At first I felt like some kind of superhero, but I lied to the police. He told them the truth, but it was “He Said/She Said,” and they believed me…
He’s in jail now, for Breaking and Entering, but I agreed to drop the Attempted Rape charge if he pled guilty.
Well, he did break into my house. Strung out, looking for drugs, or money for drugs. He found me instead, and along story short. I called the cops, talked him into letting me tie him up, and beat him unconscious before they came in to arrest him.
That’s not what I told them, but I’m just going to skip right past how I figured out what apartment was his. By process of elimination, but it’s not very interesting, and I have a lot more exciting things to tell you about.
A different building, on the second floor, but his balcony facing the back wall. It’s kind of a hill, but they put up a wall to hold it back, and I guess they had to dig it out to put up another building there. Irregardless, there wasn’t any neighbors in the next building behind there, because it was just a wall, built into the side of a hill.
I could go around the block, and through the park to look out. Down through the guardrail, and think about what happened. After dark, I could even stick my hand down my pants, and hump it to orgasm, holding my mouth so I didn’t squeal out loud, but nobody walked up on me.
I can’t say that was the plan, exactly. I never planned on somebody breaking in my house, on a Saturday night when I’m supposed to be out partying. Drinking free drinks, maybe getting high if they offer me drugs, the old life of a party girl.
Back before the whole lockdown changed my life, and I spent a year cooped up with nothing but my fingers, and internet porn. Yeah, I know, they make toys for that. I even tried them, but other friends’ toys. I’m not going to say I’m bisexual.
I was bi-curious, then I had sex with one of my friends, our friendship got awkward after that, and we couldn’t stand each other any more. We just fought over stupid stuff, not actually saying what the problem was, but I guess that turned me off.
All my other bisexual experiences were just partying. Losing my inhibitions, and letting whatever happen, happened. I can’t really go back to that life, I don’t even want it any more. I can’t believe how many years, and how much money I wasted on that until I woke up to another life that only seems more exciting.
I don’t mean “Woke,” as in WASPs making fun of black people for protesting their brothers, and sons getting shot, unarmed on the street. This isn’t about Social Justice, I’m a thrill seeker. I guess a bit of an Extrovert, and even an Exhibitionist, now that I think about it.
“Look what she was wearing!” Nothing, I didn’t even pull the sheet up to cover me until I heard him, breaking into my house. I mean, he literally Woke me up, going through the drawers in the living room, while I was in bed, asleep. Naked, alone, and vulnerable, but I’m not stupid.
TAP TAP TAP TAP! “Uhn!” I closed my eyes, and remembered. Wondering what that sound was, only it wasn’t so loud.
t t t t…
In the other room, right next to my bedroom. Literally next door to my window. The glass breaker, on the patio door. I can only assume that he somehow got on the roof. Dropped down too quietly for me to wake up, and scratched the pane with the little wheel.
TINK! It fell in, and shattered on the little white ceramic tile, in his kitchen. Instead of falling on the little bathmat I had just inside the patio door, to my apartment. “Huh!” That made me jump, pat the zipper over my chest, and pant for breath in the mask.
The black mask, hoody, and matching ripstop SpecOps SWAT BDU pants. At least that’s what it said on the Army/Navy Surplus website I ordered them from. Even the smallest size didn’t really fit me, but they’ve got these little buckles you can pull the straps to tighten them. A black webbing belt, with 2 box shaped rings to slip the end through, and pull tight. Tuck the end in the belt loops to hold them up on my hips.
While I reach through the hole, in the patio door. Square hole, I wonder if those suction cup thingies they have in the movies, to make a perfect circular hole ones are made up? I sure couldn’t find one, but you’d need a backpack to carry it, at least.
The glass cutter only cost $3.49+tax, the packing and shipping cost more than that, so it was almost a whopping 10 bucks! Also, you can carry it in a pocket, as easy as a bulky marker. So yeah, I’m guessing that’s just made up, in the movies. It’s just easier to cut a square, and tap around the corners until the glass breaks on all 4 sides.
“Huh!” Maybe they’ll think that he practiced on his own patio door first? I mean, if they ever got around to searching his place. Not much to find, I can’t smell the pizza boxes, stale beer in bottles and cans. All over the place, some of them in the recycling bin, but I can remember.
Being a party girl, you end up going back to their place a lot. Bachelor pad, got it.
I just got out my flashlight, and shined it around. Some cockroaches scattered, and fled under the cabinets, so I stepped onto the carpet to the living room. More pizza boxes, beer bottles and cans. A bong on a side table with a lampshade over it.
Just in case the cops stop by, and don’t know what a bong looks like, but if he had any drugs. He wouldn’t be breaking into my house looking for drugs, or money to buy them. He’s probably not going to have the money to pay for the patio door, with the piece just taped up to hold it back in place.
I don’t know what I’m looking for. Some revenge, I already got my revenge, and it was the biggest rush I ever had. Like speedball, Jager bombs, and Meth rolls all kicking in at once. “Huh!” That’s what I’m looking for, another fix, but he’s not here.
In the bedroom, his unmade bed is empty, so I pulled my mask down, and took a deep breath. Just to smell him, his dirty clothes on the floor. His hair on the pillow, and unbuttoning my pants. Damn these button up pants. Why doesn’t the SpecOps just use zippers, like normal people?
The sweatshirt is hot, of course. So, I unzip it to reach in, and pull the tape off my nipple. To protect it from the zipper, but I barely got started. Laying down on his bed, with my face in his pillow. One hand down my pants, and a nipple in the fingers of the other, when I heard a sound.
Keys jangling, then the door hitting the wall right next to me. Right next door, did the cops come to search his place for evidence? Now, when he’s already in jail?
“What the, who’re you?” he turned on the light, “And what are you doing in my fucking room?”
“A friend of mine told me to come check on you, as a surprise.” His eyebrows went up, when I spoke. With my mask back up, I walked towards him. My heart beating even faster, deeper, and harder so it pounded in my ears.
“What friend?” he backed up a step, but put his hand up on the doorframe.
“You know Gordon.”
“Gordon, Lawrey?” He looked over at the kitchen. “What the fuck did you do to my patio doAH!”
I pulled my stungun out, and hit him in the ribs. Holding the trigger with my thumb as soon as I made contact so it didn’t spark, and flash loudly.
“AH, you bitch!” He jumped back, and then swung through the doorway, instead of falling down twitching to the floor. What kind of stun gun is this? I grabbed the door knob, and swung it, trying to slam it but I caught his arm before it closed all the way.
“AH! I’m gonna get you AHHHHH!”
“Yeah, take it, you like that?”
“AHHHH! AHHHH!” he finally manage to yank his arm out, but only after I gave him a bunch of shocks. As fast as I could catch it swinging around.
“GET OUT! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE YOU SICK FUCKED UP BITCH!”
I ran, before somebody heard him, and called the cops. “Damnit!” I ran down the walkway to the stairs, and almost fell down. My glove slipped on the railing, but I jumped, and skipped the last few to the landing. Grabbed it, and swung around, to jump the last one to the ground.
“UH FUCK!” My ankle twisted, and I hit my knee hard.
“SOMEBODY STOP HER! BEFORE SHE GETS AWAY!” I barely had time to look up, and see him waving a phone.
“Uh, get up, get up Jan! Get UP!” I managed to limp, on 1 weak knee, and a twisted ankle, but I had to cut around another building. The back way, and I didn’t even realized how badly I fucked up the superhero landing before I got back to my building.
“Huh, huh huh!” I laughed bitterly at myself, and that helped the pain a little bit. “Some hero, you are.” Still too weak to even think about limping up 2 flights of stairs, let alone climbing the knotted rope, even if I hadn’t left it hanging from the grapple hook over the railing of his balcony.
“What’s wrong with you? You’re crazy, you finally lost it, and now you’re breaking into rando guy’s houses, thinking that will somehow get back at him, for what you did to him?”
I’m talking to myself. Out loud, which isn’t a brilliant plan when you’re hiding from the cops, but of course they’re not going to show up any time soon. Why should they? I could have been raped, if I hadn’t been smart enough, fast enough, and slutty enough to use the only weapon I had. Alone, and naked in bed.
You need to think, Janice. You need to think now. They’re going to know that you’re not a victim here, if they catch you in the act. At least try to think of some excuse for breaking into an apartment, because you thought it was his.
Gordon’s of course. The only name I could think of was Gordon’s, but he’s lucky to be locked up, where I can’t get to him.
“Fuck!” I finally smacked my head, when I got back around to the park. The hill where I can hide behind a bush, and look under it. Watch it, and keep an eye on the police, to see and maybe hear if they might suspect it’s me, instead of another copycat.
“I’m not the good guy, either.” I finally realized. “I’m the villain!” It felt good to laugh, sincerely this time. Instead of myself for being so stupid, and fucking myself up on the superhero landing.
I wonder how much it would cost you to get some of those Bluetooth mics so I could bug his apartment? I should have thought of that before I broke in, but I didn’t even check to see if he had a room mate.
He’s not Gordon, but he’ll do. I’m still going to need a victim to get my next fix. “There you are, uh.” Looks like he took a shower. “Just wait until my leg heals up, huhHhuh, and I’ll be right back for a rematch…”
;
Janus (F Solo Planacy/Denouement)
“Huh!” It turns out that stun guns aren’t really stun guns. They didn’t say that on the Saber website, of course. I had to look it up on the Self Defense forums, then ask why they don’t actually stun your V. I mean, Attacker?
Because it’s a contact weapon. If you’re close enough to stun them, then they’re close enough to grab you. Then you both end up on the floor, unconscious. Then, you wake up, and start the fight all over, but that’s not a Taser. Those are like 15″ of wires, so you can shoot them way over there.
A Saber is designed for Pain Compliance. “Ooh, whoohahehihn!” I like the sound of that “Pain Compliance.” I typed that in.
[Pain Compliance, what’s that? Politically Correct way of saying Torture? I don’t want to hurt him, I want to knock him out.]
Submit.
Edit.
“I probably shouldn’t say that.”
Cancel.
Delete Message.
[So what should I get, if it’s not Effective, and how can Saber sell “Pain Compliance” doesn’t that sound like tort…] <<<<<<<<< [How can Saber sell it as a Stun Gun, isn’t that false advertising?]
Then, the cop knocked on my door. “HELLO?”
“Sorry to bother you, Ms. Martin.”
“It’s Martine, what do you want?”
“It’s Officer Balentine. I’m sorry, I got your name wrong.”
“Well, Ms. Valentine, are you married?” She’s Mexican, so she says Balentine, even though it’s spelled Valentine.
“Yes, that’s my married name.” How romantic. “I just need to ask you some follow up questions. You want to do this shouting through the door?”
“No,” I looked back around my living room, for anything I had to hide. “Just a sec.”
“Take your time, I know this must be hard for you…” I just tuned her out, muffled through the door, she got quieter, and of course I don’t have any drugs to hide. I’m not a drug addict, I’m an adrenaline junkie, but I Xed out the Self Defense forums, put my phone on the living room charger, and went back to the door.
“Still there?” I looked back, and my screen went dark.
“Yes.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, of course.” I figured they sent a man cop, and a girl cop so he could deal with the burglar, while she dealt with me, but I have to grit my teeth, and get used to her treating me like a Victim.
“Okay,” I pulled out the chain. “I’m opening the door.”
Maybe she can give me some advice on better self defense weapons…
;
M. Valentine (FF Talk NS)
“Are you all right?”
“Yeah, much better.”
“You’re limping.”
She laughed it off, “Yeah, I just whacked my knee on the corner of my kitchen counter. You want a drink?”
“I’m on Duty.” I got out my notes.
“I’ve got Ice Water, Soda, or Coffee. I’d have to make it, if you’d rather have coffee.” She held open the fridge, shaking an empty carton of milk, and free-threw it into a trashcan on the other side of the room.
So, I reached in, and got a can of Diet Dr. Pepper out of the 18 pack. No impressive feat, across the room was a yard, maybe a yard, and a half.
We’re not supposed to accept drinks from suspects, but she can’t poison or drug me through an unopened can. So, I popped the top, and backed up to the sofa.
The problem is, I don’t want to believe her story. I want to believe his, which makes her a suspect. He broke into her apartment, found her naked in bed, she seduced him. He thought it was his lucky night, but she tricked him. Talked him into trying bondage, tried to rape him, forced oral sex, then covered his ears with her thighs when he started hearing the sirens.
She called 911, before that. We know this, for a fact. Then, I saw her after, and she tried to lie about what happened. She didn’t act like a victim, she let us in naked, and told her side of the story without even trying to cover it up. She was proud of herself, and honestly, I couldn’t help admiring her for it, until I got another call.
From another unit, another break in, in the same apartment complex. This time the tables were turned, a woman broke into a man’s apartment, through the patio door. Same MO, glass cutter, except for a modified umbrella reinforced into a crude folding grapple, and knotted rope to climb up.
Instead of dropping down from the roof to her balcony. Not much more than that, but the secondary victim mentioned that he saw her limping away before she turned the corner of another building.
Dressed the same, Black Mask, Black hooded sweatshirt (Zip-up instead of single pocket pull-over) Black BDU pants, glass cutter, stungun in the right side jacket pocket…
“Sip! Thanks.”
“So, what are you, B&E, SVU?”
“Just patrol.” Actually, that would be Sex Crimes Division, but nobody calls it SCD, that I’ve heard of.
“So, parking, speeding tickets…” She sat down, wincing when she bent her knee. “You mind if I drink?”
“Make yourself at home.” She popped the top on a can of beer. Some microbrew, sky blue label. She didn’t set it down so I could read the brand, but held the cold can against the side of her knee.
“So, you came to ask some follow-up questions.”
“He didn’t say anything about a partner, or give you any reason to suspect he might have a partner?”
“In crime?” She joked to laugh it off, shaking her head. “I assume he wasn’t gay, why?”
“There’s been another breakin. Same MO, or at least enough elements in common for them to be connected.” None of it really hit the press, so it can’t be a copycat, who knows any of these details to copy them.
“Like what?” She asked, innocently enough.
“Second story balcony, glass cutter, almost identical outfits.”
“Mask, hoody, and cargo pants?” She shook her head. “Isn’t that just the burglar uniform? Since Corona virus, they don’t have to wear ski masks rolled up to look like a beanie.”
“I don’t know, but the glass cutter, and a similar hole in the patio door.” I pointed to the square taped up in packing tape. So it was clear, but still noticeable if you know where to look.
“Sip, was there anyone home?”
“No, the homeowner came home, while sh.” Shit. I looked down at my notes, to cover up my slip. Trying to think of another word besides She, so she can assume that later. “Sorry.” I squinted, “Shephard.”
“That’s his name?”
I nodded.
“Is it okay for you to give me that sort of information?”
“No, look. I’m not a detective, I’m just a beat cop, and I probably shouldn’t be here without someone trained in this, but I saw how you reacted to my partner.”
“Well, he was a man in my apartment, he was armed, and wearing blue cargo pants.”
“Yes, of course.” I pulled mine out by the flap. “Part of the uniform.”
“Is that a Taser?”
“Yes it is.”
“Because I was thinking about maybe getting something for home defense, but all the guys on the internet say a shotgun.” She shook her head, “I don’t want to get a shotgun, because I don’t want to shoot up my stuff. Because it’s my stuff, so what’s the point of shooting it up with buckshot to keep them from stealing it?”
“Ha, well. Honestly, the problem I have with that advice is that they never seem to mention Hearing Protection. I don’t want to fire a 12 gauge in even a room this size without hearing protection, so it’s kinda like you not wanting to shoot up your stuff to protect it.”
“Haha yeah, so you end up deaf trying to protect your body.” That’s what I mean, right there. She said that he tried to rape her, and she played along so that he wouldn’t hurt her. She even told him not to hurt her over the phone, but she also said that she’d give him whatever he wants. Naked, in bed. Then, her voice was too faint, and muffled by the mattress to make out, but she led him into the living room. Naked, to have sex…
I shook my head, to get his testimony out of it, when he’s not a suspect. He’s a confessed and convicted criminal, with a long track record of GTAs, drug convictions, possession of stolen goods with intent to sell…
“So what do you use, for home defense?”
“A rottweiler, pittbull, and a whole bunch of mixed breed puppies. USMC bumper stickers, and veteran plates.”
“Oh, you’re a Marine?”
“No, my husband is a Marine. Retired captain, veteran of Kuwait.”
She laughed, “That’s got to be the best home defense.”
“Ha, yeah. Seems to work so far.” But we don’t live in this neighborhood. He’s disabled, and the neighborhood knows that, but we also have a pretty good Neighborhood watch. Of course I’ve got friends on the force, and anybody watching the house can see me leave for work in uniform, so they know that I’m armed.
“So, how much does one of those Tasers cost?”
“Oh, no. This isn’t available on the civilian market.”
“Why not?”
“Law Enforcement only model. Honestly, I’m not sure what the difference is, other that they buy them in bulk.”
“So they’re more powerful?”
“I don’t know,” but her questions are telling me more than her answers. She says she wants it for home defense, but she’s not afraid of a man breaking in on her. Not if she’s breaking in to other men’s houses to assault them with a stun gun. That wasn’t powerful enough for her, and she doesn’t need more powerful weapons. “You mentioned Self Defense, and MMA?”
“Yeah, just basic Muay Thai, and BJJ.”
“Brazilian Jui Jitzu?” She nodded.
“What kind of combat training they give you?”
I rolled my eyes, “None, we’re not soldiers, so we’re not Combat Trained. Mostly just retention, searching, and the legalities of searches.”
“Retention? What’s that?”
“One of the worst case scenarios, other than an armed suspect pulling a weapon is an unarmed suspect getting your weapon, and using it against you, or in another crime. So, probably the most intense class physically for me was retention.”
“So nobody takes your weapon, and uses it against you.”
“Well, the basics are keeping it locked down, this is a retention holster, but the actual physical training was sparring with a simulated weapon, or weapons.” Of course, I have a man at home, and a marine, so that helped me handle the men in my class.
I have to admit, I’ve felt the rush you get when you win a lopsided match like that. Of course, I’m a cop, and I have training, but I’m also a woman. Sparring with men, who’re also cops, getting the same training, but she’s none of these. She’s a party girl, college dropout, and training to be an MMA fighter.
“Oh yeah, we had that.” Meaning simulated weapon training. Probably against knife attacks, but I’ve talked to enough Corrections Officers to know that if he has a knife, and he wants to kill you, if you don’t have armor, you’re pretty much dead. Even with the crudest jailhouse weapons, it usually happens too fast for you to defend yourself.
“Where do you go for training?”
“Blitz Fitness, and Self Defense.” I tapped that in. “You know it?”
“I’ve seen the signs.” So to speak…
“You thinking of taking some classes?”
“I don’t know, maybe I’ll check it out. It seems effective for Defense.” If you can talk him into letting you tie him up first…
Maybe I can talk to her instructors, and see if there’s any signs that she’s taking it for Offense, instead of Defense…
;
Author (Skip)
I know, this isn’t just a tease for you. It’s another stressor for her. She has to cool down, think about it a lot longer, and let her leg heal up. This is what drives certain Pathologies.
Right now, she’s nothing. A disorganized opportunistic offender, without any opportunities to offend. Instead of a “Trigger,” she was set up by a long period of isolation, social distancing, fear mongering, and I’m just going to sum it up with a number:
2020. She could claim Temporary Insanity for her Psychotic Break. With treatment, she might even be able to live a fairly normal life, but she can’t seek treatment. She can’t go to jail, because that would just feed her Persecution Complex.
She can’t wait around for another Burglar, because honestly, Self/Home Defense situations are unique enough, even without fears of Covid 19 (And the lockdown affecting the flow of illegal drugs for desperate addicts.)
I don’t know what she’s going to do, and I’ve written myself into a corner here. So, I have to think about it, too. Of course, that’s at least half the fun for me…
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