This One Time at a Munch ... AKA, More Evidence That W2K has horrible luck meeting people...

 "Have we talked before?   I swear I know you...," she said, squinting slightly as she tilted those heavily permed blond frosted flake---er, locks, to the side.  It offered a very fetching view down the solid wall of peroxide bleached hair straight into a valley of cleavage that was very definitely on view.   (If only I was a nice, normal asshole, like my first partner, Kenny...I'd take the invitation and enjoy the sights.  Instead, I'm saddled with a lifetime of old world manners and new world guilt -- so I stare straight ahead and set a reminder to repeatedly call myself a loser later.  It's a personality flaw.  I'm working on it.)

I kept the careful, blank smile that comes so naturally in my profession and nodded slowly, because friendly, affirmative body language always makes little white lies more believable --  

"No, I don't think so....I don't get out much.  Really don't."

Lying man whore.  

"Are you suuu--re?  Maybe you were here last month?   Or at Passional?" she asked, stretching the words, obviously putting the hamster on the wheel into overdrive.  Poor hamster.  All those peroxide fumes.  

"Pretty sure," I re-lied.  

Once is polite, lying twice is rude... bad man whore.      

Well, I'd be a man whore if I just took the one-offs at play parties instead of going to munches and single's events looking for an actual relationship.  

It might be nice to be a man whore.  I should ask Kenny.  

With the vague, empty smile fixed firmly in place, I nodded again, looking around the mostly empty back room of the bar and ticking off the faces against any recent face sheets, warrant pages and digital security images that had come across my desk.   Nada.   Not a one.  I recognize not a single face tonight.  Should have been a great night to be a cop at a kink event - not one face from a wanted sheet, previous arrest or open warrant.  

Until Frosted Flakes.

Because I'm a lying (not quite) man whore who helped in processing her when my previous partner (and supposed wingman, if she hadn't skipped out on me by text ten minutes after I got here...fucking Christa) arrested her three months ago for Agg Assault.  And simple assault.  And possession of an instrument of crime (PIC, like a "pick axe").  And recklessly endangering another person.   Also known as the Philly combo.  

It's at this point that I realize, Frosted Flakes is still talking -- and I've missed a chunk of it.  She doesn't seem to have noticed, from the unfocused irises, flushed cheeks, even keel of her self-propelled conversation, as well as the vaguely forward lean of her face, and hair, and generous cleavage --

...How does women's hair stay together like that, anyway?  Is there a gene for that?  Some kind of special product?  

I think her hair hasn't actually moved, except when she's used it to highlight her assets in a pre-planned assault on the conversation, since she's walked over here.  I mean, Jesus, my hair goes everywhere.  I have to cut it buzz short in the summer just to keep it out of the way when I'm teaching at the Academy.  When it grows out like now, I'm like a Beirut hostage to its whims.  

......and I've missed more of the conversation.   Great.  I tune in just in time to catch the words, 

"..ever since I started as a submissive, I've really been into tall, athletic kinda guys - "

*sigh*

-- aaa-and I see where this is going. 

....

...

Break the news gently?

Break the news like an ass?

Slip it in all gentle like?

Drop it like a rock in a kiddie pool?

Awwww screw it.  I need to get away from Frosted Flakes before the alcohol seeping out of her pores wears off and she starts to associate images of me with fantasies involving handcuffs.   That would be bad.  I'm pretty sure at some point I did, in fact, put her in handcuffs.  

"Not a Dom.  Sorry.  I'm sure there's plenty of guys here who are," I paused, carefully and with some exaggeration, glancing around the room before settling eyes on the table full of guys reeking of machismo, wearing tacticool wannabe "Modern Warrior" gear, who had been drinking and sharing their favorite "I've done that to a girl," Fetlife photos since the munch started.

(Every munch has at least one pair of those guys.   Don't try and pretend it doesn't.  This time there was a table of four.  Joy.  Good luck, Frosted Flakes.)

I nodded vaguely at the table, still holding onto that blank, empty smile.   Frosted Flakes glanced at them, and looked back -- and this time the look was one I was much, muuuuch more familiar with.

The "hey, this guy's a male sub," look.

AKA, the "I knew something was wrong with him," look.  The "what a shame," look.   Not to be confused with the "what can I get out of him with a little flirting," look, or the "he probably still lives in mommy's basement," look.  Or the ever famous, "what kind of loser are you?" look, or the "he's probably doing something sick and pervy right now," look.   

Hey, what can I say -- I've had them all at one point or another.  I'm a male sub, in the scene in Philly.  

Common Sense Closet for sub boys in "That Field" (covering BDSM playtime bruises and marks when you're in law enforcement)

Every one of us in this field should have certain things in the closet.   If you have a Badge, it's a given you have at least some or most of these.  

1.  The Court Suit.   The one you never use for anything else.  You keep it lint rollered, dry cleaned, tie already tied (just loosened enough for your neck to fit in), belt probably still on the pants from last time -- shoes somewhere vaguelly close by, academy shined.  

2.  The Vest.  The raid vest, with all the gear attachments pre-arranged, hanging on the special hangar (because it's probably already broken three or four regular ones) - with a second badge you solo'd from Smith and Warren pinned to it because it's too much effort to keep moving yours from holder to raid vest and back.  Already set to your size, so you can slide it on like a t-shirt, pull the side tabs to tighten, get your buddy to check the straps and hook your radio wire, then get moving. 

3.  The Duty Belt.  Don't both saying you have this in a safe.  You don't.  You might lock up the gear, but the belt is hanging in the closet, or on the edge of a chair, or a silent butler (if you're old school).  With the belt keepers still halfway attached.  And anything non-weapon-issue still in its holsters.

4.  The Tactical Pants/Clothes.   You have'em.  You may not wear'em.   You may even be planning (or may have succeeded, hallelujah!) in giving them away.   But they are or were there.  Because we all started out as boot as F, and bought the $80 5.11's, with the 45° angle back pockets and the side strap none of us can figure out a purpose for, and the side pockets that honestly - are exactly the same as Wrangler Rangers (but not half as well sewn, and three times the price).   

But if you're both law enforcement, and kinky, well... then your closet is missing some stuff. 

Because you don't just need the gear.    Now you need the gear, to hide yourself from other guys' gear.  

(Thank God our field is almost always long sleeve -- even when we're plain clothes)

1.  Base layer mock or actual turtle necks (dry-fit or quick-dry or whichever).  Uniform color, or Neutral.

2. Hatch Neck Guardian (Or PPSS Guard) if your Domme is REALLY bitey

3. Knee Length Compression Shorts - Propper, Galls, Blauer, Condor - NOT Adidas, Under Armor or 5.11

4. Hatch or Propper Sleeve Guards / Sleeve Covers

5. Knee length socks 

Bruising? 

5.11 or Blauer both make Base Layer Mock (or the full) Turtlenecks.  Whether you're uniform service or plain clothes, pick up either uniform color or neutral color ones.   If you're plain clothes, you can still wear one under a polo to look professional, or under a t-shirt on the jump and look close enough to street if it's a concert shirt or a local, non-tourist trap shirt.   They're the same material as under armor so non-police blue ones can pass for just "cold weather under armor" if you're plain clothes, and they dry sweat just about immediately without holding in heat -- so summer or winter, they work.

And work to, you know, conceal those "territorial markings" that decorate from the side of your neck down to wherever your Domme felt like stopping.  

Bruises go even higher on your neck?   *sigh*  (Lucky.   Boast why don't you.) 

Hatch makes a slash guard "Centurian" neck protector.    Even though you could just use a low rise mask (age of COVID), if your uniform doesn't allow for those (most forces right now are mandating plain black face covering masks because a few guys put their politics on their faceguards) -- take a look at https://www.amazon.com/Hatch-Centurion-Kevlar-Protection-Black/dp/B001F6C7JA -- it'll cover just about everything, and I've seen SWAT and MARSHAL service guys wearing them when I've hit houses with them.   Although the Marshal guys generally wear the PPSS versions that run closer to $300. 

Bruises on your ass?   Knee length compression shorts are worth having, and not just because they make your ass look good.   Caning, spanking, whippings, and even (see below) rope work (or some nice rough CBT if that's how you swing -- no shame, brothers of whichever gender) -- base layer compression shorts are a plausible excuse not to strip at the gym, or during a change out before or after going out to serve warrants if you're a field officer.   Nobody looks twice at an officer keeping on a pair of knee length compression shorts between changing from field to street clothes, or uniform to tactical gear.  And they serve dual purpose if you wear a cup/genital protector under them -- protection, and covering up any swelling from last night's CBT party. 

Propper makes a good pair that'll last, Condors aren't bad if they have them in season (some years they make'em, some years they don't), Blauer makes great ones but they aren't cheap -- Galls makes some good generics - although they fit oddly if you're assigned-female-at-birth dressing as male, or vice versa.  Adidas makes ones that are styled by Gender most of the time, and they don't last long through constant wash cycles.   Under Armor is f-ing expensive (sign up for Id.ME if you haven't, tons of savings for LEO and Mil once you verify .... but STILL too expensive.)      Avoid 5.11's -- they're great quality, but they're also about three times the cost you want to pay.  

Rope Marks? 

No problems, we got you.  Rope marks are mainly an issue on the arms -- chest marks can be covered with under armor, and leg marks we'll talk about below. 

Propper makes a sleeve cover up, (as does Hatch) intended for duty use - Propper's is used for compression and warmth (and okay, covering ink when the brass is around), Hatch's is for slash protection.   Both are good to have if you're a street level officer regardless, and even if you're plain clothes it can be worth picking up Hatch's -- they're thin enough to fit under a hoodie.   And without, plain clothes' brethren -- long sleeve shirts (or that base layer under armor) is your friend.

For rope marks on legs - again, knee length compression shorts are worth having at least a pair or two of.    -- and not just for when you change at the gym.   Actually, you can get away with calf length compression shorts depending on where the rope marks are - and depending on whether you /actually/ do go to the gym.   It looks a little suspicious to have calf length (they're useful in cardio, and in no-gi grappling, not much else) compression shorts if you don't actually go to the gym.   For that, stick with just wearing long underwear when it's cold, or knee length socks.   

Have something to add?   I'm always interested in hearing - EM me on Fetlife or Twitter at the same name, or drop me a note on Gmail and I'll be happy to add to the list!  

Transitioning / Dressing 

BTW - if you're living transitioned and un announced as an officer - there's a LOOOT of great ways to dress for that, and to do it successfully.   I partnered with someone who was transitioning and living as a woman (she changed legal names and genders, then changed counties over and was assigned my partner) for nearly two years before we promoted in two different directions.   She's still one of my two calls.  (As in, if you were in prison in a foreign country, who would you call.  Law enforcement on surveillance have a LOOOT of free time to think about this kind of crap.) 

So I'll pick her brain at some point and write a version of this that is probably gonna be more useful than this one.