Vote at Circlet Press! - "Lawman" Excerpt
Three of my stories, “Lawman”, “The Coming Age” and The Boiling Sea” are up for voting to be included in a Best of Circlet Digital Library. I’m very pleased and humbled to be in the company of so many great Circlet authors on the ballot!
Here’s an excerpt from my story “Lawman”, that appeared in Like a Mask Removed, Vol. 1 and is also available in the philanthropic anthology, Coming Together: In Flux. “Lawman” is set in a dark future where the government, through the use of superhuman Lawmen, enforces a rigorously strict moral code. Dean, retired after years of enforcing the Puritanical rules, decides he wants a taste of the very pleasures he arrested people for when he was a Lawman.
I’d be honored if you’d vote for “Lawman” to be included in the Best of Circlet anthology! You can find the poll at http://www.circlet.com/?p=3777
**
The little blind wouldn’t last long, Dean knew, and he was taking an enormous risk even walking through the hidden door. With a professional eye, he gauged the walls, sheets of painted metal, probably cork or foam behind them, with some kind of radio noise generator in the back room. In the old days, a place like this wouldn’t last a single night before the Lawmen found it, but times had changed. So had he. Past forty-five, two years off the force. Dean figured it was worth the risk while he still had some juice in him.
Besides the bartender, only two other people sat in the blind, a man nearly asleep in a booth on the back wall and a woman drinking by herself at the bar. Dean sat down beside her. He liked the shape of her cheek bones and the fullness of her lips when she smiled at him.
“Hello, handsome,” she purred. The bartender hovered long enough to take Dean’s order, beer for himself and another martini for the woman.
“I’m Maggie,” she offered. “And I was afraid I was going to have a lonely night.”
He looked her over, appraising her, assessing the risk and the reward. Midthirties and she took good care of herself. He let himself smile and lightly gripped her arm, nodding toward the most remote table in the place. The bartender followed with their drinks and then left them alone.
“You come here often?” Dean asked her.
She laughed. “Here. Other places. I go where I have to, to find company.”
He marveled at her and wondered how many more like her there were in the thick cities, where the Lawmen had finally allowed a little sin to creep back, like weeds in an otherwise perfect garden.
“You must be pretty smart,” he commented before he took a sip of his beer. “Just to survive, I mean.”
She startled a little at that. He wanted to smell her fear. That always turned him on, but he reminded himself, he wanted something different tonight.
“Relax,” he said, trying himself to relax. “Enjoy your drink.” He downed his beer and ordered rye, straight up.
“You’re not the kind of guy I usually see in these places,” Maggie said, her gaze casually scanning the empty bar.
He squinted a little and focused on her. Time to end the dance. “I used to be a Lawman,” he said casually.
For just an instant, he could smell her fear, just like the old days. His cock hardened.
“You’re fucking with me,” she twittered, nervous, and then she stopped, her eyes widening.
“Four years ago, I would have had to take you in just for saying ‘fucking’,” he said dryly, then knocked back the rye with a laugh.
Maggie’s breath turned heavy and Dean knew he’d gotten lucky. Some girls would’ve fled the blind and not looked back but Maggie stayed with him and soon, she’d give him exactly what he wanted.
“I thought all you guys lived...” she started.
“Down in Rio? Yeah, mostly we do. That’s where they retire us. We call it heaven. Kind of a joke.”
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“Heaven gets...” he paused and grinned. “Really fucking boring.”
Her shoulders relaxed and her pretty tits jiggled with her easing laugh.
Was she wet yet? Dean shifted on the leather seat, settling the rod of his cock down his pant leg.
Curiosity edged her musical voice. “You can’t do those things anymore, right? You know, fly? Bend steel bars? See through walls?”
He shook his head. “I’m retired.”
“Wow.” She smiled at him with suspended awe then killed her martini.
The bartender popped up like a pixie with fresh drinks for both of them. Then he vanished behind the bar again, Maggie leaned close. “What was it like?”
“What do you think?” he whispered with a sad grin. He covered her warm, slender little hand with his big, calloused one. “It was magic.”
A magic called ACIP, the American Cerebellum Improvement Project, and its chief product, a mix of chemicals that opened up human senses beyond anything anyone had ever imagined.
One shot of ACIP every day let a man see all the spectrums and filter through them as easily as distinguishing red from blue, sharpened hearing and smell, and sent the juice that makes a guy strong into an orbit somewhere out around Saturn. His muscles and meat hardened into something much tougher than rhino skin, and his brain even learned what gravity felt like and how to turn it off.
She sat beside him, silent for a long moment. Finally she asked, the weight of the question immeasurable. “I heard Lawmen can’t, you know? Get it up.
Is that right?”
“I’m not a Lawman anymore, honey,” he said, taking her hand and carrying it to his lap.
It was true. The same magic elixir that made men into supermen took away all sexual desire. Rumor said J. Edgar himself had insisted it work that way. Super saltpeter. Probably smart or all the Lawmen would’ve been corrupted by their own cocks.
She left her hand where he put it. Her fingers, light and direct, knew exactly what to do. “I guess you’re not,” she said, smiling. “So you can’t fly anymore either?”
“Only in my dreams, baby,” he said before pulling her to him and kissing her. She tasted like lip balm.
And oh, the dreams! Soaring high above the city, hearing it all, seeing the spectrum of x-ray and electric pulse, heat signatures of anxious men and women with crime and sin on their minds, attuned to his brother officers in a constant web above the whole world, watching and listening and smelling wrongdoing and stopping it the moment it began.
“So,” she said, slowing her stroke along the length of his cock. “What do you want?”
“You got some place to go?” he asked her. “Some place safe?”
“You tell me when you see it,” she answered and worked on her drink.
“You want to go there?”
“Yeah. In a minute.” He drank to match her, the amber rye lush on his tongue. A slow fire burned from his belly to his head. If he’d taken a drink four years ago, the other Lawmen would have smelled it, even a day later, or they would have seen the delicate pulse of his aura where the alcohol had changed his blood.
“Want to tell you a story first,” he said, his head pleasantly light from the rye. He studied Maggie’s beauty, the subtle curve of her small breasts in a white cotton blouse, the deep blue splendor of her eyes, her lips. “First week I was in the air, I flew out over Levittown 1122. One of the sector wardens called in a 4069, that’s a sodomy complaint, and dispatched me. I’ll never forget it. September...”
The air burned chill, scattering waves of heat as he cut through it, dropping in freefall then diminishing gravity to a slow glide, hearing the whisper of flesh on flesh, the board and stucco bungalow clear as glass when he filtered through the waves and pulses, finding the man and woman.
“She was beautiful,” he told Maggie. “She looked a little like you. And he was some kid no older than me. She had her mouth on him, on his... you know. His cock. I could smell their bodies, see the... excitement between them. It’s hard to explain...”
White flash pulsing, then blue, white, blue. The taste of butter. Red heat between her legs as she sucked and pulled. The flood of blood through the veins of his member. The salty perfume of his seed and her saliva.
“I waited till she finished him before I busted them,” he said. “I got a fucking demerit for that. See, when you are a Lawman, there is always someone watching you. I never made that mistake again.” He killed the rye and waved the bartender away.
“Jesus,” Maggie barely whispered. “What happened to them? The kids you busted?”
He shrugged. “Rehab. Judge gave them a break because they were married. Not a peep out of them the next five years I was over Levittown 1122. That was a long time ago, a lot of years, but I think about it all the time. Can we go to your place now?”
Maggie watched him, the seconds dragging. Dean’s gut tightened. Maybe he’d said too much. She pushed the empty glass away. “Alright, but can I ask you something first? Didn’t you ever want to push back?”
Push back, he thought, as memory sliced him in places that still hurt.
Some days, in that interminable morning hour before the shot, with his head clear, he had wondered what would happen if enough of the Lawmen got together and said “no,” but the thought blew away on the winds of need.
Saying “no” meant no more ACIP. To Dean’s knowledge, no one had ever even said, “maybe we should think about this.”
“Never,” he told Maggie. “But I’ll tell you what I do want. I want exactly what that dude got the night I busted him.” The devil danced in his words, and Dean’s heart beat a little faster.
“I want a blowjob.”
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Here’s an excerpt from my story “Lawman”, that appeared in Like a Mask Removed, Vol. 1 and is also available in the philanthropic anthology, Coming Together: In Flux. “Lawman” is set in a dark future where the government, through the use of superhuman Lawmen, enforces a rigorously strict moral code. Dean, retired after years of enforcing the Puritanical rules, decides he wants a taste of the very pleasures he arrested people for when he was a Lawman.
I’d be honored if you’d vote for “Lawman” to be included in the Best of Circlet anthology! You can find the poll at http://www.circlet.com/?p=3777
**
Excerpt from
“Lawman”
© Angela Caperton
From Like a Mask Removed Vol. 1
Published by Circlet Press, 2010
“Lawman”
© Angela Caperton
From Like a Mask Removed Vol. 1
Published by Circlet Press, 2010
The little blind wouldn’t last long, Dean knew, and he was taking an enormous risk even walking through the hidden door. With a professional eye, he gauged the walls, sheets of painted metal, probably cork or foam behind them, with some kind of radio noise generator in the back room. In the old days, a place like this wouldn’t last a single night before the Lawmen found it, but times had changed. So had he. Past forty-five, two years off the force. Dean figured it was worth the risk while he still had some juice in him.Besides the bartender, only two other people sat in the blind, a man nearly asleep in a booth on the back wall and a woman drinking by herself at the bar. Dean sat down beside her. He liked the shape of her cheek bones and the fullness of her lips when she smiled at him.
“Hello, handsome,” she purred. The bartender hovered long enough to take Dean’s order, beer for himself and another martini for the woman.
“I’m Maggie,” she offered. “And I was afraid I was going to have a lonely night.”
He looked her over, appraising her, assessing the risk and the reward. Midthirties and she took good care of herself. He let himself smile and lightly gripped her arm, nodding toward the most remote table in the place. The bartender followed with their drinks and then left them alone.
“You come here often?” Dean asked her.
She laughed. “Here. Other places. I go where I have to, to find company.”
He marveled at her and wondered how many more like her there were in the thick cities, where the Lawmen had finally allowed a little sin to creep back, like weeds in an otherwise perfect garden.
“You must be pretty smart,” he commented before he took a sip of his beer. “Just to survive, I mean.”
She startled a little at that. He wanted to smell her fear. That always turned him on, but he reminded himself, he wanted something different tonight.
“Relax,” he said, trying himself to relax. “Enjoy your drink.” He downed his beer and ordered rye, straight up.
“You’re not the kind of guy I usually see in these places,” Maggie said, her gaze casually scanning the empty bar.
He squinted a little and focused on her. Time to end the dance. “I used to be a Lawman,” he said casually.
For just an instant, he could smell her fear, just like the old days. His cock hardened.
“You’re fucking with me,” she twittered, nervous, and then she stopped, her eyes widening.
“Four years ago, I would have had to take you in just for saying ‘fucking’,” he said dryly, then knocked back the rye with a laugh.
Maggie’s breath turned heavy and Dean knew he’d gotten lucky. Some girls would’ve fled the blind and not looked back but Maggie stayed with him and soon, she’d give him exactly what he wanted.
“I thought all you guys lived...” she started.
“Down in Rio? Yeah, mostly we do. That’s where they retire us. We call it heaven. Kind of a joke.”
“I don’t get it,” she said.
“Heaven gets...” he paused and grinned. “Really fucking boring.”
Her shoulders relaxed and her pretty tits jiggled with her easing laugh.
Was she wet yet? Dean shifted on the leather seat, settling the rod of his cock down his pant leg.
Curiosity edged her musical voice. “You can’t do those things anymore, right? You know, fly? Bend steel bars? See through walls?”
He shook his head. “I’m retired.”
“Wow.” She smiled at him with suspended awe then killed her martini.
The bartender popped up like a pixie with fresh drinks for both of them. Then he vanished behind the bar again, Maggie leaned close. “What was it like?”
“What do you think?” he whispered with a sad grin. He covered her warm, slender little hand with his big, calloused one. “It was magic.”
A magic called ACIP, the American Cerebellum Improvement Project, and its chief product, a mix of chemicals that opened up human senses beyond anything anyone had ever imagined.
One shot of ACIP every day let a man see all the spectrums and filter through them as easily as distinguishing red from blue, sharpened hearing and smell, and sent the juice that makes a guy strong into an orbit somewhere out around Saturn. His muscles and meat hardened into something much tougher than rhino skin, and his brain even learned what gravity felt like and how to turn it off.
She sat beside him, silent for a long moment. Finally she asked, the weight of the question immeasurable. “I heard Lawmen can’t, you know? Get it up.
Is that right?”
“I’m not a Lawman anymore, honey,” he said, taking her hand and carrying it to his lap.
It was true. The same magic elixir that made men into supermen took away all sexual desire. Rumor said J. Edgar himself had insisted it work that way. Super saltpeter. Probably smart or all the Lawmen would’ve been corrupted by their own cocks.
She left her hand where he put it. Her fingers, light and direct, knew exactly what to do. “I guess you’re not,” she said, smiling. “So you can’t fly anymore either?”
“Only in my dreams, baby,” he said before pulling her to him and kissing her. She tasted like lip balm.
And oh, the dreams! Soaring high above the city, hearing it all, seeing the spectrum of x-ray and electric pulse, heat signatures of anxious men and women with crime and sin on their minds, attuned to his brother officers in a constant web above the whole world, watching and listening and smelling wrongdoing and stopping it the moment it began.
“So,” she said, slowing her stroke along the length of his cock. “What do you want?”
“You got some place to go?” he asked her. “Some place safe?”
“You tell me when you see it,” she answered and worked on her drink.
“You want to go there?”
“Yeah. In a minute.” He drank to match her, the amber rye lush on his tongue. A slow fire burned from his belly to his head. If he’d taken a drink four years ago, the other Lawmen would have smelled it, even a day later, or they would have seen the delicate pulse of his aura where the alcohol had changed his blood.
“Want to tell you a story first,” he said, his head pleasantly light from the rye. He studied Maggie’s beauty, the subtle curve of her small breasts in a white cotton blouse, the deep blue splendor of her eyes, her lips. “First week I was in the air, I flew out over Levittown 1122. One of the sector wardens called in a 4069, that’s a sodomy complaint, and dispatched me. I’ll never forget it. September...”
The air burned chill, scattering waves of heat as he cut through it, dropping in freefall then diminishing gravity to a slow glide, hearing the whisper of flesh on flesh, the board and stucco bungalow clear as glass when he filtered through the waves and pulses, finding the man and woman.
“She was beautiful,” he told Maggie. “She looked a little like you. And he was some kid no older than me. She had her mouth on him, on his... you know. His cock. I could smell their bodies, see the... excitement between them. It’s hard to explain...”
White flash pulsing, then blue, white, blue. The taste of butter. Red heat between her legs as she sucked and pulled. The flood of blood through the veins of his member. The salty perfume of his seed and her saliva.
“I waited till she finished him before I busted them,” he said. “I got a fucking demerit for that. See, when you are a Lawman, there is always someone watching you. I never made that mistake again.” He killed the rye and waved the bartender away.
“Jesus,” Maggie barely whispered. “What happened to them? The kids you busted?”
He shrugged. “Rehab. Judge gave them a break because they were married. Not a peep out of them the next five years I was over Levittown 1122. That was a long time ago, a lot of years, but I think about it all the time. Can we go to your place now?”
Maggie watched him, the seconds dragging. Dean’s gut tightened. Maybe he’d said too much. She pushed the empty glass away. “Alright, but can I ask you something first? Didn’t you ever want to push back?”
Push back, he thought, as memory sliced him in places that still hurt.
Some days, in that interminable morning hour before the shot, with his head clear, he had wondered what would happen if enough of the Lawmen got together and said “no,” but the thought blew away on the winds of need.
Saying “no” meant no more ACIP. To Dean’s knowledge, no one had ever even said, “maybe we should think about this.”
“Never,” he told Maggie. “But I’ll tell you what I do want. I want exactly what that dude got the night I busted him.” The devil danced in his words, and Dean’s heart beat a little faster.
“I want a blowjob.”
Copyright 2010 Angela Caperton. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.
Posted by Angela Caperton at 2/20/2012 4:16 PM 
Categories: Angela Caperton, Erotica, Circlet Press
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Circlet
Categories: Angela Caperton, Erotica, Circlet Press
Tags: Angela Caperton Erotica Circlet
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