Tim led the way to the elevator, and once on the street, he indicated the way. The summer night was warm, but there was a slight breeze, and Tim took my hand in his. Silently, we walked briefly, and he opened the driver's door to a magnificent, red Oldsmobile Toronado.

"This is your car?"

"What do you think, Ronnie?"

"I think you are taking bribes," I joked and slid over to the passenger side.

"I make payments," he laughed, entered, and closed the door.

Tim started the car and pulled away from the curb. I slid next to him, and he flipped on the radio. I sang along with the song absent-mindedly.

"Hey, you're pretty good," Tim complimented.

"Well, I practice a lot," I said.

"Have you ever sung in front of people?"

"Maybe once or twice," I confessed.

"Like at a party?"

"No... it... was... more like a..," I explained. "Hey, don't get any ideas," I said and poked him in the side.

Tim chuckled at me. He put his hand on my thigh, and I closed my eyes. I felt a sexual shiver flow up my body.

Thankfully, the trip was short, less than fifteen minutes. When we arrived at The Famous Door on North Meridian Street, I was a bit shocked. We were greeted at the door by the manager, and Tim flashed his badge. The manager nodded at Tim and smiled broadly at me. He led us to the small hall, with several rows of white linen-covered tables and a bar at one end. At the opposite end was a small stage area. The tables were almost all filled, and our guide weaved through the tightly packed room to a large table with only two patrons. The manager held out the seat for me, and I sat down next to Tim.

Tim seemed to know the two men, and he introduced me to our dinner companions. A blonde-haired man dressed in a brown jacket, named David, complimented my hair. Our other dinner companion, a balding older man, Rex, extended his hand to shake mine. He leaned in and commented to Tim that he believed girlfriends or wives were not attending tonight.

A buxom, red-headed waitress wearing a scandalous short skirt, fishnets, and heels appeared and took their drink orders before Tim responded. After taking our orders, she successfully evaded several inebriated customers' hands to reach the bar for our cocktails. I jumped when a foghorn-like voice blared behind me.

"Men, how are you tonight?" The baritone asked.

Everyone answered positively, and the man stepped to the side to gaze at me. He was a large man, taller than Tim and twice as thick. He had cold, dark eyes that matched his slick, coal-black hair. I felt like a deer in the presence of a massive grizzly or other predator. I forced a perfunctory smile.

"And this is?"

Tim stood up. "Lieutenant Norman, this is Miss Ronnie McBride. A friend from my high school in Fort Wayne."

"Please, to meet you, Miss McBride," he held out a massive hand, "I hope you enjoy your evening tonight."

I slipped my hand into his large, rough hand, and he shook it gently. He glanced down at my legs and then into my eyes. He looked over at Tim and motioned for him to the side, where they spoke in hushed tones briefly. Lieutenant Norman excused himself and said he would return shortly. After he left, Tim sat down, I sipped my cocktail, then leaned over to Tim and whispered into his ear.

"What was he saying to you?" I asked nervously.

"Did you know what kind of place this was. He didn't want you to be offended."

I decided to play coy, "What kind of place is this?" I asked innocently and took another sip.

"You've never been here?" Tim asked.

"No."

Tim studied me for a moment. He leaned closer. "You're lying," he grinned.

"I am not!"

Our two table companions stopped talking and looked over at us. I smiled at them and dropped my eyes to pretend to look in my purse. With a sigh, I gave up and set my purse on the table.

"Everything alright, Miss McBride?" David asked.

"Ah... yes. Yes, I was just looking for a cigarette," I lied.

"Oh, here. Take one of mine," Rex leaned across the table and gave me a cigarette.

I thanked him and took it. Tim held out his lighter for me. After a few puffs, I leaned back in my chair, then finished my drink. My eyes darted toward our tablemates. They had turned back to their conversation.

"Why would you say that?" I asked Tim softly.

"I'm a cop. I know when people lie."

Lieutenant Norman returned, and the bear of a man pulled out a chair and sat next to me. He tugged at the inner pocket of his jacket, withdrew his wallet, and waved at the waitress. The large-breasted redhead returned to our table with her serving tray in hand.

"Anyone ready for another?" He asked.

Heads shook negatively all around the table. He frowned with a screwed up face at the men. The Lieutenant looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

"My dear, you look a bit dry," he stated, pointing to my glass, "let me refresh your drink." He glanced up at the waitress and said, "I'll have a double whiskey and refresh the lady's drink."

She nodded and left, and the Lieutenant watched her shimmy away. He returned his attention to the table to find Tim engaged in baseball talk with Rex and David. I sat silently and enjoyed my cigarette, hoping he would not begin a conversation with me.

"Do you work, little lady?" The bear asked.

"I work for the Leader. It's a music newspaper," I offered.

"I've never heard of it. Is it local?" He asked.

"Yes. We are located on Kentucky Avenue.

"What do you do there?"

"A bit of everything," I giggled, "I type, keep track of the books, I call for ad space."

"Sounds like you enjoy it."

"I do..." I smiled and took a drag of my cigarette.

The waitress interrupted with our drinks, and the Lieutenant, casually, laid a ten on her tray, "Keep it, honey."

The waitress flashed a big smile at him, but he had already returned his focus to me. He raised his glass, and I was obliged to take a drink. I was taken aback by how strong my vodka Collins was; however, the Lieutenant did not seem phased at all. He had unwrapped a new pack of cigarettes, lit one, and blew smoke into the air.

"You knew Tim in high school?" He asked.

"Yes, we were classmates."

"Boyfriend and girlfriend?" He gave a knowing nod.

"No." I took another sip of my drink.

"Dated?"

"Ah... no... just friends."

"Now?" He continued his interrogation.

"Ah, this is the first time I've seen him in six years," I offered.

"Horstmeyer!" The man practically shouted.

Their conversation stopped, and all three men looked at their supervisor. Tim calmly flicked an ash off his cigarette into the glass ashtray and raised an eyebrow.

"Sir?"

"Are you telling me, you’ve known this beautiful filly more than five years, and you haven't roped her yet?"

The Lieutenant stared at Tim for a few seconds. All three men turned to stare at me. I drained my glass. Tim cleared his throat and was about to answer when the house lights went dark, then the stage lit up.

Over the intercom came a boisterous voice, "The Famous Door and Max Hansburg proudly presents: The 'Boylesque' Review, starring Mr. Roby Sanders!"

When Roby Sanders appeared on the stage, the hall burst into applause, and I clapped loudly. He pranced on stage with a wave of his feathered boa, and wolf whistles followed him in. He was stunning. His platinum blonde hair was styled, his makeup was perfect, and the rhinestone-studded dress he wore was electric. He immediately went into his act, singing "I'm Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair" from South Pacific, followed by "I Can't Say No" from the musical Oklahoma. The crowd cheered and clapped, including the three detectives around our table. Only Lieutenant Norman sat still, a cigarette in one hand and his empty glass in the other.

Roby explained that he was an impersonator and that all the performers in tonight's show were men. He assured the few women in the audience that they were not after their men; they were after the handsome men. The crowd laughed and guffawed at the playful slight.

Another drink was set in front of me by the voluptuous waitress. I saw the Lieutenant raise his glass, and I drank with him. Tim glanced back to see if I was enjoying the show. I smiled and nodded at him; I was having a good time.

Two new performers appeared on stage with gorgeous, Brazilian Carnival costumes with giant feathers in their hair. I watched them as they danced to a Samba rhythm, when I felt a hand grip my thigh. The shiver I felt in the car earlier returned. I closed my eyes momentarily when I realized it was not Tim's hand. It was the bear's paw!

The Lieutenant's hand advanced upward past the hem of my dress, and my breath quickened. I didn't know what to do. I glanced over at him. He watched the performance on stage and continued to smoke. Underneath the tablecloth, his hand stopped at the top of my stockings, playing with the tabs that attached them to my panty girdle.

I must admit, I was turned on. This huge, brute of a man was fondling my inner thigh while my date was next to me. I waited for a few seconds to see if he would withdraw, but he continued to tease. His thick fingers stroked, pinched me, and snapped the tabs. I was confused; he was offensive, but he was exciting.

I became excited. I couldn't help it. My dick pressed against my panties so hard, I began to fidget in my chair. My squirms caused the bear to advance past my stocking to my panty girdle hem.

I reached under the tablecloth with both hands to push his massive hand away. I stood up and leaned forward to Tim and said I was going to the restroom. He nodded and returned his attention to the show. I pulled down my skirt, glanced at the Lieutenant, and with my purse left the table.

I walked into the hallway separating the stage area from the restaurant, and I stood there searching my purse for a cigarette, which I didn't have. I felt tipsy, and the room spun a bit, when Lieutenant Norman walked out, tapped a cigarette from his pack, and handed one to me. He flipped his lighter open and held it out to me. We stood there silently for a moment and smoked. He suddenly gripped my arm and led me out of the restaurant to the parking lot. He stopped when we were in the shadows.

"Are you a Mary?"

My mouth dropped open.

"I said, are you queer?" He demanded. "Does Horstmeyer know?"

I couldn't answer him. The strong cocktails I had didn't help; I was in a fog. I couldn't think straight.

He took a long drag of his cigarette and then tossed it to the side. He glanced around the parking lot. Lieutenant Norman leaned back against a car, unzipped his pants, and took out his cock.

"Get busy."

I stood there.

"Now," he said menacingly.

Not wanting to upset this giant, I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. My hand gripped his cock and began to stroke it. His cock grew and became hard. I spit on it and continued to stroke his cock. I tried to get him off quickly, but I began to focus on his cock. I took the tip into my mouth and sucked it lovingly. I then engulfed it. My nose pushed against his pubic hair, then I backed off. Again and again, I repeated doing this. Lieutenant Norman groaned and thrust into my mouth. He gripped my head, plunging it downward fucking my face.

"Fucking Mary, this is what you want." He commented as he continued to force his cock into my mouth.

I found the names he called me excited me more. Without thinking, I reached under my dress and pushed my panties to one side. My dick popped out and instantly became hard. I pumped my dick with my thumb and forefinger.

"Damn boy, you're whore, aren't you?"

His taunting excited me. I moaned while his stiff cock was still in my mouth. I redoubled my efforts to make him cum.

"Oh yeah, that's right. The queer likes it. Don't you?"

I nodded, affirming his statement.

"Get it sloppy."

I spat and drooled as much as I could on his rod. I had an idea what was coming. He picked me up like a doll and spun me about to lay me on the hood of a late-model Plymouth. He pushed up my dress and, with one large paw, ripped off my panties' panel. He spread my cheeks and rammed his cock into me. I let out a scream, and he covered my mouth with his hand. He pinned me to the car and savagely began to fuck my ass.

I felt as if I was going to be split, but I soon rose to meet every thrust. My stiff dick was trapped in the remnants of my satin panties, rubbing against the hood of the car. With both hands, I tried to push upwards, but I remained pinned, and he continued to assault my ass.

"Bitch," he cursed at me.

"Fuck me!" I cried out between my sobs of pain.

"Queer whore!"

I groaned at the name, and my body began to spasm. Spurts of cum were forced out of me by each of his thrusts. I gasped with each and clamped my sphincter muscles. Lieutenant Norman groaned loudly, and he gripped my hips, then with a deep thrust, he shot his load. I felt it enter my body, hot and sticky. When he pulled out, I grunted loudly.

He didn't say anything; I only heard him zip up his pants and walk away. I lay on the hood for a moment to catch my breath and felt his cum leak out of my body, onto the hood. I rolled off the car and steadied myself. I straightened my clothes and returned to the restaurant. I snuck into the bathroom and tried to clean myself up and repair my makeup. As I exited the woman's restroom, I met Tim.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"I'm not feeling well. Would you take me back to my apartment?" I asked shakily.

Tim took me by the shoulder and led me to his Oldsmobile. After we arrived at my building, he led me upstairs and made sure I got to my apartment. He promised to call me the next day. Tim let me kiss him on the cheek, and I closed the door. I took an extra-long, hot shower and got into my cotton pajamas.

As I lay in bed, I wondered if it would be another six years before I saw Tim again.