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Schonauerps2011.Pdf Schonauer 2 One Guyles couldn‟t believe it. “No way, that can‟t be a man.” Hicks shook his head, a curious smile on his face. “But she‟s got an ass like a woman.” “Padding,” Hicks said. He spit tobacco juice into an empty Diet Coke bottle. The sick, sweet smell of snuff hung in the air. He wiped a drop of spit off his chin. “Well placed padding.” They had stopped their patrol car near a hedge of bushes down the street from a corner where prostitutes often gathered. Only one girl stood near the pay phone at 9th and Western, but she was an eye-catcher with a big black mane of hair, huge breasts barely contained in a tight yellow blouse. Country music boomed from the Western Lounge across the street. The odor of fried chicken rode a light breeze, igniting Guyles‟ appetite, but a sudden gust of wind brought the rot from the bottom of those long neglected grease Schonauer 3 barrels stored behind a nearby Git-n-Go. The sky was fading to dusk, and the crispness promised the arrival of autumn, finally, after a long hot summer. Guyles strained his eyes, studied the woman. She shifted her stance, offered her profile and struck a provocative pose - jutted hip, bosom thrust forward, head tilted back, luxuriating a tangled mass of hair. He forced a laugh and shifted in his seat, a swell in his crotch. His face felt warm. “Look at those tits,” he gushed. Hicks hawked another glob of snuff, observing Guyles with a sideways glance, the vague, mysterious smile still there. He opened the door, spooned out the snuff between his lower cheek and gums. This vulgar act contrasted Hicks‟ otherwise polished appearance, a handsome kind of guy with a meticulous haircut sculpted with lots of gel. He checked the car mirror, reached up to finger-comb his hair but stopped short of actually touching it. “The biggest tits around here,” Hicks drawled, “are on a guy.” Guyles looked again. Her breasts did look impossibly firm, unnaturally large on her otherwise skinny frame. “I‟ll bet it‟s wearing at least five pounds of silicone,” Hicks speculated. He held his hands in front of him, moved them up and down like a weight scale. “Probably, five on each side.” Guyles was almost ready to concede the debate. “But still…” The woman wore a short, white skirt, impossibly high, and she had shapely legs zipped into knee-high black vinyl boots. “Then where does she, I mean he, put his… you know… his… jewels?” Schonauer 4 Maybe she‟d had a sex-change operation. The swell in his crotch tightened. Hicks reloaded his lip, giving his face a puffy Neanderthal affect. He grabbed the Diet Coke bottle and spit another trail of slime into it. “Jody‟s a man all right, a she-male.” He squinted his eyes, stared at her with predatory intensity. “It‟s probably one of the most popular whores around.” “But where does she hide her balls?” Hicks laughed and choked, opened the car door to spit. When he finally sat up, his face was red, a tear brimmed his left eye. “It tucks them up the ass, holds them in place with tape.” Guyles winced. “That‟s got to hurt.” His cheeks felt warmer than ever. “Then what happens if she gets a hard-on?” Hicks howled this time, a deep bellow of laughter. Then he started coughing again, and between guffaws he started cussing, gasping for air. He finally got out of the car, stood hands on knees for a while. “You‟ve got to be… the most… innocent rookie… I ever trained.” Guyles laughed, tried to make it sound real, but he was embarrassed. He envied Hicks‟ experience and worldliness, wondered how long it would take to become a hardened street cop. Here, he felt ambivalence. He wanted to grow a shell of cynicism to protect him from his own emotions, so often in conflict, but he feared what might be lost in the process. He wanted to see the world as good guys vs. bad guys, right vs. wrong, but he wondered about the things in between. Hicks finally calmed down, recaptured his distant, unaffected attitude. “I‟m going to love freaking you out.” Schonauer 5 It occurred to Guyles that Hicks spent a lot of time working prostitutes, like he had a vendetta or something. They drove toward 9th and Western or down to South Robinson every time they were 10-8. “Why do you like to work the prostitutes so much?” Guyles asked and regretted doing so immediately. Hicks was silent for a moment, eyebrows plowed forward, jaw muscles clenched. “They‟re filthy. They don‟t give a shit who they screw, what they do. They cater to all kinds of perversity, and they spread disease: herpes, syphilis, AIDS.” Guyles could only nod. He knew he‟d started a tirade. “Look at Jody over there. I‟ll bet it‟s given people the virus, laughs about it.” His face darkened, a deeper shade of red for a moment, but he shook it off, smiled, eyes widened. He‟d had an idea. “C‟mon, let me introduce you to Jody. I want you to see how disgusting people can be.” Guyles grasped the steering wheel, fingers white knuckle tight, arms stiff. He tried not to tremble. “I‟ll bet Jody has warrants,” Hicks said. “I bet we get to take that thing to jail.” Guyles drove toward Jody, stopped several feet away, just like he‟d been taught in the academy. Hicks jumped out before Guyles had shifted the car into park. Guyles tried to bail, also but got caught in his seatbelt. He grabbed the column shifter and jammed it into park without first stepping on the brake. The transmission clicked several times, a grinding, sickening noise. Hicks glared at him. Another fucking ding, Guyles thought, another daily observation report all shot to hell. Schonauer 6 Jody had started walking away, high heels clicking on pavement at a fast pace. Hicks gave pursuit, trotted toward the prostitute. “Whoa, stop right there, sir.” Jody stopped in her tracks, teetered on her heels. Guyles noticed a tremble in her hands, a quiver in her chin. But by the time she turned around, she was smooth as chrome, steely with practiced defiance. “Yes ma‟am,” she said, a murmur above a mumble. Hicks spit at Jody‟s feet, a large brown blob on faded asphalt. “Are you fucking with me?” He grabbed the hilt of his asp baton. Jody sighed, rolled her eyes. “Yes, man. Yes man,” she enunciated. “Ooo, it‟s so easy to ruffle your macho feathers.” She brushed some hair out of her face, placed hands on hips in a flash of flamboyance. “You‟re working,” Hicks accused. Jody pursed her lips and clicked her tongue. “Of course, I‟m working. A girl‟s got to make a living, right?” Hicks placed his hand on the butt of his pistol, unsnapped the retention strap. “Do you possess any weapons or contraband?” Jody brandished her finger nails and growled like a cat. Her bravado was as much a part of the routine as Hicks‟ overly aggressive stance. Guyles couldn‟t tell who was posturing the most. “Search it,” Hicks commanded. Guyles stood motionless, mesmerized by Jody‟s brazen femininity. He‟d heard what Hicks had said, but the command whizzed by him, didn‟t register. Schonauer 7 “Hey, partner, search the goddamn drag queen.” Guyles approached Jody with caution, like she might be a dangerous, wild animal. She smiled at him. He tried not to look at her breasts, but there they were, eye magnets drawing his gaze. When he saw the edge of a lacy black bra sticking out above the plunging neckline of her tight blouse, he hesitated. “We‟re not supposed to search ladies, right?” Jody giggled, eyes wide with exaggerated surprise. “Why, thank you,” she said. She winked at Hicks. “He knows a lady when he sees one.” “Lady?” Hicks growled. “You call this a lady? She ain‟t no fucking lady.” Guyles approached Jody, and she raised her hands, signaling she was clean. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” he said, forcing his words to remain even, calm and professional. He probably sounded like a robot. He glanced over at Hicks, needing some reassurance, wanting to make sure Hicks wasn‟t kidding, praying he was, but Hicks just smiled looking vaguely satisfied, amused. Of course Jody had to turn around in a flourishing flutter, ever the performer. She stuck her ass at Guyles, moved it up and down. He told her to interweave her fingers. “Like when you pray,” he explained. “Fold them together… you know, the church, steeple, people trick.” Jody did what she was told, cupped her hands behind her back. She mumbled something that sounded like a prayer. Hicks spoke up, “You‟re wasting your time. God doesn‟t hear your prayers.” Schonauer 8 Guyles grabbed her interlocked hands and turned them over like he‟d been trained to do. The procedure locked Jody‟s elbows, made her lean backwards, slightly off balance. “Move your feet apart.” She widened her stance. “Further, a little further.” She widened her stance more until she grunted with discomfort. He pulled down on her hands. “Don‟t be so rough, honey.” After Guyles asserted his position he reached around to Jody‟s front, hesitating over her right breast. Hicks chuckled. He was really getting off on this, and for the first time since he‟d been hired, Guyles had second thoughts about being a cop.
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