It was around eight pm, and my double-shift was about to end. We had been working overtime since the gangs had gone to war. Seven murders, in the last week alone. This city of angels was under siege. My rookie partner of two weeks had asked me to join her for drinks at Chubby’s tonight. Reluctantly, I’d agreed, but it went against my rules to date a fellow cop. In all honesty, even though I had earnestly tried, it was hard for me to refuse such a pretty face. As partners, Alexia and I were extreme contrasts. For starters, she was a recent graduate from Berkeley with a degree in pre-law, unlike me that had joined the force out of high school. I had worked my way up the ranks from a beat cop and took the required courses for detective in night school. Alex was very enthusiastic, as most rookies are when they’re right out of the Academy. She had shared that she decided to pursue a career in law enforcement rather than follow her father into corporate law. This had caused some tension in her family but she had graduated from the police academy—top of her class. That combined with her education landed her the gold shield of a detective while still a rookie. The difference between us was physically blatant, also. She was only about five-foot five compared to my six-foot two. Alexia was extremely fit from her devotion to the gym and martial arts training. I do the minimum to pass my required physical agility tests. When I was young I had the same gung-ho desire as she did, but that faded along with my hair color. I had reached the big Five-O in August and I was now a twenty-eight-year hardened veteran, third generation cop. My attitude had been cultivated by many years of dealing with criminals, scum bags, and losers. In a nut shell, I just didn’t give a damn anymore. I wasn’t looking for a relationship and was openly unhappy about being assigned a female partner; I had my reasons. The first woman I had assigned as a partner… I married. That was a disaster from the very beginning. She thought I was some sort of mission and was convinced she would mold me into her image of “the perfect husband.” Well, she certainly had little luck with that! Except for the sex, we’d had little in common. Without going into the sordid details, we were divorced a year later, about eleven months too late. Quite frankly, as a bachelor I didn’t feel lonely because l had all the company I needed: my dog, big screen TV, and a fridge full of beer. -oOo- Alex had only worked the first shift, so she had the day off while I filled in at the front desk. I needed the extra money because my mom was in the hospital. My expertise had always been in the homicide unit, where I preferred to work with dead people—you know… all that gory forensic stuff. The front desk was a crap job in comparison; you dealt with the same lowlifes’ day in and day out. Drunks puking, whores screaming, and addicts shaking from withdrawal—that was the typical day at the station. It didn’t şişli escort take much time at this job to lose all hope for humanity. After parking my ‘93 Chevy in the back lot of Chubby’s Bar & Grill, I looked in the rear-view mirror at my two-day beard and thought about how I’d much rather be watching the tube at home. This was Laker night. Fuck this, I thought, dialing Alex’s number. I was hoping she’d already gone home. “Hiya!” the voice answered. There was loud music blasting in the background. “Hey, it’s Frank.” “Who?” “Frank!” I raised my voice a bit. “Well, of course it’s you, silly! Your name popped up on my caller ID!” She laughed. What a smart ass. “Where are you at?” she asked. “I just pulled into the parking lot. I’ll be right in.” “Hurry up, I’ve been here for hours.” I hung up and mumbled an expletive. Chubby’s was a local cop hangout that had been here since before I was born. I stood in front of the entrance and pushed hard to enter. Those doors had been sticking for as long as I could remember. Nothing had changed inside after all these years. It was a typical crowded Friday night. The jukebox was blaring, people were laughing and talking loudly, and a few were dancing and shooting pool. On the walls there were pictures of retired cops. Over the bar there were photos of those that had been killed in the line of duty. We called it the hall of fame. One of them was my dad who died when I was seven. This was definitely not a place you’d want your picture mounted. I rarely hung out at Chubby’s for a lot of reasons. First, the joint was a dump that should have been torn down years ago. Then there was the issue that it was filled with cops. I saw more than enough of them during the day. Last but not least, I didn’t like paying three bucks for a dollar beer. The room was a dense haze, even though it was against the law to smoke in California bars. I mean, what can you do? Call the cops? Nothing irritated my lungs worse than cigarette fumes. Unfortunately, I was guilty of having quite a nasty affair with those nicotine sticks once upon a time, but I’ve been clean eight years. I scanned the crowded surroundings and looked for my partner, to no avail. Suddenly, someone shoved me from behind and I whirled around, only to find myself staring at a stunningly beautiful woman. She had long, flowing raven hair, and piercing blue eyes. Her tight, low-cut dress showed off her ample bosom and killer legs. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” she teased, flashing a pearly white smile. After putting the voice together with the eyes, I realized that it was Alexia. I hadn’t seen her out of her tweed suit. She’d also worn her hair up in a bun on duty. This was a stunning transformation. “Damn!” I said in shock. “I didn’t recognize you! You clean up nicely,” I added, staring down at her cleavage. “Why, thank you.” She giggled as she took my arm and pulled me to the bar. I knew she had more than enough şişli escort bayan to drink because she could hardly walk in those heels. “What are you drinking?” she asked, leaning against the bar to steady herself. “I’ll buy,” I offered, trying to be a gentleman. “One Bud and whatever the lady is drinking,” I told the bartender. “Jack—double straight up,” Alex replied. “You’re going to feel that in the morning,” I warned, watching her gulp down her drink in a couple swallows. “I thought you said you don’t drink.” “I don’t!” she smirked. “Come on, let’s dance! This is my favorite song!” Her eyes lit up as she practically yanked me onto the dance floor. “Whoa, hold up! I don’t dance, and I think you’ve had enough to drink.” I pulled my arm away. “You’re no fun!” Alex glared at me, then half-staggered toward the dancing crowd, bumping into people along the way. I noticed that she had enticed several men into dancing with her, all of whom were taking turns grinding against her and rubbing their crotches against her curvaceous bottom. One of those men looked familiar to me… Mike: a sergeant from division. He was groping at her, trying to grab her tits. I had never liked him since we went to the academy together. Shit, Alex! The guy’s a pervert. How can you let him touch you like that? I thought to myself. Just as I was about to rescue her, she turned around and punched the sergeant hard in the face. “You bitch!” He grabbed her by the hair, making a fist and cocking it back. Oh no you don’t, asshole… Over my dead body! I stepped in between them and pushed him away. “What the fuck?” he shouted. Then he stepped toward me, throwing a big roundhouse right, but I blocked his swing and decked him with one punch to his eye. “I don’t need your help!” Alex screamed at me in outrage. “I can take care of myself!” “Yeah, you’re doing a fine job of that,” I replied sarcastically, pulling her away by her arm. Mike’s angry cussing echoed behind us. “Take the bitch and get her out of here!” he yelled. Everything in the bar came to a stop and all eyes were on Alex. I pulled her to the door, despite her efforts to try and break free. She was shouting incoherently and was stumbling so badly she could barely walk. I felt her lean her weight on me as we made our way through the crowd toward the exit. We left out the back and navigated our way to my car in the dark parking lot. I propped her against the fender while I unlocked the door. She kept mumbling something over and over about her hating me. “Yeah, yeah, I love you too,” I replied to her drunken insults. After a few attempts, I maneuvered her into the passenger seat and buckled her in. As soon as I got in the car, she started puking all over herself and my interior. Fuck my life. I had nothing to clean it up with. I could not believe so much could come out of such a small woman. She sagged back in her seat dead to the world. Great, this is just perfect! This is mecidiyeköy escort exactly how I wanted to spend my night. She hadn’t brought her hand bag with her and I had no clue where she lived. So I turned on the ignition and drove to my place. -oOo- After arriving at my apartment, I noticed that she was still unconscious. Removing the seat belt, I shook her several times, but she didn’t respond. “Alex? Alex!” Resolving to lift her, I carried her up the steps to my place, while her arms dangled like a ragdoll. I found it amazing how much heavier a body felt as dead weight. It had been a while since I carried a woman across the threshold—certainly never in this situation. Her long, dark hair sprawled out on my bed as soon as I gently placed her down. She was a vision of beauty. Impulsively, I caressed her cheek in almost a protective manner. She had a childlike innocence about her. I tried to wake her once again, but she was totally asleep and stunk like a brewery. I couldn’t leave her lying in her own vomit, so I decided to clean her up. After assessing my options, I hesitantly unzipped her dress and pulled it off, throwing it in a heap on the floor. Next, I undid the puke drenched bra and added it to the pile. I found her car key wedged between her bosom and set it aside. Lastly, I finished by pulling off her panties. I paused and stole a moment to just stare at this beauty lying on my bed. The moonlight coming through the window illuminated her ivory white skin. Her slim, athletic body would’ve caused any playboy bunny to be jealous. Her heavy breathing made the globes of her milky white breasts sway with the movement of her chest. Glancing down, I also noticed her private area was trimmed very closely—not shaved, but groomed. What the fuck are you doing? This is your partner, for Christ’s sake! I reprimanded myself. Reality had slapped me in the face. I stripped off my own clothes down to my skivvies and carried Alex to the shower. The warm water flowing over her head jolted her into partial consciousness. “Wha… What is this? What are you doing?” “I’m cleaning the vomit off you.” “Uh… okay,” she mumbled, drifting off once more while sagging in my arms. I sat her on the drop down shower stool and pulled up her silky hair, rinsing it out carefully. Afterwards, I took a soapy wash cloth and washed her back, under her arms, and lower back. I hesitated only at those perfectly shaped breasts, and continued to wash her legs. Finally, I started washing her chest and scrubbing off the dried puke. Personally, I had never handled such perfection in my life. I was aroused, but focused. The object was to clean her, not to cop a feel. I scolded myself With the cleaning finished, I toweled her well and carried her back to bed. I looked through my drawers to find something appropriate for her to wear and settled on my old Forty-Niners jersey and work-out shorts. Fortunately for her, the shorts had a drawstring, seeing how my waist is about twelve inches bigger. Truthfully, I had undressed a few women in my time, but this was the very first one I had ever dressed. With Alex tucked in, I took her clothes and put them in my antiquated, apartment size washer.