"And if you don't tell me you've got the bastard soon, you'll be outta here like a bullet from a gun!"
The big wooden door of her office slammed in the officer's face, with a great thud that made everyone in the room look up.
"Poor, Ricky," said one officer, who was watching the entire scene from across the cramped, sunlit room.
"That's the second time this week he's had to deliver bad news to Einhorn," his partner said with a mock-serious tone.
The first officer reclined in his chair and lit a cigarette. He puffed it to get it started. "I can't help feel sorry, for him, Jack," he drawled in his deep, southern accent.
"Better him than me," the second officer retorted. "Look at him."
The second officer motioned toward Ricky, who was still loitering around the Lieutenant's door looking despondent.
"The guy's a slippery bastard, the one he's trying to catch," the first officer said.
Jack reclined along with his partner. "Isn't that the dealer that got off a few weeks ago?"
"Yep. Not enough evidence to convict. Einhorn was pretty pissed about that one. Now Ricky's the one who has to suffer for her mistake."
"What are we talkin' about, Jim?" a voice said from the left of the two smoking officers, addressing the first officer.
"Poor, poor Ricky," Jim said, still staring intently at Ricky.
All three of them watched Ricky for a time.
A few moments passed, and the office door opened again.
Jim's eyes widened. He took his cigarette out of his mouth. A few grains of ashes fell on his black police uniform as he did so.
As if in slow-motion, a gorgeous, proper-looking, brunette woman in her mid-thirties strutted out of the room in a gray business skirt and jacket, bearing a scowl on her face so terrible that it was easy to figure who was responsible for the earlier yelling and door-slamming.
This was Lieutenant Lois Einhorn of the Miami Police Department, a slender high-ranking police officer with a great pair of legs and a bad attitude. She stomped angrily toward one of the Sergeants under her - the oily and obese Sergeant Robert Aguado with graying hair - and handed him some papers.
Soon after, Einhorn bent over a desk in the process of explaining something about the papers to Aguado, which had the result of extending her plush, round ass in the direction of the officers.
Jim took another puff of his cigarette as he watched the Lieutenant's behind sway every so often as she continued to speak to Aguado, and in his gruff, Southern drawl, he spoke: "You know, people ask me sometimes why I'm still a cop. Why I come to work every day only to be shot at in the middle of a robbery or get into fights with drunk drivers."
The other officers half-looked at Jim, not sure where this was going.
"That my friends," Jim continued, extending his cigarette in two fingers towards Einhorn's ass. "That my friends is the reason."
The other two officers laughed.
The first officer's eyes moved down Einhorn's body toward her feet, upon which were two stilettos matching the rest of her outfit. As her body shifted, Einhorn's skirt lifted slightly, revealing a hint of the back-seams lining her pantyhose. The first officer's eyes widened, and he felt his erection begging to be free of his pants.
Einhorn rose from the table and turned to walk back at the officers. As she did so, she glanced in the direction of the three officers.
All three of the officers comically turned around back to face their desks.
"What do we do?" the third officer said to the officers on his left without daring to turn his head.
"Just try to look casual," the second officer said as he began hastily scribbling on an official-looking document.
Jim sat there, bracing for the inevitable torrent of shouting and the potential expulsion he was about to face for ogling a senior officer.
Sweat poured off all three of the officer's faces as they waited, but nothing came.
After a few minutes, Jim turned around. Einhorn's door was shut. She must have gone inside.
"Relax, boys," Jim said. "The wicked witch is dead."
"Gone, you mean?" said the second officer, Jack.
"Whatever," Jim responded.
All three officers turned back around to continue their conversation.
"I think I might light up, too," the third officer said.
"That's for tellin' us that, Rodney," Jim drawled sarcastically, to the delight of Jack.
"My God she's a hard-ass, isn't she?" asked Rodney, unperturbed by his superior's comment.
"She could be hard on my ass anytime she wanted to be," Jack said with a smile.
"She's a strict woman," said Rodney, puffing his cigarette along with Jim. "Kind of like my fifth-grade teacher."
"She's so conservative and straight," added Jack. "Makes me sick. I hate prudes."
"I'd bet she'd be an animal in the sack," Rodney replied with glee, losing time with Jim's puffing for a moment, forcing him to quickly adjust his pace. "Women like that generally are."
"The things I would do to her," Jack said, shaking his head with a massive grin.
"The things I would let her do to me," Rodney said, laughing.
The three men fell silent, each reveling in their own, unique fantasies involving the Lieutenant.
"What do you think of her tits?" Jim said after a time, rocking back on his creaking office chair.
Rodney and Jack looked at each other behind Jim. They seemed to come to a silent agreement.
"Solid 9s," Jack said.
"You've assessed them individually?" Jim said with the uncharacteristic hint of a smile.
The three men paused again.
"Did you see her comin' out of the gym the other day in that tight, little, green sports bra?" Jack rhapsodized, half to himself.
"A memory I'll never forget," said Jim, patting his cigarette on the side of the ashtray sitting on the arm of his chair.
All three men had seen similar sights; many female police officers stripped down to their bare essentials to work out in the Department's gym, but there was something about Einhorn that was particularly memorable, and always something to which they could look forward. Despite her surly attitude, everything about Lieutenant Lois Einhorn was sexy. Her hips wiggled gracefully when she walked; her perfume intoxicated all passersby; and no matter how much she yelled, her voice was always deep, sultry and seductive. Her deep, sing-song voice elicited an instant boner from any hearing man in the vicinity.
"But she's always pissed," said Jack. "It's like she's got PMS that never ends."
All three men smiled at this statement.
"What are you guys talking about?" a voice uttered unexpectedly from next to Rodney.
Jack, Jim, and Rodney looked toward the direction of the voice. The voice belonged to Detective Sharp, one of the more uptight officers in the force. He must have overheard their conversation.
"You're talking about a decorated officer there, boys," said Sharp. "She's hard because she has to be in this city, with all the pedophiles, pimps and drug dealers to deal with on a daily basis. Show a little respect."
"I'm sorry, Detective Sharp," was the chorus which emanated from all three officers.
"Now, if you're done leering at your superior officer - get back to work."
Detective Sharp left, leaving the three to continue their conversation at their desks.
"Aguado's in her pocket," Rodney said, leaning over conspicuously low toward Jim next to him.
"I would mind being in that bitch's pocket," Jim said, shuffling papers about on his desk.
The three men paused after a brief chuckle.
"Do you like her?" Jack asked, after a time.
All three men thought.
Rodney was the first to answer:
"No."
"Why not?" asked Jack.
"She's always got me on edge. Fuck knows what I'm going to do wrong next. I might accidentally wear the wrong colored watch and I'll be put on probation."
"That's a bit of an overreaction," said Jim.
"What, am I wrong?" asked Jack, mustering up a tiny amount of courage against his superior officer.
"Yes. She is a hard-ass, but it's like Sharp said, she gets the job done. She's tough on people doing a bad job. As a result, she cleans this town of pedophiles, prostitutes and other perversions which curse it with their filth. She's conservative because she wants what's normal and correct - not the disgusting aberrations which litter the streets".
Silence fell on the men again, in positive acknowledgment of Jim's statement.
Rodney was, again, the first to break the silence:
"Aguado's got the hots for her doesn't he?"
"Yuck," said Jim flatly.
"My thoughts exactly," Jack added in agreement.
A moment of silence fell on the conversation for the final time. All three officers started at their desks. There was much work to be done on all counts.
"What do you guys want to do now?" Jack asked.
"Donuts?" Jim suggested, and the three men left.