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"This is a rip-off, man. All those tales of glory and adventure and it turns out all police work really is is sitting around in a truck waiting."
"Glory and adventure. Right. You actually know any real cops before you started your dissertation?"
"Did an ethnography of the Rainier Public Safety Division sophomore year, but I figured they were different from, you know, real cops. I mean, their purpose in life seemed to be to stop people from getting laid." He gave that ridiculous wheezing snicker. "It was like they knew we called them Pubic Safety and decided to live up to it. Sadistic suckers with flashlights, man, that's not real cops."
"But now you know the truth about real cops."
"Another boyish illusion shattered." Blair blew a lock of hair out of his face. "Might as well be cruising with Pubic Safety, looking for suspicious movements in the bushes -- not that you'd even need the flashlight," he added, grinning at Jim. "I'll bet you can tell me without rolling down the window how many people are having sex in a four-block radius."
Jim gamely focused in on his hearing. "Seventeen." He could easily tune into the breathing, the heartbeats. Even scents came through faintly.
"Whoa, I'm impressed -- wait, that's not an even number. What, eight couples and some poor solo act?"
"Seven coupls and a triple." Jim's nostrils flared. "I see nonoxynol is still the spermicide of choice in Cascade."
Blair was staring at him. "It's like a nonstop porno show in your head, isn't it?"
"In my head? Tell me again who brought up the subject?" Jim cuffed Blair gently on the back of the head, then suddenly did what he'd always wanted to do instead: cupped his hand over the back of Blair's skull, feeling his body heat through the springy curls. Blair pressed his head back against Jim's hand and let out a soft sigh.
"Anybody doing anything interesting?"
"You want Devereaux Rodgers to get away because of your prurient interests, Sandburg?"
"Devereaux Rodgers hasn't set foot in the state of Washington for a month, you said so yourself, Jim," Blair said. "And catering to my prurient interests could have some benefit for you." He put his hand on Jim's knee and gave him an innocent look.
Jim heaved a long-suffering sigh. "There's a couple that haven't even stopped fighting," he said. "It's like, 'Bastard! Oh, yeah!' " He listened a minute longer, and laughed. "Unfortunate diaphragm accident. She's talking to it. 'You little fucker, why do you have to be so springy?'"
"The three. The three," Blair urged. "Two girls and a guy?"
There was a long silence followed by two deep sighs.
"Damn," Blair said, squirming a bit on the seat. "How soon can we go home?"
"Conaster and Morris arrive at 3." Jim and Blair both looked at the clock. 12:15.
After a pause, Blair grinned at Jim. "So -- wanna talk about sex some more?"
"Glutton for punishment, Sandburg?" But Jim couldn't help smiling. "Just don't get yourself into a state where you can't chase a perp if you have to, all right?
Blair snorted. They both looked out the window for a while.
"The break room," Blair offered. "After dark."
Jim laughed out loud. "All things considered, I wouldn't think vending machines would do it for you, chief," he said.
"Well, they cast such an interesting light -- hey! It's not that funny. Like to see you come up with one."
"Handcuffs," Jim said promptly.
Blair swallowed. "Jeez," he said hoarsely.
Blair was still staring fixedly out the window when the cell phone rang.
Jim picked it up, dropped it, and picked it up again. "Ellison -- yeah -- oh, good, good work, Stu. Yeah, you too." He palmed the antenna. "They got 'im. Over on the north end." He was already putting the truck in gear.
>p> Blair gave Jim a sidelong glance as he shifted into Reverse, then put his hand high on Jim's thigh. Jim didn't say anything, so he was emboldened to slide that hand over until he could feel the inseam of Jim's jeans against his fingers.
Jim gave Blair a warning glance. "I'd think you'd wanna get home in one piece, tonight of all nights, Sandburg." The light in the truck got brighter as they turned onto the late-night business district of Franklin Street.
"I have faith in your great powers of concentration. I've even seen you walk and chew gum at the same time." Blair slid his fingers upward a bare inch. Jim's breath stuttered, and he shifted to move his legs further apart. "Good," Blair said. "Try being this malleable at home and I'll make it worth your while." He wondered if Jim could smell how far gone he was.
"Oh, yeah?" Blair felt Jim's eyes on his face for a moment, and then he felt the muscles under his hand shift as Jim braked and began to turn.
"Wh -- Jim, what are you -- a car wash?"
Jim leaned over, and Blair strained toward him without conscious volition, but Jim was just opening the glove compartment to scoop out a handful of quarters.
"Jim, man, I know you hate driving a dirty truck, but this is just a little bit of a bad time, don't you think?" Blair heard the quarters clinking into the slot, and then Jim's hand came down solidly on his crotch, shocking him into silence. Blair couldn't help pushing up into that hand, just a little, and Jim molded his fingers over Blair's cock and squeezed, even while his other hand rolled up the window. Blair felt his jeans button being thumbed open. "Jim, what the fuck are you -- ohh," and his zipper was sliding down.
He opened his eyes again as Jim eased the truck into the stall and put the brake on, and then the water started and he heard Jim's seat belt click open. "We've got three and a half minutes, Sandburg, so let it all hang out," Jim said, and climbed over him to kneel at his feet.
"Fuck!" Blair's voice sounded loud even over the roar of the water. The watery carwash lights shone through the soap bubbles on the windows, and Jim was -- Jim was --
Blair became aware of his own voice panting out instructions: "Oh, yeah, oh hell yes, a little harder -- oh god, again, that thing with your tongue -- oh yeah -- touch me --" His hips were lifting off the seat, and he could feel his seatbelt tightening over his belly with each push. "Oh, shit, Jim, I'm almost -- you've got to -- oh, god, now --" and Jim sat back but his hand kept moving, and Blair was coming and oh god, Jim wasn't even trying to keep him from spattering all over the place, Jim was staring at Blair with avid eyes.
Blair's third shuddering breath sounded like a roar in the sudden silence. The carwash was finished.
Jim wiped his mouth with the hem of Blair's T-shirt and climbed stiffly back into the driver's seat, giving Blair a wicked grin. Then he put the truck in gear and drove out.
"Did you -- I can't believe you just --" Blair sputtered.
"Yeah, I know," Jim said. "But I think just this once it won't hurt to skip the towels and let the truck air-dry."
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August 11, 2003