Crying Suits

Where did we leave off….that’s right, Mr. Wall Street getting caught. Like I was saying, I would let the male prostitutes go free because to be honest, I wasn’t going to save them from the life they already chosen, and I sure wasn’t going to bring them back to the command just to write a summons and release them. They never show up in court and to be honest, they were a waste of my time. I wanted to lock up bad guys with guns and drugs.

But when it came to dealing with Mr. Wall Street, I had some real fun with them. Picture this…they get up in the morning all showered and shaved, kiss little Johnny and Suzy on the forehead, than head down stairs to make coffee or tea with their croissant that his stay at home wife made the night before, and rushes out the door to make it to the bus stop in time to head to the city for another day at the office.

He works all day inside some cubicle the size of a prison cell staring at a computer screen filled with numbers and abbreviations of business we have no idea even exist while chugging down his third cup of caffeine. After the end of his stressful day he packs up his briefcase and heads back to the bus stop where the same bus picks him up and drops him off wherever he lives. But wait…he has something else in mind. You see, Mr. Wall Street has all this tension all bottled up inside and he needs to get his fix on….

So where does he go? You guessed it….The Bus Terminal on 42nd street between 8th and 9th ave.  He heads straight to the men’s room and lingers about inside till a young male prostitute walks in. They stand by the urinals while exchanging peeks back and forth than make the move inside a stall when no one is looking and the rest is history. The biggest help we always got was the cleaners cleaning inside the bathrooms just about every hour. They would come to us and let us know what has gone on…and show time!

I would lower my two-way radio before I entered inside the Men’s room so not to give myself up and walk over to the stall the cleaners pointed out where the dirty deed is taken place…than I step back and kick the door open. I would find Mr. Wall Street sitting on the toilet while the male prostitute would be standing inside of a shopping bag. They do that because if we looked under the stall, we would only see just two legs from whoever is on the toilet, and a bag next to them to throw us off. The extent they go through not to get caught.

I tell the prostitute to get lost and detained Mr. Wall Street. The look on their faces is priceless. Their worst nightmare has come true…getting caught by the Police right in the middle of…how should I word this…giving some eight teen year old male prostitute fellatio…(a blow job for those who don’t know what fellatio is). First, they tell you that they never did that before…yeah right. Than they try to convince you that they never done this before….yawning now…than they beg you to let them go.

But what I would always do is this…I ask them for their wallets which they hand to me faster than I could finish my request. I open it up and would search for pictures of his wife and children which most did have. Than I would put a scenario inside his head hoping to scare the shit out of him. I would tell him that if I locked him up, I would have to call his wife and tell her he’s been placed under arrest for having sex with a prostitute inside the men’s bathroom at the bus terminal. That’s when silence sets in for a few seconds.

Than I tell him that there is a hidden camera inside the men’s room and point to a water sprinkler on the ceiling and so easily convince him that a camera is hidden inside. They do look up, but all they see is an object on the ceiling, they really can’t concentrate because of the shock of being caught, so they believe it’s really a camera. Than I tell him that I would have to call his wife to identify that he’s her husband. By now the shakes sets in followed by begging me not to call her as they start to cry and I don’t mean whining…real fn tears.

But that’s not even the end of it. I  tell him (them) that I have to tell his wife why he’s under arrest and that her husband was caught having sex with a young male prostitute. Than I explain to him that when he goes to court it becomes public record, so it will than be in his local newspaper. By then, they are peeing all over themselves because they all are playing this out in side their heads. What’s worst, I have to tell him that his children will find out because they will hear it from their classmates…

Now, this all may sound cruel, but you have to understand something. It is never their first time doing this. They been doing this for years…it’s just the first time getting caught. What really gets their attention more than anything is that I tell him that the prostitute that he was blowing is H.I.V. positive and he has to check he’s not effected every six months for ten years…than I give him back his wallet with a warning.

 If I see him again inside the terminal under the same condition, I will lock his ass up and the scenario I put forth will come true. They always leave thanking me a million times while gathering their personal belongings while crying of relief. I let them clean themselves up than escort them out of the building never to see them again during my time working at the Bus Terminal.

 

 

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