Oh seven twenty-seven. I pushed the heavy steel door open and stepped outside for a smoke, greeted by a brisk January wind that was in stark contrast to the hot and stuffy atmosphere inside the prison. I felt my body shiver underneath my thick winter jacket as I fumbled for my cigarettes and lit one up. I took a long draw, relishing the heady feeling as a mix of nicotine and frosty air filled my lungs. I leaned against the wall and stared at the door I had just come through. It wasn't a particularly interesting door, but it was no worse than looking at anything else out here. The prison was an ugly place; its only saving grace was that we couldn't actually
see
the city dump on the other side of the big hill that bordered the employee parking lot.
Oh seven thirty-three. I exhaled, watching as a white cloud of smoke and frozen breath formed in front of my face. I threw the cigarette down and headed back to the warmth of the squad room, waiting for my trainees to arrive.
There were six of them in my weapons training class. We had spent two days on classroom work, and today was to be the first day on the shooting range. I liked that part of my job--it was a welcome break from the drudgery of working inside the prison babysitting inmates all day. This particular morning five of my trainees arrived on time, but the sixth, Officer Siler, was late. She was a cute little brunette with a tenacious attitude and I had noticed her right away on that first day in class. It had been a casual attire day, and she wore tight leggings that showed off her petite yet muscular calves and firm thighs that led to a tight, perfect, thoroughly spankable ass. Not that I was hung up on her or anything--I had been married since I was 22, and in the decade since, I had never even considered cheating. But I couldn't be faulted for noticing her; I'm married, not blind.
Despite the fact that she was by far the best looking trainee that I had had yet-to-date, I wasn't about to cut her any slack for being late. I'm usually a pretty easy-going guy, but I treat my trainees with an iron fist. I take their training seriously--a mistake with a gun is a potentially fatal mistake. And my hard-ass attitude isn't confined to the gun range; I insist upon perfection in every aspect of their work, and that includes being prompt.
Officer Siler breezed in the door four minutes late.
"Trainee Siler!" I bellowed.
She stood before me and looked me squarely in the eyes. Scrappy little thing she was.
"Tardiness will not be tolerated in my class. Is that understood?"
"Sir yes sir!" she shouted, thrusting her face forward until it was a mere inches from mine. She almost looked bemused.
I found myself falling back on my military training, training that had taught me that first the troops must be broken down, then built back up. Officer Renee Siler wasn't yet broken. I had work to do.
"And what was it that caused your tardiness, Officer Siler? Rescuing cute widdle bunnies from the side of the road?" I ridiculed. A couple of the other trainees snickered in the background. Officer Siler didn't flinch.
"No sir. Just heavy traffic sir."
"That's no excuse! I don't care if you have to drive on the sidewalk to get here on time! I don't care if you have to run over your sweet little old granny to get here on time! Do you understand me?"
I stared her down, giving her my most intimidating look. It was a look that could make grown men tremble; a look that made pit bulls whimper. Unfazed, she stared right back at me.
Without deviating her gaze, slowly, deliberately, maddeningly, she placed her hands on her hips, and with an infuriatingly cute lilt to her voice said, "Bet you blink first."
Despite the fact that Siler had excelled in her bookwork, she had her struggles on the range. She kept missing the target, which was frustrating for her, making it even less likely that she would hit it the next time. I may be a hard-ass with my students, but I also know that their jobs depend on their passing this class, so I took pity on her and decided to give her some extra, personalized attention. She stayed after class to work with me.
I reviewed the basics of training with her, then it was time for me to give her some hands-on instruction. It's common practice for me to stand behind a trainee and show him or her how to hold the weapon properly, but I had never enjoyed it before as much as I did with Officer Siler.
I slid up behind her and put my arms around her as she held the gun. I placed my hands on top of her hands and pressed my face close to hers, so I could get a better handle on what she was seeing through her sights. She was wearing a thick woolen cap, but the intoxicating scent of her hair drifted toward me, and for a moment I was taken in by very unprofessional thoughts—thoughts of running my hands through her hair and nuzzling the soft skin of her neck. I shook the fantasies out of my mind and got back down to business.
"Thanks a lot for staying late to help me, Officer Blake," Siler said gratefully. We had worked together for an hour after class, and she had already shown significant improvement.
"Well, I've never had a trainee flunk out yet," I intoned, "and I'm not about to let a cocky little shit like you screw up my perfect record."
She squinted up at me. "I figured you had to have some kind of selfish reason for helping me. You've been such a jerk in class, I knew you weren't helping me out of the goodness of your heart."
I felt a little guilty for being so hard on her before.
"Sorry. I guess I've been kind of a prick."
