Baxter walked up to the bed. The T-shirt had ridden up to her hips, and Cliff stared at her pubic hair, then regarded her big breasts and the nipples pointing through the pink T-shirt. The shirt said, "Park 'n' Eat — Softball Team."

She had a good body, good muscle tone, and good skin if you overlooked a few zits and mosquito bites. The short hair falling over her face was blond, but the hair on her crotch was black.

The woman stirred and turned on her stomach. Cliff looked at her rounded rump and felt himself getting hard. He reached out and squeezed a handful of cheek. She mumbled something, then rolled over and opened her eyes.

Cliff Baxter smiled. "Hey, good-lookin'."

"Oh..." She cleared her throat and forced a smile. "It's you."

"Who'd you think it was?"

"Nobody..." She sat up, trying to clear her head, then pulled the T-shirt down to cover herself. "Didn't know you were coming."

"I ain't come yet, sweetheart. That's why I'm here." She forced a smile.

He sat on the bed beside her and put his hand between her legs, his fingers entering her. "You havin' a wet dream?"

"Yeah... about you."

"Better be." He found her clitoris and massaged it. She squirmed a little, clearly not enjoying going from a sound sleep to having a man's fingers in her within sixty seconds. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing. Got to go to the bathroom." She slid off the opposite side of the bed and went out into the hallway.

Cliff wiped his fingers on the sheets, lay on the bed fully clothed, and waited. He heard the toilet flush, water running, gargling.

Sherry Kolarik was the latest in a long line of women that had begun before his marriage, continued during his courtship of Annie and through his engagement and all through his marriage. They never lasted too long, and he never had a real heartthrob, a girlfriend, or a full-fledged mistress — they were all just sport fucks of short duration. In fact, somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he was incapable of any real relationship with a woman, and his ladies were simply targets of opportunity — the town sluts, women who ran afoul of the law, desperately lonely divorcees, and barmaids and waitresses who needed a little extra cash — the lower elements of small-town American society; they were all easy marks for Police Chief Baxter.

Now and then, he picked on a married woman with a no-account husband such as Janie Wilson, the wife of the station house janitor, or Beth Marlon, wife of the town drunk. Sometimes he got the wife of a man who needed a favor real bad, like a prisoner. He enjoyed these conquests more than the others because fucking a man's wife meant you were fucking the man, too.

He was careful not to try his act on wives who had husbands who could become a problem. He did ogle female attorneys, schoolteachers, doctors, and other professional women, married and unmarried, who turned him on; but he knew without admitting it to himself that he didn't have a chance with these women. He knew, too, or rather had a dim awareness, that even if he scored with one of them, they'd reject him after they got to know him better. His only major conquest on that level had been Annie Prentis. But at that time, Cliff Baxter was better-looking, a little more charming, and also gave it everything he had. And, in truth, there had been a war on then, and the pickings in Spencerville were slim, so that a draft-deferred cop looked good to a lot of young ladies. He knew all of this without actually acknowledging any of it to himself. Thus, Cliff Baxter's ego was intact, while his predatory senses were always alert, a lone wolf who knew what prey was weak and vulnerable and what was dangerous.

Still, he had rape fantasies about the snippy female attorney in the Bounty prosecutor's office, about the two female doctors at the hospital, and the uppity bitch bank president, and college girls home on vacation, and so forth. He knew that to fuck one of these women would be to fuck the whole class of people who looked down on him. Someday, he thought, he'd go for it. He'd cut one of the snobby ladies loose from the herd and lay the wood to her and dare her to make anything of it. Maybe she'd enjoy it. But for now, he'd settle for Sherry Kolarik and women like her.

She came back into the bedroom, and Cliff looked at his watch. "Now, I ain't got much time."

"I wanted to clean up for you."

"You don't got to clean up for what you got to do." He hopped out of bed and walked to the living room and left through the front door. He rang the bell and she came to the door and opened it, wearing a robe now. "You Miss Kolarik?"

"Yes."

"Chief Baxter. I'd like to speak to you." He backed her up and closed the door. "Miss, you got a hundred dollars in parking tickets downtown. I'm here to collect the money or take you in."

If Sherry Kolarik thought it was romantic of Chief Baxter to recreate how they'd met, she didn't say so, didn't laugh and put her arms around Cliff. Instead, she said, "I'm sorry, I don't have the money."

He replied, "Then I got to take you in. Get dressed."

"No, please, I have to go to work. I can pay you Friday when I get paid."

"You had three months to make good on these here tickets. So now you're under arrest. You come peacefully, or I cuff you and take you in just like you are."

In fact, she'd been wearing her waitress uniform when this scene took place a month before. But she'd felt just as helpless and exposed then as now. Only now she didn't owe the bastard a hundred dollars. But there was still the matter of her car that had to pass the state inspection, and Baxter Motors could overlook some defects. She said, "Look, I work at the Park 'n' Eat, you know, you've seen me in there, and if you come around Friday, about noon, we can go over to the bank with my check. Can't you wait?"

"No, ma'am, I dragged my butt over here, and I'm goin' back to the station with a hundred bucks or with you. Don't mess with me." He jiggled the handcuffs on his belt.

"I'm sorry... I don't have the money, and I can't miss a day of work... look, I've got about twenty dollars..."

Cliff shook his head.

"A postdated check..."

"Nope."

"I've got some jewelry, a watch..."

"I ain't a goddamn repo man. I'm a cop."

"I'm sorry. I don't know what to..."

He took the cuffs off his belt. They looked at each other a long time, and both of them remembered the moment when she'd figured it out. She asked, "Can you loan me the money?"

"What's in it for me?"

"Whatever you want."

"Had lunch."

"Look, all I've got is me. You want me?"

"You tryin' to bribe me with sex?"

She nodded.

"Well, let's see what you got for collateral before I decide. Take 'em off."

She unfastened her robe and let it fall, then pulled the T-shirt over her head and dropped it on an armchair. She stood in the middle of the living room, naked, while Chief Baxter circled around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the bulge in his pants.

"Okay, Miss Kolarik, you got real good collateral for a loan. Kneel right there. Park 'n' Eat, sweetheart."

She knelt on the rug.

He unbuckled his gun belt and put it on the armchair, then undid his belt and zipper and lowered his pants and undershorts. "Go for it, darlin'."

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and with one finger lowered his erect penis to her lips.

When it was over, Cliff said, "Swallow it." He pulled up his clothes, buckled on his holster, and threw a twenty on the armchair. "I'll take care of the tickets, but you owe me four payments."

Sherry nodded and mumbled, "Thank you." He'd said that the first time, and, for the last ten times, it had always been four more.

Cliff, not particularly sensitive, nevertheless saw she was a little upset and patted her cheek. "Hey, I'll see you later for coffee. Got to go..."