Vice Cop Ch. 07

"Ah, God damn it," Hudson said.

Just as he had figured - a foot chase.

Hudson began to run as soon as the suspect had begun to run. The man was not fast owing to his heavy weight but some adrenaline made him go faster and he passed parked cars, trying to hide among them.

"Don't do this, stop," Hudson said, "the cops have you surrounded."

"Fuck you, pig," he shouted.

Hudson had never been called a pig before but he realized it was an insult and slang for cop.

After his swear word, the man began to shoot at Hudson. He had a 9mm handgun which matched Hudson's. Hudson had not hoped it would come to that. They dodged each other's bullets behind parked cars, the Stadium looming gigantically behidn them and creating a huge shadow from the sunlight. The man did not stop firing and they continued their gun fight as they moved about in the parking lot.

Hudson reached for his device.

"Suspect is firing at me from the parking lot, if you can see him, stop him," he said.

One of the officers, whom Hudson recognized from the Academy, along with two others suddenly emerged and arrested the suspect.

"Thank God," Hudson said.

He only wished he had put the cuffs on the guy himself...............

SIX

Finally, Hudson was alone with Sonya.

He had not been a uniform cop for more than three months, and in all that time he had not been alone with Sonya except for two non-consecutive occasions. They had even missed each other's birthdays that long summer when he had become a cop. She claimed to be working in the same cosmetics department at Macy's. Hudson had never investigated whether it was true or not. They were alone in Sonya's apartment in Flushing, Queens, where she payed the rent herself and lived alone.

They had eaten a simple dinner and shared wine for two. They had watched "Who's The Boss" and were still lounging on the couch, both of them sated from the meal and the wine. She was in a black dress which looked new and Hudson wondered where she had gotten it. She was also wearing earrings and a pendant that he had not bought for her and that, too, bothered him. Where was she getting the money for these material things?

That night, Hudson intended to find out.

"Hey, Sonya, do you think I sound like that Tony Danza guy on the show we just watched?" he said to her, with a grin.

"You really do," she replied, with a chuckle, "but I've heard many New York Italian guys sound like that. You also have a sort of Sylvester Stallone look, especially now that you're in shape."

"I don't think I look like Rocky Balboa or Rambo."

"And I don't think I look like Marsha Brady," she said, referring to his remarks about her looking like a dark-haired version of her.

Sonya put her hand on his thigh.

Hudson was in sweat pants and a muscle shirt, having worked out at the precinct gym earlier that evening. She was in a shirt, his shirt, and there was nothing underneath except for what God gave her from the waist down.

Quietly looking into each other's eyes, they knew that they wanted to feel one another's bodies and to experience sexual pleasure again. Closing their eyes, they began to kiss, a soft kiss that engulfed them with warmth and passion. Hudson's hands cupped Sonya's thin face, and their mouths stuck to one another like some kind of powerful glue. Their breathing became heavier.

Kissing was always a pleasure for Hudson and he enjoyed kissing his girlfriend whenever he could. The reason it felt especially good now was because he hadn't been near her in such a long time. She was oddly compliant. Usually, she enjoyed to make more noise and to touch him, grab him and show more passion. It was as if she was tired or not especially in the mood as much as he was. She was not saying anything but she was going along with it.

Hudson's kisses deepened and became more feverish. His blood racing, he was moaning under his breath and feeling a sexual heat rise to his nostrils. He kissed down her neck and slowly removed the shirt she had on. It was too big for her small frame so it took a while before it was off and in the meantime, he had begun to put his hand on her bush.

She normally kept some hair on her pussy but to Hudson's surprise she had shaven the hair completely. Her pink, wet pussy was bald and smooth like a baby or like a virgin. This was something some girls were experimenting with at the time. Hudson wondered if this was for him....or for someone else.......

He began to insert his fingers into her pussy, but not gently. This sent her into a frenzied state and she moaned and writhed at the invasion of his fingers. She didn't seem to be into it at the moment so she took her own hand and she put it over his.

"I just want you to take me," she said to him, "don't waste any time."

Hudson was hard beneath his sweat pants. He recognized the urgent need she had and it matched his own.

"Are you sure, baby?" he said to her, "wouldn't you rather I --"

"No."

He wondered why she would say no to what he usually did to her, which was to lave and lick her pussy with a devoted kind of attention and pleasure. She was awfully strange tonight about sex. She didn't seem as hot and lively as she usually was. This made him feel uncomfortable but he was determined to provide her with pleasure.

Hudson proceeded.

He removed his sweatpants and muscle shirt, falling into a pile with his shirt which she had been wearing. As he removed his sneakers, he noticed that the window was open and a breeze was entering the room. He got up to shut the window. He noticed that Sonya had a tired sort of look on her face, almost coldly distant.

He approached her and it felt as if he had never made love to her before, as if it was the first time and with someone else. Who was she, this Italian-American girl he had thought he knew? Who was this black-eyed, black-haired exotic beauty that had the power to create passion inside him and also a degree of sadness?

"Take me," she said, but she could have been rehearsing a tired line in a movie.

He was on top of her, gently pressing his hard body against her softer and slimmer body. At times, he felt some ribs and bones and wondered what owed to her weight loss. She was perfectly still under him, showing no emotion and laying there passively. Hudson felt ridiculous. She was like a lifeless doll.

As he parted her legs, he slipped the head of his cock into her pussy and she let out a moan. At least that, Hudson thought. She began to writhe softly as he penetrated her fully, allowing her to feel the entire length of his well-endowed cock getting deep inside her. She was breathing harder and moaning, but it was as if she had tried to fight it. Her eyes remained closed even though Hudson kept his eyes on her face.

His cock embedded in her pussy, he began to move in a powerful rhythm using his hips and flexing the muscles of his ass, keeping his legs in place as he pounded her pussy. She had her legs firmly on the bed, parted, and she didn't move as he continued to fuck her in a fierce and fast motion.

Hudson closed his eyes, though he had not wanted to.

They were lost in the sensations they were feeling, but Hudson was more into this than she was. He groaned loudly when he felt his climax about to hit.

She was moaning softly and deceptively. Hudson opened his eyes and tried to steady his breathing.

Neither of them said a word.

SEVEN

It was not too late and after Sonya showered alone, Hudson treated her to one last drink of wine he had purchased himself. Being Italian by the blood of his mother, Hudson had inherited excellent tastes in wine and Sonya always enjoyed his selections of alcohol.

She suspected Hudson intended to spend the night because he had not mentioned anything about having to be up early the next day for work. She didn't care to ask him about his job as a cop and Hudson found this to be very unusual.

Hudson noted how Sonya had become, to put it bluntly, a selfish being. She showed no interests in any part of his life. She seemed more withdrawn and distant every time he saw her. Because he was on patrol duties day and night each week, he was unable to communicate with her over the phone. He wondered if he, too, had become too wrapped up in his new life as a cop but he felt he was at least trying to do his best to remain true to the relationship. But now, Hudson thought, now I need some closure.

He put a hand on Sonya's shoulder, arresting her walk as she returned from the shower. Their eyes met and she read concern in his blue eyes.

"Sonya, we need to talk," he said to her.

"About what?" she said to him.

Hudson did not say anything, gathering his thoughts, thinking of what to say while Sonya, not once looking back, began to dry her hair with a hairdryer and to put on a robe. While they had made love, they had left the TV on, though at low volume. Static and whiteness was on the TV screen.

Sonya bent down to change the station and found MTV. A concert was in progress, and it was the Swedish music group ABBA. The wistful, sad song "The Winner Takes It All" was being sung by the lead female singer with back-up. Hudson felt sick at heart, knowing deep down that something would change significantly before the night was over, that things would go downhill and fast. It made him very sad.

"Sonya, why don't you tell me what's going on in your life?"

She looked at him as if he was crazy. She then smile and continued to dry her hair, waving her long dark hair like a banner. That was another thing Hudson had noticed. Her hair had always been short, beautiful and groomed but always cut in a cute, pixie hair cut that showcased her soft round head and made her appear girlish. Now her hair was long and full and she looked like a mature woman.

"What do you mean? I don't have anything going on in my life besides you and my work at Macy's. What are you getting at?"

"I don't believe you're telling me everything, Sonya. I think you're keeping something from me."

"Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous. You and I are hardly together and when we are, it's not as it should be."

"We made love didn't we?"

"A true couple needs to have more to share than just sex."

Hudson thought to himself silently. The sex they had shared had been unusual and odd. She had been too quiet and pensive, distant and not as into it as he had been. Her mind had been somewhere else and she had feigned interest. He wondered if she had really had an orgasm or had just faked the whole thing.

"What is this all about?" Sonya said, vexed.

She had begun to comb her hair by a chair next to a vanity mirror and she regarded her own reflection. From the glass, she could see Hudson was making a very sad and almost painful face. The music on the TV was of no help either, with its sad lyrics about a failed romance, the ultimate break-up song:

"I don't want to talk, about things we've gone through, though it's hurting me, now it's history; I've played all my cards, and that's what you've done too, Nothing more to say; no more ace to play. The Winner takes it all, the Looser standing small,

"It's very hard for me to talk about this," Hudson continued, "but I figure it was time I brought it up."

"Well, what is it?"

"Sonya, I'm not sure what you're doing behind my back. I feel that you're doing something that you don't want me to know."

"Like what? You think I'm cheating on you or something?"

"I didn't say that."

"Because I'm not if that's what you're implying. I have only been intimate with you two times and that leads you to think I'm fucking some other guy when we aren't together as much as you want?"

"No. I didn't say that. I only have suspicions, but I'm not even sure what it is I'm suspicious about. I just know that I saw a girl that looked a lot like you in a street in Brooklyn being photographed by some weird looking guy. This was probably about a month ago or so."

The Gods may throw a dice, their minds as cold as ice, And someone way down here looses someone dear. The Winner takes it all, the looser has to fall, It's simple in its place, why should I complain?

She was silent. She ceased brushing her hair and her face became as hard as a stone. Hudson had never seen her make a face like that. Her thin dark eyebrows were furrowed slightly.

"You are a pathetic loser, you know that," she said angrily, "we make love and then you ruin it with your suspicious little mind."

"Answer me this, was that you being photographed by some guy?"

She crossed her arms and stared at him in the face.

"Yes, it was me. It was a job."

"What the hell kind of job is that, Sonya? You were dressed like a god-damned whore and that guy looked like he wanted to pay for sex with you."

"You don't know anything. It was a photo shoot. He's a California photographer from LA and he came here to look for fresh new talent."

"You wanna be a super model? How come you never told me that before?"

"For the same reason I feared when we first met. I'm thin so I have always wanted to be a model and make money off my looks. I thought if I told you, you'd freak out and you'd think I was suddenly too good for you or that I was somehow bad for wanting it in the first place."

"I was in your arms; thinking I belonged there, I figured it made sense, building me a fence, building me a home, thinking I'd be strong there, but I was a fool playing by the rules"......

"I don't want to be an obstacle to you. I just sensed something wasn't right. You should have told me you wanted to be a model."

"Are there any more questions tonight?" she said, in a sarcastic and venomous tone.

"You are being pretty cold, Sonya. I'm sorry but I don't believe you're telling me the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"You're an asshole. You won't be satisfied until you hear some kind of fucking confession from me, won't you? You want me to say that I've begun turning tricks."

"Well have you?"

Her dead silence was his answer.

She got up and began to dress. Hudson noticed it was the same slutty outfit as the one he had seen in the Brooklyn street when he had taken Kyle home. She had been telling the truth. That girl, posing in lewd and provocative ways, had really been her after all. She put on some make-up, coldly, silently, not once looking at Hudson, though she could feel his gaze strongly falling over her.

She grabbed a purse and she got her car keys.

"You need not bother to come to my place ever again," she said to him, "this was our final night together."

"Sonya, baby --"

He wanted to embrace her but she stopped him cold.

"Hudson, you're a fool. I guess I was too, for loving you. We are out of high school; we have no real future together. It wasn't meant to be. Not every one gets to marry their high school sweetheart and live happily ever after."

"Not every high school sweetheart says she's a model but she's really looking to be a prostitute."

"You shut the hell up. I'm doing no such thing. Those were legitimate photos that will be sent to a studio in Los Angeles. Because you see, that's where I'm going. I'm going to make it big one day and I'm not going to hang around Flushing Queens forever. I don't care about us anymore. You don't understand my need to be somebody."

"Don't sell your body, Sonya, or your soul."

"I am only going to sell my image, not my body. I don't know how tough it's going to be even though I have a pretty good idea. But my mind is made up. I have enough money for a flight to LA and I'm going to be living with a girlfriend from New Jersey. We are going to pay rent in a home in North Hollywood. I don't want you to come look for me, Hudson. Stay here in New York City. This is where you belong."

"Where are you going right now?" Hudson said to her.

He looked tired and very sad, and even this tragic face she saw before her didn't move her one bit.

"I'm going out with my photographer and I won't be back till morning. You better not be here when I return. Goodbye."

She closed the door and Hudson felt his heart cracking. The TV was still on, the music still lingering....

"I don't want to talk if that makes you feel safe, and I understand you've come to shake my hand... I apologize, if it makes you feel bad, seeing me so tense, no self-confidence..but you see..The Winner Takes it All......

EIGHT

A broken heart did not mend easily.

For Hudson, his patrol duties, increasingly more difficult, proved to be strong medicine. When Sonya had left him, he embraced other people, those people being Professor Ezra Goldstein and his fellow officer buddy Kyle.

With Kyle, he could be himself. They would attend baseball games at Yankee Stadium, or watch football on TV, smoke, play poker, talk about cars and hit the bars. Kyle knew that he was pretty sad after losing his girlfriend and knowing Hudson, he did not push a girl in his face right away.

As for his own love life, Kyle Lennox did not talk about it. He had never talked about a girlfriend, though he did like girls, and preferred blondes. He would sometimes begin to say something about an elusive girl who would come into bars now and then, flirt with him and then disappear, a Canadian looking blonde that had begun to drive him nuts. Kyle and Hudson always spent time together whenever they could after a hard day's work.

At the precinct, the Chief was able to recognize their bond and friendship, so he paired them up every time they were on duty. Kyle and Hudson became a good cop team. The rest of the cops on the force, and even the Chief, jokingly called them "good cop, bad cop" with blonde, sweet-faced Kyle being the "good cop" and tough-looking, dark-haired, muscle-bound Hudson being the "bad cop".

It was related to their methods. Kyle played by the rules. He remained calm under pressure and would never lose his cool. It almost seemed to some, especially the girls who were arrested, a real pleasure to be arrested by a guy that looked and sounded like an elementary school teacher.

Hudson was called "bad cop" because his methods were a lot tougher. He would raise his voice angrily, he would get into people's faces, and he always looked ready to spring into action of any kind.

He was cock-ready for a fight if someone started one. But he never went too far. Something always held him back. Kyle wondered what made Hudson sad underneath the tough exterior.

Their friendship enabled the patrol duties to be less heavy. They would socialize in the car as they drove into the streets of Manhattan and sometimes other boroughs, looking for any kind of wrong-doing worthy of ticketing or arrest. The time flew by, and Hudson began to wonder if they would forever remain a duo of two uniform cops for a very long time.

And then there was Hudson's friendship with Professor Ezra Goldstein.

The Professor was good to him, treating him like a son, with a warm face and permanent smile. They spent time together listening to recordings of symphonies and classical works as well as operas, while the Professor explained the details about the music and the composer. They would have tea at exactly four in the afternoon, official team time in England, which had suddenly come alive in his charming and quaint apartment in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

The fire was always in the fire place, warm, so warm that Hudson could feel his blood become hot, soothing him, making him gentle, giving him peace after each day; days that were filled with fighting crime directly in the streets -- drug dealing, prostitution, petty theft, liquor store robberies, stolen vehicle pursuits, grand theft auto. Even the little tiny traffic violations seemed to make him harder, like a stone. Being a rookie cop made him very tough.

And Sonya was gone......

From 1981 to 1984, Hudson was a unique kind of uniform cop, unheard of at the time in New York City or any other place for that matter. His rookie years were spent as a patrol officer, which sometimes meant he would drive a police motorcycle through the city, both during his day shift and night shifts, and during the day, he would also be seen on a horse on the streets of Manhattan.