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Old 11-Apr-18, 17:45
Billy Lunar Billy Lunar is offline
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Default Caught by Cat

Caught by Cat

All in all, it had gone well. No arrests, no fights, just one load of vomit and one lost coat: a result. Malcolm had actually enjoyed it. Tony knew Malcolm only casually - your typical IT nerd who was devoted to his hefty fiancé, Ella. She had generously allowed him out for his stag night with a huge list of conditions and for that reason the lads had gone easy on him - even Danny had lightened up. Tony was sure Ella would forgive her future hubby when he eventually turned up the next day, once the fire brigade had freed him from that railing. The whip marks on his ass might take a bit of explaining - hiring a dominatrix for a quick involuntary spanking was a surprise (Danny’s work again) and the bulge in Malcolm’s boxers told everyone it had been a night the deputy head of IT would remember for a long time. “No doubt who calls the shots in that bedroom,” shouted Danny as he thumped Tony on the back so hard the cabbie turned round.

“I always thought you’d like a bit of that, mate. The strict woman with the whip, eh?” Danny was at it again.
“Fuck off, Danny. You’re pissed.”
“No, no. I’m just joking mate,” protested Danny. Tony waited. Sure enough, Danny started up again.
“It’s just that, you know, there was Carolyn; dark, petite, serious, then Kaylee, she didn’t suffer fools gladly either, did she?”
“You, you mean.” Tony replied.
“Then there was that Japanese one…”
“Fuck off, Danny. This is me you’re talking to, remember.”
“I’m just saying,” grinned Danny, all mock innocence. “You might have a type, that’s all.”
“You’re so childish, Danny.” Was all Tony could come back with.

Tony and Danny went back 20 years, back to college. Danny, the wind-up merchant, the eternal teenager, all cheeky charm and banter. And like all the best wind-up merchants, always a hint of truth in the joke. Indeed, Tony himself had occasionally wondered if he favoured a certain type: smart, focussed, capable, strong.

“Of course, you know what is childish, don’t you, Tony?” Said Danny with a grin.
“Oh fuck. Don’t you dare.” Blurted out Tony.
But that was it. Danny already had that look on his face.
“Here’s one from the archives,” grinned Danny.
“Shit.”

The cab was on its way out of town. There were houses around, now.
“Hey, Driver,” said Danny. “Can you just slow down? Call of nature, mate.”
Tony knew the script. Suddenly they were eighteen again, poor students from the technical college.
“I won’t be a minute.”
“OK, boss,” replied the cabbie.

Tony felt embarrassed but was also struggling not to laugh. He had always been a good lad, and had always apologetically paid the driver. But not this time. Not after all these years. Danny wasn’t really going to do this, was he? Tony looked around the battered old minicab. No central locking. Yes, he fucking well was.

The cabbie stopped by a bus stop. Slowly, Danny opened the door and made to go towards the shelter. Tony could hardly suppress his smile as, in flash, he’d popped open his own door and was off like a shot.

“Bastards!” shouted the cabbie as they legged it. Tony felt guilty, maybe he could post the fare to the company later today, but there was more at stake, here. Danny wasn’t gonna stick it to him this time. They weren’t eighteen years old any more, they were 38. It was the principle of the thing, now. Tony gulped the early morning air, sobering up as he ran. The principle of the thing. What principles, exactly? How many shots of Tequila had he had? Fuck it.

“Ha-ha! I knew it! I knew I’d get you to run. It only took me twenty years! Ha-ha!”
Danny’s mocking tones faded away into the early morning darkness. Tony looked around him. Where the fuck was he? Where was Danny? Where the fuck was his coat? Another lost coat. Pathetic.

Tony narrowed his eyes and gathered himself. Danny would have to wait. Tony was on a housing estate, one of those old, solid fifties council ones, quite desirable now but still a bit run down.

He walked up hill and checked his phone. No signal. The night air was cold and he rubbed his white shirt sleeves. All that booze had left him with a thirst - what he wouldn’t give for a bottle of water.

No one around, no Danny, the sod’s probably jumped straight into another cab, thought Tony as he walked aimlessly along a drive and into the rear of a close. The house on the corner had that look of belonging to a guy with a few quid. The large rear gate was wide open and it looked like no-one was at home, however the garden had a nice lawn with plush garden furniture deliberately grouped around itself near the gate. Next to the seats were a couple of disposable lighters, some paper and some spent lager cans - kids, thought Tony, had sneaked in for a late-night session, but standing there amongst the debris was a bottle of Evian. Tony looked around; the kids had long gone and the house itself seemed deserted. He licked his lips and walked through the doorway onto the lawn, quickly he picked up the bottle and held it up to the spring moonlight. The cap was still bonded in place - result. In an instant he had it open and a good gulp of the cool water down his throat. His head tingled as he gasped out aloud and took in the cool, silent air. That felt good.

“Sounds like you enjoyed that.” Came a well-spoken voice behind him.
Tony spun round and looked. And looked…

The moonlight was illuminating her face: pale, small with large, black, impassive eyes, a styled black bob haircut, prominent cheekbones and a pouting, full mouth, just a hint of Arabic in that home-counties bloodline, thought Tony as he scanned her over. Good shoulders, good everything, neat in proportion, her white police blouse played off against that jet black hair and he saw a marvellous triangular shape to that 5 foot 6 physique, all the way down to her shoes, which looked more like black trainers. But it was the trousers that sent a warning signal to his brain - they were baggy and light, almost like culottes. What was holding them up? It was only then he realised that there must be some mass to her upper legs, it made the shape of the trousers work. She had no body armour on, either. She looked like a police officer, but who knew?

“Enjoying yourself?” She asked, flatly.

“Just a bottle of water,” stated Tony, coolly.
“I wasn’t referring to that.” An awkward pause.
“So, you’re a police officer, then?”
“Of course. What are you doing here? This isn’t your house, is it?”
“Well, no, I was just passing and I…”
“Just passing. Really?” She smiled. Her teeth burned bright and Tony felt himself smile involuntarily. She was pretty, better than pretty, it was proper beauty.
“Is that your water?” she continued.
“Well, what does that matter?” Asked Tony.
You’re trespassing and in possession of property that doesn’t belong to you.” She said.
Tony sneered: “Oh, very good, Officer. Officer…?”
“Cat.”
“Cat!” Snorted Tony as he broke out into derisive laughter. Theatrically, very gently, he went about placing the bottle back on to the garden table.
He warmed to his theme, turning it into a comedy bit. “Cat? What’s the matter, are the Avengers full up at the moment?”
As he was saying this, Tony thought he heard a ripping sound but he didn’t let it distract him from his brilliant miming with the bottle and his hilarious rant. He rose up again from the table.
“It’s true what they say about people in the services, innit? Power-crazed fantasists the bloody lot…”

It felt like a palm slap, he’d had a few of them in his time, but much harder. His mouth stung. His head tingled. It took him two seconds to realise what had just happened. By then she was standing stock still right in front of him on the lawn. Just a teasing flex of the toes on her right foot. Her eyes met his, they were wide, open, questioning.

“What the fuck!” Exclaimed Tony. He looked at her. Cat’s shoes were lying next to each other on the lawn, Velcro fasteners open. He strained to look in the gloom, it looked like she had socks on, maybe. Tony’s brain was trying to process the information: sex, violence, authority, sex. What the fuck to do now? As is often the case with people in confusing situations like this, authority took precedence.

“What is this? You’re not a police officer!”
Just then, as if on cue, a call came over on her radio. Cat raised her eyebrows at him, then switched the radio off. Tony just stared - so she was a real copper - did that make his situation worse, or better?

It was this last thought that really annoyed Tony. He’d never fought a woman before, and hell, maybe he’d even lose, martial arts and all that, but the fact that he had just caught himself factoring in that her being a police officer could protect him from a serious beating was too much. What the hell, there seemed to be no rules here, he’d give her a tap in the gut, she could take it, then quick past her and out through the gate, it was downhill back the way he’d come. She’d never catch him.

She was still standing there, holding the stare, silent. Five, six seconds, now. Odd, cute, sexy even, but taking the piss, Tony reasoned. He remembered the old feint he’d learned in primary school boxing from Mr Harris. The scraps he’d won with that. Left first, then right, just a quick dig in her midriff and then hop it. He moved at her, dipped his left shoulder, Tony heard the gentle rustle of her culottes as she smartly skipped to her left, took his right arm and flipped him over.

Tony sat on the grass. His right arm pointed skyward. Her clasp on his right wrist was tight and hard. He felt like he’d been caught by a superior creature and didn’t like it. Fuck Mr Harris, too.

“Get up.” Cat said.

Tony did as he was bid, all the while thinking of the next move. Cat relaxed her grip on his wrist and started to frog march Tony in the direction of the house. No way, thought Tony, no way. Slowly, he started to resist the pushing motion on his collar, Cat leaned into him to move him. Just then, Tony caught her leg with a trip and she lost her balance, going down on one knee. No-one’s above that one, thought Tony to himself as he instantly pulled away from her and ran for the gate.

He couldn’t resist it - a last comment. He pirouetted around and saw her getting to her feet. “See ya! It’s been fun!” He turned back towards the gate and ran…

Clump. A tremendous force in the small of his back sent flying face first into the grass. Tony felt light rain on the back on his head. For the first time in his life he tasted soil. His back hurt and so did his chin. He looked at the open gate - he knew now that he was never going to make it.

She had done him three times. Three moves and he had seen only one of them. He lay there face down and decided to stay where he was, partly to get his breath back, partly because it was her call, now. She was in front of him, picking up her shoes with one hand, and the water with the other. He watched that ass of hers, the controlled manner in which she went about her duties, not even giving him a glance. She seemed so placid, gentle even. Not someone who would accurately land a lightning, controlled front kick, a perfectly performed wrist throw and then lay him flat with a flying kung-fu kick to finish. Motionless, Tony watched as Cat walked towards, then past him back to the house.

“Follow me,” she commanded. She hadn’t even bothered to close the gate.

Tony heard himself groan as he got up. He knew he’d have bruises on his lower back in a while. He had no other thoughts in his head as he followed her. The rain was gathering pace. Cat walked towards the house, then veered left toward a shed-come outhouse.

“This’ll do for now. Come on.”

Tony stepped into the shed. It was carpeted and clean. Without asking he slid down the wall and onto a low bean bag chair. Cat descended opposite him onto a similar one, then switched her radio back on. The rain pounded on the roof.

All was quiet. Cat opened the water bottle and drank before passing it to Tony, who did the same. Tony needed to break the silence.

“I didn’t even see this shed at all,” he said.

“Observation,” said Cat, “They train us for that.”
Was that a joke? Tony pressed.
“Look, you‘ve just erm, kicked my ass, you know. What’s the deal with…with...”
“With what?” Cat was putting her shoes back on. Tony stopped and stared at her feet. He saw and yet couldn’t quite take it in. Cat saw him looking and spoke:

“It can get cold on night shift, that’s all.”
The seams across the toes. The mesh.
“Fucking hell,” said Tony.
The next sound was a surprise to Tony, as Cat let out a girly giggle, a good pitch higher than her usual voice. She was putting her second black trainer back on, but for some reason she lifted her leg, and flexed her foot just inches from Tony’s face, turning it to one side. There was a seam on the heel, disappearing up her trouser leg.

“I don’t believe this, said Tony as Cat’s laughter got ever louder and louder, filling the entire shed. “I just fucking don’t know what to think…”
Despite himself, a laugh escaped from Tony’s chest. He felt himself going very red.

Cat’s face was red, too. Her amazing smile was beaming into Tony, he just took it all in. Had he been the victim of police brutality? She certainly hadn’t used her baton, discreetly hanging on her left side .

“Shouldn’t you have used the baton if I was escaping?” he asked.

“D’you know, I’ve never used it.” She was flirting now. Tony stopped it.
“No. Really. You never use it, then, that’s odd. What about the trousers?”
“Well, we’ve been given a free reign on the trousers at the moment. Within reason. They’re changing them because they are too restrictive, too tight. You might have read about that.”
“Yeah,” admitted Tony. He often found himself picking out such articles in the paper but never really thought about it. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five. I’ve been doing this for a year.”
“You’re not the standard police officer, are you?”
She laughed that laugh again. “Well, I studied dance, actually, but by the time I graduated, I don’t know, six years at arts colleges, I felt I needed something…real, I suppose.”
“Dance?”
“Yup, then there was a taekwondo class and I just went from there; judo, karate, it’s really good for you.”
“Is it?” Said Tony sardonically, his aching back chiming in.
“”Ha-ha. You could benefit, you’re not bad for…35?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Mnmm, “ said Cat looking him over. Not bad, she said with a grin.
“You didn’t have to kick me in the back.”
“You tried to punch me in the stomach! Don’t think I haven’t forgotten that. You should be in cuffs now.”
“I was just trying to get past you.”
“I didn’t know that, did I?” replied Cat.
“And kicking to the face? Jesus.”
For the first time Cat looked contrite and briefly dropped her eyes to the floor. Tony felt his face flush and stomach warm. This wasn’t fair.
“I know,” Cat replied. “Sorry about that. You were fine, though. I can hit a five pence piece with my kicks. You weren’t in any danger at all.”
Tony surprised himself with his next question:
“What if I had have been a nutter or something?” Shut up, Grandad. Tony immediately thought to himself.
Cat looked at him, if she was disappointed she hid it. “I’m a good judge of character and I think you’ll agree I can look after myself.” A pause. “But you’ll never get it 100 per cent right. That’s life, isn’t it?”

True enough, thought Tony. He looked at her face and thought of kissing it. That throw. That power, pain and grace. He briefly closed his eyes. The rain had stopped.

And then, in a low, honest voice: “Didn’t you like it?”

Tony’s heart turned over. He opened his eyes to be met with hers, all dark and enquiring. The smile was slight but it caught him flat in the face. He felt like he’d been slammed into the shed wall. That one comment: the final, deciding blow.

“You don’t do this all the time, do you?” Was all Tony could stutter in reply.
“Of course not,” Cat replied, looking at him like he was stupid. “It has to be the…”

Tony never heard the rest of that sentence as Cat‘s radio crackled into action.
“Come on, we’ve got a ride to the station,” she said as she sprang to her feet. A tired Tony got up and followed her out into the garden. It was still chilly, Tony patted himself.

“Look, can’t you just let me off?
An apologetic look played across her face: “I called it in when I first saw you. Sorry.”
“I never heard you.”
“Well, you were happily gulping away, there. Seemed a shame to disturb you. Don’t worry. I’ll just tell them you were the worse for wear.”

As they walked outside Tony felt a mix of embarrassment and sheer bewilderment. Still, he’d take his lumps at the station, at least no-one would see him at this early hour.

However, the embarrassment Tony had felt was nothing as to what he felt when they exited the garden and turned onto the close.

There was no police car. Waiting instead was a prison transporter vehicle. The type they use for murderers, terrorists and other notorious cases.
“What?” was all Tony’s brain could think to say.
“Sorry, Cat,” said a chubby male face leaning out of the drivers’ window. “All the cars are out. The Sarge said to utilise the resources available, so…”
Lightly, Cat took Tony’s arm and escorted him to the rear of the van. Just then, a young boy came out of nowhere on his bike.

“Is he a nonce, miss?” He asked cheekily.
“You little bastard! I’ll…” Said Tony, but the boy had peddled off by then.
“I’m really sorry about this,” said Cat, trying her best not to laugh, and failing.

The male officer loaded Tony into the rear compartment. “I’ll go with him,” said Cat.
“OK. What’s he done?” asked the other officer.
“D and D.”
“Oh. Sorry, mate.” quipped the officer as he closed the door on them.

Thankfully, Tony was not in the tiny, sinister, cell-like compartment on one side of the van, but instead seated next to Cat in a group section along a narrow bench. The bench had metal loops mounted on it for handcuffs to clip on to if necessary.

“No handcuffs, then?” Offered Tony.
“I don’t use them much,” said Cat. “No need, really.” A pause.
“Handcuffs,” she said to herself. “How quaint.”

They fell silent as the van juddered on. Tony’s thoughts were arranging themselves into ominous order. Danny’s comments about a type, those stockings, the feel of her foot on his face, and above all, his motive for calling out to her when instead he could have bought himself another couple of seconds in the dash for gate. He tried to distract himself by recalling those old news clips he’d watched over the years, all those supervillains turning up to court in one of these vans. Boos from the crowd, towels over the head, etc. But what exactly was Tony guilty of? He tried to think of something else, anything, but he couldn’t. He had gone red - blushed for the first time in a good 20 years. He’d been caught, caught out, bang to rights.

He watched her checking her phone; head down, focused intently. He could see just a hint of vein on her pale neck and longed for that police blouse to unbutton itself. Was it up to him, now? He only knew he never wanted this journey to end.

After a few more seconds, end it did. With a jolt, the door was opened and with the gentlest of touches, Cat pushed him through, and out onto the forecourt of the station. Still with her hand lightly on his arm, they walked in silence into the building, the smell of stale alcohol hitting them in the face, accompanied by the sound of half-crazy ranting.

They stood together at the custody desk. Tony looked at the old desk sergeant’s pained expression. Then a squeeze on his wrist. A sharp, quick pain that went as soon as it came. Cat was looking dead ahead, but with a smile on her face. Tony quickly gave his name, address and date of birth before the sergeant asked Cat what he was here for.
“Just drunk and disorderly,” she said flatly. “He’s fine, now.” Cat let go of Tony’s arm.
“Anything else? Resisting?”
Slowly, Cat turned to Tony and gave him a hard stare that cut through his persona to his very core.
“No. Not even the minimum of force required.” She smiled that smile again.
“Right, yes, thank you, Catherine. Very poetic of you, that’s just what we need,” said the Sergeant, throwing a theatrical look around the room to motley collection of noisy drunks on offer.

A soft “Bye,” was all Tony heard. And she was gone.
“Catherine,” said Tony to himself, not realising he’d said it aloud.
“Yes, she’s very nice, Sir.” Interrupted the Sarge with another pained expression. A drunk was singing the first line of the chorus of Kylie’s “Spinning Around”. Over and over again. Another was shouting something about human rights.

“Pipe down!” Shouted the Sarge in a deafening voice. Temporary quiet.
“So,” he began. “Party, was it?”
“Stag do. Should know better,” replied Tony.
“At your age, yes.” The sergeant looked around at the chaos.
“Look, mate. Will you just accept a caution and piss off?”
“Be glad to, officer.”
Tony signed the form, his signature was rushed. He thanked the Sergeant and out. Instinct took over, now. He walked out into in the forecourt. The dawn had broken. He knew what he wanted.

His eye got there before his brain. That even stance and the tousle of black hair on the collar of her blouse was all he needed. She was with another, older female officer. He fumbled quickly for his wallet.

“Ah, yes, thanks, officer.” Announced Tony.
Cat turned round, scanned him. The eyes smiled.
“Thanks for your help, it was just a cautionary tale after all.”
The older woman grinned before throwing her hands up in mock disapproval. Tony never even noticed.
“If you need any other information on this matter, my details are here.”
Cat looked at the card.
“OK, Tony. We’ll be in touch if we need you,” she replied. The faintest of smiles.

Don’t push it, thought Tony. He took in one last look at those eyes, turned and left. That old freelance journo card had its uses after all.

Tony turned out of the station and before long found himself on a high street. The sun was coming up, now, but it was chilly. He shivered as he walked. Public transport, he decided. He couldn’t face another cab just yet.

He brushed past two laughing student girls. “Walk of shame,” he heard one say to the other. He suddenly realised he must have looked a right state. He also knew that if he never heard from Catherine again, he already owed her. Owed her so much.

And if he did hear from her? Well, this might just have been the best first date Tony had ever been on.
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Old 12-Apr-18, 01:34
judolober judolober is offline
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Default Re: Caught by Cat

Wow! The best story I’ve seen in a looong time! Thank you!
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Old 16-Apr-18, 12:18
Billy Lunar Billy Lunar is offline
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Default Re: Caught by Cat

Quote:
Originally Posted by judolober [Only Registered Users Can See LinksClick Here To Register]
Wow! The best story I’ve seen in a looong time! Thank you!
Thanks! I will be posting another story, featuring Cat in an action situation, next week.
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