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Officer Needs Assistance

By David O. Sullivan


Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords

Visit jms-books.com for more information.


Copyright 2017 David O. Sullivan

ISBN 9781634865203

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Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.


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This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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Officer Needs Assistance

By David O. Sullivan

Chapter 1

San Jose, California, 1977

Rookie police officer Sean Patton strolled into the men’s locker room. He emptied his pockets of his wallet, cash, and comb, and put them on the bench in front of his locker. He striped to his briefs and gawked at the new uniform on its hanger. Sean took a deep breath, realizing he’d actually been hired. Most of his life he leaned toward insecurity, feeling everyone else was better than him.

He decided to use the restroom first, but after taking a few steps, an older officer, naked and toweling off from a shower, warned him, “Don’t leave your money and wallet out.”

Sean had spied the man before, with his tanned and gym-toned body that lacked tan lines. “We’re all cops here.”

“Right. Don’t leave your money and wallet out.”

The idea that all cops couldn’t be trusted flabbergasted Sean, but he put the valuables in his uniform pockets before using the urinal. As he passed the officer, he said, “Thanks. I’m new.”

The taller and fit officer, holding his underwear, looked down at Sean. “Hope I didn’t shock you, but not everyone is as honest as you and I think we are.” He winked, smiled, and extended a hand. “I’m Captain Barrows.”

Although Sean had seen the man around the department, but hadn’t recognized him out of uniform. They shook. “Yes, sir, thanks for the tip. I’m Sean Patton.”

“Welcome aboard. Make sure you have fun, right? No job is too good that you shouldn’t have fun in life.” Sean could swear the guy checked out his package.

He went to the urinals and tried to be subtle while checking out the other officers, just like he’d done in high school and college locker rooms. He knew a lot of guys glanced at others, and he’d heard stories of it being blatant in women’s locker rooms and gyms. There were dozens of officers dressing for the midnight shift. Some paraded naked in the locker room, some wore towels around their waists, while a majority wore ugly boxers. A few, mostly the younger guys, sported an array of briefs styles. One or two dared to wear colored briefs, and others teased them.

Sean eventually dressed, shined his shoes, sat through a daily briefing, and eventually went out on patrol in his one-officer assignment. Walking behind two female officers in the parking lot, he checked out their asses and wondered what type of underwear they wore.

On patrol, Sean handled a few routine calls, made two car stops, and got a disturbance call. He turned onto the street. His left hand panned the spotlight beam from one rundown house to another. When he found the address, 3634, he pulled his police car one house past it, parked, and lifted the microphone from its holder.

“Unit Seven-Six-Two to dispatch. I’m on scene of the domestic disturbance call.”

He grinned; he enjoyed being off probation. Now that the probationary leash is gone, my career will really take off. The last year had zoomed by and he now found himself in the middle of 1977.

His mind back on business, the safety rules ran through his mind—forearm over the duty weapon and ready to draw, flashlight in the other hand and look around.

His still-new uniform gave a light tug as it encased his muscular body. He flashed on the academy training about the dangers of domestic disputes as he strode up the driveway, and he was glad he decided to buy his own ballistic vest. It was bulky and stopped only some bullets, but it was the wave of the future.

Elvis Presley sang “Jailhouse Rock” as Sean entered the open, well-lit garage. While the house could compete with all the others in this neighborhood for the status of “most dilapidated,” the garage sported an aura of cleanliness. The walls were finished and painted. Orderly racks held various sizes of lumber, sheetrock, and assorted lengths of pipe—all arranged by size. Against one wall stood a row of power tools—a table saw, a band saw, and a sanding machine.

An older forest-green pickup truck with a polished body and shiny wheels displayed itself. South County Construction shimmered from the driver’s door in artistic gold and black lettering. The registration tabs showed May 1977. They’d expired two months ago.

A shirtless white male leaned into the bed of the truck, straightening tools. Damn he’s buffed. It’ll be a hell of a fight if he resists. Sean assessed him—about thirty years old, six feet tall, two hundred ten pounds, sleek black hair in a ponytail, a tattoo on each huge arm, a long, trimmed mustache, and puffy sideburns. Looked like he had a nice ass, too, but Sean had no time to gawk; this was police business. Besides, my career will be over if anyone finds out I’m into guys.

Sean grinned again, this time at his keen observational skills. Funny, it’s not a hot night, it’s almost eleven P.M., and he’s not working too hard, so why is he sweating so much? Why don’t the red spots on the right forearm match the tattoo? They’re not blood, are they? He ignored the chill of danger that shot through him.

“Good evening, sir. Do you live here?”

The man jerked upright. His head snapped toward Sean. “Yeah, I live here. You got a warrant?”

“No, sir. We got a call of a family fight at this address. I’m here to make sure everyone is okay, then I’ll leave you to your business.”

He remembered to display a friendly smile as he scanned the man for any visible knives or guns. A wave of concern squashed Sean’s momentary lust as he watched the guy step away from the pickup, flex his arms, and close and open his fists. The man’s chest rose and fell when he sighed. Another wave of concern lingered in Sean’s gut, and his heart rate increased. He thought to call for another officer but didn’t want to be one of those cops the veteran officers complained about who called for backup with every little excuse.

“Everyone is okay, officer, just an argument with the wife. I worked a long day and there was no damn dinner when I got home. I busted my ass to pull my life together after some stupid mistakes. I’m sure you checked my record. I’m still on parole. That bitch sits on her ass most of the time, hardly keeps the house up, and can’t even have dinner for me. Hell, this garage is cleaner than the house. You’d be pissed off, too.” The aggrieved husband’s chest rose and fell again with a second, and longer, sigh.

Sean offered a sympathetic nod and short smile. “I’ll have to go in and check, just to be sure, okay?”

“Well, dude, don’t suppose I can stop you, huh?” With a lowered head, the muscled man led Sean into the house by the door from the garage.

Sean’s memory activated as the third sigh came—this one long and deep. What was it they said in the academy about decisive sighs? Either someone is going to escalate up or calm down.

Sean stepped into the kitchen and scanned it. It was a stark contrast to the spic-and-span garage. His gaze moved from the sink full of dishes, to the dirty pots on the counter. A certain odor wafted by. What is that smell? Garbage, mildew? It stinks.

But then his eyes locked onto a female Caucasian, about twenty-seven years old, sitting on the edge of one of the metal kitchen chairs. She slumped over the Formica table with her head and a scarlet-stained towel in one hand. He stared at her torn housecoat and the blood on her arm that dripped from her face. The swollen right eye stood out. The other hand held her ribs. Sean thought of a pummeled boxer.

He stepped toward her. His mouth opened to speak when, with sudden awareness, he realized he had taken his eyes off the robust man.

The pair of blasts shuddered his body. The impacts to the left side of his back made him shift his feet to maintain balance. Damn, what—

He spun to see the man six feet away, holding a smoking revolver. He shot me; where’d he get the gun? The searing heat of fear spread from his gut to his chest and into his throat. His legs buckled and he dropped to one knee. Rippling pain encased him.

The man spit out, “I’m not going back to prison for giving her what she deserved. Looks like we all die tonight.”

Sean’s fear elevated as the man fired two more shots, hitting him in the chest, knocking him backward. Pain seared his body. The man shifted the gun toward the battered woman.

Sean propelled himself upward and used his right hand and a body block to shove the woman off her chair. Simultaneously, his left hand drew his revolver. He returned the suspect’s two shots with three of his own. Sean wondered if something had gone wrong—the shots sounded like a distant echo. The familiar acrid but sweet scent of gunpowder invaded his nostrils. Curiosity assailed him. Why is everything happening in slow motion? A cloud of smoke swirled from his revolver and commingled with the opponent’s gun smoke. His peripheral vision caught the blue-steel revolver fly from his attacker’s hand onto the dirty green linoleum floor. Even the thud of the six-shooter’s fall seemed muffled.

“Ugh,” was the only sound to leak from the assailant’s mouth. His Herculean body crumpled to its knees, then dropped onto its back. Blood oozed from the three holes in the hairy chest and mixed with the perspiration. His face and eyes transmitted a look of “What happened?”

Sean froze in fear for a moment as the man’s chest heaved to seize its last gasp. The eyes locked wide open, and the body shook once, twice, and a third time. obviously in its death throws.

Sean holstered his gun. Thoughts flooded his mind like a torpedoed ship. Did my bulletproof vest stop the bullets? It hurt so badly at first. Now my whole body is numb. Am I bleeding? First aid to the woman? No, cuff the suspect. Call for backup. Should I pick up his gun or leave it there as evidence?

His right hand robotically lifted the portable police radio from its black leather case on his gun belt. He pressed the microphone button on the side of the plastic device. There was so much chatter on the police channel, he prayed he could weave his emergency transmission into it. “Unit Seven-Six-Two. Emergency. Officer needs help! Shots fired at the Sherwood address. One suspect and an officer shot, and there’s a beating victim.”

Sean suspected he was going into shock. He forced his eyes to stay open in resistance to their desire to close. It was hard to breathe. His ears perked at the dispatcher’s response.

“All units clear the channel, emergency in progress. Respond Code Three to 3634 Sherwood—officer needs help. Seven-Six-Two’s been shot. I’m dispatching a Code Three ambulance.”

Code Three was an all-out, balls-to-the-wall drive with lights and siren.

His eyes closed for just a second as he prayed. Thank you, God.

“Dispatch to Seven-Six-Two, how many suspects? How bad are you hit? Are you safe?”

His eyelids popped open, “Seven-Six-Two to dispatch. One suspect, he’s down, not moving, not cuffed, beating victim here, hurt bad. Not sure about me—I can stand, my vest, I’m not sure—” His thumb slipped off the transmission button. He strained to take controlled, deep breaths to stay conscious. His body felt numb.

The radio crackled. “Patton, hang in there, kid. I’ve got lots of help getting to you, hang in there!”

His eyes flickered. He took comfort in the senior dispatcher’s calm voice. His gaze floated back and forth from the lifeless man who’d tried to kill him, to the defeated woman in a heap, still on the floor. She uttered not a word. Her vacant eyes spoke for her.

Sean whispered, “I’m sorry.”

A distant siren shrieked louder. More joined it as they grew into a crowd. He had to hold on for only another minute.

His girlfriend Debbie came to mind. She’ll freak. I’ll ask someone to call her from the hospital if I make it.

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Chapter 2

Two weeks later

Officer Sean Patton’s voice woke him. “Code Three, I’m shot! Code Three, I’m shot!”

“Sean, you’re dreaming again. It’s okay, baby, I’m here. Wake up. You’re safe.”

His eyelids snapped open and his heart pounded. “Oh, Debbie.”

At first, he thought he was in his own apartment. His eyes focused and he finally recognized the two nightlights in Debbie’s bedroom—a kitty light on the mirrored dresser, and an angel on the wall shelf.

Debbie turned on the table lamp. The light cast itself on the four bedposts, the satin sheets, and music boxes on the dresser. The painting of the blue roses in a nearly invisible vase looked like they came straight out of a fantasy world. He sucked in deep breaths in search of calm. A mix of perfume and potpourri always made her apartment and bedroom appealing.

“Fuck, Debbie. I can’t put up with these nightmares much more. The flashbacks when I’m awake and the terrors at night. Damn.”

“That’s it, baby, take more deep breaths. You’re safe.”

“I can still smell the gun smoke.” His nostrils flared. “Damn, it seems so real. I’m sorry. A girlfriend shouldn’t have to put up with all of this crap.”

“It’s better that you’re here than alone at your place. Think of something else, baby. Do you remember what we did before we fell asleep?”

They both sat up. He shook his head in a vain effort to contain the tears. Debbie’s hands drew him to her bare chest.

Sean pursed his lips and blinked to clear his foggy head. “Yeah, you forced me to have sex.”

“Oh, you poor little wise-ass. Here you are, a real muscle man, a cop and little ol’ me, a weak, one-hundred-twenty-five-pound woman forced you to have sex? Oh my, oh my.” She grinned.

Sean smiled at her innocent countenance, but in an instant, her brows knitted together and her gaze bore into his.

She developed a deep, animated voice. “Then you should call a cop and have me arrested. Just be aware, baby, I’m a repeat offender!”

Her smile migrated to a smirk. He didn’t resist as her fingers caressed his chin and tilted it up. Her soft lips floated by to brush his.

“Sean, it’s only been two weeks since the shooting. It’s normal to dream about it. I’m grateful that your mom made you buy that awkward, bulletproof vest you bitched so much about. It stopped the bullets and saved your life. If you had been killed, I would have had to go out and find and train a new boyfriend.” Her smile uncovered straight, white teeth that teased Sean’s nose and lips with gentle bites.

He knew he should have admitted she was right, yet all he could offer was his best little-boy grin. He scanned her curvaceous, naked body and the long bronze hair that went to her waist. He took another relaxing breath and buried his face in a handful of hair. Um, what a sweet scent. Her tits were round but not too big, perfect for play. Her tight, firm ass added to the mix. Sean’s hand grazed her neck, slid over her tanned shoulders and arms, and visited her toned torso. Debbie guided him down to the bed. “Does it still hurt here?” She rubbed the spots on his back where the bulletproof vest had blocked the bullets.

He tensed. “No, not anymore.”

“But you still tighten up when I touch you there. The bruises are almost gone.”

He giggled like a girl as her fingertips feathered over his ribs. Sean wiggled, then settled to the security of Debbie’s plump lips. They tended to his chest and neck. Her teeth nibbled.

“Silly boy, I love your little-girl giggle. You do it so well.”

They embraced in silence.

“I like being with you, Debbie. I think of you a lot.”

“I was afraid I’d lost you. You know the saying, ‘you only miss something when it’s gone.’ You almost died.” She took a breath as though she was going to speak more, but didn’t.

Their fingers traced the curves of the other’s chest as her head cradled at his shoulder. She rolled away from him and grabbed a book from her nightstand. “I got this for us.”

Sean rose to his elbow, hand under his head, as he shifted to his side. “Whoa, The Joy of Sex.

“There’s a lot of stuff in there to play with. I started reading it—cool things.”

Sean flipped through it. “Nice drawings.” The pages flopped open to a bookmark. “Umm, two naked women kissing. Were you looking at that?” His voice elevated. “Oh, Debbie. Are you into girls a little bit?” His cock tingled.

Her face flushed. “No, not really, I’ve just been glancing through it and that’s where I ended up stopping, but there’s no sin in two women doing it.”

Sean smirked.

“Baby, you’re sweaty. Come on, I’m going to give you a shower.” Debbie jumped out of bed and led him like a guardian angel. They meshed in a slow, naked slink to the bathroom.

He glanced at the pink, fluffy toilet lid cover and the kittens on the shower doors. His nose inhaled the bathroom scent. Is that flowers or fruit? Why doesn’t my place smell so good? She started the water flow and her smile enticed him into the stall.

“God, the hot water feels good. You know, Debbie, I’ve never let anyone call me ‘baby,’ not even my mom. What is it about you that makes it okay…that makes me feel so manly and loved? I’ve never had a girlfriend more than six months, and you’ve kept me for ten.”

“Well, you’ve kept me for the same time. We get along, we argue nicely, and I could fill a legal pad with all of your good points. Despite being a guy, you have few faults. Hey, maybe you’re really a girl disguised as a guy, huh. Besides, all your other girlfriends were younger than you. You need my maturity to guide you.”

“Yeah, you are older. Should I start calling you ‘ma’am’?”

“Only if you want to be punished. I’m only seven years older.” Her hands drew his head close, and her tongue entered his mouth to explore. Then it moved to his ear as her teeth bit and teased. “I love you, baby.”

Sean had no joy that his mouth failed to say those words in return. His mind wanted him to, but his mouth stayed silent, again. Buoyancy filled his heart as their lips reunited. Their tongues dueled. The shower calmed him as the full-body hug excited him. His stiff, profuse cock angled up like a missile.

Debbie bit and licked his neck. “Do you know what I told my friends the other day about you? I said that I’m lucky I found you and how wonderful you are. You give me safety and comfort.” Her left hand slid over his chest, around to his back, and settled on his ass. The fingernails stroked it and gave him goose bumps. “I bragged at how mature you are at times, yet your other side is mischievous, a silly man-boy who makes me laugh.”

Her stare penetrated to his heart. The hot water pounded them.

Debbie’s voice staggered. “I cried when I got the call you had been shot. I thought there were so many things I wanted to tell you about me. How I feel about you. We still don’t know each other completely.” She wiped tears that the water had already washed away. One leg wrapped around his as she pulled him close and hugged tight.

“I’m sorry you have to go through all this with me. When I was waiting for help, after I got shot, I thought of you. It helped me stay conscious.” His voice broke and he hated his emotionality. They hugged in the swirling steam and cleansing water.

More minutes passed. “You sexy, wet, naked hunk, make love to me here in the shower.”

He whimpered with an exaggerated high voice. “What if I don’t want to? What if I’m too upset or tired?”

Her left hand slid from his butt cheek, up and down his crack, then around to his cock.

Sean screeched, “Oh, my God, what are you doing to me? Let me go, help. Someone call the police.”

She clamped her other hand over his impish grin. “Then I will force you, officer. I will compel you to make love to me. I will, with great duress, force you to fuck me!”

He mumbled under her hand, “You can’t force me to get a boner.”

He jumped at her loud laugh. “Oh, baby, I don’t have to force it. Little Sean here is already at attention.” Her tongue circled her lips. Her left hand squeezed his stiff cock, while her right hand stroked his face.

“You’ve named my cock?”

“Yes, it’s a woman’s prerogative. He is now Little Sean.”

“I don’t get a say in this?”

“Shut up and fuck me. Copulate with me, officer. Engage in carnal knowledge. Pound me. Let us sin together, intentionally and willfully, with malice aforethought. I’m gonna screw those fucking nightmares right out of your head.”

“Wow, spoken like a fancy lawyer. No wonder you were top in your class.”

Sean’s memory of the shooting evaporated from his mind. Debbie’s lips met his again, then floated to his right cheek, and traversed to his neck, then up to his ear, where she bit his lobe, firm but lovingly. The sensation sent a throbbing signal to his long, thick cock. He viewed her in the dim light that slipped into the steamy bathroom from the bedroom. She tickled him like a little boy being teased. Little Sean throbbed with excitement and anticipation.

They giggled, and like octopuses enveloping prey, their arms and fingers touched each other’s breasts, limbs, and necks. They squeezed each other as though they were clamped together. Sean took a handful of ass in each hand and massaged. Debbie did the same and added her nails to the fray. He fingered her ass crack and grinned as she copied his play. She pushed him into the corner and her lips engaged his. Their tongues dueled again.

He shifted to his right so he could apply the heel of his left palm to Debbie’s pubic bone. He pressed and made circles. She moaned. The other hand stroked up and down her firm ass crack. “I love a girl who works out. Have I told you lately how sexy you are?”

“No, officer, not lately and not enough.”

“You are. You’re sexy and hot. I’m lucky that you found me.” A fiendish smile came to his face as he buried his tongue into the valley of her full tits.

“Baby, you are the first man I’ve met that has a genuine interest to please a woman sexually. Most men are self-centered and just want to cum and leave. Women never do that. They’re thoughtful, patient, and loving.”

“At your service, ma’am.” He tipped his invisible hat and wondered—the way she’d said that almost seemed like she’d made love to a woman. Sean massaged her pubic bone again as fingers slipped down to meet his lover’s cunt. His digits played and her body wiggled. Debbie’s face glowed with obvious joy. He was anxious to cum again after their earlier fuck session, but he also cherished the act of sexually satisfying his partner.

“Debbie, you are the best I’ve been with. I love your sexual aggression and instigation. You excite me more than anyone else ever has.” It wasn’t a huge lie, but wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe he should tell her the whole truth.

She used her long fingernails to scratch his back and muscled ass. “Oh, my love, you have goose bumps. You like this, huh? The mix of pleasure and pain really gets to you.”

“No, no I don’t.” But he knew his face revealed his lie.

“Oh? You don’t like it?” And she relocated the seductive nails to the underside of his low-hanging nut sack. She taunted. “If you don’t like me using my nails, just tell me to stop. Go on, say it…say ‘stop.’”

Sean knelt and used his tongue and teeth on her firm abdomen, then slid southward until he met her muff. “Um, I like that you trim your sacred spot.”

“Oh, dear sweet little boy, it’s only to make you happy.” She leaned back into the wall and raised one leg to his right shoulder, giving him greater access for the job at hand. “No man has ever wanted to please me like you do. You’re an angel.”

Sean stayed loyal and bound to do his duty. His tongue executed slow and deliberate licks from her cunt toward her clit. His oral play circled the bull’s eye but kept missing it. “Where is it, Debbie? I can’t find it. Don’t you have a clit anymore?” He paused, looked up, and activated his very best wise-assed grin.

“You asshole, you’re teasing me. Do it. Lick it. Suck my clit.”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Asshole.”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Okay, please, please.”

“Say ‘pretty please.’”

She threw back her head and howled. “Pretty please. P-r-e-t-t-y p-l-e-a-s-e, asshole.” Her moaning grew louder than the shower.

His tongue coupled with her clit and firmly flicked it sideways dozens of times, then shifted to vertical service. Her girl-juice mixed with the water, but sufficient flavor remained to allow enjoyment. Eventually, he stood and initiated a deep kissing exchange.

“I can taste my cunt juice on your tongue.” Then her legs, one at a time, captured his waist. She hugged his neck and bit it.

Little Sean missed at the initial efforts to enter Debbie’s pussy. “Little Sean is lost, Debbie, he can’t find your cunt.”

“Well, he’d better keep trying.”

His laughter made it harder. After multiple thrusts, he made a deep entry.

“Aww. Sean—oh—hold me up, baby, do it, do it, keep going, harder, deeper—” Debbie lowered her right hand to her clit.

Sean stole a look; her fingers played with it. He held her hips and pumped away.

“Sean, I’ve fantasized about doing this in the shower. Umm, hell yes, God, I’m coming, awwghh.”

Little Sean stood like steel and plunged deep. Big Sean stared at his wet, naked beauty.

She shook her head back and forth. Her legs clamped tighter around his muscled waist. They grinned and stared at each other. Then the familiar, repulsive panic began in his gut and escalated upward, past his heart, and into his throat. The vision of the dead, bare-chested man with the eyes frozen open was right in front of him. “Noooo, no, fuck, no, God damn it,” he muttered through clenched teeth. His eyes slammed shut.


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