They took him into Interview Three, a cell-like room with cinderblock walls painted a sickening shade of light green. Jackson pulled out a plastic and metal chair and said "Have a seat, Andrew."
The kid was looking around at the dingy room like he was inspecting an apartment he might want to rent.
"Wow, so this is where you interview the bad guys..." He took a deep breath. "What is that, ammonia?"
"Sit your ass down," said Turk. He kicked the chair, and it scraped across the cement floor and hit the kid in the leg.
"OK, you must be Bad Cop," said the kid, and he sat down.
"Who the fuck you calling a bad cop?" asked Turk. "I oughta kick your ass, you little shit."
"No, no, I mean like Good Cop/Bad Cop - you know, where one cop pretends to be nice, and the -"
"He knows what you meant," said Jackson wearily. He was a heavyset black man in his forties, and he had the air of man who had seen it all and was sick of it. He dropped into a chair across the little wooden table from the kid with a sigh. His partner remained standing. Turk had too much energy to sit for long, even at two in the morning.
Jackson watched the kid for a few seconds, trying to assess his mental state. Nervous, maybe a little excited, but not scared. Probably sober.
"OK, Andrew, listen carefully. You have the right to remain silent. If you choose to waive that right, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
The kid smiled. "I understand my rights, Detective Jackson. And I don't want a lawyer."
Jackson nodded. "OK, that's good. You cooperate, tell us everything that happened, that's the best thing you can do for yourself, believe me." He started the tape recorder on the table and spoke the date and the time.
"State your name, age, and occupation."
"My name is Andrew Miller. I'm twenty-one years old, and I'm a full-time student at Landover."
Jackson nodded. The kid had Landover written all over him - the expensive casual clothes, the trendy haircut, the polite but condescending attitude. They had picked him up at an off-campus apartment after a woman had showed up at the station, said she had been raped, and given his name and address.
"Do you know a woman named Sarah Glassman?"
"Did you see her this evening?"
"Yes I did."
"Did you have sexual intercourse with Miss Glassman this evening?"
"Yes I did. Consensual sex."
Turk snorted. "Sure it was. Once you tied her up and gagged her, she didn't protest at all, right Miller?" He walked around the table and stood behind the kid, a menacing presence with his slicked-back hair and square jaw.
The kid craned his head around to follow Turk, and said "She didn't protest before or during, Detective. Only after."
Jackson glanced at Turk. So the kid wasn't going to deny the incident, that was a little unexpected. Most rapists denied everything at first, and didn't change their story until the physical evidence started rolling in. "We'll get to that in a minute, Andrew. I want to get some more background first. Is Sarah Glassman your girlfriend?"
"Not exactly. We're friends, though."
"Had you had sex with her previous to tonight?"
"How many times?"
The kid puffed out his cheeks, making an elaborate show of thinking about it, like he had so much sex it was hard to keep it all straight. Shit, he was a good-looking kid, maybe he did get it all the time.
"Maybe ten times or so. I can't remember for sure."
"Uh huh. But she isn't your girlfriend?"
The kid smiled sheepishly. "Well, you know how it is...not my steady girlfriend."
"Yeah, we know how it is," said Turk sarcastically. He was pacing around the room like tall, thin cat. "We just fuck 'em and leave em, right Roy?"
"OK, Turk, take it easy." Jackson turned back to the kid and said "So Sarah was a friend of yours who you occasionally had sex with, and tonight was one of those occasions."
"That's right. Is that a one-way mirror?" The kid pointed to the mirror, which had a suspicious greenish tint. "Looks kinda fake, you know?"
"Yes, it is," said Jackson. "There's no one on the other side right now." He gave the kid a long stare, wondering why he was so relaxed. He opened his notebook, and said "Miss Glassman claims that you broke into her apartment at around midnight. She woke up to find you standing over her bed. She started to scream, but you gagged her and then forced her to have sex."
"I didn't break in, I used a key. The rest of that is true."
Turk and Jackson exchanged a look. The kid was confessing, so they needed to play it cool and just keep him talking.
"You had a key to her apartment?" asked Jackson.
"She keeps one hidden by the front door. I saw her use it once, so I knew where it was."
"That's still breaking and entering, if you didn't have permission to use the key," pointed out Turk.
The kid shrugged. "OK, whatever."
Jackson shut off the tape recorder. "Now, the next thing I'm going to ask you is how much you had to drink before you went to Sarah Glassman's apartment. Before you answer, I want you to know that if you were drunk, that is a legitimate extenuating circumstance. I don't mean that it makes you innocent, I mean that a judge will take it into account when he sentences you."
"But I am innocent."
Turk said "Shit, Roy, I don't know why you're trying to cut this asshole any slack." He reached past Jackson and restarted the tape recorder.
Jackson shrugged, and said "How much did you have to drink tonight, Andrew?"
"Absolutely nothing" the kid said. "I wanted to be clearheaded so I wouldn't make any mistakes."
Jackson snapped his notebook shut. "All right, then. Why don't you just tell us what happened. Give us your side of the story." This was a subtle reminder that they already had Sarah Glassman's side of the story.
The kid shifted in his chair, took a deep breath, and said "Sure. But I don't know if you guys are going to buy it."
Turk laughed, a short sharp sound. "I was thinking the same thing."
"That's not really the best way to start out your story," pointed out Jackson.
The kid smiled briefly. "Yeah, I see what you mean. It's just that...OK, here's the deal: Sarah wanted me to rape her."
There was a moment of silence.
"Go on," said Jackson.
The kid looked back and forth between Jackson and Turk. "Sarah wanted me to rape her, so I did. That's it."
Turk said "Then why the fuck is she down the hall crying? Why the fuck did she call the police?"
Jackson put his hand on Turk's arm like a man restraining an overexcited dog, and said "Why do you think she wanted you to rape her?"
"She thought it would be exciting. She's a weird chick, that way. She's like, I don't know, addicted to danger or something. She says that adrenaline is an aphrodisiac."
"Adrenaline is an aphrodisiac," repeated Turk. "You're so full of shit, you tilt your head it'll start coming out your ears."
"Lemme get this straight," said Jackson. "You're saying you had this all arranged ahead of time, that she knew you were coming over to play a rape game with her tonight?"
The kid licked his lips, looking a little nervous for the first time. "No, not exactly."
Turk banged his fist on the table and said "So then you raped her, asshole."
The kid shook his head, looking scared now. "No, I told you, she wanted me to do it. I was supposed to sneak into her apartment some night, wake her up, and rape her. Or pretend to rape her, I mean. But I wasn't supposed to tell her ahead of time when it would be."
Jackson shook his head and said "Son, that's the flimsiest story I've ever heard. Maybe you do need a lawyer."
"Look, it'll be a lot more clear what happened if I start at the beginning and tell you how it is between me and Sarah, OK?"
"You do that," said Turk. "This should be real interesting."
The kid took a deep breath, looked around like he was trying to soak up the ambiance, and began.
"I met Sarah at a frat party a couple months ago. Well, actually I knew who she was before that, but I'd never really talked to her. Anyway, that night we danced a lot, got wasted, and slept together. The next morning I was worried that she might be pissed off, because she was so drunk when we had sex. I called her, and we talked about it, and it turned out it was cool, she wasn't pissed. She said the fact that I was concerned made me better that ninety-nine percent of the guys she knew. So after that we were friends.
"We didn't sleep together again for a while, but we used to hang out and talk a lot. We always ended up talking about sex. One night we were on the subject of fantasies, and Sarah told me she fantasized about bondage..."
He remembered how horny it made him when Sarah told him she wanted to be tied up. Of course, Sarah always made him horny. They were in the Orange Tree, a poorly-named establishment if there ever was one, sitting in the dim back room at a scarred old oak table with their regular crowd. As usual, he and Sarah were sitting next to each other and carrying on their own conversation, kept private by the loud background noise.
"Tied up?" he said. "Why?" He knew why of course, he could see the attraction, but he always played the role of the naif with Sarah.
"Danger," she said. "Adrenaline, fear...all that good stuff." She gave him a sidelong look. "You know what I'm talking about?"
He held the look, gazing into her brown eyes. "Yeah, I know what you mean."
"Do you really?" she asked.
He was about to ask her if she wanted to show him exactly what she meant, but she turned away to look at the people trying to get her attention. Her turn in the running game of quarters.
Sarah adjusted the position of the full glass of beer and carefully gripped the quarter in her fingers. She was dressed all in black, as usual - a thin girl with long dark hair, pale skin, and an interesting face. Not beautiful, or even pretty, but sexy.
She measured the distance to the glass carefully, and made a few practice motions. He smiled - Sarah was the worst quarters player around; half the time she didn't even get it airborne. But she always gave it her full concentration, staring fiercely at the glass with the tip of her tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth.
This time the quarter rose in a perfect arc and swished right into the center of the glass, to a roar of surprise.
She laughed and slid the glass in front of him. "There you go, Andy. Drink up."
"Why me?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. He drained the glass and passed it over to be refilled. He wanted to make a shot of his own and give the beer to Sarah, but he bounced it too hard and sent it over the glass.
"Thanks a lot," he said, elbowing her in the ribs. "Now how am I supposed to study Bio tonight?"
She laughed and put her hand on his thigh under the table. "You can think of something better than that to do tonight, can't you?"
He felt his cock getting hard, just a few inches away from her hand. "Maybe I could tie you up," he said.
"Oh, so you want to tie me up," she said, raising her eyebrows. "What makes you think I'd let you do that?"
He shrugged, feeling the numb buzzing in his head from the beer. "The way you talked about it a second ago I thought you were serious. I guess it was just talk."
She laughed, appreciating his verbal jab. "Oh, it wasn't just talk. Why don't you tell me exactly what you would do to me if I let you tie me up."
Her hand was a warm, heavy weight on his upper thigh. He wondered if she could feel his cock growing, pushing at the tight denim. He leaned closer to her ear and told her what he would do if she let him tie her up, and she shook her head in disappointment.
"That's it? That's so gentle, so boring...so nice. You don't need to tie me up to do that."
Oh? So why hadn't they slept together again since that first night... "So what would you want me to do, then?" he asked, feeling a little exasperated.
"You're missing the point. I want to feel like I'm not in control, that I'm just along for the ride. If you're just doing what I want you to do, then what's the point of it all?"
"OK, if that's the way you feel, I know what I would do," he said.
She smiled. "What?"
"What's the point if I tell you ahead of time? You won't get the full experience if you know what's coming. If you want to find out, you'll just have to trust me."
She looked a little surprised, and she licked her lips thoughtfully. "Good point, I must say."
She slid her hand over the bulge in his jeans and squeezed his erection, making him flinch. "So what are we waiting for?"
"Just a second," said Jackson. "Are you describing something that happened earlier tonight?"
"No, this was a few weeks ago. You said you wanted to hear everything, and this is relevant."
"All right, that's fine. Please continue." When a suspect is in a talking mood, the best thing to do is let him talk.
The kid looked up at the clock on the wall. Quarter to three. "We left the Orange Tree and went back to her apartment..."
It took him forever to get her tied up. He had never done it before, of course, and he was pretty buzzed, not to mention nervous.
He tied her hands behind her back with a scarf, but she somehow managed to wriggle them free, and then she started tickling him and squirming away when he tried to hold her hands in place. He finally rolled her over on her stomach, sat on her, and tied her hands again, more firmly this time, and then he paused to think it over. Sarah just sat there on the bed in her black silk shirt and black velvet pants, looking at him with amusement.
"Some bank robber you'd make," she said.
"You got a pretty big mouth for someone who's tied up."
"You call this tied up? I could just walk right out of here."
He grinned, and got up and shut the door. "Now you can't." With her arms pulled behind her back he could see her small bra-less breasts outlined through the shirt, little bumps where her nipples were poking at the smooth fabric. He had tried peeking down her shirt all night, but never quite managed to get the right angle.
Something clicked inside his head. He was in charge now, so what was he waiting for? He went over and stood in front of her and she looked up at him expectantly. Then he put one finger down the front of the blouse and pulled it away from her chest until he could see her small breasts with their firm pink nipples.
She laughed, and said tauntingly "What an imagination. He has me at his mercy, and all he wants to do is peek down my blouse."
He looked at her, not smiling, staring her down until she looked away.
"Stand up," he said, taking her arm and pulling her upward. He unbuttoned her pants and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor. Then he reached under the hem of the blouse, found the waistband of her panties, and slid them down off her narrow hips. She stepped out of them automatically and he reached down and picked them up.
"Hey, now he's cooking," she said. "No more messing around, no siree." He noticed she sounded a little less sure of herself, a little breathless maybe.
Behind his back, he rolled her panties into a ball. Then he put his face close to hers as if to kiss her and said "Close your eyes and open your mouth. Wider."
He quickly stuffed her panties into her mouth and held them there.
"Mmmph!" Her eyes flew open and she lost her balance and sat back down on the bed.
He grabbed another one of her scarves and wrapped it through her mouth and tied it tight behind her head.
"There!" he said. "Now we're getting somewhere. No more snide comments to distract me from my work."
She said something completely unintelligible, but from the tone and cadence he was pretty sure it was "Asshole."
"You know how to do 'Shave and a haircut, two bits?'" he asked.
She nodded and grunted it out, seeing where he was going.
"Good. That's your ticket out. If you do that I'll stop what I'm doing, untie you, and tell everyone what a coward you are."
She grunted something else that he probably wouldn't want translated, and then, with no warning, she bolted towards the door. Turning her back to the doorknob, she fumbled at it with her tied hands. He caught her just as she got it open and dragged her back to the bed. She continued to struggle, not violently, but enough to keep him from doing anything to her.
He grabbed some rope and managed to tie her ankles to the scarf holding her hands together, and at that point she really became helpless. He suddenly noticed her ripe scent in the air, and he laughed out loud as he realized how turned on she was by what he was doing.
The rest of the night was a blur. He remembered playing with her nipples for what seemed like hours, licking them and biting them, until she had tears in her eyes and was literally trying to hump his leg. He remembered putting her across his lap and spanking her until her round little ass turned red, and then finally putting his hand between her legs and rubbing her sopping pussy until she had two shuddering climaxes.
And he remembered putting her on her knees with her head pushed into the mattress and fucking her doggy-style, slamming into her as hard as he could, and then pulling out just before he came and spurting his hot seed all over her back, just for fun.
When he untied her she threw her arms around his neck, kissed him, and said "Andrew! I never knew you had it in you. We're going to have a lot of fun."
Jackson and Turk exchanged a look. The kid seemed like he was telling the truth, and they both knew that with a past relationship that included bondage games it would be hard to make a rape charge stick. As it stood, it was her word against his anyway.
"So you and Sarah engaged in bondage games regularly?" asked Jackson.
"Once in a while. But like I said, what she was really into was danger. Pushing the edge, anything to get an adrenaline rush. Let me give you an example..."