Page 95 Captain, oh

                  CAPTAIN, OH! OH! CAPTAIN!                    8-15-11

           Roy Garde.

     I met Frank Werner, and went out on a call with him as his partner, before I’d even been signed in and on to the roster on my first day as a rookie cop in my new station. If I

hadn’t been ten minutes early I never would have been teamed up with him and not then either if there had been a male officer available. I now shudder to think that if it wasn’t for that piece of good luck I might well have been given a P.R. job, or something even worse, and maybe I’d never have seen the light of day in working hours unless – not very likely from what I’ve seen since – my office had a window in it.

     He’d been given the call that signifies “person with a gun” and obviously it had to be dealt with at once and so he shouted, “Hey you. You’re the only one here so come with me right now,” in my direction and so I did just that.

     We went up there with all the stops pulled out. We weaved our way through the traffic with our lights blazing and/or flashing and with the siren wailing. It was exciting and it thrilled me to the core while, at the same time, it was confirming that I had done the right thing when I’d applied to join the Police Force soon after leaving college.

      Just before we arrived Frank told me that I was to get out of the car when we got there but to leave the door open and stay behind it and watch for his signal to see if he needed me to become a part of the action or to call for back up.

     As soon as the crazed man with the gun – it looked like a little, rusty, beat up, two shot .22 to me but whatever it was it wasn’t particularly menacing – saw Frank coming towards him, 220 pounds and six feet two and all of his equipment that was arranged around his body gave him the appearance of having even more bulk, he stopped screaming something about Jesus having forgotten him and he put the gun down on the floor and then he turned and leaned up against a doorway just as we’ve all seen it done on television around a thousand times.

     When Frank got up close to him the craziness must have clicked back into play because the guy surprised Frank by agilely dodging around him and he ran in my direction, arms flailing and once again screaming about Jesus.

     I hurried around the back of the car and because Frank had left his door wide open there was only three or four feet clearance for the guy to get past and I stood my ground

in that space. Because he no longer had a gun I thought it best to leave mine in its holster thinking how bad it would look if I shot at him and missed and maybe hit Frank. My

first hour on the job and already committing a colossal cock up! I’d have made history for sure. Fired before signing on!

     I am five feet ten and back then I weighed about 130 lbs and was maybe 30 lbs lighter than the perp but the uniform and the hat tipped the balance and the guy simply gave up at the last possible second and he stopped running and took his “up against the wall and spread ’em” stance again and it was over.

     When Frank came up to pat him down and then cuff him he said to me, “You did good. All these people around and all, it was right to leave your gun holstered but next time put your hand on it to show you could get it out in a second if you had a mind to. It gives you an edge. This crazy asshole couldn’t give anybody much trouble but still – you did good. Say, I need a new partner, want me to put a word in for you when we get back?”

     We took the perp back to the station and Frank went away and dealt with the paperwork and I got signed in and was given a locker and all the rest of it.

     When it came time for me to be assigned work instead of just standing there and waiting to be sent to a desk somewhere I spoke up and said that I thought that I’d already been assigned to Officer Werner as his new partner.

     The Sergeant looked at me with astonishment.

     It had spoken!

     However, after making me repeat what I’d said because he didn’t think he could have heard it right the first time, he went away to ask the Desk Sergeant if it could be possibly

true and then he came back and he nodded once up and down in assent and confirmation and then several times back and fore in disbelief and disapproval and that was that.

      There weren’t many women in uniform in those days and most of the Sergeants and Lieutenants couldn’t seem to get their heads around it.

     Frank had, luckily for me, lost his old partner to retirement at the end of his last turn of duty and that’s why he needed a new one and it turned out that he’d already done the necessary arm-twisting to get me assigned to him. It hadn’t needed much finagling, he told me later, because his Captain had been ordered to start sending out female officers in cars and he’d jumped at the chance to follow that order, painlessly, by putting me with Frank.

     “Saves me a real cop too!” the Captain had said, gratuitously, to the Desk Sergeant.

     Frank and I worked together for two years and then he was made Sergeant and I, in turn, was given a rookie to be my new partner in a patrol car.

     All the things you’ve heard about putting men and women together in a confined space, like a car, and then sending them out everyday on their own are – true!

     You just have to say the key words to know that it’s the truth and that it always will be the truth – Man, Woman, alone, everyday, close proximity, Nature –

     Got it?

     There’s no way to stop it except by putting only all men or all women teams in all of the cars and that’s not allowed by the new rules. It’s not a bit of good trying to put only cops married to someone else together because it changes nothing and, in general practice, it simply means that sooner or later four people might be affected instead of maybe three or maybe two.

     Nor will any other combination work. They’ve all been tried. Some ideas are non- starters. For instance if it was possible and you went to the enormous trouble of finding a

male cop and a female cop who didn’t like each other would either of them feel secure about the other one backing him/her up properly? And what kind of quality job performance could you expect from a team like that? There is no way around it except to ensure that everyone knows the danger before they go in and that they should be aware of it at all times and thus, perhaps, be able to avoid it or to deal with it properly.

     Back then we got no advice at all. The top people hoped the problem wouldn’t show up and, if it did, would simply go away on its own, somehow.

     Speaking for myself only, the danger is even greater when the guy is a hunk, as they say, and with an aura about him that gets respect as soon he shows his face anywhere.

     Countless times I’ve gone with Frank to one of the most disliked tasks there is, namely “Domestic Disturbance,” and I’ve seen nasty situations cool off the minute that he walked onto the scene. He hated being involved in family squabbles as much as anyone else but he never let it show and when it was all sorted out he always gave them a lecture on not involving outsiders in their disputes, especially ones who could put them in jail and who had more important things to take care of, and he made sure that all parties looked at him as he said that they’d better remember what he’d just told them. They only came out with, “Excuse me, aren’t we taxpayers?” . . . “Don’t we pay your wages?” . . . “Isn’t this your job?” and all the rest of that garbage when we were almost out of hearing range.

     Nearly a week went by before we did anything serious to lower the sexual tension that had been building in intensity ever since the newness of the job had lessened for me and had allowed for other considerations to surface.

     We were both far too intelligent, and we both valued our jobs too much, to do anything stupid like holding hands or parking in an alley, or in a quiet part of a park, to get some kissing and groping and coupling time in.

     We dealt with it like adults.

     We arranged to meet in motels two or three times a week after work!

     Frank had a wife and children and he was always up front with me by telling me that he didn’t want to put his marriage in jeopardy because his parents had divorced when he was ten years old and it had badly affected him and his siblings.

     I agonized about the whole arrangement but I’d had to do something about it given that our attraction to each other became more and more palpable with every tour of duty in that first week and it soon became nearly strong enough to affect my performance.

    Without relief of some kind I would have had to ask for a transfer and neither of us wanted that because we both knew that we’d be stupid to give away what we’d found. Also we worked well together and he was a really good partner for a rookie to learn from.

     The sex was red hot and totally satisfying but the melding that we did before and during and afterwards was unbelievably sweet and we had to bring along an alarm clock every time to be sure that we got up and out of there in time for him to go home, or wherever, to be in a position to authenticate whatever excuse he’d given for not going home directly from work.

     His first promotion split us up as far as working next to each other day by day was concerned but we didn’t stopped seeing each other outside working hours, which we did as often as we could.

     Almost in lock step over the years whenever Frank got a promotion, except for the first one, within six months or so I’d get one too.

     I caught up him with several years ago and we’re both Captains now although he heads-up an entire Borough and I just run a small, highly specialized department in the

Central Precinct. If the right Mayor gets elected next time Frank is expected to be corralled by City Hall for something big.

     Recently, he was asked to attend a seminar that would stretch from Friday afternoon to Sunday in a town forty miles up State and, although it had nothing to do with my particular area of work, as soon as he told me about it I pulled strings and got myself invited to it, also. For many reasons, none serious, we hadn’t been together for a month or so and, besides that, we both like to spend whole nights in the same bed and we don’t get many chances.

     The long seminar was the first in an experiment thought up by an assistant Chief with not enough real work to do, evidently, who had just dreamed up a course, from who-knows-where, on “Increasing Comprehension 3-Fold By Increasing Exposure 2-Fold”. When I first heard that title I insisted on seeing it in writing and it was exactly that, word for word! I swear.

     We got up there, in separate cars, in the afternoon on a Friday and we each went to our rooms and got unpacked. Then we, and twenty or so other attendees, went to the reserved Conference room and what with meeting up with old colleagues – for instance I hadn’t seen the Lecturer who was scheduled to give one of the Friday sessions for more than ten years and we had been very good friends before she’d married and had transferred out of the City – and if you multiply my experience by twenty, you’ll see why no business at all was conducted that afternoon.

     We waved goodbye to “3-Fold” right there. We lowered our sights to “2.50-Fold” and we kept our fingers crossed for reaching that although we were all pretty sure that “2-Fold”, would be a lock.

     At six they laid on a Buffet for us and when we’d eaten and had consumed the free beer and wine that had been provided to help us unwind after our busy afternoon, we brought out our own bottles of Bourbon and Scotch and Vodka.

     I’ve been long inured to hearing foul language but as the night wore on one word in every three spoken was a cuss word and that soon gets to be tedious – even when most of the war stories that they were splattered with were hilarious and good listening – so I made eye contact with the two other women there, my old friend and a woman I’d only met once or twice before, and we moved to a far corner where there was a small table and some chairs. We all three knew that none of us would be sleeping alone that night, nor the next night, but, to our dismay but not to our surprise, it became increasingly obvious that with the way that the exuberance and the camaraderie was firing up thirsts, and was thus encouraging more and more straight booze to be poured down throats, we’d all get precious little loving until Sunday morning’s lie/lay in.

     Frank came up to my room at around two o’clock and he had to knock on the door to wake me up because he couldn’t get the spare key that I’d given him to work. It was one of those cards that you swipe through a slot.

     He talked a good fight while getting undressed but the second after he’d gotten into bed and had, proprietarily, flung his arm across me so that his forearm rested between my

breasts and his hand was clasping my shoulder his head found the pillow and he went fast asleep in about two more seconds.

     He got woken up by his bladder at around five and he insisted on doing it to me when he came back to bed. No preliminaries at all, just, “Here we go, darlin’. Ready?”

     It was the first time, ever, that I’d been treated like a wife.

     Neither of us got much out of it and it took him a long time. He slogged away at me with that dogged determination that I’ve seen in other men, before I met Frank, who have

already done it once too often for that night, or are impaired in some other way, but who won’t quit. Over the years most of my girl friends have remarked on this loutish behavior, which is surely understood by no woman on the planet. It seems to be a task for them rather than a pleasurable act and there is zero sharing. Just single-minded, simple-minded, hard thumping and we have to hold still for it seeing that we are under a distinct disadvantage from being underneath and not in charge of the penis in question. And because there is little or no pleasure being generated our way it soon gets to be an onerous task not to mention the soreness that sets in after a while.

     We used to ask ourselves why don’t they simply say, “Hurrah! I’ve won and I’ll stop now. I’m only pumping steam and there’s little to be gained and the woman I’m with is friendly so my reputation is not at stake and so I’ll save it!”

     They don’t ever remember from past experience, although we could all certainly tell them what is going to happen which is that when they do at last come it’s more of a permit to stop humping than a pleasurable release.

     When we woke up later on we saw that we didn’t have much time if we wanted to get to the seminar before it started at nine, and we had to be punctual seeing that we were the

two most senior people there, so I got Frank up and off to his own room to shower and change and I hustled to get ready myself.

     I arrived five minutes early and Frank came in just one minute before nine and he lost out on the choice doughnuts.

     The day went quite well with enthusiastic lecturers on semi-interesting subjects and we all diligently took lots of “come in handy” notes (of which, I’m quite sure, few indeed were ever even so much as glanced at again before they were dropped in the round file or filed away, “for future reference,” which amounts to the same thing.)

     That night the whiskey flowed copiously again and, also again, Frank came to me in the early hours of the morning. He must have been brooding about it a little because before he got into bed he apologized for his stupid, macho behavior early on Saturday morning and he said that he didn’t count it as real love making and that he’d make it up to me right then. I think that he would have given it a good try – albeit equally tediously – if he hadn’t, once again, passed out the moment that he got to be fully horizontal.

     I figured that what he’d done to me up to then in that bed was the kind of behavior that the wives of policemen and firemen, and of members of many other heavy drinking fraternities, are forced to get accustomed to early on in their marriages.

     In the morning though it was an entirely different matter because we could stay where we were until they served brunch at eleven thirty and here it was, only nine o’clock.

     We both used the bathroom, me first of course, and when he came back to bed he told me that he’d just taken what he called a “Pfizer-riser” that he’d luckily brought along “on

the off-chance” and that we were both in for a real treat when it kicked in an hour’s time.

     Having drunk far too much over the last two days and nights, and combining that with his valueless and wasteful endeavor at five the previous morning, his ability to perform was, as we both knew that it would be, severely compromised but, being a man, it didn’t affect his vast, accumulated, special longings which had built up over the unfortunate, month long, hiatus that we’d suffered through. Longings and needs which his wife couldn’t or wouldn’t ease for him for reasons that, of course, never came up and which I really didn’t want to know about nor, equally, did I want them to undergo change, ever.

     So for that hour he indulged himself with me and we went through all the special routines that we’ve perfected over the years and he did them all knowing that he was flaccid but also knowing that the Viagra would rescue him and that thus he wouldn’t be frustrated by not being able to have the only really suitable – that is, acceptable – finale from the male perspective.

     It was the first time that he’d used the drug with me but obviously he’d tried it elsewhere because he had complete faith in its ability to do its job.

     It turned out to be the best time ever that we’d spent in bed together and that is saying a great deal because it had always been pretty special with us.

     How can I put this?

     He was getting me ready as usual but he stayed unready himself so when he’d reached each particular goal he’d get on with something else and that meant that I’d get to be doubly ready. And then triply . . . and so on. Unlike his, my orgasms needed no chemical boost to get triggered and for the longest time I felt absolutely no need to get it on as long this marvelous stuff kept coming at me.

     I guess that the key to it all was that he had no reason to be anxious and so he wasn’t. He had time to go on all of his time-proven, best-loved explorations of my body and, in fact, he fairly wallowed in the doing of them.

     I have no way of knowing what was actually going on with him, not having a penis of my own, but can it be that without an erect one the need to use it just isn’t there in a man but if he knows that one will be present and correct in good time then he has no pressing urge to perform right then but can follow his usual urges as regards kissing and touching and licking, and all the rest, and is thus breaking the habits of a lifetime in which he’d never had enough control and so it had, perforce, always been a, “Look what I’ve got here and you’ve got to be ready by now so lets get to it,” kind of thing?

     Listen up! This is important stuff. Are we talking about a revolution between the sheets here?

     I made a mental note to myself to buy shares in the company that makes those blessed blue pills before the women of the world find out that they can use them in order to get treated right at last. The company’s sales will go through the roof! Given enough time to think about it women will take over the buying and the long-term scheduling, and, especially and most importantly, will decide just when the time is right for the man to swallow one.

     Sure enough, Frank got good and ready in due time and not a moment too soon because for a while there I’d been just a pool of desire, barely contained, and longing for the one-eyed sea monster to dive in to test the waters. Never in my life had I felt so womanly, nor so receptive, but that record didn’t last long because when the monster did deign to immerse itself I actually thought that I had become not merely a pool but an ocean that covered half the world. I knew, I was positive sure, that later on I’d give birth to another moon and that I’d think about whether or not to let everyone share it with me.

     It was extra special for Frank too and he stayed on me afterwards and he murmured stuff that made no sense but was good to hear nevertheless. After a while he drifted off into sleep, still in place. I had put on weight over the years and he had lost some. His haunches, the ones that used to ripple with power as he walked, were no longer remarkable and it was the same with the rest of him especially around the belly. Anyway, the point is that we were now only about thirty pounds different in weight and I could easily support him on top of me and I delighted in having all of that skin contact along with being joined together still and all the while basking in the glow that we’d generated.

     I just stayed still and gently caressed his back and neck and I wouldn’t have changed places with the Commissioner himself, if you know what I’m saying.

     When we’d kissed goodbye, before he went to his own room, he whispered in my ear, as always and as always somewhat dubiously, “Joan, you’re easily the best partner that I ever had”, but that time he added, “The best partner that any man ever had.”

     That kind of thing – especially if offered while you’re standing up when the action is over and compliments are no longer productive – you can take to the bank and it will keep you warm all the way.

     He sent a memo to my office the following Wednesday that stated, in part –

” – – – – – – and I’m quite sure that everyone else present benefitted too and got a good deal of satisfaction from it and it therefore follows that I think that these extended seminars are highly desirable for the good of the entire Police Force and should be held much more often. If you agree, Captain, draw up a program and please keep this office informed as to how it evolves and what dates are set.”

     I called him on the phone and I told him that I was in entire agreement with the views expressed in his Memo and then I asked if one of the seminars could be on “Sobriety”

and he said sure but that I shouldn’t count on a large attendance unless it was preceded by one on, “How To Become A Successful Hypocrite.” !

     Some basics will never change no matter what and some of those basics will never improve unless we women rebel and act.

     To that end, I’ve already called my Broker and told him to buy1000 shares of Pfizer at market – which is close to $18 – for me and I’m in the process of ‘drawing up a program’ that will introduce all women to my plan about the best use, strategically speaking, of their little blue wonder-pills.