By Detective Sam Nielson
Carrying a badge comes with certain benefits. Jamie had this dumbass blog entry scheduled about ‘my favorite genre’ and I couldn’t freaking stand it.
Select, Copy, Delete.
Takes care of that. I am Jamie’s favorite genre and I’m sure I’m her favorite hero ever. (Nothing wrong with my ego.) I’m taking over the blog because I need to talk.
My name is Sam Nielson and I’m a detective in the New York Police Department. Oh, and in case I forget to mention it, I’m gay. This will make much more sense if you know that. My two best friends and I met in the police academy twenty years ago. If you read my buddy Nick D’Amato’s story, Dancing in the Dark, you know this part. Bear with me, because I tell a much better story than that fuckwad D’Amato.
In those days, cadets weren't as closely supervised. Hell, it was probably me, Nick, and our other pal Gil who caused them to tighten rules at the police academy. Training is one thing, being on the job is totally another. In the NYPD, the policy has always been a don't ask, don't tell kind of thing. A few of my co-workers know I’m gay. They also knew I’m a damned good cop, so it’s really not an issue.
Finding another gay guy at the academy was amazing. Nick and I had some great times. When we met Gil, and got comfortable with each other, the three of us had weekend orgies at a nearby hotel. We were three young studs, able to go at it repeatedly, for hours. Those were the days, my friend.
Eventually, our time at the academy ended. We each went our separate ways, deciding our friendship was more important than lust. Over the years we’ve become closer than any of us dreamed possible. Sometimes our jobs bring us together, but if not, we have a standing date every other Friday night at Houlihan’s, a cop bar in the Bronx.
We were there when I first spotted him. Neatly buzzed black hair, light brown Hispanic skin, muscular body and a face that could launch a thousand hard-ons. Bobby Rodriguez. He was a new transfer to my very own unit, Fort Apache. He knew who I was. I thought I’d seen him somewhere. I’ll never forget him again.
We were assigned a case together right off the bat. I guess I was kind of an asshole. He thought I had problems working with a gay cop, and said he’d ask to be reassigned. My jaw coulda hit the floor. I explained, with a lump in my throat, that the only problem was the hard-on he’d caused from the moment I’d met him. It wasn’t any better, sitting in a car next to him. I was screwed. Or soon would be. Heh heh heh
He surprised me again when we got back to my place. Bobby asked if I liked things a little kinky. I told him I really didn’t know. He asked if I trusted him. I knew the answer to that one—yes. With the swift movement of a trained police officer, Bobby pulled a set of handcuffs from his back pocket and snapped one ring around my wrist. He gazed at me and smiled. "Glad to hear you say that. Because I'd never hurt you—much."
A tingle of excitement ran down my spine. I should have been afraid, but for some reason I wasn’t. Maybe I was ready for a little kink in my life.
My full story releases today from Phaze Books. Born to Run is book two in the Phaze Rocks: Streets of Fire Series. Oh, in case I forgot to mention it, my friends and I are addicted to Springsteen. His old stuff, circa seventies and eighties. Some things just can’t be improved upon. On the other hand, my new Master, Bobby, has shown me that some things can.
Stay outta trouble,