The cop was still pretty, young, before corruption fattened his vice. Slim lined jaw bone and blonde--indeed only just turned 29.
It was halloween night and my costume was all hidden by a short black coat except for the sparkled edge of skirt and cancan that I admit, might be considered a cocky length for an Alice in Wonderland, but through the looking glass things got a little warped.
I was wearing tall socks and babydolls so I might of looked a little young, but I was of an age w him and a little unnerved by him slowly almost hesitantly pulling up beside me in his cruiser. He didn't say anything for a moment only looked at me while I thought of the various illegal things Id hidden about my person (in my alice apron- mushrooms in one pocket to make things large, some litlle purple pills to make to me grow hugely and a few hurriedly rolled joints to massage reality back to size again.) i leaned down, my eyebrows raised.
He said ''Goodnight''
"What's up?" I answered, immediately feeling like a hooker, in the traditional pose-- leaning into his window, cold air sifting into my tutu above stockinged legs. I straightened up and stepped back and he stuck his head towards me.
"Ah. Nothing. Just driving around. So, how're you doing?"
I was....nonplussed...nervous? Well yeah...but what was this? Just 'driving around'?
"I'm waiting for the flippin streetcar" amending the regular blue streak that usually accompanied any mention of the public transit in my world and then feeling like maybe I was not being nice enough. I felt oddly powerful, and tall, standing in my blueblack candykid baby dolls, him jammed in his car with all his equipment shadowy armor crowding him in, the only light his blonde armycut, his radio, his gps.
He was smiling a little and said "Well, it's late you know"
It was saturday night--maybe 1 o clock, I nodded soberly and said ' yeah, fucking transit.'
Really, I'd seen the streetcar zoom past me three at a time on my way to the stop, and he said "well, are you going far?"
I shook my head-- "a party".
"I mean, Where? maybe I could..." he said
I laughed. "You'll give me a ride?"
He was acting very suspiciously and I did feel like maybe I'd made my skirt a little too short and the ribbon in my hair was a tad too jauntily tied. I'd painted red spots on my cheeks in a litle fit of drama and felt my own blush sizzling beneath them.
"Well round first street and elm" thinking I wasn't going to have heat drive me to my rave, wait. can a cop give u a ride?
He shook his head and said seriously "O, I can't then, it's out of my jurisdiction'
I almost laughed, THEN I almost made fun of him, but like I said I was sober.
"O, you're a local cop'
He nodded, "I like this neighbourhood" he said.
I kept having to lean into his car to hear his answers and everytime my skirt rose a little over my thighs, I felt like he saw, like he heard the tulle rasp and rumple. He was very handsome
and he told me his name was Pavell. Is this how cops usually bust you for...something?
He gave me a good looking over, I caught his eye at my thighs, just at his eyelevel. I was standing on the sidewalk and could see into his lap. He kept peering at me, heavy seconds between his answers, me trying to be so cool, but a little offended he was making small talk, what was this?
"So...ah. what's the problem, officer?" I asked, leaning in, then standing up.
He laughed. "Well, I saw you here, on your own"
"I hope u don't think I'm a crackhead!" is this what crackheads say to cops? Is this what hookers say? Gesus. maybe the skirt was a little short.
"Nonono," he laughed. "you were just standing here and it's late, and I saw you and you attract attention, standing there alone....and I'll just wait with you."
"For the streetcar?"
"Yeah. well, there's a lot of crackheads about" Great, I thought. where the fuck is the streetcar?
"Oh." All my smalltalk was gone...."thanks"
Well.
"How old are you Pavell?"
"29"
"Ah. the brink. I'm going there next year"
"It's ok, its good, you'll like it"
"yeah...all that serious stuff" I said, waving at his blinking lights and buttetproof vest and caged back seat
"Yeah. serious stuff. what do you say about that?"
"Hahaha," I laughed to loudly, I know, like a nervous maniac. "I try Pavell!! hahaha."
Thinking of the hours I spent mesmerized by cerulean blue cotton, white lace trim and satin ribbon, the perfect shade of seqin gluegunned around the bell of my skirt. High on my thigh I'd whimsically pulled an old white lace garter I'd stolen from an aunt's drawer when I was about 6. another artifact of Alice fallen though the looking glass, underground, in that hidden nightblack part of Lewis Carrol's head.
"Oh look!" I said "the streetcar's here!"
He nodded and said "Maybe I'll see you around, K-, happy halloween"
"Right, you too Pavell, later." Great.
I waved my white glove, waved him off. Walked into the street car smiling, bewildered...did that hotcop just hit on me? or what!
...................................................
The streetcar was only moaning along in inches, I learned up to the radiator at the back and poked my chin out the open window. The driver screeched into her mike "there is a diversion ahead passengers, we will b a few minutes"
We waited. Out the window, ahead of us, I could see a crowd of people standing outside of the local, angels and superheros and Cops and people shivering in scanty costumes walking quickly away from them. The street car grunted onward and through the lit window of the bar, which was usually shadowed and shady, packed. (Where my dealer was going after he dropped off my pot) I saw the bar was empty. I saw Pavell, striding, one hand at his hip, the other swinging forward with purpose.
Things wet, things tight things burning. There is the pining creak of rope. the thunder of blood in my cheeks the sound of your footstep, the cool rustle of cotton. What would you say? Will I be able to be silent? Just quiet even.... What tool is next? I can take it, I can take it try me.
Things wet, things tight things burning. There is the pining creak of rope. the thunder of blood in my cheeks the sound of your footstep, the cool rustle of cotton. What would you say? Will I be able to be silent? Just quiet even.... What tool is next? I can take it, I can take it try me.
