Sexual Solstice (14 page)

The cell wasn’t bad after all, bright with light coming in from glass tiles at the top of the wall. White subway tiles with a green strip about half way up the wall, a bed built into the wall, a semi private toilet. “Bright,” Gillian said.

“Easier to keep an eye on everyone.”

“Clean too.”

“Sick inmates are no fun. They get sick, we get sick.”

“I like the alcove.”

“Nothing gets hidden under the bunks.”

“Thought of everything.”

“I can bring you lots of blankets if you like,” the sergeant said. “It’s actually the most comfortable place to sleep in the whole building. I sometimes use it when I’m on an overnight.”

Gillian wanted to say that she would do her best to share. But she didn’t want to scare off this massive specimen of New York’s finest.

“If you need anything, just call me, or Gretchen, the woman at the front desk. Use the intercom otherwise she won’t hear you. I’ll see if I can scare us up something to eat. In the meantime I’ll freshen up that coffee.”

“Thanks.” Gillian did her best to get comfortable in the alcove under the window. She plunked her bag in one corner, kicked off her boots and lay on her side. She found herself staring out into the hallway, the gate to her new accommodation open. A wave of sadness came over her. She thought of the men last night, as if it were all a dream. She remembered their touch, their caresses, the feel of their skin, their lips on her breasts, their individual scents––the dancers smelling of soap and cologne after their post performance showers, and Robert’s sweaty scent after a long shift. She longed for something like that, something that said we will protect you, comfort you, pleasure you, and make you feel like a queen. But it was all temporary, it was all fleeting, nice as it was. They were gone, like a dream. How could a night like that, or a feeling like that be sustained? She felt tears randomly come to the corners of her eyes, trail across her face, tickle her nose and ear, and then trail into her bag. She had to admit that for the first time in years, she felt alone, and acknowledged that she really had been alone for so many years. None of the go-getting, intermingling or forced hard-sell could mask the fact that she was desperately lonely. She fought the storm within her being, to be touched by anybody, against that storm to find a true connection. For now, she would have to be content letting her sexual energy find its equilibrium. Soon, the tears gave over to a soft steady breathing of sleep––recuperation from a long night of frolic––and Sergeant McMullon placed a blanket over her with more at her feet.

W
hen Gillian woke, the light in the cell had changed; no more daylight came in from the glass tiles above. The room was lit only from light in the hallway. She heard a little noise from down the hallway, a radio playing the tinkling sounds of Christmas carols. She heard doors open and close, a chair scraped the floor, a photocopier or a printer, all signs that someone was nearby.

Soon Sergeant McMullon showed up with a few paper shopping bags.  “What are you doing in the dark?”

“I nodded off, I guess.”

“Here I’ll put some lights on, don’t worry I’ll try not to make it too, too bright.”

“Good, I’d rather you didn’t see me with all this sleep in my eyes.”

“You look very beautiful, regardless, I can tell. Brooklyn’s finest.”

“So, Santa, what’s in your bag?”

“Uuum?”

“Your bags, the ones that you’re carrying. What have you got? If I were in London, I’d vote it’s fish and chips, but here in our dear old Big Apple I’m thinking something more like Chinese food? Am I right?”

“I wanted to surprise you, but you guessed it. Where should we eat?”

“Well we can either go out among the office cubicles, or your lunch room, or cosy in here. I’m getting used to this.”

“I’d say let’s eat here, much more––”

“Romantic?”

“Atmospheric. No chance of Gretchen joining us.”

“We’ll do an alcove picnic. I think there’s room for the two of us. A queen sized alcove, how do you like that?”

“Fit for a queen.” Sergeant McMullon sat on the edge of the alcove and removed his shoes.

“Good God you have big feet. They’re huge. They’re massive!”

He crossed his legs, pulling his feet close. “I’m a massive guy.”

“I don’t think there’s room for anything else besides your big feet! I’m not complaining, believe me. You know what they say about men with big feet––

“––big shoes.”

“––big shoes, you took the words out of my mouth.”

“Speaking of mouth, let’s put some food in it. I’m starving, and judging by the looks of you, you must be too. Here, have a confiscated beer.” The Sergeant pulled a beer from his bag. “We’ll toast a Merry Yuletide.” He snapped open two cans.

Gillian thought about the Cristal, the Dom, the Pol Roger, and now it was Old Milwaukee to tickle her nose. “Excellent vintage,” she said, and then took a swig. “So what have you got for our first course?” A small burp caught her off guard. “Excuse me!”

“It’s okay, we don’t stand on ceremony in here. I’m the only one who heard. Let’s start with some pot stickers.” The Sergeant opened a small box filled with dumplings, and placed it in front of them. “I love these guys.”

“You must have to eat a huge amount to keep yourself, you know, that size.”

“I like good food, try to avoid the donuts. You learn to after the first few years. Here.” The sergeant dipped a dumpling in a small plastic cup and then brought it to Gillian’s mouth.

“Mmmmm.” She tried hard to focus on the dumpling and not the huge hand that was so close to her mouth feeding it to her. Drops of sauce ran down her chin, which the Sergeant rescued with his thumb. Gillian hoped the thumb would be offered to her, but instead the Sergeant licked his own thumb. Then Gillian took the initiative to take her turn feeding the Sergeant, dipping the dumpling and then bringing it close to his mouth. She thought it was like feeding a giant, his prominent jaw and square white teeth. “Mmmm. So, what’s your story? What are you in for?”

“I think you know.”

“But really. Lost husband? They don’t just go missing like that.”

“He did.”

“It’s my belief that people tend to go missing if you don’t keep an eye on them, you know?”

“Sadly I think I do.”

“What kind of marriage was it? Was it a marriage? I see lots of women like you, usually trying to kill their husbands or get a fair settlement. Usually they aren’t smart cookies like yourself, from Brooklyn.”

“Really?”

“Manhattan to the core and they’ll do anything to cling to this piece of rock.”

“Well, since you ask, the long and short of it is that I guess I fancy myself an optimist and after about twenty years saw that that really wasn’t helping me. Did I knock him off? No. Did I hire killers? No. Did I know him after all those years?”

“Probably not.”

“No, so I guess you’re right, he just sort of vanished into thin air like people do when we aren’t paying attention. I guess Scotland Yard doesn’t buy my story.”

“You had a lover?”

“Not really.”

“Vague.”

“Well I had momentary lack of judgment, so my fidelity record isn’t untarnished. But that was years ago.”

“And why was that?”

“Let the record show I wasn’t getting any.”

“For how long?”

“Forever, practically.”

“Not a bit? Here try this.” The Sergeant had skewered some General Tao’s chicken on a chopstick and was holding up to Gillian’s mouth. “This is my weakness.”

“Mmmmm, that is good. About a million calories I bet. Who cares? No, not a bit.”

“So you’re kind of virginal.”

“Kind of? Hardly.”

“But you’ve been missing out for what, twenty years?”

“I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since I got on the plane three nights ago.”

“Coincidence.”

“What?”

“Hubby goes missing and within hours his wife is checking out the cockpit.”

“Who told you?”

“Really? You were?”

“Look, I had no idea he was gone but I must have sensed something on some level. I saw my reflection and realized there was no halo around my head and I was doing nobody any good by being faithful, not him, not me. Him being gone is just a coincidence.”

“And from the sounds of it a happy one at that.”

“But you don’t understand.” Gillian felt threatened, stupid, her throat choked up.

“It’s okay, don’t get emotional. I’m not here to judge you.”

“Well I wish you would, you’d see I’m innocent.”

The Sergeant put his arm around her. “I’m sorry, I truly didn’t mean to make you cry or to be insensitive or anything like that. Look, let’s keep eating, and I want you to drink your beer. It’s a special night, no matter where you are––

“Don’t you have a wife and kids to spend Christmas with?”

“We’re divorced, freshly. I get to see the kids tomorrow.”

“Divorced. What a mistake, for her I mean.”

“Well she didn’t like what I was into, you know. I guess it bothered her. Differences in the bedroom. You can’t always trust people are going to be understanding when you open up.”

“You opened up?”

“I tried, but it freaked her out. She couldn’t get over it. She kicked me out. But the kids are great, old enough to understand that people have their differences. Modern kids you know.”

“So here you are in a jail cell on Christmas eve?”

“It’s not so bad.”

“No?”

“No, at least the others who have families can enjoy their time.”

“Oh.”

“And––

“And?”

“And Chinese food with a beautiful red head isn’t exactly the booby prize.”

“You’re not so much a booby prize yourself.”

“I guess I am with my perverted preferences.”

“What do you mean?”

“If my wife thinks it crazy, I doubt anyone else is going to go along with it.”

The two finished their takeout and then Gillian wiped her hands and spoke, “Try me. If you don’t squeal I’ll tell you a secret––I just did it with two dancers and an actor, all at once. I held my own. I feel like a true patron of the Arts. Tell that to your wife.”

“Really? God. We spend most of the day seeing people who mess it all up with heroin or crack or some kind of messed up fight. Enough to make you think fun times like that just don’t exist.”

“So, go ahead. What’s this preference?”

“Well, like I said, we spend a lot of time putting people in hand cuffs, threatening them with the billyclub, the usual. And just once I would love to be cuffed, really hard you know, and have someone just really bring me to my knees. Fuck it’s all that’s on my mind sometimes. I have to stay sitting at my desk because once I start thinking about it, it gives me the most painful boner. There. Now you know. Not much fun for you, I’m afraid.” The Sergeant packed up the bags and tossed them in the bin.

“Don’t speak so soon. It is Christmas after all and just maybe the odd good boy gets a kind of a bad boy present. What do you think?”

“You’d be willing? Frankly I’d go nuts if you were to comply. You are so damn hot. And I need someone tall to really give it to me.”

Gillian felt herself warm to the idea; her pulse raced at the thought of toppling this giant. “I might surprise you. But what you’ll have to do it put those handcuffs on me first, and don’t lock them.”

“Okay.” The Sergeant gently placed the handcuffs on Gillian’s delicate wrists.

“Good, now let’s do a little, you know, role play. I want you to be the officer, I mean the Sergeant, and I’ll be me––but you have to be the Sergeant that your fantasy says you are.”

“Okay.”

Gillian started, “Sergeant, oh Sergeant, can you help me? These cuffs are so uncomfortable. Could you please help me loosen them, just a bit?” The Sergeant came close, “Ma’am I’m afraid you’ll have to keep––”

Gillian pretended to karate chop the Sergeant and he pretended to bend over, “Ooooh, ouch.”

“Yes ouch, and take that.” Gillian slipped the cuffs off her wrists and placed one on the Sergeant’s wrists. Then she pulled him to the bars by the entrance to the cell, pulled the cuff through the bars and attached the other cuff to his hand. “Now you are going to tell me where there are more cuffs.”

“There are some over there in the table by the door. Please don’t hurt me.”

Gillian went to the table, opened the drawer and pulled out two more pair. “Aha, You bastard. I am going to make you pay for this, and how. She came back to the Sergeant who was pretending to hang off of the bars by his wrists. “Don’t hurt me. No, you can’t hurt me, please.”  Gillian took in the length of that tall drink of water, wanted to devour him.

“Oh don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you much. Now let me get those socks off your big feet, you oaf.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. And the least you can do is cooperate.”

“Okay.”

Gillian crouched down and pulled off the Sergeant’s socks, revealing massive wide feet with perfect toes. “You get a pedicure?”

“I write it off.”

“You’ll pay for it now!.” She took his left foot and pulled the sole up and started to tickle the soft palm of his foot. “How do you like that?” But it was Gillian who was under the spell of ecstasy at touching such a large and sensitive part of such a large guy.

“You’re driving me nuts. Actually you are. I am very ticklish. You’re giving me a hard-on”

“Really? I wish you hadn’t told me.” Gillian’s arousal was mounting. She wanted to shove the big feet between her thighs. She held one massive foot, then the other and guided the cuffs around his ankles and onto the bars. Soon the Sergeant was thoroughly attached. She would save the tickling for later. “Now just what is it that your wife doesn’t want you to get up to around here?”

“Oh all kinds of stuff from being cuffed and helpless to being, well, fucked with a billyclub.”

“Okay buddy you asked for it.” Gillian reached her hands around the Sergeant’s waist and undid his belt, then his pant clip and then his zipper. She pulled at the pants and they slid over his bum and boxer shorts. She fought to contain herself and remain in the roleplay.

“Hmmm, boxers. I see a whole new kettle of fish here.”