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The Big Guy Chapter 14
The Big Guy
Chapter 14
I had to laugh. “They say I’m the happiest man on the planet and the luckiest to have you.” I pulled her to me for what I thought at the time was the kiss of all time. After breaking it roughly a minute later, I suggested that we had an even better way to celebrate. Lucy nodded her agreement, and we hopped into the car, driving away less than a minute later.
We ran into the house, stripping our clothes from our bodies. We ran to the bedroom, Max running ahead and then waiting for us to catch up. I helped Lucy onto the bed, not even bothering to turn it down, then slid behind her. We kissed for maybe a minute or two before our lust for each other took over, and Lucy broke it to climb on top of me. She rubbed me into her slit a few times before rising on her legs and slowly impaling herself onto my steel-like erection. It throbbed with every beat of my heart, and in my ardor for my wife, I was sure it was pumping at 150 beats a minute, at least. There was so much blood in my cock that I felt it would break.
Once Lucy had lowered herself to my pubis, she began a slow rocking motion, gently driving her clit into my rigid muscles. I matched her with slow, deep thrusts that increased in speed and intensity as we progressed. We were into it for about two minutes when she leaned down to kiss me, teasing me with her active darting tongue. I pulled her to me then so our bodies meshed into one. She pulled her head back to look into my eyes as she said the words I yearned to hear—I love you. My response was to drive up into her with all my strength as I kissed her again. I had been sure that Lucy was the woman for me before, but now that it seemed that we would be parents, I couldn’t be more confident.
Our mating was destined for a swift death because of our love and lust. I could feel the tremors begin in her abdomen and spread to the other parts of her body as they grew in strength and frequency. She came so hard I thought she might need the emergency room for her back, which bent backward more than forty-five degrees. Instead, she was more like a whip than a pillar of stone as I emptied my balls into her hot pussy.
We were breathing heavily when we finally came to rest. Lucy’s body was covered in a sheet of sexual sweat, and mine was even worse. Lucy looked at me, then at the blanket, and we laughed. I realized then that I had rarely laughed before meeting Lucy. That was just one more reason for loving her the way I did. I checked the clock and then showed it to Lucy. She called me a “party pooper” but rose from my body, leaving a long thread of semen and pussy juice oozing from her pussy. Walking hand in hand, we made it to the shower for something we needed before our dinner date with Daryl and Jasmine. Lucy had already planned the menu with Ingrid.
They arrived at six, and we had drinks on the patio by the pool. I say “drinks,” but truthfully, three of us had ginger ale, and the other had a Coke.
Ingrid brought out some chips and salsa that tasted great. I was reminded then that neither Lucy nor I had eaten any lunch. I asked Ingrid for some potato chips, and they came a few minutes later. We moved to the patio table just before seven for our dinner—grilled tuna steaks, potatoes au gratin, and fresh baby carrots. The meal was delicious and accompanied by great conversation, but nothing about Lucy being pregnant was said. We had decided to say nothing until her doctor confirmed it.
Monday morning at inspection, I reminded the men of our 4:30 appointment at the county firing range. “Remember the rules—all weapons unloaded and actions open. You won’t need an ID or a pistol license if you're in uniform, so I recommend that. We’ll have at least five firing lanes, but I’ll go first, then Lt. Evans, and when we’re done, each of you will fire fifty rounds. There’s one thing to remember. You’ll hear me say it over, and overshooting is nothing more than practice and concentration, practice and concentration. Of course, having proper form is critical, but that’s just one aspect of practice. Okay, dismissed. Have a safe day.”
Daryl was still with me when I walked up to Sandra’s desk. She looked up to ask me, “Did you meet a Darnell Carmichael on Saturday afternoon?
He told me you suggested he phone for an application to the force.”
“Yeah, he stopped me while I walked Max at the other stop in Coopersville. Send him an application and tell him what other info we need.” I walked into my office with Daryl at my heels.
“What on earth were you doing down there?”
“I needed something from a pharmacy, and we stopped there on the way back because Lucy needed to take a whiz.”
Daryl’s not dope, so he read between the lines and responded almost immediately: “That’s great, Matt. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, well…we’re not saying anything until she sees her doctor, so please don’t say a word—not even to Jasmine.” He made a sign of zipping his lips like a kid in elementary school might. Then I reviewed the day’s work with him and left with Max for the supermarket just down the street.
Everyone in the city was accustomed to seeing Max with me, even in restaurants and the supermarket. I pushed the cart to the fruit and vegetable section, where I selected three items, paying no attention to whether they were ripe. I wasn’t planning on eating them.
Lucy stopped by just before lunch with her picnic basket. She told me she had an appointment to see Dr. Murphy on Friday at 4:00. “I made it late in the afternoon, hoping that you would be able to go with me.” I promised that I would unless some dire emergency occurred. Then she asked if she could accompany me to the range this afternoon. I agreed once the Range Manager assured me he had an extra set of earwear.
Daryl came in for lunch after Lucy had gone, telling me about a three-car accident on one of our “major” highways. Our roads were a big problem.
Most of them had been built forty or more years ago when the population was only a tenth of what it is today, when they were overcrowded, and drivers tended to go much too fast. Twice in the past week, I had pulled to the roadside to allow someone to pass even though I was speeding. Imagine their surprise when I flipped the light bar and siren on. The first, a man in his fifties, was polite and respectful, but the second, a young woman, created an uproar—swearing like I hadn’t heard since my years in the Navy. Of course, I was polite but insistent that I wanted to see her live to see thirty, and driving on that road at such high speed made that doubtful.
I picked up Lucy at 4:00 for the twenty-minute ride to the range. I wanted to get there first so I could set up my demonstration. The manager introduced himself after acknowledging Lucy. I explained what I wanted to do, and he shut down the range while he walked me to the fifty-yard mark. I set up my special sawhorse and pushed the cantaloupe, apple, and plum onto the spikes that protruded from the two-by-four I had nailed to the top.
Many of the men had arrived by the time we were done. I explained what I was about to do. I put on my shooting glasses and ear protection, then ensured that Lucy was comfortably over her ears before turning and loading my pistol. I replaced it in my holster, then drew and swiftly brought it to a two-handed firing position. A second later, I exhaled and fired. The cantaloupe exploded. I waited a few seconds before taking my second shot, destroying the apple. Finally, I fired at the plum, disintegrating it instantly.
“Practice and concentration,” I told the men. “You have no idea how many hours and weeks I practiced that before I got it right. I must have shot ten thousand rounds. Now, there’s one thing that most of you don’t consider—gravity. A bullet starts to fall as soon as it leaves the barrel. The rate of fall is independent of its horizontal speed. At fifty yards, my 44 Magnum shell has a muzzle velocity of about 1,350 feet per second. It covers the fifty yards in .11 seconds, and the bullet will fall almost two and a half inches, so I have to aim that much higher to strike the target. My 9mm only travels at about 1150 fps, so that it will fall even farther.
Most of your shooting will take place at twenty feet or less. Scientific studies have shown that if you aim for the chest and the bullet drops an inch or so, it won’t make any difference. You must consider this if you have to shoot longer distances.” I stopped when one of the officers asked a question.
“Chief, isn’t it a disadvantage having only six shots when most people, like criminals, use a semi-automatic with at least double the number in the clip?”
“That’s a good question, Somers. Let’s get a target. You won’t have to fire more than ten yards most of the time, so you must aim and practice at twenty or more. Start at twenty and move up from there.”
As we talked about earlier, I reloaded as the range manager ran a man-shaped target for forty yards.
I raised my Colt Python quickly, but not so fast as to upset my balance. Then, I fired one shot after another until the cylinder was empty. I flipped it open with my right hand, spilling the spent cartridges onto the floor as I pulled one of the speed loaders from my belt, ejecting it into the cylinder in under two seconds. I flipped the cylinder closed as I replaced the loader, bringing the weapon up horizontally as I did. Once I had my left hand on the grip and trigger, I commenced firing again. I repeated once the six shots were spent. The target was retrieved once I was done.
“Care to guess how many times I had to practice that? I used to sit in my Navy barracks and practice for hours whenever I wasn’t on duty. Now I can do it in my sleep. One of these days, my life and the lives of others may depend on my ability…or yours.” My target, once retrieved, showed eighteen holes in the central body mass of the target, showing eighteen straight kill shots. I stepped back, and Daryl stepped forward, loaded his H&K 9mm, and fired as quickly as I did. He changed clips and fired again. His target, to nobody’s surprise, showed thirty clean hits.
Now, it was up to the men. The first five loaded their weapons as Daryl and I stood behind them, suggesting, “Hold your arms straight, but don’t tighten your muscles. Look down the sight with both eyes. Don’t worry; you’ll get used to it with more practice.” We spent more than ninety minutes at the range, and only half of the men had qualified by reaching eighty-five percent accuracy, but another eighteen had just missed. Only the older officers had done poorly. I had an idea of what I could do with them.
We repeated the test on Tuesday before their 4:00 p.m. shift began, meeting at the range at 2:00. My demo and Daryl’s shooting went as expected. This time, sixty percent of the men met the standard, and nineteen were close. Wednesday morning at 8:30, we finished the testing with the midnight shift.
There were fewer on this shift, and I wondered aloud if we needed more. The officers told me that it was tight. Responding to an accident or a fight at a bar was a close call, leaving the rest of the city under-patrolled. I decided to discuss that with Lucy.
Wednesday night, Daryl, Lucy, Max, and I found ourselves in the AME Church Hall, where we had a blackboard and several tables and chairs. Five young black men and one black woman showed up for the tutoring. I began the session by telling everyone that we would be on a first-name basis during the sessions. “How many will we have?” asked the woman named Aimee.
“How many will you need? We’ll give you as many as you need or as many as you want. You will be tested in Memphis, but we’ll provide a big van to transport you both ways. The test has two parts—aptitude or your ability to learn and a psychological profile. If you are successful, you’ll find that there will be repeated psychological reviews because we don’t want a hothead on the force, and we don’t want someone with psychological issues. We don’t want people who are prejudiced either. We do want calm people who think things through before reacting.
“I’ve had people spit in my face when there was an antiwar demonstration outside a base where I was stationed. I wanted more than anything to strangle that little bastard, but that was exactly what he wanted. Instead, I twisted him around, handcuffed him, and put him into a van where he was formally arrested for assault and read his rights. Then, I returned to my place in line. There were no more spitting incidents during the rest of the demonstration, although we arrested another thirty people. Remember that what I did was by the book and what every other police officer should do in a similar situation. So…why are you here? Why do you think you want to be a police officer?”
We listened and talked for almost thirty minutes, and when we were done, we were sure that everyone had good reasons for being there. Lucy passed the sample exams, and I gave pencils to those who needed one while Daryl took over the instructions. He reviewed the first twenty questions with the group, and I was pleased they did well. Theoretically, you can’t study for an aptitude test, but you can study for the type of question and develop good test-taking practices. We all left with smiles on our faces at 10:00.
The following week, we had eight students; the week after, ten, including two Hispanic men. We held the sessions for ten weeks and then made transportation arrangements to and from the test, which was held on a Saturday morning. All ten of our students felt that they did well, and all thanked Daryl, Lucy, and me for our time and willingness to help. Now, all we had to do was await the results.
I was in my office the day after the range work was done when Sandra told me that I had a phone call from Julia Adams. “Hi, there, Prosecutor; how are you? How’s the case going?”
“I’m doing great, Matt, and the case is even better. Jeremy Haynes is such a total coward. He rolled over on his parents and colleagues the first time we talked with him. I don’t think this will ever actually go to trial. There will be a plea deal, but there will also be some heavy jail time for all of them. The worst is Wilson, the ex-chief. He just wanted money to care for his sick wife in their retirement. Now he’s sick, and he’ll likely die in prison.”
“He’s a drug dealer and worse. I have no sympathy for him or any of the others. What about bail?”
“No…they got our strictest judge, and I could use Mrs. Haynes’ journal to prove they had the means to get out of the country. Haynes and his wife have more than ten million in the Caymans. Jeremy has four million. Parsons and Wilson have about three each. That convinced the judge they were flight risks, so there was no bail.
“But the reason I’m calling is to share some good news. We counted the money they paid the Mexicans to 1.25 million. As the lead officer in the case and because it was under your jurisdiction, your city will get seventy-five percent once the money is cleared. That will probably be within a year or so.”
“That is good news because I have an excellent use for the money. All I have to do is convince my wife and let her deal with the City Council.” I ended the call with a big thank you and dug into the budget. It was just one more reason to despise Joe Wilson. It was worse than inadequate. There was no provision for new vehicles. The inventory from the garage showed that we had four cars already five years old with more than a half million miles on them. They were spending more time in the shop than on the road.
We needed a long-term plan approved by the Council for vehicle replacement. The same was true of shotguns, pistols, and parts. We also needed more workforce for the midnight shift. And then, there were the two projects I wanted for the community.
Lucy and Daryl joined me for lunch, and I laid out the deficiencies when I saw them. “That’s one of the reasons why you were hired, Matt. There hasn’t been an increase in the police department budget for the last ten years. In that time, salaries alone rose by almost fifty percent, so something had to be wrong. We all expect a big increase, but I’ll start working on that today. We’re having an emergency meeting Monday night to deal with the Carl Haynes matter. Luckily, he’ll be out of the office by January. I’m going to recommend Jasmine as his replacement. Haynes was running unopposed, so we’ll have to vote in a replacement, and this way, she’ll have the upper hand.” Then she leaned over the table to kiss me, reminding me for at least the thirtieth time about her appointment tomorrow afternoon.
I walked to the City Planning Department at 1:30, where Mark Fredericks met me at the counter. He told me that he was one of the architects in the department. “That’s great—just what I need. I want to erect two community centers—one in the city's eastern end and one in the west. That means that land would have to be purchased and a building erected. I want a gymnasium where kids can play ball and—I think—three rooms for senior citizens, maybe one for cards or games, another for arts and crafts, and perhaps a kitchen/dining room. Finally, I want space for a police department sub-station. What do you think?”
“I think you’re blowing smoke out your ass. It’s great to have ideas, but this City Council will never vote for it.”
“I think there will be a lot of support. My wife loves the idea.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
“Do you know my wife?”
“Nope.”
“Her name is Lucille Cahill—Lucille Bascomb Cahill.” I thought his jaw had dropped so far that it would hit the floor. “How long will it take to get some preliminary drawings I can share with the Council?”
“When’s the next meeting?”
“Monday night to deal with the Carl Haynes issue.”
“What issue?”
“He was arrested last week along with several others in a big drug bust.”
“No shit! I never would have thought….” Then, he was startled when I told him about the others. “Damn! I always wondered why the cops never caught many drug dealers.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “What a disgusting mess. I guess we all owe you a vote of thanks. I have three kids—two in high and one in middle school.”
“I expect to get roughly $900,000 from the confiscated money, and my wife has pledged another $100,000. Her father has pledged another $250,000, so I think it has a good chance of happening.”
“Okay, I think I can have some preliminary drawings by Monday night.”
“Great, will you come to the meeting to explain and answer any questions?”
“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that before, but I can do that. It’ll be my pleasure. Thanks, Chief.”
“Just call me Matt.” We shook hands, and I left him to go to his work.
The following morning, I received a call from Paul McCormick. “I don’t know how you did it, but your ten candidates scored in the top fifty, and two were in the top fifteen. Great going. Will you have openings for all of them?
“For most; how’d they do on the psych part?”
“They all passed easily, which is more than I can say for the folks from Memphis. Half of them failed that part.” I knew that was the death knell for their fledgling police careers. One could always take the aptitude part of the test again and hope to improve, but improving on the psych exam was next to impossible. We talked for a while before I made my next call—a very important one to my friend Pastor Anthony Michaels about my following speech to his congregation.
I went home that night with a massive grin on my face, and when Lucy ran to hug and kiss me, it was even more significant. I spun around with Lucy in my arms as our lips pressed together and our tongues dueled in our love for each other. Breaking the kiss, I whispered, “I love you and always will. My love for you is eternal.” I guessed she agreed because she again pressed those delicious lips into mine. That was how I carried her into the house. Max was nipping at my feet when we ran into a laughing Ingrid. “I just want you to know I’ll have dinner in about fifteen minutes…if you’re interested!”
I placed Lucy onto her feet before walking into the kitchen to get a Coke for me and an iced tea for Lucy. We talked in the family room when Ingrid summoned us to the table. She served us delicious beef filets done medium rare with roasted new potatoes and a grilled ear of corn. It was another fantastic meal, made even better because Lucy and I kissed between almost every bite.
After feeding Max, we went outside to the pool, where we dropped our clothes and stepped into the water naked. We swam a dozen laps before stopping to hold and kiss each other. My hands were on her butt cheeks, but hers went straight to my cock. “What do you have in mind, Mrs. Cahill,” I asked teasingly.
“I think you already have an excellent idea, my darling. It feels cool, but I have a nice way to warm it up.” She kissed me then as her legs went around my waist, and she pulled me into her heaven. Damn, but it was heaven in there—so warm and wet and silky smooth unless she used her powerful Kegel muscles on me. Her slow passive movements in the dark water as she wrapped herself around my cock and rubbed her bullet-hard nipples into my chest drove me wild with lust. Many weeks ago, I learned I could never get enough of Lucy.
We began to move together, creating waves in the tranquil water until they splashed actively into the distant sides and steps. So active had we become that water spilled up and out of the pool onto the deck with every thrust into Lucy’s cunt. Tomorrow, we’d hopefully learn that she was pregnant. It was what we had been praying and working for, not that making love with Lucy could ever be considered work. It was the most pleasurable thing I’d ever been a part of.
I knew we wanted it never to end, but neither of us was built for that. Lucy came with a scream that I was sure could be heard at her parents’ home, and then she sagged into my chest as I continued to pound her. Soon, she returned my efforts and worked toward her second.
All told she came four times before I finally spilled my seed into her vault. I carried her out, her legs still wrapped around my waist and her head on my shoulder. I stooped to retrieve our clothes and carried her to the shower. She was still wrapped around my body when I stepped under the hot water.
To be continued
Chapter 14
I had to laugh. “They say I’m the happiest man on the planet and the luckiest to have you.” I pulled her to me for what I thought at the time was the kiss of all time. After breaking it roughly a minute later, I suggested that we had an even better way to celebrate. Lucy nodded her agreement, and we hopped into the car, driving away less than a minute later.
We ran into the house, stripping our clothes from our bodies. We ran to the bedroom, Max running ahead and then waiting for us to catch up. I helped Lucy onto the bed, not even bothering to turn it down, then slid behind her. We kissed for maybe a minute or two before our lust for each other took over, and Lucy broke it to climb on top of me. She rubbed me into her slit a few times before rising on her legs and slowly impaling herself onto my steel-like erection. It throbbed with every beat of my heart, and in my ardor for my wife, I was sure it was pumping at 150 beats a minute, at least. There was so much blood in my cock that I felt it would break.
Once Lucy had lowered herself to my pubis, she began a slow rocking motion, gently driving her clit into my rigid muscles. I matched her with slow, deep thrusts that increased in speed and intensity as we progressed. We were into it for about two minutes when she leaned down to kiss me, teasing me with her active darting tongue. I pulled her to me then so our bodies meshed into one. She pulled her head back to look into my eyes as she said the words I yearned to hear—I love you. My response was to drive up into her with all my strength as I kissed her again. I had been sure that Lucy was the woman for me before, but now that it seemed that we would be parents, I couldn’t be more confident.
Our mating was destined for a swift death because of our love and lust. I could feel the tremors begin in her abdomen and spread to the other parts of her body as they grew in strength and frequency. She came so hard I thought she might need the emergency room for her back, which bent backward more than forty-five degrees. Instead, she was more like a whip than a pillar of stone as I emptied my balls into her hot pussy.
We were breathing heavily when we finally came to rest. Lucy’s body was covered in a sheet of sexual sweat, and mine was even worse. Lucy looked at me, then at the blanket, and we laughed. I realized then that I had rarely laughed before meeting Lucy. That was just one more reason for loving her the way I did. I checked the clock and then showed it to Lucy. She called me a “party pooper” but rose from my body, leaving a long thread of semen and pussy juice oozing from her pussy. Walking hand in hand, we made it to the shower for something we needed before our dinner date with Daryl and Jasmine. Lucy had already planned the menu with Ingrid.
They arrived at six, and we had drinks on the patio by the pool. I say “drinks,” but truthfully, three of us had ginger ale, and the other had a Coke.
Ingrid brought out some chips and salsa that tasted great. I was reminded then that neither Lucy nor I had eaten any lunch. I asked Ingrid for some potato chips, and they came a few minutes later. We moved to the patio table just before seven for our dinner—grilled tuna steaks, potatoes au gratin, and fresh baby carrots. The meal was delicious and accompanied by great conversation, but nothing about Lucy being pregnant was said. We had decided to say nothing until her doctor confirmed it.
Monday morning at inspection, I reminded the men of our 4:30 appointment at the county firing range. “Remember the rules—all weapons unloaded and actions open. You won’t need an ID or a pistol license if you're in uniform, so I recommend that. We’ll have at least five firing lanes, but I’ll go first, then Lt. Evans, and when we’re done, each of you will fire fifty rounds. There’s one thing to remember. You’ll hear me say it over, and overshooting is nothing more than practice and concentration, practice and concentration. Of course, having proper form is critical, but that’s just one aspect of practice. Okay, dismissed. Have a safe day.”
Daryl was still with me when I walked up to Sandra’s desk. She looked up to ask me, “Did you meet a Darnell Carmichael on Saturday afternoon?
He told me you suggested he phone for an application to the force.”
“Yeah, he stopped me while I walked Max at the other stop in Coopersville. Send him an application and tell him what other info we need.” I walked into my office with Daryl at my heels.
“What on earth were you doing down there?”
“I needed something from a pharmacy, and we stopped there on the way back because Lucy needed to take a whiz.”
Daryl’s not dope, so he read between the lines and responded almost immediately: “That’s great, Matt. Congratulations.”
“Yeah, well…we’re not saying anything until she sees her doctor, so please don’t say a word—not even to Jasmine.” He made a sign of zipping his lips like a kid in elementary school might. Then I reviewed the day’s work with him and left with Max for the supermarket just down the street.
Everyone in the city was accustomed to seeing Max with me, even in restaurants and the supermarket. I pushed the cart to the fruit and vegetable section, where I selected three items, paying no attention to whether they were ripe. I wasn’t planning on eating them.
Lucy stopped by just before lunch with her picnic basket. She told me she had an appointment to see Dr. Murphy on Friday at 4:00. “I made it late in the afternoon, hoping that you would be able to go with me.” I promised that I would unless some dire emergency occurred. Then she asked if she could accompany me to the range this afternoon. I agreed once the Range Manager assured me he had an extra set of earwear.
Daryl came in for lunch after Lucy had gone, telling me about a three-car accident on one of our “major” highways. Our roads were a big problem.
Most of them had been built forty or more years ago when the population was only a tenth of what it is today, when they were overcrowded, and drivers tended to go much too fast. Twice in the past week, I had pulled to the roadside to allow someone to pass even though I was speeding. Imagine their surprise when I flipped the light bar and siren on. The first, a man in his fifties, was polite and respectful, but the second, a young woman, created an uproar—swearing like I hadn’t heard since my years in the Navy. Of course, I was polite but insistent that I wanted to see her live to see thirty, and driving on that road at such high speed made that doubtful.
I picked up Lucy at 4:00 for the twenty-minute ride to the range. I wanted to get there first so I could set up my demonstration. The manager introduced himself after acknowledging Lucy. I explained what I wanted to do, and he shut down the range while he walked me to the fifty-yard mark. I set up my special sawhorse and pushed the cantaloupe, apple, and plum onto the spikes that protruded from the two-by-four I had nailed to the top.
Many of the men had arrived by the time we were done. I explained what I was about to do. I put on my shooting glasses and ear protection, then ensured that Lucy was comfortably over her ears before turning and loading my pistol. I replaced it in my holster, then drew and swiftly brought it to a two-handed firing position. A second later, I exhaled and fired. The cantaloupe exploded. I waited a few seconds before taking my second shot, destroying the apple. Finally, I fired at the plum, disintegrating it instantly.
“Practice and concentration,” I told the men. “You have no idea how many hours and weeks I practiced that before I got it right. I must have shot ten thousand rounds. Now, there’s one thing that most of you don’t consider—gravity. A bullet starts to fall as soon as it leaves the barrel. The rate of fall is independent of its horizontal speed. At fifty yards, my 44 Magnum shell has a muzzle velocity of about 1,350 feet per second. It covers the fifty yards in .11 seconds, and the bullet will fall almost two and a half inches, so I have to aim that much higher to strike the target. My 9mm only travels at about 1150 fps, so that it will fall even farther.
Most of your shooting will take place at twenty feet or less. Scientific studies have shown that if you aim for the chest and the bullet drops an inch or so, it won’t make any difference. You must consider this if you have to shoot longer distances.” I stopped when one of the officers asked a question.
“Chief, isn’t it a disadvantage having only six shots when most people, like criminals, use a semi-automatic with at least double the number in the clip?”
“That’s a good question, Somers. Let’s get a target. You won’t have to fire more than ten yards most of the time, so you must aim and practice at twenty or more. Start at twenty and move up from there.”
As we talked about earlier, I reloaded as the range manager ran a man-shaped target for forty yards.
I raised my Colt Python quickly, but not so fast as to upset my balance. Then, I fired one shot after another until the cylinder was empty. I flipped it open with my right hand, spilling the spent cartridges onto the floor as I pulled one of the speed loaders from my belt, ejecting it into the cylinder in under two seconds. I flipped the cylinder closed as I replaced the loader, bringing the weapon up horizontally as I did. Once I had my left hand on the grip and trigger, I commenced firing again. I repeated once the six shots were spent. The target was retrieved once I was done.
“Care to guess how many times I had to practice that? I used to sit in my Navy barracks and practice for hours whenever I wasn’t on duty. Now I can do it in my sleep. One of these days, my life and the lives of others may depend on my ability…or yours.” My target, once retrieved, showed eighteen holes in the central body mass of the target, showing eighteen straight kill shots. I stepped back, and Daryl stepped forward, loaded his H&K 9mm, and fired as quickly as I did. He changed clips and fired again. His target, to nobody’s surprise, showed thirty clean hits.
Now, it was up to the men. The first five loaded their weapons as Daryl and I stood behind them, suggesting, “Hold your arms straight, but don’t tighten your muscles. Look down the sight with both eyes. Don’t worry; you’ll get used to it with more practice.” We spent more than ninety minutes at the range, and only half of the men had qualified by reaching eighty-five percent accuracy, but another eighteen had just missed. Only the older officers had done poorly. I had an idea of what I could do with them.
We repeated the test on Tuesday before their 4:00 p.m. shift began, meeting at the range at 2:00. My demo and Daryl’s shooting went as expected. This time, sixty percent of the men met the standard, and nineteen were close. Wednesday morning at 8:30, we finished the testing with the midnight shift.
There were fewer on this shift, and I wondered aloud if we needed more. The officers told me that it was tight. Responding to an accident or a fight at a bar was a close call, leaving the rest of the city under-patrolled. I decided to discuss that with Lucy.
Wednesday night, Daryl, Lucy, Max, and I found ourselves in the AME Church Hall, where we had a blackboard and several tables and chairs. Five young black men and one black woman showed up for the tutoring. I began the session by telling everyone that we would be on a first-name basis during the sessions. “How many will we have?” asked the woman named Aimee.
“How many will you need? We’ll give you as many as you need or as many as you want. You will be tested in Memphis, but we’ll provide a big van to transport you both ways. The test has two parts—aptitude or your ability to learn and a psychological profile. If you are successful, you’ll find that there will be repeated psychological reviews because we don’t want a hothead on the force, and we don’t want someone with psychological issues. We don’t want people who are prejudiced either. We do want calm people who think things through before reacting.
“I’ve had people spit in my face when there was an antiwar demonstration outside a base where I was stationed. I wanted more than anything to strangle that little bastard, but that was exactly what he wanted. Instead, I twisted him around, handcuffed him, and put him into a van where he was formally arrested for assault and read his rights. Then, I returned to my place in line. There were no more spitting incidents during the rest of the demonstration, although we arrested another thirty people. Remember that what I did was by the book and what every other police officer should do in a similar situation. So…why are you here? Why do you think you want to be a police officer?”
We listened and talked for almost thirty minutes, and when we were done, we were sure that everyone had good reasons for being there. Lucy passed the sample exams, and I gave pencils to those who needed one while Daryl took over the instructions. He reviewed the first twenty questions with the group, and I was pleased they did well. Theoretically, you can’t study for an aptitude test, but you can study for the type of question and develop good test-taking practices. We all left with smiles on our faces at 10:00.
The following week, we had eight students; the week after, ten, including two Hispanic men. We held the sessions for ten weeks and then made transportation arrangements to and from the test, which was held on a Saturday morning. All ten of our students felt that they did well, and all thanked Daryl, Lucy, and me for our time and willingness to help. Now, all we had to do was await the results.
I was in my office the day after the range work was done when Sandra told me that I had a phone call from Julia Adams. “Hi, there, Prosecutor; how are you? How’s the case going?”
“I’m doing great, Matt, and the case is even better. Jeremy Haynes is such a total coward. He rolled over on his parents and colleagues the first time we talked with him. I don’t think this will ever actually go to trial. There will be a plea deal, but there will also be some heavy jail time for all of them. The worst is Wilson, the ex-chief. He just wanted money to care for his sick wife in their retirement. Now he’s sick, and he’ll likely die in prison.”
“He’s a drug dealer and worse. I have no sympathy for him or any of the others. What about bail?”
“No…they got our strictest judge, and I could use Mrs. Haynes’ journal to prove they had the means to get out of the country. Haynes and his wife have more than ten million in the Caymans. Jeremy has four million. Parsons and Wilson have about three each. That convinced the judge they were flight risks, so there was no bail.
“But the reason I’m calling is to share some good news. We counted the money they paid the Mexicans to 1.25 million. As the lead officer in the case and because it was under your jurisdiction, your city will get seventy-five percent once the money is cleared. That will probably be within a year or so.”
“That is good news because I have an excellent use for the money. All I have to do is convince my wife and let her deal with the City Council.” I ended the call with a big thank you and dug into the budget. It was just one more reason to despise Joe Wilson. It was worse than inadequate. There was no provision for new vehicles. The inventory from the garage showed that we had four cars already five years old with more than a half million miles on them. They were spending more time in the shop than on the road.
We needed a long-term plan approved by the Council for vehicle replacement. The same was true of shotguns, pistols, and parts. We also needed more workforce for the midnight shift. And then, there were the two projects I wanted for the community.
Lucy and Daryl joined me for lunch, and I laid out the deficiencies when I saw them. “That’s one of the reasons why you were hired, Matt. There hasn’t been an increase in the police department budget for the last ten years. In that time, salaries alone rose by almost fifty percent, so something had to be wrong. We all expect a big increase, but I’ll start working on that today. We’re having an emergency meeting Monday night to deal with the Carl Haynes matter. Luckily, he’ll be out of the office by January. I’m going to recommend Jasmine as his replacement. Haynes was running unopposed, so we’ll have to vote in a replacement, and this way, she’ll have the upper hand.” Then she leaned over the table to kiss me, reminding me for at least the thirtieth time about her appointment tomorrow afternoon.
I walked to the City Planning Department at 1:30, where Mark Fredericks met me at the counter. He told me that he was one of the architects in the department. “That’s great—just what I need. I want to erect two community centers—one in the city's eastern end and one in the west. That means that land would have to be purchased and a building erected. I want a gymnasium where kids can play ball and—I think—three rooms for senior citizens, maybe one for cards or games, another for arts and crafts, and perhaps a kitchen/dining room. Finally, I want space for a police department sub-station. What do you think?”
“I think you’re blowing smoke out your ass. It’s great to have ideas, but this City Council will never vote for it.”
“I think there will be a lot of support. My wife loves the idea.”
“That doesn’t mean much.”
“Do you know my wife?”
“Nope.”
“Her name is Lucille Cahill—Lucille Bascomb Cahill.” I thought his jaw had dropped so far that it would hit the floor. “How long will it take to get some preliminary drawings I can share with the Council?”
“When’s the next meeting?”
“Monday night to deal with the Carl Haynes issue.”
“What issue?”
“He was arrested last week along with several others in a big drug bust.”
“No shit! I never would have thought….” Then, he was startled when I told him about the others. “Damn! I always wondered why the cops never caught many drug dealers.” Then, as an afterthought, he said, “What a disgusting mess. I guess we all owe you a vote of thanks. I have three kids—two in high and one in middle school.”
“I expect to get roughly $900,000 from the confiscated money, and my wife has pledged another $100,000. Her father has pledged another $250,000, so I think it has a good chance of happening.”
“Okay, I think I can have some preliminary drawings by Monday night.”
“Great, will you come to the meeting to explain and answer any questions?”
“Nobody’s ever asked me to do that before, but I can do that. It’ll be my pleasure. Thanks, Chief.”
“Just call me Matt.” We shook hands, and I left him to go to his work.
The following morning, I received a call from Paul McCormick. “I don’t know how you did it, but your ten candidates scored in the top fifty, and two were in the top fifteen. Great going. Will you have openings for all of them?
“For most; how’d they do on the psych part?”
“They all passed easily, which is more than I can say for the folks from Memphis. Half of them failed that part.” I knew that was the death knell for their fledgling police careers. One could always take the aptitude part of the test again and hope to improve, but improving on the psych exam was next to impossible. We talked for a while before I made my next call—a very important one to my friend Pastor Anthony Michaels about my following speech to his congregation.
I went home that night with a massive grin on my face, and when Lucy ran to hug and kiss me, it was even more significant. I spun around with Lucy in my arms as our lips pressed together and our tongues dueled in our love for each other. Breaking the kiss, I whispered, “I love you and always will. My love for you is eternal.” I guessed she agreed because she again pressed those delicious lips into mine. That was how I carried her into the house. Max was nipping at my feet when we ran into a laughing Ingrid. “I just want you to know I’ll have dinner in about fifteen minutes…if you’re interested!”
I placed Lucy onto her feet before walking into the kitchen to get a Coke for me and an iced tea for Lucy. We talked in the family room when Ingrid summoned us to the table. She served us delicious beef filets done medium rare with roasted new potatoes and a grilled ear of corn. It was another fantastic meal, made even better because Lucy and I kissed between almost every bite.
After feeding Max, we went outside to the pool, where we dropped our clothes and stepped into the water naked. We swam a dozen laps before stopping to hold and kiss each other. My hands were on her butt cheeks, but hers went straight to my cock. “What do you have in mind, Mrs. Cahill,” I asked teasingly.
“I think you already have an excellent idea, my darling. It feels cool, but I have a nice way to warm it up.” She kissed me then as her legs went around my waist, and she pulled me into her heaven. Damn, but it was heaven in there—so warm and wet and silky smooth unless she used her powerful Kegel muscles on me. Her slow passive movements in the dark water as she wrapped herself around my cock and rubbed her bullet-hard nipples into my chest drove me wild with lust. Many weeks ago, I learned I could never get enough of Lucy.
We began to move together, creating waves in the tranquil water until they splashed actively into the distant sides and steps. So active had we become that water spilled up and out of the pool onto the deck with every thrust into Lucy’s cunt. Tomorrow, we’d hopefully learn that she was pregnant. It was what we had been praying and working for, not that making love with Lucy could ever be considered work. It was the most pleasurable thing I’d ever been a part of.
I knew we wanted it never to end, but neither of us was built for that. Lucy came with a scream that I was sure could be heard at her parents’ home, and then she sagged into my chest as I continued to pound her. Soon, she returned my efforts and worked toward her second.
All told she came four times before I finally spilled my seed into her vault. I carried her out, her legs still wrapped around my waist and her head on my shoulder. I stooped to retrieve our clothes and carried her to the shower. She was still wrapped around my body when I stepped under the hot water.
To be continued
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