AN: Story contains some sexual bondage situations not all readers might be comfortable with.
DO NOT JUMP TO CONCLUSIONS
Stalker wrote out the sentence for what felt like the hundredth time. "Is there anything else I ought to know, Sir?"
"No, I think those are the, um, key points." Inspector Stoppard struggled to sit up as he poured himself another drink. She realized with a slight smile that anyone watching the scene would assume that she was a sergeant–a real sergeant–interrogating a suspect; his loosened tie and slouched posture were hardly what anyone would consider professional, especially compared to her immaculate uniform and straight back.
"Well, thank you again for having this talk with me, Sir. And, if you don't mind my saying, if you ever want anyone to clean your apartment for you, I have a lady come in who–"
"Yes, thank you, Constable Stalker, that's not necessary"
"Right, sorry" she stood up and straightened her jacket before heading towards the door. Stoppard followed as swiftly as he could; even he had some manners.
"I'll see you tomorrow, then?" she offered. She took a deep breath, knowing what she had to do. Well, what she wanted to do.
"Yes, Constable, I–" before he could finish, Stalker had gathered enough nerve to propel herself forward and kiss him on the lips. She had been expecting him to either pull her in and kiss her back, or push her away. So, when a few seconds passed and he did neither, she pulled back to try to gauge his response, but his face was as implacable as always.
"Is that what we're doing now?"
Stalker cleared her throat, trying to form coherent sentences."I'm sorry, Sir. I just–I thought that it would be difficult for us to work together as a…well, as a single man and a single woman with all that…tension. So I thought if we gave into our, um, our physical desires now, then we would be less distracted on the job…Sir."
"Physical desires?" he repeated, his words slightly slurred.
"Yes, I" her eyes widened "oh, no, I was the only one who felt that, wasn't I? Of course, you're much too professional, you'd never think that way. Please just forget I did that and don't fire me, please. I should–I should–I'm really sorry." At a loss for what to say next, she opened the door, but he slammed it shut and pulled her wrist back so that she was facing him.
"I can't say I never thought about it."
She held her breath as his eyes glanced up and down her body. "So, you're suggesting that if I fuck you tonight, it'll somehow make our job easier?"
She cringed, wishing he had just let her leave."Oh, god, it sounds so stupid when you say it out loud like that."
"Yeah, it really does." he studied her a little longer, then shrugged. "Okay, get on the couch. Take your jacket off. Just the jacket."
"What, seriously?" she stared, open-mouthed, at him.
"Not unless you like doing it standing up"
"Right, okay," She sat down and shrugged off her jacket, watching as he lit a cigarette and poured out two glasses of whiskey. He wordlessly handed one to her, his fingertips alighting on her shoulder, and she took a sip, the alcohol burning her throat. Stoppard sat next to her and tossed her hat onto the floor before taking off her tie, getting it caught on her ears as he lifted it over her head. Finally, began undoing the buttons on her shirt. Her heart thudded as she wondered what she was supposed to do. She had imagined something more passionate, but his drunkenly fiddling with her buttons was better than getting fired. She reached down to unbutton a few herself and speed up the process, but he lightly slapped her hand away.
"Sorry, Sir. Well, I probably shouldn't be calling you 'Sir' in this context, should I?"
"You know, I actually think I like it."
"Really, Sir? I guess that's good in a way. Sort of keeps it more professional. Besides, I don't think I caught your first name, so I wouldn't know what to call you besides 'Sir'. Although I could call you 'Inspector', but that'd be a bit of a mouthful, and, well, frankly, that's a bit of an unsexy title." she finished off her glass of whiskey as he finally unbuttoned her shirt. She pulled it off and he reached behind her, deftly unhooking her bra and pulling it down her arms. Once her breasts were exposed, it took every bit of self-control she had to not immediately cover herself up. She did avert her gaze as much as possible; no one had ever seen her like that before without plenty of kissing and lovemaking beforehand, and now here was her superior manhandling her like a mannequin without even kissing her properly.
"Yeah, all right. Not bad" he said, whether to himself or to her, she wasn't sure. Cigarette dangling from his lip, he ran his fingers gently across the contours of her breasts. For a moment, her self-control vanished and she instinctively grabbed his hand in hers, preventing him from letting his hands wander further.
"Stalker" he rolled his eyes
"I'm sorry, Sir. I'm just…I'm sensitive, and so…but I won't do it again."
"No, you won't" he leaned over and grabbed something from the pocket of a coat he had discarded on the floor. Before she could comprehend what was going on, let alone react, he turned her around and pressed his elbow into her back, forcing her chest against the couch. She gasped as she felt the cold steel of handcuffs on her wrists.
"Sir, is that really necessary?" She turned her head so that she could breathe.
"Yeah, I think I like you better this way" he leaned down and grabbed her calves, pulling her legs onto the couch, until she was lying face down, her legs draped across his lap. "Want to see what I'm working with" he took off her shoes and ran a finger along the sole of her foot, making her shriek.
"Sorry, Sir, I'm ticklish."
"I could tell, yeah. Am I going to have to gag you as well?"
"No, Sir, I'll do my best to be quiet, Sir."
"Good." He took off the other shoe before sliding her stockings down and running his hands up and down her legs. Her tight skirt caused some difficulty as he tugged it over her hips, but he managed, until she was facedown in nothing but handcuffs and panties.
"These seem…very impractical." his finger traced over the lace lining of the waistband.
"Oh, yes. Well, I think it's important to have pretty things to wear. You know, even if no one else sees them, I know they're there. And I think they're nice" she mumbled, blushing even more at her own banality.
"Yeah, I s'pose" he slid her panties down her legs, much more gently than he had taken off her skirt or stockings. "You are a sexy little piece of tail, do people tell you that often enough?"
Stalker felt her breath hitch as he ran his hands along her back, groping her rear and her thighs along the way. "Um, well, my late husband was always very complimentary of me, but…not quite in those terms." she decided to carry on, maybe get him to ease up on her "He's the only man I've been with, um, fully been with, and he was always very gentle with me, so I–"
"That's nice." he pressed a finger into her for a brief moment, making her squeal into the couch cushion. "Oh, you're already wet. Good, saves me some time."
He moved her legs out of the way so that he could stand up. For a moment, she assumed he was going to undo the cuffs, maybe kiss her or carry her gently to bed. But instead she heard the familiar click of a lighter as he lit another cigarette.
He stood over her for a few seconds, then undid one of the cuffs. He slid one arm in between her waist and the couch cushion and yanked her onto her feet with her back tight against his chest. Before she could use her free hand, he grabbed her wrists with his other hand. She wanted to remain calm, but her instincts kicked in and she flailed against him while he dragged her to his bedroom, cigarette still firmly in his mouth.
"Sir, please, this isn't–I don't want–"
He shoved her onto the bed and deftly looped the handcuffs around his bed frame before cuffing her free wrist, leaving her completely naked with her hands cuffed above her head.
"You want me to fuck you or not, Stalker?"
"Yes, Sir. Yes, I do, Sir." She felt so exposed, so vulnerable, it was thrilling.
They both caught their breath while she looked at the bedframe, noticing a worn-out patch right where the chain of the handcuffs were.
"You do this a lot, Sir?"
He shrugged. "Sometimes. Go to the red light district, tell some girl I'm Vice Squad, and I'll arrest her unless she gives me some favors"
"Sir, that's awful! I don't mean to criticize, but I really do think–"
"I could still gag you."
"Right, Sir, sorry, Sir." she bit her lip as he looked at her. She wished his face would betray some emotion, perhaps it was something he'd learned as a policeman, but she truly couldn't tell whether her naked body bored him, excited him, or…anything. Unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she blurted out, "What are you thinking about, Sir?"
"Well" he took a long drag from his cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray on his bedside table "there are about a thousand things I want to do to you right now. I'm just figuring out where to start."
"Right" she leaned her head back. "Very good, Sir."
