Downtown Boogie

The bass hits heavy downtown. A 70s neon pulse rolls through the club. Two detectives move in the crowd, one black, one white. Their badges stay hidden. Their eyes stay sharp. The night is young and they work it like pros. They spot their mark near the bar. A young blonde in a silver dress. She leans in close, listens, then slips her hand under the table. Money changes palms. Another hand finds its way beneath her hem, fingers working her open. She takes both without hesitation, thighs parted, breath short. Outside the alley, her lipstick is gone and her dress is up. He has her bent over a crate. Her hole is tight, but she gives it up fast. He pushes in, fucks her deep, and when he’s close he pulls out, strokes once, twice, and paints her pretty face with thick ropes. Back inside the detectives push through the dance floor, heat and bodies pressing in from every side. They move in step with the beat, guns under their coats, already thinking about the next collar and the next fuck.