Criminal Obsession

[Toon]

(some true details included)

I've been a police sketch artist for two years now. It's not anything I started out wanting to do. As a kid,, I was always drawing and my greatest desire was to be a cartoonist at "Mad" magazine.  I majored in fine art once I got to college, but there were no cartooning classes. The closest I could come to doing what I loved was get a degree in "visual communication". It turned out that I was pretty good at other kinds of drawing. I excelled at portraits. So my plans were to draw pr paint people's portraits for a living. Or maybe illustrate children's books. But I wound up working for the police department. I knew I'd never get rich or famous, but I'd earn enough to have a decent life.

Most of my time was taken up listening to witnesses describe a suspect. If you've ever wondered why the police sketches you see look so vague it's because the witnesses are so vague in their descriptions. It's worse when there are multiple witnesses. You kind of have to mash all their remembered details into one drawing. That was what happened in the case of "The Lewen Park Pervert". Lewen Park was one of our city's nicest neighborhoods. He's pop out in front of joggers or walkers and expose his wiener for a few seconds. Sometimes he'd even jerk off a little. The guy seemed to have no preference about who he flashed. He showed himself to different races of men and women. My work buddy Josh got to do his sketch and I have to say it wasn't very good. Too many witnesses had muddled it all up into a generic drawing of a curly-headed guy with a full beard and dark eyes. It looked like a million characters you've seen on TV or in the movies. Or even just in your day-to-day life. A couple of calls came into the "Tips Hotline", but they were all busts. 

The case died and other pervs and killers and burglars took over the news. it wasn't until the guy exposed himself to the 18 year old daughter of a prominent family that things heated up again. I was brought in to create a new sketch. One of my drawings had helped catch a rapist and my reputation went up in the department. So then I was in a room with a detective and this "minor" who was not a little kid by far. She was 18 but could have passed for a senior in college. She looked almost my age. Luckily, she was very astute and well-spoken. She really helped me create a good sketch. She knew how to describe features way better than anyone else I'd worked with. I usually worked with just a regular pencil, a good eraser and paper. Some guys used iPads which had just come out a few years ago. I was old school. One of my drawing teachers once told me that a good drawing is a connection from brain to hand to paper. Add ears to that and I was following his advice exactly. Usually the witness sits across from you and talks, but I had this young lady next to me as I drew. She was so good at helping me refine details that I needed her to be part of the connection to paper. We worked together for almost two hours until the moment she saw him.

"Oh my fucking God! That's him exactly! It's almost like a photograph!"

It was released to the news outlets and the calls poured in. Lots of people had seen him different places, but nobody had a name or an address to go with the face. Another dead end. Even the psychic we sometimes worked with was no help. She was a nice lady named Mary who really seemed to be in touch with other worlds, but maybe she was just crazy.

I continued on, sketching crooks and molesters. No shortage of work in my field. I was proud of that Lewen Park Pervert drawing and kept a copy for myself. It would be weird if I got it framed. I guess. What was even weirder is what I did next. I scanned into my computer and used some new software I'd bought to enhance it. I knew from the general report that he was over 6'2", average weight and had a tan complexion. The hair on top of his head was what they called a "Jew-fro"  -- gone crazy. His beard made the general shape of his face hard to figure out. I kept fussing with details, and made the tiniest changes here and there. I did this night after night until I was having dreams about him. 

A week later, I contacted Psychic Mary over to help me. She didn't live far away. She came over with a bottle of wine and a tiny white box that contained a gift for me. It was a pretty blue rock which she told me was Aquamarine. 

"The stone represents water and has inspired artists for centuries. It represents the ocean of inspiration you have to let wash over you. Keep it near you when you draw".

Crazy lady. 

"Thanks, Mary. I'm getting pretty intent in getting this portrait to a perfect state. I'm sure he's trimmed the beard by now and probably cut his hair. I want this to be accurate".

We drank a few glasses of wine as I fiddled with the mouse and the keyboard. She made me turn off the TV because she needed to hear the city.

"He's out there still....I need to pick up his vibrations".

So crazy. I started erasing the beard little by little. I was almost down to getting rid of it altogether when she told me to stop. 

"He's kept some of it. Just a little. He's insecure without some facial hair".

I'd given her some paper and a pen and whatever she couldn't describe with words, she would draw. I shaped the face as to her specifications

"Maybe he's shaved his head completely", I offered.

"No. No. He's very hairy and the shaving would be a daily ordeal. He just cut it short. He looks like a Whole Foods customer these days. Very handsome".

I'd had enough for one night. I'm not used to wine and needed to go to bed.

Mary kept coming over each evening....always bringing wine and a new rock. Aventurine, Amethyst and others. All meant to aid my artistic tasks. 

We worked that portrait to death. I'd drawn a handsome man indeed. Working color into it was the next step. His hair and goatee were dark brown with tiny traces of red in spots. One night, she wouldn't leave until I got the complexion color just right. Soon -- it was perfect. She touched the screen with two fingers and closed her eyes.

"That's him. He's closer than you think, Scott".

"How close?"

"Way too close. Be careful. He's got a weapon with him and could harm or kill you. I know you're falling in love with him, but try to get past that. His name is Pete, by the way."

And then she wobbled out the door. I saved several copies of the file and even used a filter to turn one of them into what looked like an oil painting. I printed that one and had it framed. I hung it my bedroom and looked at it as I fell asleep. My Pete. I'd have so many dreams about him. The most disturbing one was where I was a woman and pregnant with his child. 

I took the portrait down and got away from the computer for awhile. I started walking every evening after work. There was a park nearby, but I didn't go there. I just walked around the neighborhood. One evening around dusk I saw a man come out of his house with a trash bag. He set it at the curb and started waling back. It was HIM! 

"Hey!"

He stopped. Looked my way and waved, confused.

"Do I know you?"

"You're Pete, right?"

"Yes".

"I'm Scott. Scotty. We met at Dan's thing, Remember?" (I knew from my job that everybody knew a 'Dan')

"Oh yeah! How you been?" 

"Good. Just taking a walk".

"Want to come in, have a beer and finish watching the game. We're down 6 to nothing in the 8th inning"

"Sure".

We got inside. I'd gotten the face perfect, but his build was larger than I would have guessed. A little taller, a little heavier. His home was cozy and dark. I remembered what Mary had said about him having a weapon. Most home owners were armed in one way or another. 

We settled on his couch and he kept serving us beers. The game was over. Our team had been slaughtered. 

He muted the TV and put on some mellow music. He kicked off his sandals and leaned back.

"So when exactly did we meet?"

I finished the beer. "We've met before, sort of. But not in the way you'd think".

"What do you mean?"

"Been to Lewen Park lately?"

His face showed pure shock.

"i...I....How?"

"I'm a sketch artist for the police department. I know faces I've drawn pretty well. Why in the world did you expose yourself to a teenager?"

He paused and gulped the rest of his beer. "I didn't know who she was until I saw the news report and the sketch. Are you going to turn me in?"

"No. I took an oath when I joined the force, but I've also used the Lord's name in vain many times. Which is worse?"

He relaxed a little and studied me closer.

"Why did you do it? Do you still do it?"

"The thrill. It would make me so horny to show of my dick. I'd rush home and beat off furiously every time".

"Hey -- we all have our kinks. Just don't do it anymore. Please. You'll accidentally show your junk to a minor some day and that'll be a whole new level of shit.

He nodded and we continued to drink beer and listen to the sleepy music. "I haven't done it since that rich chick saw me. But O gotta tell you, Scotty -- I get the urge constantly. I sleep with a boner every night".

"Well expose yourself to me".

"You're sure? Will you help me get off after I do?"

"I'm looking forward to it".

"OK. Here you go...." He pulled down his sweats and I saw his stiff and cut hard-on jutting straight out into the air. He watched me watching it. 

"Come suck it".

As I knelt between his knees, he stopped me. "You're a 'law and order' man, right? Well then you also know about consequence. Everything you do fro here on will have some sort of consequence".

I ignored his words and started slobbering on the huge tool. He was so worked up that he shot his load as deep into my mouth as he could get. I loved it and wanted to do it again and again. But he was spent for the night. I left my phone number on his kitchen table. Not even 24 hours had passed before he called and asked me to come over again. "Just walk right in, I'll be in the kitchen making mojitos. Ever had one? They're great".

I was there in a flash.

I walked in, and sure enough -- he was in the kitchen making sweet-smelling drinks. He was only wearing sweatpants. No shirt, socks or shoes. "Hey. How was work?" 

"Same. Nothing exciting". I could hear baseball coming from the living room so I went there and sat down. 

"He came in, carrying two glasses with a mint leaf garnish. They were really good and I felt the effects pretty fast. He was a pusher and kept them coming. I sat and drunkenly watched our team lose again. 

"Scotty -- come in here for a second".

I went into the kitchen, and he was completely naked, jerking his fat meat. I smiled and that made him harder. I took my position and swallowed his load again. 

This pattern kept repeating. He'd surprise me with his boner randomly and I'd suck him off.

He called again only ten hours later and wanted me to come over again, but I had a different idea. "Why don't you come to my place tonight. No booze. Just a little TV,maybe a movie."

"Perfect". I repeated my address and he was knocking at my door within minutes. I showed him around my small place and he made various comments about my stuff. We sat on my couch and drank iced tea. We watched "A League of Their Own" which was one of my top five favorites. He crossed his leg and his bare sole was inches from my knee. It was a very big, boxy foot. I reached over and started massaging it. 

"Oh God! That feels good. Will you do them both?"

He swung his legs into my lap and I went to work. He moaned and begged me to suck his toes. I did. For a long time.

"Thanks. I need to go pee". He left and I wondered about what was coming next.

"Scotty! Your toilet is overflowing!" Oh shit. Of course that would happen now. It was the weekend and I'd have to pay a plumber double.

I rushed into the bathroom and Pete was there jerking his boner. The plumbing was fine. "Let's go!"

"Come to my bed. Let's mix things up a little". He followed me and we lied down on top of the comforter.

"Ever fucked a guy?" I asked.

"A few times".

"Well I want you to get off inside of me".

"Suck me while I tell you story. Go on -- get your mouth on this thing".

I did. Slowly. He talked. "When I was 17, I was in a nasty motorcycle accident. I was messed up pretty bad and needed several surgeries. It was a university hospital and the doctors were good. BUT. But I got a blood transfusion that gave me HIV. I've lived with it for over ten years, Still want me to fuck you?'

"I want it, Pete".

"Remember how I warned you of consequences? If you don't remember, you're about to get reminded".

He got behind me and pulled up on all fours. "Got any lube?"

"No".

"Just relax then. I can't stop once I stop".

And he didn't. He just pushed slowly, inch by inch. I'd never felt like pain like this. I tried to scream, but he pushed my face into the pillow. Another inch. And another. He'd pause to give me a chance to get used to it. By the time I wasn't in agony anymore, he was all the way in. It still hurt, but some pleasure crept up my spine. He picked up the pace and then lost control, going wild. Going faster and faster until he stopped.

"Consequences, Baby". He kissed me and then went to sleep.

We either did that or I sucked him for a month...until I got the flu really bad. We ultimately moved into together. I finally showed his the framed picture of him, and he was amazed. We continued to be a mystery to each other, but good for each other at the same time. Whenever we weren't together, it felt like a piece of me was missing. He never got in trouble again.