The Helpful Citizen

Steven Hill leaned into the car window and kissed his wife goodbye. He stood up straight and tightened the belt around his bathrobe, which was oversized and had a tendency to fall open. They chatted a few moments more, mostly because he did not want her to leave again. She was off on another work trip, and he sighed. She hadn't even pulled out of the driveway yet and he was missing her.

"Drive safely, honey," he said, looking up as a long black car cruised slowly past their house. He stared at the vehicle as two men in the front seats turned their heads, sunglasses reflecting his stare as the car continued down the street. The men seemed to be black, but it could just be the shadow of the car's interior. It turned right at the next block.

"I will," replied Marina. "And I'll see you in a few days. Oh yeah, honey?"

"Mmmm?"

"Thanks for the hot sex last night. Love you."

Steven stepped back, laughing. He watched as she backed the car out of the driveway carefully and he waved as she turned in the street and headed off.

Last night really had been fun and hot. They'd been to a fundraiser, Marina looking elegant and sexy in her long, golden dress, and he looking damned good too in his tuxedo, if he did say so himself. When they'd gotten home they'd basically torn off their clothes and hopped into bed for a hot session.

Steven's reverie was interrupted as he noticed the same black car come along again behind his wife's car, and the two black men slowed down, again staring at him as they passed. Steven reflexively grabbed his robe, pulling it tighter around his waist and chest. Black men were unusual in this neighborhood. He had a passing thought, Maybe they were casing the neighborhood for some criminal purpose?--but just as quickly he stifled the uncharitable thought.

At any rate, I probably shouldn't be outside in just a bathrobe.

He turned and entered their large, two-story house. A stray thought came to his mind that he'd be home alone for a few nights and that he hadn't checked the security system recently. He locked the front door, and then checked the back door, and then the door to their garage, and then the patio door, and after that the downstairs windows. Just to be sure.

He headed upstairs to take a shower.

Entering the bathroom, he started the water spray in the walk-in shower and let the robe fall to his feet. He stood for a few moments and examined himself in the full-length mirror. He was not vain, but secretly he was proud of his body. He was in the prime of his life and had never looked better. Regular workouts ensured that. And since he'd married Marina he'd eaten better. He was tall at 6', lithe and fit. Medium-brown hair with a tendency to unpredictable waviness. Steven didn't think himself particularly handsome, but comments and looks from others disagreed. And he especially liked it when Marina said appreciative things about his body and appearance. Was he secretly vain after all? he wondered.

He disliked two things about his body. He had a pair of birthmarks--skin discolorations each the size of a small coin, one on his lower chest and one on his back. Objectively he knew they were small but sometimes they seemed huge to him. He couldn't see the one on his back unless he twisted and looked in the mirror, but he knew it was there.

The other thing he disliked was his nipples. It was embarrassing, but they were unusually large and sensitive for a man. Especially when he was cold or turned on, they became puffy and prominent and almost too sensitive when touched or even if his shirt fabric brushed against them.

Marina had discovered this, and sometimes she loved to play with them with during sex. She enjoyed kissing them and licking them and twisting them gently. Sometimes not so gently when she got too excited. But being touched there never failed to turn him on. So they could be a source of pleasure, but usually he resisted taking his shirt off when others were around, especially in public.

Steven turned so he could look at his rear in the mirror.

Now there was something he was proud of. His rear was a perfect pair of globes that thrust out and filled a pair of jeans nicely. Though he only wore tight jeans when they went out dancing. He usually wore looser pants in public, preferring discretion. He turned back around and let his hand slide over his flat stomach. He felt the firm tone under the skin, and in the mirror he could almost see his stomach muscles defined. Maybe if I lose a half-kilo. At the same time he didn't want to look too skinny or starved. His hand then slid down past his navel, stopping just above the trim patch of pubic hair.

In the back of his mind, he wondered about their future. He and Marina were both working hard, he from home and she on the road frequently. Would they start a family? That still seemed in the future, especially with her being away so much. And he didn't like how the distance had been affecting their sex life recently. Some weeks he was so horny he didn't know what to do. The memory of last night caused a surge in his stomach and groin, and he knew he was going to be in for a needy time while she was away on her trip.

Steven stepped into the shower and washed himself. His hair turned darker under the water until it looked black. He ran a bar of soap all over his body. As the soap slid over his nipples it turned them hard, and he almost moaned at the sensation. He rinsed off and stepped out of the shower.

He had just finished drying his body and pulling his robe back on when the doorbell rang. He frowned, wondering who it could possibly be. He scowled when he realized it was probably Davis Dorn, their neighbor. The middle-aged pervert was always ogling him and seemed to have no shame about it. The first thing he'd said when he and Marina moved in was, "I've got a thing for fit guys--let me show it to you some time." He'd said it right in front of Marina too. She was as surprised as he was but laughed it off. We're bound to have some gay neighbors, she'd said, so don't sweat it. Then she'd added, half-joking, Since he looks like a model, it's lucky he's gay--no temptation. She was probably right. And at least he wouldn't be hitting on her, like so many other men did.

Still, it was uncomfortable. Davis would stare right at Steven's chest or ass or crotch whenever they were talking. He was a good-looking guy, but his crude attitude was off-putting.

The bell rang again, and Steven considered ignoring it. Davis seemed instinctively to know when Marina was away and always lingered in his house when they were alone. One time, in a moment of misplaced neighborliness, Steven had accepted Davis's offer to play cards, but Davis had wanted to turn it into a game of strip poker. No thanks, Steven thought. The bell rang again and he decided to hurry downstairs. After all, it could be a delivery driver.

Steven peeked through the window and froze. He almost wished it was Davis when he saw who was outside his home. It was the two black men who had been driving around earlier. One looked about forty and the other about thirty, though it was hard to tell in their sunglasses. Both were wearing dark suits and seemed fit, and now that they were closer had an official air about them. Maybe because they were both carrying briefcases. The one closest to the door was raising a finger to press the bell again when Steven called "What do you want?" through the door.

"Sir," said the older black man in a deep voice. "I'm Detective Jeffers and this is Detective Timmons. We're with the police, detectives with the Fraud Division."

Steven opened his door but kept the chain lock on. He peered through the crack. "Can I see your badges?"

The one called Jeffers held up a wallet and flipped it open, showing his police badge. The man behind him also flashed his. "May we come in, sir?"

Steven hesitated but then felt uncomfortable keeping them waiting. Finally, he closed the door, undid the chain, and opened it up fully. "Sorry, you can't be too sure these days."

Jeffers's lips curled in a wry smile. "I understand completely," he replied, showing no more emotion, but he suspected that his skin color was an element in Steven's wariness.

"Come in," Steven said, stepping aside. "I've never spoken with detectives before. Have I done something wrong?"

"Not at all, sir," said Jeffers, flashing him a reassuring grin with strong white teeth. "We're investigating some con artists operating an insurance fraud in the area, and we'd like to talk with you about it."

"Well, I don't know anything about that," he said, relaxing. "But I'll be happy to keep an eye out for you."

"Actually, we're hoping you'll be willing to help us stop these criminals."

"What?! I'm not sure what I could do to help, but--where are my manners? Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?"

"That would be great," said Jeffers, taking a seat on the large, overstuffed sofa. "Water would be fine, or coffee if you have it going already." Detective Timmons stood nearby. They took off their sunglasses.

Steven went to the kitchen and came back with two glasses of water with ice for the men. It was already getting to be a hot day. They took the drinks and thanked him as he sat down on a chair across from them. He kept his legs closed as his robe was short and ran above his knees when he sat.

"You saw us drive past earlier?" asked Jeffers.

"Yes," he replied, nodding.

"The two con men in question appear to prefer attractive men," said Jeffers.

"What? Oh, I see," said Steven, his face reddening a little as he realized what the man was saying.

"Yes sir, you looked perfect," agreed Timmons.

Steven reddened a little at the unexpected compliment, and the nervousness he seemed to feel around black men grew. They had chosen him because they found him attractive. Weird feeling.

"These criminals always scout a neighborhood, just as we did to find you. They seek good-looking men who appear to be home alone. Then they approach them with an offer of comprehensive life insurance. They offer a special deal that appears almost too good to be true. The catch is that the promotional offer is only good for those who sign up immediately. Usually these kind of insurance scams are aimed at the elderly."

"Then why do they target younger men?" he asked, curiously.

The two detectives turned and exchanged a nervous glance. Neither answered the question directly.

Timmons finally said, "One of the men poses as a doctor and the other as a nurse. They offer an on-the-spot physical examination if you haven't had one done recently--within the past week. Which of course no one has. They use it as an opportunity to feel you up--excuse my blunt language."

"I see," replied Steven, looking shocked as he leaned back and put his hand on his chest. His eyes were wide open.

"It's not that bad," said Jeffers. "These men are after money above all, and while they seem to prefer men it need not come down to that. Though several of their victims have willingly stripped naked for them, and even allowed a full cavity investigation. One naïve newlywed even let them take nude pictures of him for his file."

"They sound like weirdos," said Steven, surprised that anyone could be so stupid as to fall for that.

"Most men have suspected something and refused," added Timmons. "They will only let them perform their examination over their clothes. A few demand to see their own doctor."

"My goodness!" Steven didn't even like going to his doctor for his annual physical.

"These men need to be stopped" said Jeffers. "Do you agree?"

"Absolutely. But I still don't see why you need my help."

"May I ask your name, sir?" asked Timmons.

"Steven Hill."

"Well, Mr. Hill, at this very moment these men are having breakfast at the diner out on the highway after staying at the motel next door. We have undercover officers watching them."

Steven nodded. He and Marina frequently ate at that diner.

"Yes, they're right outside your neighborhood. We expect them to cruise through here today, maybe tomorrow, looking for prospective victims. We need you to stand outside and lure the men in here."

"You want me to be bait!" The thought shocked Steven. "I'd like to help, but that sounds dangerous. Why not just arrest them?"

"These men are smart," said Jeffers. "We need to catch them in the act. You won't be in any danger, Mr. Hill. We want to place hidden cameras here in this room, and be assured that we'll be right outside listening and watching."

"I don't think my wife would approve me taking a risk like this," he said.

"Where is she, by the way?" asked Timmons. "Was she leaving for work the first time we drove by?"

"Well, yes. She just left on a four- or five-day trip."

"Then whether to tell her is up to you, Mr. Hill. Once the criminals show up, it'll only take a short time for us to nail them. Your wife need never know. The cameras will record everything so we have video evidence. That means you won't need to testify at a trial."

"You seem to have thought this through."

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Hill. We've put a lot of work into this. And if you help us, you will be doing the police, your neighbors, and your city a big favor. It's your civic duty, sir."

Steven paused in thought. "I do consider myself a good citizen."

"Then it's settled," said Jeffers. "I thank you. Your city thanks you. Timmons, get the cameras."

Steven waited while Timmons left his house. Jeffers just stood there, nodding and smiling at him vaguely. He felt a little uncomfortable as they waited silently. He wasn't quite sure he'd agreed to their plan, but Jeffers seemed to think he'd said yes.

Timmons re-entered his house carrying a box. He set it down and withdrew from it a stack of black cubes. He handed four to Jeffers and took four himself. "These are the latest hi-tech cameras we have, Mr. Hill. They don't even look like cameras, so we can hide them in plain sight." Within a minute the two detectives had placed the cameras around his living room. One was pointed at the front door. Others were aimed at the couch and some took in the entire room.

"Excellent placement," said Jeffers when they were finished. "That should capture everything."

"What do you want me to do?" asked Steven.

Timmons reached into the bottom of the box that had held the cameras and pulled out another box. "Go put this on," he said. "All you need to do is stand out in your front yard. But make it look natural--water the lawn, do some weeding, or something like that. Or if you want, put a towel out on the grass and lay out and get some sun. Whatever you like."

Steven looked inside the box. He pulled out a skimpy blue pair of underwear. He'd never seen men's underwear so tiny. Not only was there not much fabric there, the material was almost sheer and didn't hide anything. "I can't wear this outside!"

"Correct, sir," said Timmons. "That underwear is for the backup plan, in case the swimsuit doesn't work when you're outside. Or something might scare them off and they'll decide to come back later. But when they do, if you answer the door wearing that underwear, they're more likely to feel relaxed around you. It will be clear you're not wearing a listening device or that you're suspicious of anything. Make sense?"

"I guess so," said Steven. He put the skimpy underwear down and reached into the box again, his hand emerging with a men's bikini-style swimsuit. It was small. No, not small. Extremely small. It was black and seemed to have tiny Velcro fastening strips at the sides. He'd never worn a bikini-style men's swimsuit before. "I'm not so sure about this."

"We need your help, Mr. Hill," said Jeffers. "If you change your mind now, it will be too late to arrest them in this neighborhood."

"It isn't my size," he said, wondering how he'd gotten into this mess.

"The skimpier the better, but if you have another men's bikini you could wear, then that would be fine too..."

"I don't own a bikini. I wear normal men's swimsuits."

"Why don't you just go try it on," said Jeffers more firmly, just as his phone buzzed. "Okay," he said, after listening for a moment. "Got it." He switched the phone off. "The two suspects will be leaving the diner soon. So it's now or never, Mr. Hill. But please help us wrap this case up. We need you--you're our best chance." He waited while Steven just stood there staring at the bikini. "I don't want to say it's your duty, sir, but it really is important."

Finally, Steven filled himself with resolve. It was his contribution to the safety of the city, and he was a citizen. "I'll be right back." He turned and headed up the stairs.

Once in the bathroom, he dropped the robe and began putting the bikini on. At first the Velcro fasteners were awkward to position. The bikini seemed at least a size too small and cupped his groin in a way that made it bulge and seem larger than usual. And it felt like half or more of his buttocks were exposed.

This thing has got to be illegal, he thought, finally stretching the fabric enough for the fasteners to catch. He did consider himself a good citizen but he had never done anything remotely like this. I like my city, and this will be a chance to help out.

That thought vanished when he looked at himself in the full-length mirror. "No way," he said out loud. The bikini was much too small. Did any man ever really wear something like this? It was dark black and much too tight. The front of it barely covered his pubic hair, and he could easily see the outline of his penis and testicles. When he turned to inspect the back, the fabric there wanted to slip up into the crack between of his cheeks. He'd have to keep reaching behind to stretch it out. "Good lord, you look like a slutty beach bum or a porn actor," he spoke to his reflection.

Jeffers and Timmons looked up the stairs as he came down. He'd put his robe on again to cover his body and the ridiculously tiny thing. "Well?" asked Jeffers.

"I can't do this."

"But we need you, Mr. Hill."

"I have to think about my reputation. I have neighbors." The thought of Davis flashed through his mind.

"These criminals need to be stopped. How many more unsuspecting men will be victimized before we get enough evidence on them?"

"I can't go outside in this. What if someone sees me?" Steven stepped off the last step and looked up at the detectives. Both black men were a few centimeters taller than he was, and he was suddenly very aware of the size difference.

"How bad can it be, Mr. Hill? Why don't you show us how it looks?"

"I can't."

"Just drop that robe, open the door, and march out into your yard like you're at home and free to do what you like."

He stiffened his resolve again. Then he undid the belt on his robe and let it fall off his shoulders. Shyly, Steven looked at the detectives' faces. Timmons's eyes were bugging out. Jeffers now had some beads of sweat on his forehead. Both appeared to be struggling not to stare too hard at his chest and crotch. "My wife hasn't even seen me in something this skimpy."

"Umm ... it's ..." said Jeffers, fumbling for words. "I've seen men wearing less at the beach." Though he wasn't sure that was true.

"You're perfect," said Timmons, his eyes now running up and down Steven's body. "Just perfect for this. I've never seen... those con men won't be able to resist you."

"Let's just get this over with," Steven sighed.

"You're right--we're running out of time." Jeffers looked at Timmons and nodded. "We'll be right outside in our car, just up the street a bit. Also," he said with another quick look at Steven's crotch, "if the scammers don't come by today, we'll come back tomorrow with a men's bikini that's a little bigger to fit you better."

"What am I supposed to do again?" he asked.

"Just stand outside and try to attract their attention. Or walk around in the yard. If they approach you, listen to their offer, sign their fake papers, and give them a check for payment."