|Just Don't Take
The Little I Got
Eduardo Antonio Parra
NO SOONER HAD SHE SAID IT THAN the look in the sergeant's eyes changed: The mocking
lust welling up from under his eyelids as he stuck his hand down her blouse shifted to a
hard stare, filled with suspicion. Idiot. How could she have come up with such a stupid
line? They didn't come around for money. They just came by for their little bit of loving,
just like any other night, especially in winter, when the cold tightens up the muscles and
the body has to move in order to get any heat. The sergeant didn't ask any questions; the
smile merely left his face, and since he wasn't talking, the other one no longer had any
reason to celebrate his every little joke with loud guffaws. Stupid bitch, fucking was
what it was all about, leave them thoroughly drained and happy, and then take off, all
proud of yourself, and go hide the money under the mattress. Perhaps she would have had to
put up with a little mistreatment, maybe a few slaps, whatever was needed to spice the
encounter up a bit. They never did much harm, and anyway that's what cops do. It's like
violence is what they need to get ready, it makes them feel like men: a couple of blows
and now you'll see, fucking whore, before yanking off her clothes, ripping them noisily,
and then the sergeant first, on your feet, bitch, and the painful entry because they're
always animals the way they push, like that, he's coming and I'm dry. But right away you
adjust, open wide, cunt, your body gets used to it and begins to enjoy the piece of solid
flesh inside it. Because why lie, it's not as tight as it used to be, and that's the fault
of all those horny guys walking the streets. Sure, it burns, but gradually you begin to
enjoy it. It's just that now, since she let her tongue get the best of her, she's not sure
what's going to happen. The patrol car moves forward, unhurriedly, leaving the downtown
area and its streets crowded with nightcrawlers behind. The traffic lights reveal a few
couples and solitary strollers on the corners. Estrella's body is rigid, sitting between
the sergeant and the driver, stupefied by the dry silence in the patrol car, not knowing
how to react to the squeezes of that clumsy hand moving over her skin.
Do what you want with me, just don't take the little I
got. She'd had to say it. She'd had to let herself get carried away by her tongue that was
always tied up in fear, in goddamned greed, in pennies, and never connected to her brain
like her coworkers advised her. But what can she do, barely eighteen, and only three
months in the street dressed in miniskirt, high heels, and blouse cut above the navel? The
woman in her got the upper hand and emotion over money got the better of her. How many
times had the others warned her to play it cool with the law, yes sir, whatever you say,
you know I'm here to make you feel good? She would even have come out ahead, because after
dispatching the sergeant, without giving her a rest, the other stud would have mounted her
and found her all oiled up, nice and loose, ready to close her eyes and in the darkness
lose herself in the fantasy of being possessed by a centaur. She never enjoyed it so much
with her man, or with any of the guys who picked her up in the street. All men are
selfish: They're out for their own pleasure and they don't care if they pull out when
she's barely getting started. Then they act like guilt or shame has made them bitteror worse: as if Estrella made them sick. That's why she likes cops.
They don't go around all fussy and remorseful, and they always come in a package deal: in
twos or threes. And since they're used to fucking one at a time, all she needs to do is
grit her teeth, shut her eyes, and let her imagination wander so she can think she's got a
long-distance stallion inside her.
"Sir," her voice sounds strangled, like a
murmur, "where are you taking me?"
"I don't know why you're asking," answers
the sergeant, who's now caressing her stomach under her blouse. "Like you don't
To the same place as always, Estrella says to herself
when she recognizes their direction. To the park by the river, where other cops have taken
her before. At night there's no one there, and the hard part is getting back. Although
last time, since she behaved very obediently and catered to the cops' every whim, they
agreed to drive her back downtown. However, right now she's not so sure. The look on the
sergeant's face isn't that of a man who's hot and bothered, even if he doesn't stop
fondling her breasts as if he had never before had such smooth, round, firm ones in his
grasp. Then he lowers his hand to her navel, into which he sticks his finger and lets it
get entangled in the hair, then moving farther down and toying lightly with the coarseness
of the pubis. The cop's behavior sends a confused blend of pleasure and fear to tighten
her throat. What sometimes seem to be rough caresses occasionally become a diligent, cold
exploration. He's searching her: the sergeant's hand is trying to pretend that his
fiddling around with her skin and clothes has something to do with lust.
Why the hell did I mention that bit about the money?
she asks herself again. She had been overflowing with pride at carrying plenty of bills
and she couldn't contain herself. She never imagined that a man with a car like that would
invite her to get in. Quite the gentleman: elegant, good-looking, well-mannered. Nor had
she ever thought that she would ever enter such a luxurious apartment, in a building that
looked like a castle tower. Through the windows of that place she was able to see the
whole city with its houses like toys and the people all teeny-tiny. Besides, the man never
touched her. He just asked her to dance without music next to the window, as she slowly
undressed. She got nervous, but the man started directing her with a voice whose authority
betrayed keen desire. When the moment came to finish her strip act, she began to tremble,
because she didn't want to display that flaccid member that shames her so much and that
she always tries to conceal with double-reinforced panties. However, the desperation that
vibrated in the man's voice made her realize that that was exactly what he wanted to see.
She repressed her scruples and thought about anything at all rather than imagine what she
must look like with her silicone breasts and her childish cock, until with a sonorous
wheeze the man finished masturbating in a dark corner of the bedroom. Then with great
courtesy, he ordered her to get dressed and immediately paid her with the biggest wad of
bills Estrella had ever seen, adding a few extra pesos for the taxi.
I should have gone straight home, she thinks as the
sergeant's rough hands move from her back to the place where her buttocks begin. She'd had
a full night. And now these bastards are going to take it all away from me. She had
decided to open a bank account and put aside a little something for her operation. With a
few rich customers like that man.... A tremor interrupted her because a finger was roaming
through the narrow cavern between her buttocks. This time it was obvious that there wasn't
even a shred of desire in the hand exploring her, and yet with all the ins and outs,
thousands of butterflies were getting excited, and her dead member moved once or twice as
if ready to rise.
The patrol car keeps moving forward extremely slowly.
Anybody would think it was making its nightly rounds. They leave the last residential
areas behind, and neither the sergeant nor the driver has said a word. Around here, the
city looks deserted. Gradually, fear intensifies in Estrella's stomach, blending with her
desire for a man, turning to impatience. She wants both of them to take her. She doesn't
notice what time it is when they get to the park. She's getting impatient because the cops
are taking so long. Any other time, by this point one of the cops would have been unable
to take it any longer and would have unzipped himself, forcing her to bend down and bring
her mouth over to the erect member. Or at least her hand. Or maybe between the two of them
they would have stripped her and fondled her at their leisure. She never felt more like a
woman than when she was naked in a car, a stud on either side of her, being caressed and
holding two erect cocks. But now the only contact was with the sergeant's cold hand
exploring her from top to bottom, turning her on, true, but with such mechanical movements
that it seemed more routine than enjoyable. I hope he doesn't start grabbing my crotch,
she says to herself in agony, because he's going to find the bills. The other cop looks
like he thinks this is strange too. He doesn't stop turning toward Estrella and the
sergeant as if wondering why they don't get started.
They finally enter an area where the trees press
closely against each other, forming a barrier on each side of the path. The cars parked
here and there among the greenery resemble animals at rest, dark and solitary; but through
their windows covered with spiderwebs of steam, the occupants, under the protection of
night, can be seen coupling. Finally the driver loses patience; he takes his right hand
off the steering wheel and buries it in Estrella's cleavage until he gets hold of a
breast. She gives a hoarse moan. Now one man is fondling her in front and another one from
behind, and her body relaxes, wriggling on the seat of the patrol car, making repeated
half-turns to allow them better access. Something racing through her blood compels her to
rebel against modesty and fear and renounce passivity. She extends her left hand and
boldly wraps the cop's member, now outside his pants, around her fingers, meticulously
rubbing it until she feels it grow and harden. The feeling clouds her vision. A multitude
of heat-charged needles courses across her skin. Her shyness gone, she finds the
sergeant's fly with her other hand. She struggles with the snap for a few seconds, and
upon finding that useless, satisfies herself by rubbing the swollen prick through the
"The hustler's hot, sergeant," says the cop
in a sarcastic tone. "Like she already wants what we're gonna give her."
"I'm a whore . . ." murmurs Estrella, her
eyes shut as she finishes loosening the sergeant's belt.
"What'd you say?"
"I'm not a hustler," she sighs. "Call
me a whore."
"Sure, baby, of course. You're the queen of all of
"Look, park over there," the sergeant
The parallel groves change into a kind of deep vegetal
cave, crowned by the enormous intertwining boughs. Further on is the river, whose watery
sound is a little weak by the time it reaches them. It's the cops' favorite spot for
fucking. Estrella's been here; it's where the patrol took her last week. That was a good
night: the first time she serviced a whole division of police. Thanks to the headlights
she recognizes a tree with a thick, gnarled trunk, with low-hanging branches, on which she
supported her body while they penetrated her, until she almost fainted, wrapped up in
painful and protracted pleasure. The memory adds more heat to what the policemen's
fondlings are arousing in her, to what her own hands are transmitting as she grips the two
thick cocks. She moans deeply when one of the sergeant's fingers penetrates her asshole,
and her moans increase when the other one begins to tear off her clothes.
"Get out," orders the sergeant. "Now
we're really gonna have fun."
He violently grabs her hair, since Estrella is already
bent over, her lips seeking out the driver's crotch. Half-naked, she goes out into the
open air, and only when a blast of cold air brands her skin does she realize that all she
has on are her shoes and panties, and she starts to shiver. Her nipples get hard; the cold
and excitement are burning them. Before getting out of the car, the cop turns off the
headlights, and a thick darkness descends upon them, to the point that their shadows blend
in with the trees. The sergeant embraces her from behind, gluing his body to hers and
rubbing his member against her buttocks as if sniffing out the path. At the same time, he
pinches her nipples, making her cry out. She no longer notices the cold, although she
can't stop shivering. She reaches behind her and finds the stiff and greasy wires of the
sergeant's brush-cut hair. She pulls at them in order to bring the man closer to her neck.
She trembles, first at the touch of his lips and tongue, and then at the teeth immediately
sinking into her skin. Through her half-shut eyes, she glimpses a shadowy mass advancing
upon her and then curling up at her feet. It's the other cop trying to pull down her
"I only . . ." she says, but a blow explodes
very close to her ear and forces her to shut up.
Before it can begin to hurt, she receives another
blow, and then another. Her cheeks are burning and the cold air sears them like salt on
raw flesh. Pain heightens her desire, her urgent need to be possessed, abused, whorifed.
Her only wish is that they finish undressing her and open her up and split her in half
with that violence of furious macho studs that only policemen have; that they humiliate
her and beat her up until they're exhausted while they enjoy her with their pricks until
they explode, because that's why she's a whore: to bestow and receive pleasure, to be
penetrated and fulfill all the whims and fantasies of the men who pick her up.
The sergeant turns her around so that he's looking
right at her. She still sees only shadows, but she recognizes that bitter, hot breath that
was next to her all during the drive. She tries to bring her mouth closer to kiss him, and
a shove repels her. While the other one restrains her, the sergeant lowers her panties to
her knees. In the open, her childish prick is a worm frightened by the cold. She feels its
size diminishing, as if she wanted to hide it within that body it should never have come
out of. She decides to ignore it and brings her feet together, while relaxing her knees
with undulating movements so that the panties can slide to the ground.
Completely naked, she bends over, pressing the
policeman's body behind hers. With her thighs she brushes the hot glans, and finds it
moist, sticky, ready to plunge inside her. Her head is spinning. Her mouth is dry and her
legs are weak and shaky. She shuts her eyes tightly, breathes deep, and moves backward in
an attempt to focus on the prick, seeking to have it at last, to squeeze it inside her,
but an intense glare painfully explodes in her eyes. It takes her a while to understand
what's happening, until the flashlight beam moves away from her face, travels down her
breasts, lingers a moment on her atrophied member, and lands on the ground, where it
lights up the rolled-up panties. Inside them, fastened to the fabric with adhesive tape, a
hem of green bills appears.
"It's for my operation. . ." Estrella
stammers in a delayed reaction.
"Oh shit, don't tell me you're sick?" the
"Please don't take it. It's for . . ."
"It was, baby," the sergeant extracts the
money and then, with a gesture of disgust, hurls the panties away. "I knew I heard
'sthe little I got.' Not so little, baby. Not so little."
He puts the bills in the pocket where he wears his
badge. Immediately he turns off the flashlight and the glint of his yellowish smile
remains suspended in the darkness for a split second. The driver releases her and Estrella
falls to the ground. The moisture hidden in the grass prickles her skin. The earth is
rough; a few stones are embedded in her behind, hurting her, but she doesn't complain.
From there she contemplates the double shadow of the cops, which expands and shrinks as if
it were an amorphous two-headed ghost. Although she cannot make out their faces, she is
sure that they are also looking at her defeated shadow. They are looking at her and
smiling. They are mocking her naïveté, her inability to shut her mouth and hold her
tongue, which has always brought her nothing but trouble. Fucking idiot, they're going to
take it all. Anger begins to roll in waves through her stomach. For a moment she feels an
impulse to get up and react like a man. It would be easy; they'd never expect it. A
roundhouse punch in the sergeant's face, right in his goddamned smile, and yank the
flashlight out of his hand so that she could crush both their skulls and leave them good
and cold among the trees. But it's been so long since she's fought that she probably
doesn't know how to do it. Now they've fucked me over good, and that's why they're making
fun of me. There they are, their big teeth hanging out, grabbing their erect dicks, just
to show me they can. Inside her chest, an attack of weeping starts growing, and she tries
to suffocate it by clenching her jaws. And they didn't even come for dollar bills, but for
flesh, for a ready piece of ass, for a hole to fill, for a body like mine, willing and
able, to relieve the nighttime cold ...
What was about to be a sob turns into a long, lustful
sigh. A tremor knots below her neck, and Estrella focuses on listening to the cops'
agitated breathing. In the darkness she can guess at the erection swelling the pants of
each. It can't have disappeared, it has to be there, awaiting her caresses, her hands, her
mouth, her body. A shudder travels up and down her body and once again she is captive to
her need for a man. The sergeant and the driver are snickering. They're celebrating their
accomplishment. She can almost see them kneading their pricks, comparing each to the other
to see who's got the bigger one, pointing at her with them, as if to announce that it
wasn't over, that they were just getting started. That's how she likes men: shameless,
abusive, cynical, and horny, always superhorny machos. Then she gets on her knees and
stretches her arms out toward them, inviting them to come closer. Her breathing mingles
with a barely audible moan. The cops can't see her, but Estrella is offering them her
mouth, moist and anxious. Her firm round breasts, complete with a pair of erect nipples
pointing directly at their flies. A hand rests on the sergeant's leg. The other finds the
bulge distending the driver's pants and she firmly takes it prisoner.
"Whaddaya say,sergeant?" asks the cop in a
very hoarse voice. "Do we stick it in her?"
"We'd better go."
"No," pleads Estrella. "Take the money
if you want, but ... you can't leave me like this! Why did you bring me here then? Don't
go . . ."
"How do you like that, partner?" the
sergeant says. "These hustlers can't get enough."
"We oughta lock him up for public lewdness."
"No, it's better to just leave him here. He's had
enough. And we'll go find us some real women. My treat. Anyway, I'm ready for some of that
Still on her knees, Estrella watches the amorphous
shadow split apart. Then she hears the door to the driver's seat close. Before getting in
the patrol car, the sergeant deals her a hard kick in the stomach, doubling her up and
leaving her sprawled on the ground. Almost simultaneously, the car lights go on and she
sees the luminous pool as if it were a result of the blow. She is winded and begins to
cough, spitting up phlegm and curses.
When the lights of the patrol car vanish as it leaves
the grove, the freezing night air on her bare skin gradually numbs the pain in her stomach
and all the womanly desires that had set her body on fire.