop car, saw the exact shape of the headlights. I stepped around Eric to the back of the car where I slid along the bumper, got down on my knees. I leaned forward, put my hands in the gravel and lowered myself to the ground, turned my face to the right, let my cheek touch the stones.
It wasn’t long after that, a few heartbeats, that another cop car arrived. Together with the first they cuffed each of us and placed us in the back seat of the two different cars. I was placed between Eric and Matt again. David and Ted were in the other one. We were taken to the station, helped out of the cars, and into the building where we were led into a main office area, sat in different chairs. The two officers who had brought us in stood nearby. They were young, not much older than us, handsome. It was the first time I really got to see them. I looked to my friends who looked disheveled and worried.
Their authority was evident and very powerful as we sat there, but neither of them really did anything. They just stood around. I thought it couldn’t get much worse when I heard a door open, the sound of hard shoes on concrete. I looked to the doorway where I saw a middle-aged man, dressed in a button down shirt with an open collar, slacks, and a coat. He had short black hair with streaks of grey. He was fit.
He walked to us, looked us over. I looked away to my feet, to the floor. I could tell the others looked back, maybe even looked him in the eye. I just wanted out. The cuffs felt impossibly real.
“I’ll start with him,” the man said.
I looked up to see he was pointing at me. I looked around to the others but they didn’t move. They didn’t speak or even look at me reassuringly.
“Take him into the interrogation room,” the man said.
A uniformed officer moved to me, reached for my shoulders and I got to my feet. He led me away from the others, down a hallway and to a door where he took out a key, unlocked the door, then ushered me inside where I found a table, one chair, and a one-way mirror. I looked to the glass, then to the table. He took off my cuffs and stood with me until there was a sound at the door. I looked behind me to see the man entered the room. He walked past me to the far side of the table to the only chair where he sat. He had a clipboard that he set down. He crossed his legs and took out a stylish pen with a twist off cap. The officer looked to him, he nodded back, and the officer exited the room. I shifted on my feet, crossed my arms.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“What’s your name?”
“Trent,” I said.
“I’m Mr. Winters,” he said. “I’m the Sheriff.”
I looked to his knees, up his chest, to his eyes. I could see the wrinkles in his face but they were endearing because his face was sharp. He had blue eyes.
“Do you know why you are here?” he asked.
“No,” I said with shake of my head.
“There was an incident earlier tonight, a house was vandalized. Someone threw toilet paper in the tree and eggs at the house. Do you know what I’m talking about?”
I shook my head.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said.
“What were you doing tonight?”
I looked up to him, looked to the mirror.
“We were just riding around,” I said.
“There were two cars seen outside the house. One of them matched a description of the one you were in and I think you and your friends did it.”
I looked to my feet.
“I’m going to need you to undress,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
“Forensic evidence,” he said, “it looks like you have some egg on your shirt.”
“Really?” I asked.
“It’s right there,” he said as pointed at me.
I looked down to my shirt and saw some stains but didn’t know if they were from eggs or something else, some other stain.
“They can do all kinds of tests these days.”
“Really?”
He nodded. I moved my hands to my chest, my fingers to the top button just under the collar. I undid it, then the next, all the way down, and finally I slid my shirt down my shoulders and my back, set it on the table. It was cold in the room and my tank top undershirt was little protection.
“Looks like you have a stain on your pants too,” he said.
“What?” I asked with a nervous laugh.
“Take them off,” he said.
I looked him in the eye, then looked down to my shoes as I knew they’d have to come off first. How did he have the right to do this?
“No,” I said. “I won’t do it.”
“You don’t have a choice. I’m in the process of collecting evidence and you’re wearing it. I can’t let you contaminate or destroy it. So take off the pants young man.”
He looked to his watch. Was he timing me? I knew it was tough in the South but I thought that was all in our past. I thought about the stories I had heard. He was an old man, at least old enough that maybe he didn’t really have any compassion for me, or at least had some other sense of justice. I shifted on my feet as I kicked off one shoe then the other. I took hold of my belt and unbuckled it. He nodded at me to signify I was doing the right thing. I realized then I was wearing briefs, white briefs, and I remembered what it felt like to change in the locker rooms now that most people wore boxers or at least boxer briefs, nonconforming underwear that left a little ambiguity to someone’s privates. Briefs didn’t.
I undid my jeans, pushed them down my thighs, past my knees to my ankles, and stepped out of them. I felt ridiculous in my socks and underwear but I held my shoulders up and took a deep breath with my jeans in my hands trying to hide my crotch. He signaled for me to place them on the table so I did, then let my hands drift back in front of me, tried to subtly place them over my crotch.
“Put your shoes on the table too,” he said.
He clenched his jaw before he looked to the mirror and called out for someone to bring an evidence bag to take away my clothes. Moments later the door to the room opened and one of the officers came in with three bags, placed my jeans in one, shoes in another, and shirt in a third. He looked me up and down, snickered at me, then carried my clothes out of the room. I thought to ask for something to wear, something to at least cover myself.
“Anything else you would like to say?” Mr. Winters asked.
I looked him in the eye and my skin burned with an uncomfortable tightness. I’m sure my face turned red, maybe other parts of my body as well. I wanted to deny everything. I wanted to ask for a lawyer. I wanted to yell, just yell, but I stopped myself. He uncrossed his legs and stood, walked to me. He motioned for me to turn, ushered me out of the room, back down the hallway to where the second officer stood next to my friends, my still clothed friends. He led me to them, motioned for me to sit on the bench. The others looked to me before he picked out the next person, David, and led him away. I looked to the other officer’s shoes, then to my friends’ shoes, my own socked feet.
“Where’s your clothes?” Eric asked under his breath.
I shook my head and looked to the officer.
“Are we all going to have to take off our clothes?” he asked.
I looked him in the eye, then looked to the officer who pretended not to notice us, but I thought it wouldn’t take much to get his wrathful attention. Eric looked away and the rest sat quietly. It wasn’t long before we heard footsteps and we all looked to the hallway I had just been down to see David, still clothed, being led back to us.
One by one he took the rest to the interrogation room and each one came back still wearing their clothes. Ted was the last to be brought back and before he could sit Mr. Winters told the officer to take us all to a cell to wait while he made some phone calls. Eventually the other officer came back, whispered something to the officer who had been watching us and they both had a laugh. They led us back to the hallway, only down some steps with one landing as it led back under the floor where we had been. It was cold, dreary. There was a small area for a guard, a door that one of them unlocked, and a hallway with cells on each side. There were six cells. He put us all in one.
We looked around at each other and to the two cots. David and Ted moved to one where they sat. Matt and Eric moved to the other and sat. I looked to each pairing, covered myself with my hands as we listened the officers leave us. We waited until we figured they were out of hearing range before we spoke.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s just an intimidation tactic,” David said. “He wants to get you to turn against us. Did you say anything?”
“No, of course not,” I said.
“Well, we just have to wait and see what happens. He doesn’t have any proof,” Matt said.
“He has my clothes,” I said.
“Well, at least you wore clean tighty whities,” Eric said.
“They are clean right?” Ted asked.
“Fuck you guys,“ I replied.
“Come on let’s see the back. You have a nice ass,” Matt said.
They all laughed. I felt humiliated as I stood there in front of them, and a little excited too. I knew I had to take a seat, try to hide my growing erection. I looked to Dave and Ted who looked unmoving, then to Matt and Eric who had space between them. I moved in the latter direction and they moved apart to let me between them. It wasn’t much and I was squashed between them just like the back seat, though slightly different as I didn’t have pants or a shirt and I could feel theirs rubbing against my exposed skin.
Thankfully it wasn’t long before Mr. Winters came to our cell and we all looked out through the bars to him. He looked us over, maybe his eyes lingered on me a little longer but I tried to ignore it. He looked to his silver wrist watch, noted the time, then looked back to us. He cleared his throat before he spoke.
“We have a positive identification for each of you as well as your car. Normally you would be charged and wait for a judge to set bail, there would be a long court process, and your parents would have to pay for a good lawyer to maybe get you off with probation which means for those of you traveling for college that may risk your ability to leave the state. Luckily for you I talked with the owner who agreed that I could deal out a different punishment.”
“What’s that sir?” David asked.
“The second option is that you take a paddling from me tonight and then tomorrow morning, first thing, you go to the man’s house and clean up. There will be no court, no trial, no pleading, and nothing will go on your record. Think it over because it has to be unanimous.”
I’m sure some of the guys would have taken the deal right then. It felt like Eric and Ted were about to jump up and try to go after him. After all most of the guys had experienced that kind of punishment either from their father or a principal. I never did. And I was feeling particularly vulnerable in my underwear.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“What do you mean? It’s easy,” David said.
“Yeah, I’m for it,” Ted added.
Matt looked away. Eric said he would do it. It was just me and Matt after all. We were the only ones who hadn’t been paddled before and we didn’t want to refuse, but we also didn’t want this to be our first time.
“This is nothing,” Eric said. “It could be a lot worse. We could have records. This could really fuck with college and getting a job. Do you want to have to fill out that little section on a job application if you’ve ever been convicted of a crime for the rest of your life?”
“I think that’s Federal not misdemeanor,” I said.
“So what,” David said. “I’m doing it and so are you two.”
I looked to Matt who took a deep breath. He looked around at the rest of the guys and nodded. I shifted on my seat, felt my hand drop to my bare thigh, the way my stomach barely touched over the waist band of my briefs as I leaned forward, and the way my nipples felt. My skin felt brittle as if one little touch and I would break.
“Come on guys,” I said.
“It’s done. It’s over. If you still want to be our friend then you’ll go along with this. You’ll take your licks and be done with it. He can’t do too much. It’s like going to the principal’s office,” David said.
“I’ve never been to the principal’s office,” I replied.
“What’s it going to be?” David asked.
I looked around at them, certain that they would not respect me if I didn’t agree, so I nodded my head and told them I’d do it. It wasn’t long after our discussion that Mr. Winters returned with the paddle in hand.
“What’s it going to be?” he asked.
“We’ll take the paddling,” Dave said.
“Yeah,” Ted added.
“Is it unanimous?”
I looked to Eric.
“Yes sir,” he said.
I looked to Matt.
“Yes sir,” he said.
I swallowed.
“What about you?” he asked pointing the paddle at me.
I nodded.
“I need to hear it,” he said.
It was all down to me, but not really. I knew it was the easiest thing. I knew we needed clean records. I knew I wanted them to be my friends.
“Yes sir, I’ll take a paddling,” I said.
He unlocked the door, motioned for us to come out, and took us back up through the office and to the hallway outside his office where he had four of us sit on a long bench. Ted was first. Mr. Winters closed the door and it wasn’t long after that we heard the crack of the paddle and screams of pain, then eventually crying.
Each was taken in turn to be paddled and then led away by one of the officers back down to our cell. I sat on the bench, the last to be called. I felt ridiculous and my knee kept bouncing up and down despite stopping myself several times. I had heard everyone else take a beating and when the sound of the paddle hitting David’s ass finally stopped I knew I was next. It was a tension that formed in my shoulders, ran across the top of my back in a perfect line. Then the door handle moved a little and I looked to see it open.
Mr. Winters stood there first for a moment before he opened it completely, then ushered David out. David seemed reduced, broken. His face was red from crying, even though he looked down to the ground I could see it. He looked to me out of the corner of his eyes and I just knew he was trying to warn me somehow. There was nothing I could do to change what was going to happen. His look only made me more afraid. I looked to his jean clad ass, the small of his back as he walked away. He didn’t have any cuffs on and I thought at least there would be some little improvement.
Mr. Winters led David away back to the cells. I looked to my own handcuffed wrists, then my socks. I looked at my white cloth covered crotch, felt the band that stretched over my hip just above my thigh. There was nothing I could do. I knew he was coming back for me. The cuffs felt so real. If only I had something to pick them, no I told myself, there is nothing. Mr. Winters returned from around the corner and walked to me.
“You’re next,” he said.
I got up from the bench, my shoulders low I walked into his office. He shut the door and told me to sit down in the chair in front of his desk. I watched him walk around his desk, rolling up his sleeves as he did. He secured them above his elbow, then moved to his desk chair where surprisingly he sat. I looked over the desk to him, up to his eyes, but when I got close to them I looked away. He cleared his throat and I thought for a moment he would say we were going to start but he didn’t.
“I’m a little tired after beating all those asses. I haven’t done so many in one night before, the paddle doesn’t know the difference but my arms do.”
He let out an amused air through his nostrils, then looked to me. He studied me for a moment before he reached into his desk and took out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. I watched as he took a cigarette out and lit it. He took a long pull, then breathed the smoke out through his nose.
“Do you want something before we do this? A cigarette or a cola or something?”
I shook my head.
“Are you sure?”
I looked up to him and sensed real compassion. The cigarette sounded good though I didn’t really smoke, at least not without being drunk. A dead man’s last smoke, I thought, at least I get one before the firing squad. The joke made me smile and it felt like some tension had been broken in the room. He saw me staring at the pack so he picked them up and shook it a little until one came out. I reached across the desk with my cuffed hands and took it, stuck it in my mouth.
“Oh right, sorry about that,” he said before he got up from behind his desk and took the keys from his pocket. He moved to me, unlocked my cuffs and set them beside him as he sat on the corner. He picked up his lighter, lit it, and offered me the flame. I stretched my neck to meet his offer and inhaled deeply. The smoke was familiar, a bit strong, but familiar and I was glad there was at least one thing I could do to maybe impress this man.
He shifted a little, looked down at me. Was he looking me over? I had felt him doing it during the interrogation, but I thought it was just him studying my body language. I looked to his thigh, to his crotch. His tight jeans hid everything. I looked to his arms, his chest. I could tell he was strong. I looked up to his neck, to his mustache. He took in more smoke and blew it out through his nose. I did the same.
“You’re not like those other boys,” he said.
I looked up to his eyes and he stared back.
“They’re cocky and athletic. How’d you end up being friends with them?”
His question cut right through the illusion I had always maintained, right to the heart of my insecurity. I wasn’t like them, but they were somehow friends of mine.
“I don’t know. I met Eric and Matt when we were on the track team together. I also used to be on the wrestling team in junior high but I quit before high school. It wasn’t my thing anymore.”
“You mean it turned you on,” he said.
“What? No, I just, I mean, no,” I said.
“It’s okay. It’s normal to get excited when wrestling,” he said. “It doesn’t help being in those outfits.”
I let out a nervous laugh. He grinned before he took another drag deep into his lungs, then exhaled off to the side before putting his cigarette out in an ash tray on his desk. He held out his hand to take my cigarette and I gave it to him. He put it out, then motioned for me to stand. I had almost gotten comfortable. He took hold of my elbow and told me to assume the position against the desk.
For a moment I wanted to pull out of his grip even though I knew he was trying to help me somehow. I leaned to the desk and put my hands down flat, watched as he retrieved the paddle, moved behind me. I balled my toes and it felt like surge of heat ran from my ankles up my body, under my briefs, and all the way to my eyes. He swung the paddle behind me to get a feel for it. I lowered my head.
The first hit was unexpected, across both cheeks the pain seemed to wrap around my sides and go to my groin. For a moment I thought I was getting it worse than the others because I didn’t have the protection of jeans, though I’m not sure if my friends did either when they were in here. He struck me again and that time the pain ran up my spine but stopped somewhere just below my ribs. My ass began to ache in a dull, persistent feeling. It was tolerable. Somehow the pressure of my hands against his desk seemed worse. He hit me again and the pain that had stuck under my ribs moved up into my throat. Another stroke and I let out a grunt of pain as I lowered my head and shifted on my feet.
I was able to hold in any sound for another three strikes but I knew, I could feel if it lasted much longer I would have to release it somehow. I didn’t know how many more there would be. He hadn’t said. I hadn’t counted, or been able to count how many the others had gotten just that they had all be in bad shape when he opened the door. Oh no, I thought, it’s not a limit of how many, just how many it takes to make me cry. My shoulders felt impossibly tight, stuck out past my ears. My socked feet felt slippery. My briefs felt impossibly small.
Another strike, then another, and another that made me cry out for him to stop. I felt the pain throughout my entire body, my arms were stiff, my biceps strained. I tried to ready myself for another blow when I felt his warm hand on my shoulder. He set the paddle down on the desk beside me, the grating sound of wood on wood was memorable and disturbing.
“We can do the rest by hand if you pull down your underwear,” he said.
I bit my lip as I pushed myself up. My hands went to my sides and I took hold of the small bits of fabric, then shoved them down, let it fall to my ankles.
“I just meant down around your ass,” he said.
I let out a sigh as I felt completely embarrassed. My limp dick, my balls, had been unnecessarily exposed. He could see all of me. I squatted down, picked up my underwear and pulled the material back up to my waist, let the front pouch settle between my thighs before I pulled the back down to expose my ass. He gripped at my shoulder to comfort me, then pushed a little and I knew to get back in position. He laid into me with his calloused hand. It didn’t take much. That’s not true. How many is enough? What scale are we using? It was well over twenty.
In the end it wasn’t the pain. I don’t think it was anyway. It was the humiliation. It was the anger for letting myself get into this position. It was the honest need to be punished for misbehaving. I felt myself give up. I had been defeated.
My ass was beat. I was broken. I turned to him, crying, my face as red as my butt. I fell into his shoulder, pressed my cheek against his shirt. He let me cry it all out, then he pushed us apart and for a moment I thought it was over. I thought he would take me back to the cell and let us all go. But he had a look in his eyes and maybe, just maybe I did too.
That’s when he pulled me into a kiss, shoved his tongue between my lips. I gave to him for a moment, then started to kiss back, our tongues pressed against one another.
“I want you,” he said between kisses.
“Fuck me,” I replied.
He pushed us apart again, this time he turned me, pushed me to the desk where he guided my face down to the cool, wood surface. He unbuckled his belt, undid his jeans. I heard them fall to his ankles behind me. His hands went to my hips and he jerked my underwear down, let them fall to my sock covered ankles.
He got close. I felt his pubic hair, his hard cock between my ass cheeks as he leaned to my shoulder. His shirt buttons tickled my back as he put his lips to my neck. I could smell his cologne as well his breath. He kissed behind one ear, then the other. His breath smelled of coffee and cigarettes, not the best odors but real ones. He reached over his desk to his top drawer and took out something.
When he balanced himself on that hand I looked to see a tube of lubricant and condoms. He was going to fuck me, I thought. I wanted it. I wanted him. I heard the tearing of the condom package, the pop of the lubricant bottle. I was trying to imagine him behind me, rolling on the condom, greasing his dick, and then I felt him touch me with two fingers. The middle slipped inside my anus to the first digit momentarily. It was going to happen. He was opening me up. He worked his fingers at my puckered hole until he could get both fingers in at the same time. I moaned and tried to relax, pushed out as he pushed into me. He went to his last knuckle. He was inside of me. It felt like I had been broken into separate parts. There was my head, my sensitive lips, my hands, and the my asshole that felt completely separate and yet connected to me.
He worked back and forth until I got comfortable, then he pulled out, stuck his dick against me. I felt it slip up between my red cheeks, he slapped me on my ass reigniting the pain I felt there before he pulled back, aimed for me, my insides. The head of his dick touched my hole and I felt it slowly pushing into me. He slowly worked until he was down to his balls and his pubic hair, then he leaned down onto my back again and kissed at my neck, my ear. I turned back to him, my lips felt sensitive and warm. He explored my mouth with his tongue, forced himself between my lips. I thought for a moment I could capture his tongue but then he pulled out of my mouth, a string of spit slipped out with it. It hung there for a moment before it fell onto the desk and on my shoulder.
His dick held me open. For a moment I thought it was the only sensation I would ever feel until he put his hands on my shoulders, his fingernails dug into my skin and he ran them down my back. When he got to my hips he started to buck again, started to pound me. I reached across the desk and tried to grab for the other side. He pounded my thighs into the edge of the desk and we began to rock there, slowly working it across the floor. My feet stretched my underwear as far as possible, I thought I heard a seam tear but it didn’t matter.
As the desk moved I stepped and he followed behind me until we knocked his desk chair onto the floor. The noise scared us both but we couldn’t stop. He pulled me back, to the chair where I had been sitting and he pulled me down into it. His dick still impaled into me I rested for a moment on his thighs as I felt his warm muscled chest against my back. He kissed at my neck. I moaned. He gripped under my armpits and I knew I had to take over as I lifted myself up.
“Put your feet up on my knees,” he said.
I lifted one foot out of my underwear and placed it on his bare knee, lifted my other foot. I kicked my underwear to the wall before I secured both feet on his knees. His arms wrapped around my chest, his fingers twisted my nipples, and I began to slow process of raising and lowering myself on his dick. He kissed and supported me until my legs felt strained and I signaled I needed to stop. I put my feet down and together we got up to our feet and moved back to the desk. We bumped against it but it didn’t move.
Our sweaty bodies against one another I was unsure how long I could stand or how much longer he could go. He ran one hand up my back and forced me back down to the flat surface before he slapped me on my ass. I moaned and felt myself tighten around him as I tried to rise to the balls of my feet. He pulled out, pushed into me, pulled out, and finally I felt him grip at my sides, rending my flesh.
He fell on my back. His hairy chest covered in sweat it felt like we were glued together. It had been a fulfilling experience and yet I still hadn’t gotten off, so I reached down to my own dick that was slick and hard. I jerked myself for a few moments. It was easy. I closed my eyes as I ejaculated down under his desk onto his tiled floor. I thought for a moment he would kiss me again.
I hoped we could have some moment of comfort, but he pulled back from me and I heard the sound of him pulling off the condom before he wiped himself off with a handkerchief, tucked himself back into his jeans. I turned to him as I felt my ass still recovering. He tossed me the handkerchief and told me to clean up.
The room, us, we smelled of sex and balloons. His chest was muscled and bare for a moment before he picked up his shirt. He continued to dress as I leaned back against the desk. It was over. Our moment had passed. I looked around, ready for someone to enter but no one did. He moved to my underwear and picked them up, tossed them to me. His passion was gone. He was all business.
I looked over my underwear that had been stretched out, stepped into them. They were loose around my waist and crotch. I showed him and he told me he’d get my clothes from the evidence room before he left me. I sat on his desk, stared at the door. No handcuffs and no one to watch me I thought about trying to get back at him somehow, but I knew it would only be more trouble so I just waited.
He returned minutes later with my clothes. It looked like he had stopped at the bathroom to wash up and comb his hair. I took the bags from him, opened them, and slowly dressed myself. When I was completely dressed he took me by my elbow and led me to the bathroom where he told me to clean up in the sink. I didn’t see the officers. I looked at myself in the mirror but really I watched him. He looked nervous, even ashamed.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Uh, my officers took your friends home and they’re back out on patrol. I’m going to drive you home.”
Great, I thought. He didn’t touch me again, but ushered me back out of the police headquarters, locking the doors as we went, and led me to his car. I got in the passenger seat. We didn’t talk as he drove me to my parent’s place. I got out and turned to say something to him but he drove away. I thought it was over so I just went into the house to my room and fell asleep face down on my bed without even undressing. It had been a long night but I still woke up in a few hours when the phone rang. My mother told me it was my friends calling me to remind me about the charity work we had agreed to do so I answered it. They said they were at the teacher’s house and I was late. I jumped out of bed and told them I’d be right there.
I asked my mother for the car and she said I could take it but I had to be back by noon. I said it wouldn’t be a problem. I drove to the teacher’s house, unsure if I would be in more trouble. When I got there I saw my friends cleaning up the front yard, slow but deliberate. I pulled to the curb and parked the car. For a moment I thought it would be easy until I spotted the front door of the house open and I saw Mr. Winters step out. I looked down the street and saw his car. I thought about the night before and I thought about his shame. My ass was sore. I had to pull it off the seat and groaned as I crossed the lawn to my friends.
Mr. Winters didn’t say anything to me about being late. My friends were just happy I showed. We worked through the morning until everything was picked up. We finally stopped and I saw my friends didn’t look much better than I felt. Mr. Winters dismissed them, the teacher went back in the house, but I waited around pretending like I wanted to ask him something. Finally we were alone. He moved to me, inches apart.
“About last night,” he said.
“Let’s see if we can do it again,” I said.
He looked away nervously but I decided to take advantage of him so I took hold of the front of his shirt and pulled him into a brief kiss before I stepped back, thanked him, and walked away.
“You have my number so give me a call before I have an emergency,” I said.
I went to my car and looked back to him. He stood dumbfounded. I got inside the car, started it, and drove away confident that I was going to see him again.
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