Now…
What felt like the longest drive of my life ensued for the next twenty minutes. I was escorted out of his cruiser, walked up two flights of steps. Then he removed the burlap sack from my head, and the plastic straps around my wrists. My clothes were ripped off and I consumed the abandoned warehouse: smashed windows, a rusted and broken down forklift, metal drums marked Claymont, which I knew used to be a local iodine company on the East Side of the city. The smell was rank: oil mixed with old newspapers. I guessed we were somewhere on Pole Street.
Rowdy leaned into me, kissed me, and quickly pulled away. He rocked my face with a firm kiss and said, “Watch me undress, guy.”
I did watch him undress, desiring his ripped nakedness. The cop tore his clothes off and dropped them overtop
