That was the only thing I could think to say as the searing pain that started in my ass went everywhere. I hit the ground while my mind struggled to remain sharp enough to see where that shot came from. I though Perez was covering me.

Fuck.

It was Perez who fired her weapon. Son of a bitch. This fucking hurts and she just stands there, holding it up, looking shocked at her actions. Probably not as shocked as I look. I was shot in the ass by a woman. I'm going to have to lie about this for the rest of my life. There's no way anyone outside of this room can know about this. I was a goddamn Marine and now I have friendly fire burning in my ass. No way in hell anyone is going to find out a woman . . . one of my own . . . shot me when she lost it.

My brain starts to whirl around in a haze. People are shouting things. Some in Spanish. Some in English. One of them could be Perez. Something about an officer down and I panic until I remember it's me. I'm the one with the bullet in his ass. Jesus Christ, who trains these people?

Deputy Campos is leaning over me, telling me it's going to be all right. Fuck. I know that. I didn't take a bullet to the gut or chest. This is my ass we're talking about. Perez is still pacing around, looking like she just killed a litter of kittens. This place is a rat hole and I'll probably die of some infectious disease from lying here on the ground. So much for my damn kevlar vest. I didn't think I needed one for my ass.

"At least we got them," Campos says, smiling at me. He plays with the long edges of his mustache, looking like the cat that ate the fucking canary. Yeah. We cleaned out a meth lab that will just be back somewhere else next week. Meanwhile, by the time they have rebuilt, I still won't be able to sit down. He touches my wrist and his look turns to one of concern. "Where in the hell are the goddamn EMTs?"

I hear the beautiful sound sirens coming this direction. That's when the pain finally becomes too much. One of the suspects fires a spit rocket at me as they lead him out the door and everything starts to go black. Fuck this. I have to find a better way to make a living.

***************

One week later

"You going to be okay today, Victor?" my mother asks as she picks up her handbag and gets ready to leave. She insists on dropping by everyday now, just to check up on me.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," I say as I slump down on the couch, avoiding putting pressure on my left ass cheek. I pick up the remote control and flip through several stations, finally settling on 'The Price is Right.' That ought to make me forget everything.

"You need to get out of this apartment, you know. It's not doing you any good to sit here and piss and moan," my mother says. She smooths down the front of her dress and pulls a piece of spearmint gum out of her bag, carefully folding up the wrapper so she can use it later to spit it out.

"I will, I will. I just don't feel like it right now," I say, cringing as a pillow tumbles in the direction of my ass.

"And work. You've got to think about going back to work someday. You aren't still embarrassed that a woman shot you, are you?" she asks with a smile. Actually, I've taken quite a bit of teasing about it. Mostly from my mother and my sister. I think Caridad is just jealous that she wasn't the one who got to pull the trigger.

"No, I'm not. I haven't gone back to work because I can't walk," I say, trying to ignore her and focus on how much these morons think a dining room table go for. That way I don't have to think about the real reasons I don't want to go back to being a Deputy Sheriff. Don't have to think about what else there is to do.

"Right, Victor. I'll see you tomorrow. Caridad said she might stop after she gets off of work and check up on you," my mother says, referring to my sister's job as a cashier at the Jewel Osco. Maybe that is what I'll do next. Bag boy. Chances are, the other bag boys wouldn't be shooting at me.

"Thanks for the warning," I say as my mother goes out the door, still laughing about my unfortunate 'accident.'

I roll over on the couch, trying to get more comfortable as I wait for the final showcase. So far this week, I've done better than those losers on TV.

***************

Someone is banging on my front door. Shit. It must be Caridad. I try to shake myself out of my half-asleep state so I can deal with her smart ass comments. I look at the clock on the wall and try to figure out why in the hell she'd be off work at 7 p.m. She's usually stuck there until at least 9 p.m. or later. Maybe if I'm lucky, she brought some food.

"Come in!" I shout as she continues to bang away. I fumble around with the remote control, managing to turn the TV off right as the door opens.

Fuck. It's worse than Caridad. It's Veronica Perez.

"You know, you should really lock your door. Some of those suspects from the lab bust were released today. You never know how pissed they might be," Perez says, closing the door behind her and clicking the lock. I haven't seen her since I was in the hospital. I'm not sure I want to see her now. She stands there staring at me, her hands on her hips. Her long legs stick out of the short skirt she's wearing and they are more tanned than they were before. She must be suspended or something.

"I didn't think it was the suspects I had to worry about," I say, moving a little and bitching about it the whole time. It still hurts and I'm not going to let her forget about it.

"You aren't funny," she says, looking so damn serious her face could crack.

"Hey, I deserve to *not* be funny. I haven't been able to sit down for a week now. Let me shoot you in the ass and we'll see how funny you are, Perez," I say, looking away from her.

"You can call me Ronnie. Or at least Veronica. We aren't at work. You don't have to keep calling me Perez," she says as she comes closer to me.

"You can keep calling me Galindez," I say, playing with the remote control in my hand. I wonder how offended she would be if I turned on the TV right now. I think it's time for 'Wheel of Fortune.'

"Whatever, Galindez," she says, sitting down next to me. I cringe even more as the couch shifts position and rubs against my ass. The only clothing I've been able to get on in the last few days are either sweat pants or boxer shorts. Lucky for Ronnie here, I have on a pair of USMC sweat pants. "So, how have you been?"

"Besides the additional hole in my ass? I've been doing okay," I lie, still not looking at her. I was almost happy with my career until this. There were days I could fake some sort of career contentment. Then she had to go and shoot that all in the ass. Now I'm not sure I want to go back out there with people as incompetent as she is. I know she's been reprimanded severely, but I'm still the one watching 'The Young and the Restless' in the middle of the afternoon.

"That's not what Campos said. The gossip is you're thinking of quitting. Fuck, Galindez. It was an accident. I panicked. You don't have to quit because of my misjudgment," Perez says, her dark brown eyes pleading with me. Her hair that is usually pulled up onto her head is now flowing over her shoulders and she plays with the end of a strand nervously.

"What about the next time someone makes a bad judgment call? I honestly don't want to die while busting up damn drug runners who'll be out before we can even figure out what the hell happened," I say. She mentioned that the latest suspects got out, but she never said how. "How did they get out this time?"

"Illegal search and seizure," she says, casting her eyes down to her lap.

"What the hell do you mean illegal search and seizure? That thing was as legal as they come! Fuck that!" I shout, wishing I could get up and go fuck up whatever judge decided that. He probably doesn't have a spare hole in his ass. The one he has is probably used enough.

"Ashton didn't have the paperwork filed right before we went in. I don't know what to say. The whole thing was a screw up from beginning to end," she says, trying to explain. I just put up my hand. I don't want to hear anymore. "I'm sorry, Galindez."

I squirm around, not caring about the pain right now. Now we'll just have to go in and bust those assholes wherever they go next. I don't feel like doing this anymore. The war against drugs just isn't going so well. It isn't the type of war I was trained to fight. I most certainly wasn't trained to fight in a war where the other side can get off on a technicality.

"I don't believe it this time. I just don't believe it," I say, grimacing. I can't beat the criminals and my own people are shooting at me. I have to get out of this line of work. I've had enough.

"Galindez, don't take me shooting you as something personal," Perez says and I start laughing. That has got to be the dumbest thing anyone has ever said.

"I don't. I just don't want to go back out there where people panic too easily. I don't want to put myself in that position again," I say and she bites her bottom lip, trying to fight back tears. Oh, shit. Don't start crying now. I don't need her guilt flowing out all over the place.

"I said I'm sorry. There must be some way I can make up for it. Victor, I like you. I always have. Christ, it was an accident. I mean, if it wasn't an accident, don't you think I would have taken a shot at Campos' cheesy mustache first?" she asks and I actually laugh. The women are always making fun of Campos and his handlebar mustache. He likes to sit in meetings and twirl the ends of it.

"I'm sorry. I've just been reexamining my life and you are part of what forced me to do that," I say, moving around a little more. It hurts no matter what I do. The only time it doesn't feel so bad is when I'm lying on my stomach.

"Let me make it up to you," she says, her voice growing incredibly soft and breathy. I look at her and she's concentrating on the crotch of my sweats now. Where in the hell did this turn of events come from?

"Perez . . . Ronnie. Really, it's okay," I say, putting up my hands in front of me. I don't really need this kind of sympathy. Do I?

She moves a little bit closer to me, pushing my hands down with hers. "Come on, Victor," she says, using my first name twice now. "Let me make you forget about the pain for a while."

"H-how do you plan on doing that? I mean, I can't exactly move very well . . . I'm, oh shit," she takes her hand off of mine and brushes it across my cock, her fingers feeling me through the material of my sweat pants. She licks her lips with anticipation or delight or something as I grow hard under her touch.

"I think I can figure something out," she says and I start to think of all the very practical reasons we shouldn't be doing this. I need to think about them while I still can.

"Ronnie, I'm your superior . . ."

"You said you were quitting . . ."

"What if I change my mind?" I ask, looking at her intense dark eyes. She is focused completely on me and she opens her mouth just a little, allowing her tongue to dart out and brush across those red lips again.

"What if I quit? I'm the one who shot you," she says, rationalizing this all too easily.

"Are you quitting?" I ask, looking down to my lap. She's now slinking her hand in under my sweat pants and my cock is begging for her touch.

"Only if you really want me to," she says as the conversation suddenly shifts from our jobs to what we are doing here.

"I don't think I do," I say as she wraps her hand around me, her thumb doing just the right thing. "Stand up, Victor. It won't hurt as much."

I do as she says, struggling to get off the couch without it coming into contact with my ass cheek. Perez pulls me to her gently, careful of what she touches.

"I'll let you slide your pants down," she says, looking up into my eyes. "I don't want to hurt you more."

I do it carefully, avoiding both my sore ass and my stiff cock. Her eyes open wide when she lifts up my t-shirt and looks at my hard-on. She licks her lips again. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea. I can't wait for that tongue to come into . . .

. . .oh, yes. Contact just like that. She takes my cock into her mouth, her tongue lapping around the head. Then she wraps her lips around the shaft and she begins bobbing up and down on it, leaving behind a trace of her candy apple red lipstick. She's right. I can almost forget about my ass while my cock is getting serviced like this.

She brushes her fingernails against my balls and I tremor in pleasure. Jesus. Maybe I should have let her shoot me a long time ago. Or maybe I should be glad it wasn't Campos who shot me. I nearly laugh at the thought of his moustache tickling my dick and Ronnie turns her eyes up toward me.

"Nothing. I'm sorry," I say, and she continues on. I thrust into her mouth and she takes it in, making little gulping noises occasionally. I swear I'm about to come in her mouth when she pulls back.

"Victor, I want you in me. Now," she says. She scoots back on my couch and pulls her skirt up. She slips out of her underwear quickly and I just stand there staring with my mouth open as she parts her legs and invites me into her damp core. We haven't even kissed and now we are going to fuck. She must feel bad.

"Hold on," I say, managing to make it to my bedroom and back without killing myself. I throw the box of condoms on the couch and put on the one I have in my hands. She looks at the opened box, probably trying to figure out how many I've already used out of there. I'll never tell.

I drop to my knees and she puts her legs up over my shoulders, not wanting to brush up against my ass by wrapping them around my waist. This is better, anyway. This way I can get maximum penetration. That ought to make me forget about the little twinge of pain I'm still feeling.

Sweet Jesus, this feels good. I rub my cock against her wet folds a few times before I slide in, letting the wonderful feeling of her tightness flow through my body. She does have a great body and she has obviously had a bikini wax lately. All that's left of her curls is a tiny V right on her pubic mound. The rest is waxed clean. God, it's so fucking smooth and I cannot believe this is happening.

"Harder, Victor. Fuck me harder," she moans out, her fingers going to her clit as I hold onto her legs. I've stepped out of my blue funk and into some damn blue movie. I can't believe this. "I've wanted you for so damn long. Wanted this."

She's moaning and writhing now, her hand continuing to work against her clit as I start to pound into her hard. Her breasts bounce under her blouse from the force and I wish I could see them. As if on cue, she tugs her shirt up out of the waist of her bunched up skirt and unclips the front of her bra. I stare at her breasts as they heave up and down, wishing I could get my mouth on one of them. Maybe in a bit. Right now I can only focus on what my cock is doing.

Ronnie grazes her fingers across one of her nipples, making it harden under her touch. Every time I thrust into her, it forces a gasp of air out of her throat, followed by a moan. It doesn't take much and her body is pulsing around mine and she screams out my name so loudly I'm sure the building super will be up here yet. Probably concerned that someone shot me again.

Then with the force of that bullet that hit me, I come inside of her. My whole body spasms and any gunshot wound is long forgotten as I spiral off into a much happier place. A place where women show up at my door all the time and fuck me.

But as soon as it's over, I start to feel the strain from behind again. Ronnie drops her legs around me and I hold onto the condom as I pull out of her.

"That was good," she says as she lies there looking spent. She doesn't go to cover herself and I take it all in. Why didn't I notice she was so beautiful before? Probably because I was too busy dodging her bullets.

"Yes, it was," I say as I struggle to get up. I put my sweatpants on again and she looks disappointed. I limp over to the garbage can and dispose of the used condom and put the rest of them away. For now. When I get back, she's still lying there, exposed, her hand brushing against her folds now, circling her clit. Jesus. This really might make me feel better. I just stand and watch as she brings herself to climax again, this time the tremors not as pronounced as the first time but still there.

"You might want to get dressed. My sister is supposed to be dropping by to check on how I'm doing," I say when she finishes. She frowns as she pulls on her thong underwear and straightens out the rest of her clothes.

"What are you going to tell her?" Ronnie asks. I give her a smile.

"I'm going to tell her I'm doing a hell of a lot better than I was yesterday."

****************

The End