Oct. 31, 2017
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7 minute read
I used to be an armed guard. I worked various places doing everything from k9 patrols to personal protection. (ViPs, vulnerable installations, embassies, apartment complexes etc.) I had been working the graveyard shift over a summer and autumn at a place in Ottawa notorious for student parties, freaks and other odd and assorted beings. To give you an idea: It was and still is known as The Four Holes.
While working the The 4H Club I had been shot at by a pellet gun (sniper style), had a sofa and a desk thrown at me from somewhere above the 10th floor (on two different occasions, mind you... not the same night), and the usual bricks and fire crackers aimed in my general direction. And that was just the first four weeks. The best were the frozen Glad XTraTuff bags of water and garbage.... tossed randomly into the parking lot from somewhere up the tower. That shit can kill.
Anyway, as you can imagine, in a complex of over 500 apartments with thousands of people not everybody sleeps between 2200h and 0600h. I was often visited or sought out on my patrols by what I can only describe as Security Groupies and Night Freaks. It's a weird phenomenon particular to nightshift work: people that work and live outside the norm, the usual hours of society, tend to congregate together and form a kind of after midnight community. I would see the same people living their lives in the dark... like walking the dog at 3am, or doing laundry at dawn or sitting out in the quad having coffee at 2am. We would get to chatting and, people being people sharing a common experience, we would get to know one another.
One of these people was known as Annastasia. She was a voluptuous Arab woman with long brown hair, about 25 at the time. (I was 19 or so, just before meeting Maple). We had run-ins a few times... she was a trouble maker. One night I had to politely request that she leave the pool... it was closed after hours. She emerged naked and apparently had only brought a small towel with her for her early morning swim. I must say I did enjoy escorting her back to her apartment, graciously providing my coat to cover her brown derriere.
One night the RCMP delivered her to the lobby... the officer telling me that, against his better judgement, she had managed to convince him that the better part of valour was discretion and insisted that she be taken home. I would have loved to have heard her work that poor young constable, somehow bending him to her will.
On another occasion she called in a noise complaint and insisted that I sit with her in her apartment for a spell in a vain attempt to detect the origin of the suspected noise. It turned out to have been an enormous vibrator that had somehow turned "itself" on in the closet. I had the very real pleasure of finding it but an uncomfortable situation to be sure. I managed to extricate myself without causing offense or offering her a reason to destroy me. Could you imagine how that might look to my superiors? The media? Armed and alone with a "frightened" woman. You talk of bold-type headlines... yeesh. "'ARMED GUARD HOLDS WOMAN IN HER OWN APPARTMENT' story at 11." Anyway, thankfully, as it turned out, she was not evil or vindictive... just terribly vivacious and spontaneous.
One night in particular stands out where Annastasia was concerned. I was sitting in the company car watching for that week's possible XTraTuff airmail delivery when she approached my door. The air was cool that fall night so I had to roll down the window. Her hair was wet and she was wearing a long rain coat but it was a clear night. "Been swimming, I see, eh Annastasia?" "Yes." she said. "And I'm freezing." She moved closer to the door and, leaning in, unbuttoned her coat. "Hmmm, I can feel the heat coming out of your car" she said as she fully opened her coat and completely covered the window, blocking my view of all but her ample breasts, soft midriff and dark tuft between her legs. "Let me warm up."...
So, with her tits poking me in the temple and my hand fumbling for the transmission I say to her from beneath my impromptu tent "Annastasia! This looks bad... even for you. I mean, it looks like someone's getting a blow job here." She backed up and said "good idea" and she ran around to the other side of the car and jumped in.
Truthfully, I had previously thought about how I would react to Annastasia should a situation somewhat like this arise. I had decided that, fuck it, I would just let it roll...see where it went. Well, I didn't have to wait long to find out. She had no sooner closed the door behind her when she was literally clawing at my Sambrown, searching for my zipper. She wrenched open the gun belt and, finding my fly, pulled out my member and began at once furiously jerk and suck me off.
I was just giving into the pleasure when I heard a thump on the floor of the car. I looked down and past her feverishly bobbing head and flailing hair to see my .38 Special, out of its holster, lying on the floor. "I don't like guns" she said, "so I put it out of the way." Startled to have been so easily disarmed I immediately leaned forward and down, reaching for my pistol. During this maneuver, Annastasia kept up her vigorous ministrations. Successful, I sat back, and with what I imagine was a somewhat self satisfied grin, the gun raised, poised to be slipped back into its holster, I turned to my left and found myself staring into the eyes of a fellow motorist, his car still rolling to a near halt.
It was my supervisor: ex Royal Navy sailor and totally bullet proof. So, there I am: raised gun in hand for no particular lawful reason, girl going like mad on my groin. A perfect picture of Firing Offence and Righteous Prosecution all rolled into one greasy scene. I blanch... blood draining from my face and my cock. My supervisor, no dummy, takes one look at me and, without outwardly denoting any apparent acknowledgement of what's before him, mouths "back in five", rolls on, rounding the corner, leaving the parkinglot.
Heart pounding, I slumped back just as Annastasia realised that her best efforts were now going to waste. "Aww, your such a shit," she said. Completely unaware of the drama that had just transpired. She sat up and began to quickly button up her coat, clearly showing her frustration and exasperation in the process. "Ya know, buddy... you're a bit of a let down." She said, then sat back and stared at me for a full two minutes.
I was about to speak, explain what had happened for me to loose my concentration so obviously and suddenly, when the sweep of headlights lit up our space. She got out, gently closed the door and crossed the lane and intercepted the oncoming car. She stood there, and as the car came to a slow stop just in front of her, she once again unbuttoned her coat and, flasher-style, revealed herself in all her naked glory. The glare of the lights did nothing to hide the sly smile on my supervisor's face as he looked at me and signaled for Annastasia to get in. As they drove off, I thought of the various protests I could have offered up but I was just glad at that moment to still have a job and not have a criminal record.
The next week I was suddenly posted to a night club for a month... the ManX. They had been receiving threats and wanted to, as the doorman said, "beefcake up security a bit, lover." One whole month! I like queers as much as the next person but standing outside a gay bar five nights in a row, INCLUDING every Friday and Saturday for four weeks straight.... well that's just cruel. But I did meet some great people so lemonade out of lemons. From then on though, no matter my location, when my supervisor would drop by he'd just look at me, check over my uniform, and then physically check my holster, patting it each time. Usually chuckling.
So, Dear Reader, if you read this far... thank you. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did please leave a "like" or a comment or both. I enjoy the feedback... positive and constructive.
- Leaf, 2017