“Sir, with all due respect, your questions are edging into our private lives.”
To my surprise, however, our boss leans back in his chair and begins laughing uproariously, unfazed by my displeasure. I glower at him, unsure what I’ve said that’s so hilarious. Ben shoots a glance at me, clearly as perplexed by this reaction as I am.
“Sir?” he ventures, but our boss continues to chortle for another moment. Tears are practically rolling down his cheeks and his already-florid face looks even more red than usual. My brother and I sit, growing more and more annoyed by this entire situation.
“Fellas,” Sergeant Nelson finally speaks, clapping a hand on his knee as if he’s just heard a hysterical joke. “I’m sorry for reacting like that, but I can’t help myself. So you’re both in love with her. That’s fucking bizarre because you’re twins, but fine: that’s your business. But tell me, do you really think this girl is in love with you?”
I’m growing pissed, and I let it show. “Sir, frankly, this doesn’t concern you. You don’t know her.” I stand, but my boss motions me to stay put.
“Sit down, Cartwright,” he says with easy authority. Reluctantly, I take a seat. Next to me, Ben appears just as annoyed. He crosses his arms across his powerful chest, his eyes narrowed as he surveys our boss.
“I know that you met this woman while undercover in Overland Park,” Sergeant Nelson begins. His voice is so calm and direct that neither Ben nor I think to deny it. Instead, I try to explain the situation.
“We understand that that’s what it may look like, sir, but Bess isn’t a prostitute,” I say. “The night we met her, she was just passing through Overland Park. She has nothing to do with that crowd, and believe it or not, had just arrived in the neighborhood.”
Ben nods. “We know it sounds outlandish, but it’s true. Bess was just walking by and got caught up in our sting. She had no idea, I swear. She’s innocent.”
Sergeant Nelson rubs his eyes, shaking his head. “Gents,” he drawls. “You know how it goes with women of the night, right? You’ve been in this job long enough.”
I stare at my boss.
“Yes, why? What are you saying?”
Nelson merely shakes his head again.
“I’m surprised at the two of you. Really, I am.” He takes a long breath. “I didn’t expect two of my best officers to be so gullible.”
I’m not sure whether to feel rage or alarm at his comment, but before I can react, Sergeant Nelson is turning his computer monitor around so that is faces us. His eyebrows lower as he clicks around on the screen.
“This is the girl you met in the park, yes?”
I blink and stare at the picture before me. It’s a headshot of Bess, and she’s insanely beautiful. Her face is make-up free and very innocent, and that curly brown hair cascades down her back. “Yes – yes that’s Bess,” I admit, confused by where this is going.
The Sergeant sighs deeply.
“Boys, I hate to be the one to tell you, but you’ve been duped.” Our boss continues to click on picture after picture of Bess, and the photos begin to change. The shots start innocently enough but soon, there are images of Bess clad only in lingerie, posing seductively. In one, she wears a tiny red bra and panties with a string that disappears between her buttocks. She’s got a coy smile on her face as she reaches down to pluck the g-string from her crack.
In another photo, she’s topless with her hands covering those huge breasts. Of course, they’re so enormous that they squeeze out the sides, and her head is tossed back in a moan of pleasure, that curly hair a wild tangle. In another, she’s bent over, giving viewers a glimpse of the wet patch at the center of her panties as she smirks deliciously over one shoulder. Of course Bess is gorgeous, but my mouth is agape. What the hell? Where are these pictures from?
“Like I said,” Nelson says, almost apologetically, clicking through a few more revealing photos. “You’ve been duped.”
My brother stammers. “Where did you get these? Does Bess know about these?”
Sergeant Nelson clicks off of the photos and instead, pulls up a site with bright flashing lights. ‘City Girls’ blares from the top of the screen.
“What is this?” I rasp. “What the hell?”
“Boys,” the Sarge rumbles again, “it seems the woman you’re dating is an escort. She’s a working girl for sure, and you’ve been had by a professional. She’s good, I’ll give you that. Hell, I never would have guessed myself, based on that first picture. But you know how these things go. The women who look the most innocent are often the biggest earners when it comes to their bodies.”
I gape. Bess is a prostitute? But she swore she was only in town to visit a friend! What was that friend’s name again?