Dirty Cops Next Door

by Summer Cooper

  “Now, you do just like I said and practice on Dr. Andrews,” said Briana, propelling Lynn forward.

  She walked toward him, her body swaying just a little more than what would warrant thirty-two-inch hips, but she was getting it down. She walked up to the doctor and leaned over the table, stretching her body like a cat. “Good morning, Dr. Andrews. Is that a new eye? It matches your shirt so nicely. Oh! I messed up!”

  “You’re doing fine. Just take it from the top.”

  Lynn sat down beside him and fingered his arm. “Have you been working out, Dr. Andrews? Your biceps feel so… engorged.”

  Lee cleared his throat.

  “Oh, dear!” Cried Lynn. “I never will get it right.”

  “Sure you will. You’re just flustered because you’re trying it out on the doctor. Go home now and try it out on your husband.”

  “The doctor is just so sexy,” whispered Lynn.

  Briana whispered back, “So is your husband. You’ve got the moves, girl. Use them.”

  Lynn strolled out to the sidewalk, her sway still a bit exaggerated at first, her hips swinging abundantly to one side, then the other, but gradually becoming smoother and more seductive. It was a remarkable difference and some neighbors stared from their yards or their windows as she walked by.

  Briana was enormously pleased with herself. “Now I know what I’m going to do with my life.” She sat in a chair next to the doctor, and wriggled up close, almost whispering in his ear. “I’m going to be a sex therapist.”

  “Briana, you never even went to college,” I objected. “You can’t become a therapist just like that.”

  “I’ve been studying online. Oh, there’s a lot of things I need to get for the pelvic floor.”

  Lee cleared his throat. “The pelvic floor isn’t a staging area. It’s part of your body.” He placed his hand down her back and pressed just below the tail bone.”

  “Oh well,” giggled Briana. “I believe there are other words for that. Anyway, I already have three guys signed up for incompetence.”

  “Impotence,” corrected Lee.

  “Yeah. Probably that, too.”

  10

  You could say we were just plain cowardly, but the doc and I didn’t let Briana know we were dating. I talked to Linda instead. “It’s my fault. Briana and I always shared our boyfriends because we were so often attracted to the same guy. But this time, it’s different. I think I’m falling in love.”

  “It’s the doctor’s fault as well. Why doesn’t he say something to her?”

  “What would you say if Briana was fighting for your attention?”

  “I see your point.” She thought about it a moment. “She’s not really in love with the doctor. She just wants what she can’t have. What she needs is something that will distract her.”

  “More than becoming a sex therapist?”

  “Yeah. She needs a little therapy of her own. How was dinner at the Space Needle?”

  “It was nice. Really good sea food. A fantastic view of the harbor and the city. But there was something odd about it. All this time, I had thought how awesome it would be; a princess in a tower sort of thing, and it was wonderful. It just wasn’t any more wonderful than going to the state fair. It wasn’t special.”

  “What kind of special are you looking for?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know. When Lee took me to Vashon, he showed me where he likes to go the most. And, it was special. My specialty is the kitchen.”

  “That’s your career. Would you have felt the date was special if he had taken you to visit the clinic? Of course not!” She said before I could answer. “The difference is, the first date fulfilled a favorite pastime. The second date fulfilled a fantasy. The thing is, it’s all very laughable because you are both country people at heart pretending to have urban tastes.”

  We were interrupted by a yelp and a bang at my bedroom door. “Somebody help me!” I opened the door and Briana crashed in. “You’ve got to help me. It’s Billy Rosenfield. He pumped himself up, and he has a ring… and he can’t get it off. You’ve gotta call the doctor!”

  We could hear the yowls of pain coming from Briana’s room and scrambled to investigate. Billy had his back to us, but held one arm out to halt us while his other arm remained busy in front of him. “Ai! Ai! Arrgh! Oh mother of maestro! Yeah! Okay. It’s good. It’s good.” He sighed and covered himself up, then turned around. “I’ve got it. I just over-extended myself. Good to know I can still do it.” He winced.

  “You should probably have the doctor look at it,” I suggested.

  “And have him flap his jaw at me? No thank you. He’ll just put me on another diet.”

  “Well, to make sure you’re not damaged.”

  “You think I can’t tell on my own? The parts are all there and functioning. I just won’t use a pump anymore. That’s all. I reckon you girls will have to do with a shortstop.”

  “A shortstop is fine,” Briana said as he hobbled more than usual out the door. “As we say in therapy, it’s how you use it that counts.”

  “Briana, that was terribly irresponsible,” I said when he had disappeared.

  “It wasn’t my idea! It was his. He said he had been wanting to try it for a while, but was afraid to do it without supervision. I was only there to watch!”

  “Half dressed?”

  “He said he needed stimulation.”

  “I think we need to establish some ground rules. First rule, if men want to know about penis enlargement, send them to the doctor. You’re not qualified to advise them.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No, I’m not. It’s a medical thing, not therapy. Second rule… are all these sex toys necessary?”

  “Oh, but they are! I don’t use them. I just show how they work.”

  “Second rule, no sex with your clients.”

  “Is that all?”

  “For the time being.”

  “Okay. Say, has anybody seen Zeke?”

  I thought about it. I hadn’t seen Zeke in several weeks. Neither had Linda. “Well,” said Briana. “Burke thinks Zeke may have found a new girlfriend, but he’s not saying who it is.”

  “Zeke has a new girl at the expense of his old girls? Sounds pretty serious.”

  I wasn’t jealous. Just kind of curious. What kind of woman would make Zeke abandon his harem? I decided to give him a call. He was the same old Zeke, but he did sound a little embarrassed. “I did,” he said. “I found somebody that makes my heart pound. But I’m still in the process of taming her. She wants me and she doesn’t.”

  “She sounds like a tigress.”

  “Oh, she is. I wanted to take her fishing and she beat me with the fishing pole.”

  “When are you coming around?”

  “Soon. Soon. I’m in love, Jenna. I’m really in love.”

  We were all falling in love except Briana. She knew Lee and I were becoming close, but she wouldn’t back off, and now in her new role as a sexual therapist, was completely positive that Lee had problems only her expertise could resolve. Jack Jones finally came to the rescue.

  It was a late afternoon. Supper had been put away, but Briana had a small group of women in the living room who were doing exercises by rolling about on a very large ball, and giggling as they asked questions. “Oh no!” Gasped one old lady who appeared to be about eighty-three. “My balls fell out! What do I do?”

  “Stuff them back in, but not here!” Hissed another, who appeared to be around the same age. “Go to the bathroom.”

  The old lady hopped off her ball and waddled off to the bathroom, one hand holding her crotch.

  “Okay, girls,” said Briana. “I think we’re good for today. Remember to use that Kegel muscle!”

  “What are you doing this time?” I asked, very distrustful of the Rosenfield incident. Billy had consulted the doctor on some extensive bruising, but fortunately the damage had not been permanent. Lee recommended a diet that would increase blood circulation, and he imm
ediately went on a pomegranate juice binge. Fortunately, we had all been spared so far on how well his pomegranate juice diet was faring.

  She grimaced, wriggled on the ball, stuck out the tip of her tongue in a look of intense concentration, than wriggled again. “I’m moving around my Kegel balls.”

  “I think I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s like playing with yourself, but look! No hands!”

  “Well, if you can stop for a minute, Jack brought over a guest.”

  She stopped. I stopped. I almost did a flip flop before remembering my heart belonged to Lee Andrews. The man beside Jack Jones topped six feet, had sandy brown hair, crisply cut at the sides, a Captain America face and a handsome uniform that consisted of an airplane pilot’s cap and jacket. “By a great streak of fortune,” said Jack Jones. “I won this young man in a poker game. I’m entitled to give him to whoever I please for the evening.”

  “Me! Me!” Said Briana, jumping up and waving her arms. “Oh!” She gasped. “My Kegel balls!

  The young man, whose name was Kevin Morris and really was an airplane pilot, was completely charmed. “I believe,” he said. “I’ve never met a sex therapist before.”

  “Well,” she answered, linking her arms through his. “I’ll be happy to tell you all about it, but if you want to have sex with me, you can’t be my client. It’s one of those professional thingies.”

  “I’d never dream of becoming your client. Just your student.”

  “I guess it would be alright then.”

  I couldn’t wait to tell the doctor, and dashed over to his house to give him the good news. “You mean you’ve vanquished the competition?” He teased.

  “Something like that.”

  “Hmm.” His fingers played around my shirt collar, then wrapped at the back of my neck to kiss me. “It feels strange, though,” he said. “I know who Zeke is seeing. It’s Julia.”

  I stopped the hand creeping up under my blouse. “Julia!”

  “Is that a problem?”

  “We have to rescue him!”

  “No,” he groaned, pulling me in tightly. “You have to rescue me. I lost two of my most ardent admirers. I don’t want to lose a third.”

  I should have been in complete paradise. Linda had a man. Briana had a man. I had a man. We were all happy together, but the thought of Zeke dangling helplessly in Julia’s web just wouldn’t leave me. I talked with Billy Rosenfield, who only said, “yep. That boy likes to live dangerously.”

  I talked to Burke, who said, “Don’t want nothin’ to do with them unless they want to go scuba diving.”

  I talked to Jack Jones, who said, “I’ll call him up. In fact, I’m going to call up everybody. I have an announcement to make.”

  Wheedling and prying did no good. Since he was calling everybody to the house, it must be important. We sent out our best party spread and waited for guests to arrive with appropriate beverages. They all came; Billy Rosenfield, Burke, Liz, Melanie and Ralph. Zeke was the last to arrive. Hanging on to his arm like she’d just won a calf-roping contest, was Julia.

  My first instinct was to throw her out the window. I held back only because Lee’s hand squeezed mine and he gave me a look that was a little bit pleading and a little agonized. I glared at Julia. She glared at me and an ice field grew up between us.

  “Now that I have you all gathered here,” he said, taking a moment to draw Linda to his side. “I have wonderful news for you. It’s wonderful news. Linda and I are getting married.”

  I wasn’t really surprised. I think I had been expecting it for some time. Linda had changed since she had gotten together with Jack. She was more peaceful. More serious. Less inclined to party hardy. And she was happy. But I was a little jealous. This was supposed to be my story and I had barely cleared the playing field.

  If nobody was surprised, they were excited. A hundred questions bounced around the room before she could get any of them sorted out. “No, we’re not going to use the house. We’re not going to get married in town. Thank you, Melanie, but we don’t need the name of a dress maker. We won’t have dresses made. No, they won’t be off the rack, either.”

  Jack did one of those shrill whistles where you stretch the sides of your mouth with your fingers, and the cacophony of questions died in the air. “This is the way it is,” said Linda, waving the air with her lightly perfumed, drop sleeved blouse. We are getting married on the Mendocino Coast. You’ll need some camping equipment, mainly sleeping bags and tents. The weather is warm this time of year, so pack lightly. Resources are available for food and drink, but we’ll pack the wedding cake and dinner. You will not need much clothing. We’re getting married in a nudist colony.”

  “Oh, my!” Gasped Liz. “Such a scandal!”

  “Not a scandal,” said Melanie. “I haven’t been to a nudist colony in years. Just think, Liz. You might get lucky.”

  “How are we all going to get there?” Asked Billy quarrelsomely. “We don’t all have cars.”

  “I can use the Senior Center van,” said Julia.

  It was one of those pin drop moments. In the heat of the discussion, we had even forgotten that Julia existed. “I’m sure we can put something together,” I said hastily.

  “Face it, Miss Hospitality, you need me. Only the Senior Center van has wheelchair accessibility. Or were you planning to leave Ralph behind?”

  I was left with no choice. The white flags of neutrality had been raised and I was a cad to ignore them. The day of departure arrived and our transportation lined up in a rather orderly manner. Briana and Kevin were in charge of the Bronco with its wedding cake and tiered trays of appetizers. Linda rode with Jack Jones in his Ford Escort. Burke drove his own muscled out, 1978 Dodge and invited Liz along. Liz and Zeke loaded up the senior van with Ralph, Melanie and Billy Rosenberg. Lee and I took the Bentley.

  The coastal highway stretched out in front us. We didn’t really see anything of the Washington coastline. We dropped straight down to Portland, then crossed over to Pacific City and Highway 101. Lee was right. Central Washington and Central Oregon were hot and relatively flat. The mountainous areas were far more appealing. The first thing I was thankful for was the cool ocean breeze. The second thankful moment was the sight of the most beautiful ocean I had ever seen.

  I am convinced the sun lives on the Pacific Ocean. It seems to squat there all day long, lighting up the water with liquid fire. It doesn’t seem to do as much up and down as it does shifting around. The sun is a cameraman examining every lighting angle for best viewpoint. It parades its luscious energy in bright golden parcels that dance dizzily on the ocean waves.

  As we traveled downward and the afternoon crept into evening, the ocean grew darker. The moon rose, sending moonlit lanterns bobbing over the waves and crashing into giant cliffs that splintered into rocky shelves surrounded by ivory surf. And I understood something. This day was special. Every day I spent with Lee doing the unplanned, the unorthodox and the spontaneous, was special. It wasn’t about planning the perfect date or going to the perfect place. It was all right here in the things we loved doing together.

  I loosened my seat belt and cozied up to Lee, resting my head on his shoulder. He circled his arm around and fondled my breast. “I’m getting ideas,” he said.

  Up ahead, the procession of vehicles were blinking their left turn and pulling in to a low budget motel to rest for the evening. I placed my hand between his legs and cupped the bulging package. “So am I”.

  11

  The colony staggered around a large pond. The pond had several immediate features. It had mud banks and a shallow mud basin at one end, which was used as a beach, yet the water was remarkably clear. At least it seemed remarkable to me. Where I was from, mud bottoms meant red clay bottoms and ruddy water that stained your bathing suit and left permanent marks on your sneakers.

  A wide, grassy field surrounded the pond. The grass was kept trim by a few free-ranging cows and horses. The field sloped gently upward to a high end
with the largest of the colony houses perched on it, framed by a small collection of trees. The pathway from the top of the hill to the pond was stamped in with a set of steps and a boardwalk. A wooden raft was anchored in about one hundred yards from the end of the pier that extended out from the boardwalk.

  The colony was set back several miles from the coast, deep in a tangle of redwoods, oaks, and pines. The inhabitants were like wood elves, flicking from tree to tree, somehow finding each other and ambling down from any point of entrance they pleased. The pond was apparently as much a part of their everyday lives as taking a shower. They sunbathed. They scooped on a little mud. They waded into the water, swam around a bit, then left for whatever destination they were planning next.

  Nudity wasn’t mandatory but in a place where nearly everyone you saw was nude or at least somewhat clothing deficit, it seemed more natural to be unclothed than clothed. The pond, the beach, and the field were littered with exposed flesh of every shape and color. Even the old folk sat around, their iniquities blowing wild and free while they conversed as casually as if they were dressed in full suits. Truthfully, no matter your age or proportions, there is nothing as sweet as wearing nothing at all on a hot summer day.

  The wedding party was being set up on the shallow end of the pond, where the mud basin sprawled and the field pulled back and announced its borders with an impromptu display of wildflowers. A number of other vehicles lined the edges of the dirt and ruts road that led to the beach opening. Tents squatted beside them or explored their way into the mask of trees. As guests, we had been given a designated area for our own tents, on a dry, level spot close to the field but surrounded by gently shading evergreen.

  With so many helping hands, there was really not much I had to do. We set up the billowing canopy quickly and loaded the picnic tables with the already prepared foods, with plenty over for a few recreational activities. Not all the recreational activities were out in the open. A few tents bounced around and here and there, and bushes rustled for no apparent reason.