Natural Selection

"Damn it, damn it," he shouts and bangs on his steering wheel as the flashing red and blue lights of a police patrol car appear out of nowhere in his rearview mirror, as they are whirling furiously about in the empty air-space behind him.

The anger builds up in him.

"FUCK, FUCK, I do not need this shit, now, I do not need this shit," he stomps his feet on the floorboard, getting angrier and angrier, behaving like a temper tantrum filled child.

He pulls his black Mercedes to the shoulder and turns his expensive car off.

"Breathe, breathe," he says over and over, to himself, then he does it, slowly, "get control back, Robert."

He takes a deep breath in, exhales it and then takes another one, repeating the process all over again, until he is calmer, in control regained.

"Wait, wait, I wasn't breaking the damn law," he says aloud when he realizes something is awry, "was I targeted because of my car, selected out of the others because of it?"

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Metal against glass.

"Will you please roll down your window, Mr. Robert Crane?" the tall uniformed helmeted police officer says as he taps, ever so gently on the drivers-side window.

"Yes, Officer," Crane responds.

He rolls down his window, as a law-abiding citizen, should.

As the window is being lowered, by the electric-power, not manually, the identity of the officer is revealed.

The police officer removes his helmet.

"Wait, how'd you know my name?" Crane says, "I haven't given you any license or registration..."

At the end of his sentence, before Mr. Crane can utter another word, he looks up into a familiar face.

A face he remembers from many months back on a Saturday night.

"So it is, Robert Crane?" the man says,"...and not just Crane, as you said that night in the bar on Main Street."

"You?"

"Yep, me!" the officer says as he reaches in and grabs the tightly packaged bulge of Crane, "you smell good, by the way. The wife must like it. I do."

"What the hell?" Crane says alarmed, as the man-in-blue fondles his man-equipment.

"Still packing that dangerous concealed weapon, I see," he says.

"What the fuck?" Crane says in shock, in alarm, "What fucking weapon?"

"Don't play coy, Crane," the officer says, "You are packing heat. The bulge proves it."

TAP.

TAP.

TAP.

The sound of metal against the cold steel of the door-window frame echoes through the expensive luxury car.

TAP.

TAP.

TAP.

"Can you please stop that incessant tapping, Officer?" Crane pleads.

"You mean the sound made by this?" the Officer presents the object to Crane.

"My wedding ring?" Crane says, "How'd the fuck did you get that?"

The intricately etched wedding ring that Crane dropped that Sunday morning in the Officer's townhouse before he could be served his breakfast in bed.

"You dropped it, the morning you bolted from my downtown townhouse, have you missed it? Has your wife?" the Officer says.

"Give it to me!" Crane demands his ring back, as he slaps hard on the doorframe, where the Officer's hands are tapping.

The Officer pulls back his 'ringed' hand before it makes contact.

"Maybe," he says, "I kinda like it, it's kinda natural, doncha think. Since we have already consummated our relationship, lover."

"Give me back, my damned wedding ring, Officer," Crane says.

"What's with the 'Officer' thing," he says, "My name is Ray, well, actually its Jerry Raymond, Officer Jerry Raymond."

"Well, Jerry, give me that damned ring, its mine," he suppresses a yell, showing sustained composition, despite his anger towards the badged Officer, who he knows intimately.

"My, aren't we testy, tonight, lover," Jerry says.

"Quite sounding like a damned fag," Crane says," I ain't your 'lover'; you were just a 'fuck' and no such a very good one either."

"Whatever it takes, man, I know, it is quite different," Officer Jerry Raymond says, "I never get any complaints, so I know otherwise."

There is slight pause between the two men as the heavy traffic of the road continues behind them as it passes-by them on the pulled-over roadside stop, each driver glaring at the interaction between Officer Jerry Raymond and the traffic-stopped citizen, Robert Crane.

Jerry balks.

"Says the man, who shot his creamy white load, deep into my tight little ass," Jerry says, "it was so creamy and good. I could do with another one."

"Can you turn off those damned red and blue lights, Officer?" Crane pleads.

"NO!" he says, "License and registration, please."

Crane hands Jerry, the required paperwork.

"Thanks, I'll be right back," Jerry says as he walks away, still wearing the wedding band on his hand.

"Hey, give me back my ring?" Crane shouts out from the window.

Jerry does not hear it as the rush of traffic throws back Crane's words to him.

Officer Jerry Raymond is back at his patrol car for a while before he eventually reemerges after running information that he already knew about, since he had searched 'Crane' after he walked out that morning.

He had fixed breakfast for him, he was pissed.

Jerry leans down into the window.

"You have a nice house on the island," Jerry says, "Eve has been doing a really good job creating a nice home for the two of you, since you two married five years ago. Why don't you two have any children?"

"What?" Crane says, "How do you know where I live?"

Jerry smiles at him but does not answer.

"Here," Jerry says as he hands Crane back his license and registration and a note.

"Where's my ring?" Crane demands.

"Have a good day," Jerry says, "be careful as you merge back into traffic. I would not want you to experience an accident and have to explain that to Eve too."

"Where's my ring?" Crane yells out the window.

"Have a good day, Councilman," Officer Jerry Raymond shouts as he walks back into his police car.

"Shit. Damn. Motherfuck," Crane hits his steering wheel angrily, again, for nth time tonight.

Jerry pulls the patrol car from behind Crane's Mercedes, his red and blue lights, off. As he passes, he salutes Crane and smiles at him and mouths, "Have a nice day, ya here."

"FUCK!" Crane bangs heavily on his steering wheel one last time as his face turns a bright red as he is overtaken with intense anger.

***

He pulls his car into the driveway and parks it.

It has been one hell of a night. Thank Gawd, the day is over.

He walks to the front door.

Knocks.

Knocks again.

Damn it, where is she?

The door opens.

"Yes, Officer?" the woman says as she opens her front door at the sight of the uniformed police officer in her view.

"Are you, Eve Crane?" he asks, "M'am."

"Was my husband in an accident? Is he alright," she sounds frantic.

"No m'am, no m'am," he reassures her, "your husband is fine."

"Thank gawd," relief washes over her.

He smiles at her.

She is pretty.

"I found your husband's wedding ring and I wanted to return it to him," he says.

"He is not here. He said he misplaced it," she says.

The Officer knows this, as he just left him minutes before.

"He did," the Officer says," I suppose gravity played a part."

"Excuse me?" she says.

"Oh, nothing," he says, "You have a nice night, now."

"Thank you, Officer," she says, with much relieved happiness in her voice.

As she turns to go back into the house, she realizes, and says aloud, "Hey, how'd you know this ring belonged to my husband?" but he is already out of earshot.

The Officer gets back in his police car and pulls out of the driveway onto Midnight Pass Road, getting back into traffic once the black Mercedes pulls into the driveway, opposite him.

Jerry waves at Robert as they pass each other, in the Crane driveway.

"SHIT!" Crane says at the sight of the police car that pulled him over less than hour ago on US 41.

Crane parks his car and bolts into his home, looking for Eve, his wife.

"Eve, Eve," he shouts as he hurriedly darts from room-to-room before he eventually finds her in the kitchen.

"What the fuck did that cop want? Tell me. Why was he here?" Crane screams at her.

"Your ring," she says, "he returned your ring, the one you said you misplaced."

"What?" he says alarmed.

"The ring is on the kitchen counter, there," she says as she points behind him.

"Oh, shit," he says as he turns and sees it.

"I thought you told me that you had stopped," she says, "you promised me. You said that once you became a Councilman, you would stop. You could jeopardize everything we have worked for, everything we have planned for, if you are found out."

***

Robert walks up the stairs to his bedroom, placing his hands in his pockets.

"What is this?" he says as he fishes the paper out of his pocket as he crosses the threshold into his bedroom.

He opens it.

"Shit!" he says aloud, as he unbuttons his dress-shirt pulling it out of his slacks.

He gives his cock a hearty tug through his slacks.

His cock is throbbing.

"I so need a good fuck," Robert says aloud.

He pulls his white wife beater tank top tee over his dark-haired head.

He undo's his belt and yanks it through the loops of his pants, slinging the belt onto his bed, unsnapping his dress slacks and letting them fall to the floor. He steps out of them, while pulling his boxers down over his hairy crotch.

"Robert, Robert," Eve's voice come from the first floor.

He walks from his bedroom to the top of the flight of the stairs, naked.

"Yeah," he says, as his fondles his naked cock, which is growing steadily into an enormous erection, in front of his 'wife.'

"Damn it, Robert!" she says, "I don't care to see that."

"I am going out," he says as he continues to fondle himself at the top of the stairs in front of his wife, "deal with it as long as I pay the bills, I will do what the hell I want or who I want."

"You are going to the cop's house, again, aren't you?" she says, "You fucked him, didn't you?"

He turns and walks back into his room, then to the bathroom and to the shower.

They do not share a bed; they have not for a very long time, since their wedding night. It was the agreement he made with her dad when he agreed to marry her.

***

Cling. Clang.

Cling. Clang.

Cling. Clang.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

Bam. Bam. Bam.

"Motherfucker, open this damned door," he pounds on the door and rings the doorbell, simultaneously, incessantly.

The sounds of both echo down the urban tree-lined canopied street.

"Fucker, answer your door," he yells out again.

Lights come on in the windows of the apartments and condominiums that are on the same side as the townhouse and those on the opposite side of the street, too.

The door, bearing witness to the forceful fist poundings and the hard-pressed doorbell, opens, suddenly.

Clad in a white terry-cloth bathroom, opened, with nothing underneath. It is Officer Jerry Raymond, he opens the door.

"Get your damned self in here, asshole," Jerry yells demandingly to Robert, mad, as he shoves Robert into the townhouse by his left shoulder.

"Hahahaha, the cop doesn't like a spectacle," Robert says, "but he comes to my front door and gives my wife my wedding ring, what a damned fool you are Ray."

"The name is Jerry, Crane or should I say, Councilman Crane of the City of Sarasota," says Jerry, the off-duty cop of the Sarasota Police Department.

"Touché, dear boy, touché," Crane says," Quite an expensive place you have here on a policeman's salary, I guess the latest pay raises I enacted have helped, huh?"

"Quite the opposite, actually," Jerry says, "I have a second job."

"What as a hustler?"

"No, I work as an escort, good guess, though," Jerry says, "here in Sarasota and throughout the Tampa-St. Pete area."

"Why am I not surprised?" Crane says, "A dirty cop and a swindler."

"Yeah, a cop who has been fucked, two ways to Sunday by that gi-normous cock of yours, dangling betwixt those legs," Jerry says, as he reaches for the Councilman's cock,"...and from an 'elected' city council member, no less, behind his wife's back. You are one, to be calling me, dirty. How much money are you banking from shady deals within the city limits, huh?"

"Shut the fuck up, Jerry," Crane says.

"What the fuck, you want with me?" Jerry Raymond demands.

"What do you think," Crane says, "I want that ass, why else would I be here...that is, if you will let me have it or will I have to take it, forcefully."

Jerry gives Robert a dirty 'eat shit' look.

"Actually, I am going out," Jerry says.

"Dressed like that?"

"No, not dressed like this," Jerry says," I was stepping into the shower when you started you damned interrupted banging."

"Is it business?" Crane says.

"That's none of your damned business," Jerry answers.

"But comin' to my house, is?" Crane says.

"I was retur..." Jerry is stopped mid-sentence by the ringing of the doorbell.

The doorbell rings, again and again before Jerry responds to it.

"Oh, shit, who could that be?" Crane says.

Jerry fastens his robe together, covering his exposed nakedness and opens the door.

There is a police officer at the door, a fellow Sarasota PD officer.

"Sir, we got a call of a disturbance at this address," the officer says, the cop recognizes who answered the door, "hey, Jerry, is that you?"

Jerry recognizes the fellow man of the badge of the boys in blue.

"Hey man, sorry 'bout that," Jerry explains as he opens the door revealing Crane standing behind him, "there was a misunderstanding between me and Councilman Crane but we are working it out, thanks."

"Hey fella," Crane says, as he does a two-finger salute from his forehead, "sorry 'bout that, me and Officer Raymond are working things out, sorry to have created such a ruckus. Keep up the good work, by the way."

The cop surveys the two and deems everything, okay.

"Okay, but keep it down, people want peace and quiet in this part of downtown," the cops says as he turns away, leaving.

"Sure thing, Officer, it will not happen again," Crane says in his best politician voice.

Jerry closes the door.

"See what your shit just caused," Jerry says, "I have the nosiest neighbors for being such rich snobs."

"Money doesn't make you less nosy, stud," Crane says," It just provides you with the wherewithal to find out if the gossip is true."

Jerry undo's his tied robe.

Letting it fall open, teasing, revealing his growing erection.

"So you gonna let me fuck that sweet ass, stud," Crane says as Jerry's robe falls from his shoulders, hitting the marble tiled floor with a gentle soft thud.

"No, I want you to leave?" Jerry says.

"You what?" Crane says.

Jerry walks up his stairs, step-by-step, as he eases up with each of his paces, taking him up the next landing.

He looks back.

The front door slams as Councilman Robert Crane walks out.

"Good, he left," Jerry says aloud to himself, "I am expected on Lido in an hour."