found the courage to ask. Apparently the other night I had plenty of
courage.
She is tall and thin, a typical runner not
a classic robust build with pronounced curves. She is a light brunette with a
natural pronounced red sheen which she wears as a short crop instead of the
current fashion of long straight hair. Emma isn’t cute but is best described as
handsome with light Saxon complexion and startling blue eyes. At 27 years old
she is an urban female whose primary focus is her career, someone not prepared
to associate with nits.
As you can see I’ve done my homework, just
never did anything about it. From what my sources tell me, her current workload
is massive with the new legislation forcing her to continue to adjust and
innovate. Technology is being rolled out at breakneck speed.
Wes sees I’m a blank and continues. “About
this time her date arrives with the drinks. He is a sergeant from the Robbery
Division, looks about 6’ 4’’. Looks like an ex- Marine. He pushes you away, and
when you persist, he reaches for your neck.
This is where your luck kicks in; I think
your wobble and swaying made it difficult for him to find you throat. So even
in your state, you’re able to isolate one of his fingers. You apply a finger
bend on him……son of a bitch ….it looked like you turned the finger down to his
forearm.
At this time, the band stopped playing. And
in this quiet lull, our ex -Marine, now on his knees, comes out with a Comanche
style scream. Of course, the entire hall turns to the wailing; everyone, and I
mean everyone, is peering at the scene. There is no one else on the dance
floor, except for the screaming sergeant, a grinning pie-eyed ex-homicide
detective. Red, close to tears, tried to pull you off. I got there in time to
get you away before his friends arrived. Shit, I never knew a man could scream
that loud.”
“No bloody more! Jesus Christ! The Chief
was still there?”
“Listen everyone was there. You have to
stop drinking. The blackouts are bad enough, but the behavior will get you
killed.”
We’re almost at the end of the corridor
when we both see her. It’s Red, and she is coming straight at us. Time for a
quick decision. I have to apologize. She’s going to walk right by us as if we
don’t exist. I wonder why. I step in front of her and give it a shot.
“Emma, listen I want to..” That’s as far as
I got.
She glares at me. “You frigging asshole!”
I try a second time, she beats me to it and
belts out ––– “frigging asshole”––– and walks away.
Wes is grinning. “That was very smooth.
Went well. I think she likes you.”
Screw it. I can’t fix it. I leave Wes and
head for the elevators and Division Headquarters. The reception area is
exceptionally large; it allows for staff to congregate while waiting to see the
Chief. There is a mixture of small lounges and a few armchairs; the steno’s
station is vacant, too early in the am. There a few other detectives in the
office area, in particular a group from the Vice and their head man, big mouth
Webster, who is smirking (what the hell does everyone find so funny today?).
I’m not ten feet into the office and Webster starts.
“Looks who’s here. It’s lover boy. Is it
true you bit Red’s ass last night in full view of the Chief? So was it the
booze or just really horny?”
His pals get into the act. “Charlie puts a
whole new meaning into tearing one-off”.
At this point, a few of the idiots slip in
sets of huge plastic false teeth and start making clicking sounds. This group
came prepared——Webster is aware of everything that is going on in the Division.
Of course, they know I never bit anyone but it makes for a great story, and I
will be part of the Division’s oral history for years. As the prank continues the
laughter gets louder, some are crying (Christ, it’s not that funny), and the
giant false teeth keep up the vigorous chomping.
Someone lets out a mock moan and groans.
“Bite
courage.
She is tall and thin, a typical runner not
a classic robust build with pronounced curves. She is a light brunette with a
natural pronounced red sheen which she wears as a short crop instead of the
current fashion of long straight hair. Emma isn’t cute but is best described as
handsome with light Saxon complexion and startling blue eyes. At 27 years old
she is an urban female whose primary focus is her career, someone not prepared
to associate with nits.
As you can see I’ve done my homework, just
never did anything about it. From what my sources tell me, her current workload
is massive with the new legislation forcing her to continue to adjust and
innovate. Technology is being rolled out at breakneck speed.
Wes sees I’m a blank and continues. “About
this time her date arrives with the drinks. He is a sergeant from the Robbery
Division, looks about 6’ 4’’. Looks like an ex- Marine. He pushes you away, and
when you persist, he reaches for your neck.
This is where your luck kicks in; I think
your wobble and swaying made it difficult for him to find you throat. So even
in your state, you’re able to isolate one of his fingers. You apply a finger
bend on him……son of a bitch ….it looked like you turned the finger down to his
forearm.
At this time, the band stopped playing. And
in this quiet lull, our ex -Marine, now on his knees, comes out with a Comanche
style scream. Of course, the entire hall turns to the wailing; everyone, and I
mean everyone, is peering at the scene. There is no one else on the dance
floor, except for the screaming sergeant, a grinning pie-eyed ex-homicide
detective. Red, close to tears, tried to pull you off. I got there in time to
get you away before his friends arrived. Shit, I never knew a man could scream
that loud.”
“No bloody more! Jesus Christ! The Chief
was still there?”
“Listen everyone was there. You have to
stop drinking. The blackouts are bad enough, but the behavior will get you
killed.”
We’re almost at the end of the corridor
when we both see her. It’s Red, and she is coming straight at us. Time for a
quick decision. I have to apologize. She’s going to walk right by us as if we
don’t exist. I wonder why. I step in front of her and give it a shot.
“Emma, listen I want to..” That’s as far as
I got.
She glares at me. “You frigging asshole!”
I try a second time, she beats me to it and
belts out ––– “frigging asshole”––– and walks away.
Wes is grinning. “That was very smooth.
Went well. I think she likes you.”
Screw it. I can’t fix it. I leave Wes and
head for the elevators and Division Headquarters. The reception area is
exceptionally large; it allows for staff to congregate while waiting to see the
Chief. There is a mixture of small lounges and a few armchairs; the steno’s
station is vacant, too early in the am. There a few other detectives in the
office area, in particular a group from the Vice and their head man, big mouth
Webster, who is smirking (what the hell does everyone find so funny today?).
I’m not ten feet into the office and Webster starts.
“Looks who’s here. It’s lover boy. Is it
true you bit Red’s ass last night in full view of the Chief? So was it the
booze or just really horny?”
His pals get into the act. “Charlie puts a
whole new meaning into tearing one-off”.
At this point, a few of the idiots slip in
sets of huge plastic false teeth and start making clicking sounds. This group
came prepared——Webster is aware of everything that is going on in the Division.
Of course, they know I never bit anyone but it makes for a great story, and I
will be part of the Division’s oral history for years. As the prank continues the
laughter gets louder, some are crying (Christ, it’s not that funny), and the
giant false teeth keep up the vigorous chomping.
Someone lets out a mock moan and groans.
“Bite
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