EXTRACT FOR
Balls of Steel 1 and 2
(Author Unknown)

BOOK 1 - BALLS OF STEEL



    

    My name is Shannon Carr.  If you ask, some people may say I'm a cold hearted bitch. Some might say I don't have a heart. Some might even say I am a slut who slept my way up the ladder.  I suppose all of them might say I'm an ambitious woman that stops for nothing and no one.  They all would be right.  I am all those things.

    I've never denied that I like sex.  I like sex a lot and I like a lot of sex. As soon as I discovered boys or more correctly that lovely piece of meat they have I engaged in fucking every chance I got.

    Fucking interfered with my grades in high school until I figured out the right balance.  I balanced sports, academics and sex so that I graduated with a pretty good GPA. One day just before I graduated I saw an ad for the Army and I liked what I saw so I enlisted.

    I joined the Army to serve and I did a good job.  The Army wanted me to stay and go to officer's school but I didn't want that.  Progress and military promotions are too regulated and much too slow. Then I became a cop.  I wanted to serve and protect my city just as I had for my country.

    Just like in the military, women in the police have a rough way to go. Of course there are some things a woman can't do as well as a man might. I'll concede that. When I was in the army some instructors thought I or any woman should not be in combat. Bullshit. I can shoot as well as any man and better than some. I can hike as long and as far as the men and in fact I outdid some of the stronger types.

    I faced the same crap at the police academy I had to prove myself all over again and I did so. I scored overall highest in my class.  I left the academy and hit the streets as a rookie patrolman.

    My first training officer was an older black man by the name of Sergeant Carter. Fred J. Carter and he was a prick. For two weeks he made my life hell so I stopped him in his tracks. 

    Finally when I had enough I started to carry a micro tape recorder in my blouse and I recorded his shit.  One day close to the end of shift he really fucked up.

    "So Carr," he said. "How do you like your training so far?"

    "It could go a lot better, Sarge," I answered.

    "You want it to go better?"

    "It would be nice," I said. "What do I have to do to get you off my back?"

    "To get me off your back you have to get on your knees."

    "I don't understand.  Are you suggesting I should pray?"

    "Hell no," he said and laughed. "I'm suggesting you should get on your knees and suck my cock.  Here, let me show you what a real man's cock looks like."  The stupid bastard unzipped his pants and took his dick out.

    "Well, there's one myth destroyed," I said. "I've always heard that black men are well hung. You shouldn't call that little thing a cock.  That's a pee pee." Actually it wasn't that small.

    If I hadn't been armed I'm sure he would have hit me. He quickly drove us to the station.  He went to clock out and I went down the hall to internal affairs. He was history by noon the next day.

    The next day after than I met my new training officer.  My new TO was white, young, and cute. His name was Henry Taft.

    "Are you Daft?" I asked approaching him.  He was leaning against the car assigned to us.

    "Heard it before," he said. "Call me Hank. You drive, Carr and do not wreck us."

    Wow! Fat Freddy never let me get behind the wheel. Police cars always seem to be brand new or a junker with nothing in between.  This one was new.

    "We are Bravo one-two," he said. "You keep us between the white lines and off the sidewalk and I'll handle the radio."

    "Got it," I said and took us out onto the mean streets.

    We answered six calls before lunch.  Calls were something Sergeant Fred avoided. He never answered calls unless he absolutely had to.

    "So what happened to Carter?" Hank asked while we were taking a lunch break at a hot dog vendor's cart.

    "I heard he retired," I said trying to avoid things falling off the hot dog and onto my uniform shirt.

    "Shit, he retired for all practical purposes five years ago," my TO said with a snort. "He get touchy-feely?"

    "No, he was working up to that.  He wanted some oral service," I said.  I knew the truth would soon be all over the station. "I taped his request for a blow-job. Besides that he showed me something no girl should ever have to see."

    "What was that?"

    "A small black cock," I said. "Talk about disappointment. That broke my heart so I went to the rat squad."

    "Good," he said. "He was worthless anyway. Do you wear false teeth?"

    "No, why do you ask?"

    "Because you will if you ever record me," he said.  His smile was not cute. After that warning I left my recorder in my locker.

    "I think Carter had problems with women on the job," I said later as we cruised the streets.

    "Yeah, there are a lot of men like that on the force," Hank said. "Just so you know, I don't have a problem with it. All I ask is when I go through a door that my partner is right behind me."

    "I got your back, Jack," I assured him. 

    "Bravo one-two, officer needs assistance, shots fired. One block south of the city bus terminal on Oak Street," the radio blared.

    "One-two, Ten-four," Hank said. "Get your foot in it. Carr."

    "Bravo one-two," the calm voice said. "Be advised there are plain clothed officers and unmarked cars in the area." Hank acknowledged the call and told me to identify my target if I had to shoot.

    "Taking down a fellow officer is a bad career move," he said.

    By the time we arrived it was over with.  Two detectives had two suspects in custody.

    "Thanks for rolling on this, Hank," one of the dicks said. "You got here quick."

    "My partner has a lead foot," Hank said and introduced me to them.

    "You're the gal that finally got rid of Fred Carter.  A gigantic waste of space so thanks for that," the young black officer said. "Opened up a sergeant's slot, too."

    "Do you have a problem with black people?" Hank asked me when we were moving again.

    "I do not," I informed him. "I served with a lot of black soldiers and some of them were good friends."

    "Good, because our sector is about one third white, one third black, and one third Hispanic," he said. "Were you in Iraq?"

    "Briefly and then to Afghanistan.  I managed three tours there," I said.

    "Kill any bad guys?" he asked watching me closely.  When I didn't answer he laughed. "Good answer. It's none of my business but you will be asked the question. Want some advice?"

    "Always," I said.

    "When asked that or other probing questions about your military duty just say, "its classified"," he said. "Most people haven't been there and are just curious."

    "Were you over there?"

    "Three tours with the Marines in Iraq," he said.

    I felt better that he would understand. Combat has to be experienced to be understood. If someone tells you all about the heavy fighting they were in, they are most likely lying. That's not something most soldiers talk about with the possible exception of other combat soldiers.

    "I wanted to go to flight school and fly the Apache Longbow," I told him. "I loved watching them in action."

    "Why didn't you?"

    "Couldn't pass the physical," I said surprised at doing so.  I never told anyone about that.  Not that there was anything wrong with me because I am fine.  They just want the best of the best.  The upper one half of a percent make it to Apache training.

    "Yeah, I heard you have to be damned near a freak to make it to that school. We had the AH-1 Super Cobra."

    "That's a cool copter, too," I said. "They both can bring it." We chatted between calls about the equipment we used and the pros and cons.  Suddenly it was end of shift.  EOS came as a surprise.  It was my best day ever on the job.

    "Some of us wind down at Gill's Bar on Willow," Hank said after we had changed out of our uniforms. "Care to join me?" I was pleased he waited on me to come out and that he invited me.  I accepted.

    "Honey, are you old enough to drink?" the black bartender asked me when I ordered draft beer.

    "Behave yourself, Marty, and get the lady her beer," Hank said.

    Cop bars are no different than any other bar with one exception. Nearly everyone there was carrying a weapon. I suspect that even some of the badge bunnies or cop groupies carried. While we sipped our beer Hank told me about the bar.

    "Marty is the owner, bartender, and general funky," Hank said.

    "What happened to Gill?" I inquired.

    "He died about a hundred years ago," he answered. "Gill's has changed hands several times since then. Marty was a county deputy sheriff but good people. He took a bullet in the knee and had to retire. That's why he's so slow serving drinks," he added loud enough for Marty to hear.

    "Fuck you and the horse you rode in on," Marty said and got us two more beers.  I noticed he limped some but not much. I guessed his age at about thirty or thirty-five.  Rather handsome I thought.

    "Do you like being a publican?" I asked him.

    "I'm a Democrat," he said. I started to respond when I noticed he was smiling. "Yeah, it ain't bad. I only open in the afternoon and there are always enough thirsty cops to pay the rent.

    "You would make even more if you hired some help and maybe cleaned the place up every once in a while," Hank said. "You don't even have a TV, for pity sakes."

    "I know it and I should do all that shit but it took all I had to buy the place," Marty said. 

    "Why not get someone to invest?  Maybe two or three folks to be partners." I asked.

    "Good idea but most cops live from hand to mouth and can't invest in anything.  You interested?"

    "I might be," I said. "Why don't we talk and toss some numbers around?"

    "I saved some money while in the Army," I said to Hank when he looked at me inquiringly. I didn't see any reason to tell him I had some money my parents left me after they died.

    I was overseas when the car crash happened.  I got leave and flew home. Since I was an only child, I got everything and it was considerable. I put the money in the hands of an investor and went back to my outfit. I seldom gave the money any thought.  I'd paid my own way since high school.

    The only money I spent from the inheritance was to buy a new car when I got out of the police academy.  Of course I advised the department and internal affairs department I had extra money and how I got it. I didn't live much above my cop's pay but I didn't want IAD snooping around me for any reason.

    "I can't explain why I want to own a bar," I told Hank. "But I do.  I have for a long time. Not that I want to run a bar, I just want to drink free. What do you know about Marty and can I trust him?"

    "I've known Marty since high school," he said. "We played football on the same team. I know he comes from a big family. His old man was a cop and his grandfather was a cop. Got some uncles on the job, too.  As far as I know Marty is as honest as the day is long. I can't say if you should trust him but I would."