One in Ten

"Let me see; you wouldn't even tell me I might be in danger, you won't let me adequately defend myself, you would rather fight charges of sexual assault and harassment than actually enforce the damn laws...and when I dare ask you if I'm in danger, you lie to me," I outlined.

"You don't know what's going on so you are acting out like a child," she glared back.

"If you could do your job we wouldn't be having this discussion," I slammed her.

"You have no clue what's going on," she edged even closer.

"Men don't disappear," I started. "Every twenty-four hours the system sends and receives information from our wrist bands." At least I didn't say shackles.

"If it is disabled, it sends out an emergency alarm," I related. "While no one admits it is a tracking device – it is. All you need to do is tell the band to transmit continuously and I am sure you cops have a code for that. That implies that either the men have found a way to disable their bands or whomever is grabbing them has."

"Oh," Angel blinked. "Okay, you have thought this out a bit."

"Top of my class, remember?" I postulated, "Thanks for treating me like a moron. I would ask you to leave again, but it is pointless. I have no recourse in dealing with you. You can stay as long as you want, force me to have sex, or whatever else you have in mind."

"Fine – you think that is how it is going to go down," Angel growled. "Strip!" I stood up, took off my shirt and was reaching for my waist band when she stopped me. "Wait – don't," she sighed. "You realize what happened to you was an abnormality – fine, two abnormalities, but life is not going keep being like that for you."

"Angel, you didn't know about what happened to me in college until I told you. That is because the authorities wouldn't report it," I pointed out. "You have no idea how bad it is to be a man. Taking a sexual assault complaint means mandatory counseling and that means a sexual contact exemption from one year to eighteen months. That's bad for reproduction."

"It is not rocket science, Angel. Since the women know they can get away with more, they do more to us. Since men know you won't help them, they stop reporting it," I said. "Guys talk about that when we meet in person. We don't dare put it in writing because you will put us in therapy and give us drugs."

"If men won't stand up and report this, how can you expect us to combat it?" Angel reposed.

"Weren't you the one who told me that sexual harassment on the job was something I had to put up with? Where do you think this shit begins? I had to expose my penis to the Chief of Staff and when I couldn't get hard, she had her assistant come in and blow me," I grumbled.

"That was way out of bounds," Angel muttered.

"Really? What was I going to do? Walk out? I lose my job and get a black mark on my record. I fight, I go to jail for assault," I explained. "Claiming sexual harassment would be pointless because none of the three women in the room would verify my story."

"Even you told me to not make the sex one-sided, but to use it to advance my career," I reminded her. Angel looked ashamed.

"That was wrong," she apologized quietly.

"That's nice. Would you please go? I need to figure out what I will need and what I can throw away," I stated. She didn't get up.

"It won't help," she looked up to me with sad eyes.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"This is nation-wide," Angel confided in me. "There are over 1900 cases – 24 in this city alone." That's when I sat back down. Even the press was under-estimating the problem.

There were over 8 million men in North America so even two thousand seemed like a small number. The problem was the age – the male population was aging and there were fewer and fewer male births to take their place and now someone was picking off the demographic with the most reproductive potential.

"The missing men are like you - single, unattached, living alone with few friends," she related.

"Why is the public unaware of this? Until today anyway," I asked.

"What happens when the young men across the country begin thinking that it is not safe to go out at night or date women they don't know?" she poised.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. That one slipped out. Guys would be hiding? Sure, they would be hiding because they didn't trust the cops to protect them. And why didn't we trust them?

"You have no clue who is doing this?" I asked instead. Angel had to weigh her response.

"They vanish in different places, depending on the level of security of their dwelling," she informed me.

"I'm no policewoman but I imagine you've already checked for stalkers, phone taps and computer monitoring," I mused.

"No evidence of any victim being followed and their electronic devices are missing as well," she humored me.

"So you are not going to get a break in this case until another male goes missing," I surmised. "Great plan unless you happen to be that guy."

"Aren't you glad I'm right across the hall?" she grinned weakly.

"Actually, I am," I answered. "I want you to understand how fucking useless you all are when I go missing right under your noses."

Angel stared at me as if I'd lost my mind.

"You could get killed," she tried to drive home the danger.

"Not my problem. As long as it isn't by my own hand, it's not against the law," I reasoned.

"You are insane," she gasped.

"Not really and not in a way you can prove," I grinned. "I'm not courting danger. I'm not going to walk the back streets and alleyways at two in the morning. I simply have no faith in you to do your job. Sure, the cops rescued me from the Aurora Slasher – after 87 days and even then, she was one of you – a cop."

"How can you stand being so bitter?" she despaired. Instead of using words, I went to the kitchen and retrieved two items. I came back, sat on the sofa and began applying butter to a long handled spoon with my fingers.

"This was the first thing they sodomized me with, Angel," I held it up to her.

"When those sorority chicks did it, they didn't taunt or ridicule me," I stared at her. "They talked about how their weeks had gone as if what they were doing to me really didn't matter. The thing is, it took me about a week to remember that because my mind was so fucked up. If you want to understand how I can still be bitter, let me ram this up your ass a few hundred times and see how bitter you are."

"Get some damn counseling," she shouted as she slapped the spoon out of my hand. "I'm not asking you to forget it ever happened. I'm asking you to put your life back together and take a little bit of your life back."

"To what end?" I replied.

"What?"

"Why should I? What's the point?" I extrapolated. For a second I thought Angel was coming at me to throttle me. Instead she pressed me back on the sofa with her body. I nearly lost all control I trembled under her weight pressing down and her touch.

"Because someone might really care for you, you idiot," she whispered down at me. I stared at up her with big, fearful eyes. Sure, I could wrestle with her but that was a lose-lose for me. Slowly, Angel pushed up until she was on all fours hovering over me. "Shit, I'm sorry. You are driving me nuts, damn it."

"Please leave," I requested with a calm I did not feel.

"Of course," she responded. "Umm – am I going to – are you going to leave tomorrow morning?"

"No," I groaned. "Did you seriously believe that I would want to be in a truck alone with a woman for any extended period of time? I'm stuck here."

"Do you get off fucking with my head?" she grumbled.

"You feel free lying to me," I said. "Why should I treat you any differently?"

"I'm a – You don't care that I'm a cop; that I am trying to keep you safe?" she replied.

"I have no respect for your profession," I pointed out, "or faith in your ability to keep me safe. That is the truth."

She fidgeted around the door, first reaching for the door knob then stopping and half turning my way.

"Can I ask you for a favor – a big favor?" she muttered. It took me nearly a minute to respond.

"Unlike most women, I believe in reciprocity," I told her. "I'll listen."

"Would you kiss me? Just one kiss," she whispered. "I'll fully understand if you don't want to and I'll leave if you say 'no'."

"After what we just went through, do you realize how bizarre that request is?" I queried.

"I attacked you on your sofa," she finally looked at me. "Yes, I know."

"Knowing how I feel about contact with women you are still asking this of me," I mused. It wasn't a question; I was trying to reason this out.

"You are right," she sighed and put her hand on the door knob, ready to leave.

"Not going to get your kiss?" I inquired as I stood up.

"Stop screwing with me," she shook her head with her back still to me. She opened the door.

"You are a woman and a cop, which is kind of redundant," I explained, "but I don't think you were ordered to spend time with me. That makes me believe that for whatever twisted reason you treat me as if I have something above my shoulders besides a smile and nice hair."

Angel shut the door as I walked up to her. I cupped her jaw line tenderly in both hands before leaning in for a kiss. When my tongue darted across her lips, she opened up and let her tongue come out to play. Slowly she placed her hands on my hips, not pulling me in but showing a reluctance to let me slip away. After a minute I retreated.

"Where the fuck did that come from?" Angel panted. "That was fantastic. I thought you didn't like women, or interacting with women."

"Part of my therapy was making me comfortable with sex," I told her. "They taught me all kinds of things." When they said they wanted me to be a productive member of society what they really meant was that they wanted me to screw.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"You are welcome," I gave a weary grin. "Now, would you please leave?"

"Absolutely," she nodded. When she left I leaned against the door, slid down and started to cry. The thing was, I was beginning to like Angel but I couldn't trust her because she was a woman. I desperately wanted to avoid going down that road again.