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Joe walked away from the parade grounds in his neatly pressed uniform. Most of the police academy’s latest graduating class stayed behind for pictures with their parents and wives, wide smiles beaming on their clean-shaven faces. Joe smiled too, but less with the pride of accomplishment and more with . . .bad intentions.

Arriving at his Camaro, he pressed the unlock button on the remote, opened the door and reached in for his civilian clothes. As there was nobody in the parking lot to see him, he changed clothes standing beside the car. Finishing this, he put all of his police gear in the trunk. Joe closed it and paused to think for a moment. Opening the trunk again, he rummaged inside for his badge and handcuffs, both of which he put in his jacket pocket. Climbing behind the wheel, he noticed there was already some tension in his pants. He quickly started the car and drove away.

One hour later he was cruising slowly around the neighborhood he had carefully chosen. It was a fairly small city he lived in, but even a small city had its bad parts, if you knew where to look. Joe clearly knew where to look. It didn’t take long before he spotted the first streetwalker. She was in her early thirties, but looked fifteen years older. Leaning against a phone poll in a pose she probably thought to be provocative, Joe was disgusted by her neglected face and withered crack-addict body. Surely he could do better.

...

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