The Policeman's Birthday Cake

There it was — the best cake I had ever baked, all cooled down and ready for the creamy pink frosting; now mixed and spiced with the potion received from the apothecary. I lovingly spread it all over the chocolate cake. It was Brett’s birthday and I was going to surprise him.

Upon arriving at the gym, I placed the cake in the lounge area. Jeff, the owner of the gym encouraged these little birthday celebrations for the members, and he quickly provided me with paper plates, a knife to cut the cake, and he obligingly planted the single candle I had brought with me into the centre of the frosted cake.

“There you are Terry,” he said, as he lit the candle. “Brett is finishing up his shower. I’ll see you later.”

“Thanks Jeff,” I called after him as he left.

I stood back and marvelled at my cake making skills. Tonight would see me finally seducing the man of my dreams; Brett was one of those well built guys who make people feel like they can swim upstream, just from watching his rippling muscles.

I moved to the doorway to watch Brett towelling his body. His smooth skin always glistened in the afterglow of his post workout sauna. People wanted him, or wanted to be like him, but mostly they wanted him to like them. It didn’t matter that he was a policeman. Indeed, the uniform, which tried to contain his body with its broad shoulders and narrow waist, just made him all the more imposing, attracting lascivious thoughts.

I’d been letting thoughts of him drive me crazy for months, and tonight I was determined to get him to notice me. It was Tuesday night, when the gym was nearly always empty except for Brett and me, but I was always too shy to speak to him. As I watched him tug on his boots, I knew he would soon be here in the lounge with me, when I would ‘help’ him celebrate his birthday. At last he would have no choice but to notice me.

I turned away to double check my preparations. My candle was still burning brightly and the pink frosting glowed in its light. I was wondering if my plan would work as Brett ambled into the lounge, every muscle flexing, not one of them moving without his consent.  He stopped when he saw the cake and asked, “Is that cake for me?”

“Yes,” I proudly exclaimed.

“Terry, thank you so much,” he smiled at me, hugged me, and crushed me, ever so gently. I was astonished that he knew my name.

Too late, I noticed another figure entering the room. Before I could stop him, the slim lithe lad picked up the knife, cut a piece of cake and popped it into his mouth.

“Stop!” I yelled, but no sooner had I said it, than the lad, and his barely tasted piece of cake, crumbled to the floor, unconscious. I recognised him at once... it was Peter, Jeff’s nephew. He would often help his uncle to close up the gym, and I hadn’t realised he was there that night.

Brett leaned over Peter’s unconscious body. In the young man’s hand a large remnant of cake matched the tiny piece crumbling from his mouth. The old apothecary hadn’t lied when he said the effect of the potion mixed into the frosting would be instantaneous.

“Is that supposed to be me?” asked Brett.

Timidly, I looked at Brett, terrified of what his wonderful body could do to me if he was angry. “Yes,” I squeaked.

Brett grabbed a handful of the cake, uncut, and shoved it into my mouth like his arm was his favourite police battering ram.

I felt him pick me up under his arm, and saw poor Peter being tucked up under his other arm as I lost consciousness.

||||

There were parallel lines in front of my eyes when I woke up. Slowly, the lines solidified into vertical bars. I was in a stand alone imprisoning cell. A small Nazi type bunker light, half full of dead insects, in the ceiling of the cell, was the only light. All was darkness beyond the bars – black walls, or was I abandoned in a cell at the bottom of a mine?

I heard a voice say, “Brett, look, he’s awake.”

“So he is. He stayed out longer than you did.” There was no mistaking the deep vibrating tones of Brett’s voice. Even his vocal chords had muscles.

I turned, for the first time facing towards the front of the cell, from where the sound of their voices had come, and there they were. Brett and Peter were just outside the bars of my cell door, sitting on a bench with their backs leaning against the musty dark wall.

“Where am I? What are you going to do to me?”

“What would you like us to do with you?” snickered Peter, and Brett burst out laughing.

“I know what he wants,” snorted Peter.

“Please, tell me where I am. Am I in jail?”

“No, not yet. You’re in my basement dungeon, and Peter here, thinks that’s probably where you want to be. Is that true, do you want to be my prisoner?”

“You have a dungeon in your house?” I asked, astonished.

“It was here when I bought the house. I never found a use for it…until now, so it seems. Should I keep you in there, or would you like to plea bargain out of it... or should I arrest you for attempted kidnapping?”

“You’ve already arrested my heart,” I confessed, lowering my head in embarrassment.

“See, I told you, he’s in love with you,” Peter gloated.

“Hot damn,” said Brett, “the cutest guy at the gym loves me?”

“The hottest muscle hunk in the gym thinks I’m cute?” I queried.

“Aww... I’m just a big useless brawny gorilla cop,” said Brett. “Why would you like me?”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Dude, I keep telling him, but he won’t listen to me,” said Peter. “He thinks he’s ugly.” He then stood up, “I’ll leave you two dudes to work things out; I have a hot date — if she’s still waiting for me.” And with that, he left.

Brett looked at me with his big blue eyes. “If I let you out, will you promise me, no more attempted kidnapping?”

For a moment, I wondered which of us had actually been kidnapped, but he was the policeman, and it was his birthday.

“I think you should come in here with me so that I can wish you a happy birthday.”

He swung open the cell door and walked towards me. “What about my birthday cake?”

“I’ll bake you another... you do the frosting this time.”

“Later…” he said, as he engulfed me in his arms, lifting me off the floor. “I think I’ll unwrap my present first.”