Hunted

"Closer," cooed the female officer. Anton looked back. The female officer's torso was leaning out the passenger window. Her arm was reaching far out. The blue gloved open hand was searching the air. The car inched closer to Anton. The tires bumped up and down as they crossed driveways. The blue gloved hand reached back and slapped Anton on the back. A loud thud and the flesh sounded followed by girly giggles of the female cop.

"Light post," screamed the driver. The police cruiser swerved sharply into the middle of the road. The female cop almost fell out of the window. Her tight, dark-blue pant butt was right on the crest of the windshield opening. The cruiser sped up a bit, drove back on the sidewalk. The cop opened the door wide to block the sidewalk. Anton stopped exhausted, a thick film of sweat all over his body. Sweat drops were running down his spine. He doubled forward, holding his knees.

The female cop got out. She grabbed him by the shoulder, threw him hard on the ground. Then, she stepped with her urban assault boots on the middle of his back. The driver got around and drove a knee hard into the back of his thighs. They hand cuffed him and left at least five black boot prints on his back.

"Did you call it in?" asked the female cop.

"Nope," said the female driver.

"Then let's have some fun," said the female cop.

"My name is Veronica. And your my newest toy," taunted the female cop with a giggle. She pushed her boot toes under his shoulder and rolled him over.

"Fuck, that's Anton. He's the barkeeper at the bar."

"What the fuck is he doing naked in the street?"

The sound of another police cruiser neared. Veronica screamed in panic, "throw him in the back of the car." The driver swiftly opened the back door. Anton was lifted by the handcuffs behind his back. They threw him lengthwise across the backseat. Because he was so long, his legs stuck out. They kicked his legs with high kicks until they got the whole body stuffed into the cruiser. The door hit slam with a loud metallic click.

The other police car slowed. An older police officer with gold rimmed black sunglasses hung his arm out of the open window: "Did you girls see anything?"

"No, commander. We've been doing house to house searches to look in dead spots. There is not a sign."

"Okay, don't hang around too long. There are plenty of crazy beach people. We don't have to catch every nut in a birthday suit." The police car accelerated without ever having fully stopped.

Anton was growing a boner. He felt the leather against his naked skin. The women in uniform and their manhandling was sexy. And he also felt that there was a dirty conspiracy. They had covered up for him. The thought of a boner in front of the clothed officers without being able to cover it with his handcuffed hands felt so denigrating. That turned him on even more. Then inches were going up 8, 9, 10, 11 inches, and thick, white ones, too. He had to lift his hips to let the hard stick flop into a more comfortable position.

The cops got back into the car. "Darling, let's take this somewhere more private," said Veronica with a purposefully raunchy voice. The police car was shifting with every bump because of its soft suspensions. The bump entering the alley was the loudest. Everything grew a little darker as the narrow alley was depraved of sunlight by the three story houses on both sides.

The car stopped. The doors swung open wide. Anton raised his head. There was carport parking around him. There were black Range Rovers and Mercedes. The beach enclave was definitely prosperous. The back door swung open. He felt the clam grip of latex around his ankle. The next moment, he felt a force on his whole body exerted from his ankle. Veronica dragged him out in the alley. There was a harsh fall onto his butt from the black leather cushioned backseat to the ground.

"Haha, he has a boner. It's huge!" Veronica poked his penis with her nightstick. She was completely unafraid of his sexuality. She was boisterous.

"Listen, we are going to let you go. But we want some photos. So be real nice," said Veronica with a gruff voice. She grabbed him by the armpit. The latex pulled on his skin painfully. She propped him against the back. Then she bent forward to point her fingers like pistols to mimic the infamous private Lynndie England. A flash snapped him. He didn't even know what had happened.

Veronica put her hand behind his back. In one flash motion, she threw him forward on to the ground. "Ass up," she commanded. He lifted his ass high with his chest pressed against the ground. She put her urban assault boot on his ass cheek, as if he were a buck she had caught and was taking trophy photos with.

He heard the click of his hand cuffs behind his back. He felt the release of the painful ring around his wrists. A rough blanket was tossed on his back. "Free drinks from now on. You hear me? We've got photo evidence." The doors closed shut with heavy umph. The heavy police cruiser engine roared and took off.

Two nights later, Anton was working his shift again at the Basement Tavern. It was in a basement. Everything was dark, except for the bar. The bottles glowed red, green, and blue in bright, alluring lights. There were a few cops blowing off steam after work. There were mob heavies in black leather jackets with spikey metal studs. There were a few hipsters in skinny body suits, who enjoyed the rough atmosphere for the bar. There were a few neighborhood locals, who were alcoholic enough to not mind the rough atmosphere. The dark corners of the bar allowed for plenty of dirty deals between the cops and the Russian mafia mob. Skin heads loved the free zone to come with their shaved heads. The occasional heroine consumer was lying passed out against the wall. A heavy sound of Russian techno music set a raw edge to the place. Anton was slamming three heavy bottomed glasses on the bar to pour vodka shots with cat blood (grenadine).

Veronica pushed her way through the crowd. Thick leather jackets with decals were pushing in her face. The wearers barely noticed her, because the metal bar banging bass of the techno music and booze had numbed them. A young police cadet in the middle of the crowd was banging his head with the music. A woman in a skinny white dress revealing no bra underneath was leaning her head back in big laughter. Veronica pointed straight at Anton's face: "Free drinks!" She hollered exuberantly. Her curly hair was tied back tightly into a pony tail. She was wearing a black tight top and tight jeans.

Without a pause, Anton put his right hand around the base of her skull. He pushed just enough to make her body taut and pull back. He locked eyes directly into hers. The exuberant, bossy, happiness in Veronica shrunk as with time lapse. The two seconds of soul gazing felt to her like an hour. Her mind re-thought the power structure and realized that it was a happy, white, fluffy bunny in a cage. The words "BIG FUCKING MISTAKE" painted in front of her eyes.

The Russian navy trained sergeant, pulled her head forwards. Her torso was flat on the bar counter. She could look down into the bottle openings of the bottles in the speed rack. Anton's left hand landed on the middle of her tight jeans ass. He grabbed the fabric. The jeans crotch grabbed tight around her pussy. Her ass was lifted high. She did a reverse, involuntary summersault over the bar counter.

Her mustache bearded cop colleague pushed his way to the bar in between two leather clad heavy weights. The eyes behind his glasses showed concern. The second bar tender grabbed a short barrel shot gun under the counter and pointed it point blank at the mustache cop. "Russian business. Fuck off!" The mustache cop waved his arms in submission high in the air and disappeared back into the crowd.

Veronica was recovering her breath from her lung insides touching each other, when she hit the rubber mat behind the bar. Anton was already riffling through her jeans pockets. She was a girl. The pockets were small and close to her groin. Reeling from the fall, she let it happen. He got her phone. He put her gun into the back of his pants. He snapped her own handcuffs around her wrists.

"You are in my house now."