What No One Was Supposed to Know About the Transfer

Commissioner Roberto Méndez dropped a folder onto the desk and looked at the two of them from behind his thick-rimmed glasses.

—There’s a transfer this afternoon —he said without preamble—. Ramiro Fuentes. A scientist with ties to organized crime. They’re taking him to the maximum-security unit at La Cordillera. It’s a long route, secondary roads, no advance notice.

Valeria Cortés stepped forward. Her blonde hair was tied back with a firmness that reflected everything she was as an officer.

—What’s the operation, sir?

—You two go in the first vehicle with the detainee. Behind, ten meters back, Gonzalo and Hernán will follow as escort. If you deliver Fuentes without incident, I’ll put you at the top of the list for the special operations unit. Do you accept?

Lorena Gómez, beside her, nodded without hesitation. Her brown skin glowed under the office’s cold light.

—Understood, Commissioner.

***

Ramiro Fuentes didn’t look like a criminal. He had the manners of a man accustomed to laboratories and conferences, a calculated smile, and eyes that analyzed everything before reacting. When they cuffed him for the transfer, he didn’t resist. He only smiled in a way that made them uneasy for no clear reason.

—Officers —he said when they led him to the patrol car—. It’s an honor.

—Shut your mouth —Lorena replied, slamming the back door shut with a dry thud.

The convoy left the precinct at four in the afternoon. Valeria drove with both hands on the wheel, her eyes fixed on the asphalt that gradually turned into a gray ribbon between open fields and patches of forest. Lorena watched Fuentes in the rearview mirror. The prisoner looked out the window with a serenity that was irritating.

Ten meters behind, in the second patrol car, Gonzalo drove with one relaxed hand on the wheel. Hernán, beside him, showed him something on his phone and both of them laughed. They weren’t looking at the car ahead.

Fuentes waited until the radio signal began to weaken. Until the trees along the road grew denser and the last houses disappeared from the horizon. Then, with a movement so small it went completely unnoticed, he took a metal cylinder from inside the orange jumpsuit.

—What do you have there? —Lorena barked, turning in her seat—. Let go of that right now!

Fuentes pressed the button.

The hiss was brief. The smoke that filled the cabin was a pale pink, almost transparent, with a sweet scent unlike anything Valeria had ever studied in any police protocol. She tried to open the window, but her fingers were responding with a strange delay, as if the air inside the car had gained weight. Lorena lifted a hand toward her weapon and found the movement was slower than it should have been.

—What... what is this? —Valeria managed to say.

The patrol car jerked sideways. The wheels left the asphalt and the vehicle cut into the tall grass, tearing off the shoulder at full speed. Branches slammed against the chassis. When the brakes finally half-responded, the car came to a stop in a clearing beside a small pond, surrounded by willows and a silence that didn’t seem natural.

***

Fuentes got out of the vehicle without haste. He had managed to get the keys during the chaos of the swerve. He removed the handcuffs with the practiced ease of someone who had rehearsed it for weeks and leaned against the side of the patrol car while the two officers came out coughing, their uniforms soaked with sweat and their eyes brighter than usual.

—What did you give us? —said Lorena, aiming her weapon at him. Her hand was shaking, but not from fear. It was something else she refused to acknowledge.

—Concentrated pheromones —Fuentes replied with a calm that was obscene—. Nothing toxic. Just a facilitator.

—Central, this is Unit 7! —Valeria tried into the radio—. We need backup, we’re south of Route 14, pond sector!

Only static. The forest and the dip in the land had erased any signal.

Fuentes didn’t move from where he stood. He watched them with the expression of someone who already knows the result of an experiment before carrying it out.

—The gas takes a few minutes to peak —he said—. You’re still in the denial phase.

—Shut up —said Lorena. But she noticed something: the fabric of her uniform was brushing against her hardened nipples in a way she had never registered before, and between her legs she felt a thick wetness already soaking her panties. The heat she felt in her chest had nothing to do with the afternoon temperature or the physical strain of the swerve.

Valeria lowered the radio. She blinked. Looked at Lorena, then at Fuentes, with an expression that was half rage and half something she couldn’t name.

—I don’t feel anything —she said, though her voice sounded less convinced than she wanted, and her legs were tightening of their own accord, seeking friction on her swollen cunt.

—Neither do I —Lorena repeated.

It was a lie. They both knew it.

***

The pheromone gas didn’t numb the will all at once. It was more subtle than that, and more devastating: it kept eroding the layers of protocol and discipline, one by one, until underneath there was nothing left but skin, heat, and an urgency that found no rational way to justify itself.

Lorena was the first to let go of her weapon. She didn’t decide to; her fingers simply opened and the metal fell onto the grass with a dull sound. She looked at her hand as if it belonged to someone else.

—Lorena —Valeria said in a tense voice—. Pick up your weapon.

—Yes —Lorena replied. But she didn’t do it.

Fuentes approached slowly. He wasn’t running. He didn’t need to.

—You can resist a little longer if you want —he said—. But the body doesn’t lie. The body never lies.

Valeria dropped her own weapon when Fuentes was a meter away. She did it looking him in the eyes, with a rage that hadn’t fully given way yet but no longer had anywhere to go. The air around the two women smelled of that pink aroma that clung to clothes and skin and made every brush of fabric unbearable.

—Take off the uniforms —Fuentes ordered.

***

What happened in the clearing beside the pond took more than half an hour. The afternoon sun lit the hot metal of the patrol car and the damp grass around it, and the only witness was the still water reflecting the sky without judgment.

Fuentes directed them with a calm voice, savoring every second of the domination the gas had handed him without any merit of his own. Valeria and Lorena obeyed without fully understanding why, trapped in a state that was not sleep but neither was it the waking life they knew.

He made them undress each other, slowly, button by button, with the patience of someone who wants the process to last. The uniforms fell onto the grass in layers: first the tactical vests, then the shirts, then the belts with their magazines and handcuffs, and finally the combat pants. Lorena’s brown fingers trembled as she unfastened Valeria’s bra, and when the blonde’s white tits sprang free, nipples pink and erect like stones, Lorena couldn’t hold back: she bent down and bit one with an open mouth, sucking hard, drawing from Valeria a moan that was the first sound to resemble surrender. Valeria returned the favor by yanking Lorena’s soaked panties away in one pull, revealing Lorena’s brown cunt, black hair shining with wetness and swollen lips, open, already dripping down the insides of her thighs.

They remained naked between the forest and the pond, with the pink scent clinging to their bodies and pupils so dilated that the color of the iris could barely be seen.

Fuentes kissed both of them, alternating, claiming their mouths with the arrogance of a man who believes everything he touches belongs to him. He shoved his tongue deep down their throats, and his hands roamed over Valeria’s pale back and Lorena’s brown waist, down to their asses, squeezing them, parting the cheeks, sliding a finger between one woman’s ass and then the other’s to test the ground.

—Suck each other off —he said—. I want to see you made into sluts before I touch you myself.

Lorena shoved Valeria against the warm hood of the patrol car. The blonde landed sitting on the metal, legs spread, and Lorena knelt between them without a moment’s hesitation. She grabbed Valeria by the thighs, spread them fully open, and buried her face in Valeria’s pink, shaved cunt. Lorena’s brown tongue flattened against the swollen clit and began to lick from bottom to top, long, all the way, unhurried, eating it as if she had years of delayed hunger to make up for. Valeria arched her back against the hot hood and screamed, gripping Lorena’s black hair with both hands, pressing her head against her cunt, rubbing herself over that tongue going in and out.

—Oh, like that, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop —Valeria panted, and she no longer sounded like a police officer, she sounded like a female in heat—. Push it deeper, Lorena, push it in.

Lorena obeyed. She drove two brown fingers into Valeria’s soaked cunt while she kept sucking on her clit, moving them hard, in and out, making a wet, obscene sound that mixed with Valeria’s moans and the wind in the willows. Fuentes, off to the side, had pulled down the pants of his jumpsuit and was gripping his thick cock with one hand, masturbating slowly, watching the show.

—Good, officers, good —he murmured—. Show me how you lick a partner’s pussy.

Valeria came screaming, squeezing her thighs against Lorena’s ears, soaking her face. When the trembling passed, the blonde let herself slide from the hood onto the grass, panting, chest rising and falling, and grabbed Lorena by the nape and cleaned her own juices from her mouth with her tongue, kissing her dirty, long, as if she wanted to eat her.

—Now you —Valeria whispered.

She shoved Lorena onto her back in the grass and spread her legs. Lorena’s brown cunt was so wet it shone, and Valeria devoured it with the same desperation with which she had been devoured. She ran her whole tongue from the ass to the clit, drawing a howl from Lorena, and then began to suck the swollen bud with tight lips while sliding three fingers into her cunt and searching for the spot inside. Lorena writhed on the grass, her dark nipples hard and erect, pointed at the sky, clutching handfuls of dirt.

—Fuck, fuck, you’re so good at that —Lorena moaned—. Don’t stop, blonde, don’t stop.

Fuentes came up behind Valeria, who was kneeling and eating Lorena’s cunt with her pale ass in the air. He grabbed her hips with both hands, spat on his cock to lubricate it, and drove it into Valeria in one thrust, all the way in. Valeria screamed against Lorena’s cunt, mouth full, and the cry vibrated into the brown woman’s clit, making her come all at once, legs trembling and heels digging into Valeria’s back.

—That’s it —Fuentes growled, thrusting hard, making Valeria’s tits shake against the grass—. Keep licking that pussy, slut, don’t stop even while I’m fucking you.

Valeria didn’t stop. With each thrust from behind, Fuentes pushed her face deeper into Lorena’s cunt, and her tongue worked on its own, sucking, licking, sliding between the brown woman’s swollen lips. Fuentes’s cock went in and out of her cunt with a wet sound, and each thrust tore a muffled moan from her that was lost in her partner’s sex.

He made them kneel before him side by side. Valeria and Lorena took his member with trembling hands, not from fear but from the chemical heat burning through their veins, and worked it with their mouths in turns that soon became something simultaneous. Lorena swallowed the swollen tip while Valeria licked his balls, and then they switched, and the blonde took half his cock into her throat until her eyes watered, while the brown woman sucked his balls until they were glazed with saliva. The wet sounds of suction mixed with the wind in the willows.

—That’s it —Fuentes growled, eyes narrowed and big hands on the heads of the two women, setting the rhythm, shoving his cock into their mouths until they choked—. Like that, little officers, that’s how you suck a cock, that’s how you take care of a man. Put your tongues together.

Valeria and Lorena obeyed. They stuck out their tongues and pressed them together around the tip of Fuentes’s cock, and he rubbed it against both of them, smearing their faces with saliva and pre-cum, then pushed it in again, alternating between one mouth and the other, fucking both their throats.

He took them on the hood of the patrol car, one after the other. First he laid Valeria on her back on the hot metal, spread her legs until he had them against her chest, and drove his cock all the way into her cunt. He grabbed her tits with both hands, squeezing them hard, pinching her pink nipples until Valeria arched her back against the metal and screamed. He fucked her hard, with long, deep thrusts, making his balls slap against the blonde’s ass with every drive.

—You like it like that, don’t you, officer? —Fuentes growled, looking her in the eyes as he shoved into her—. Say it. Say you like it when a prisoner fucks your cunt.

—I like it —Valeria panted, cheeks red and eyes wet—. I like it, you son of a bitch, keep going, don’t stop.

Lorena, standing beside them, masturbated while watching, with two fingers buried in her own brown cunt. Fuentes gestured to her with his chin.

—Come here, black girl. Sit on your friend’s face.

Lorena obeyed. She climbed onto the hood, straddled Valeria’s face facing Fuentes, and lowered her soaked cunt to Valeria’s mouth. Valeria stuck out her tongue and started licking her from below while Fuentes kept fucking her. Now Fuentes had Lorena facing him, and he took the chance to grab her brown tits, squeeze them, suck her dark nipples while still pounding Valeria. Lorena rubbed herself against the blonde’s face, moving her hips in circles, while kissing Fuentes over her partner’s body.

—Switch —Fuentes ordered after a while.

He pulled his cock out of Valeria’s cunt, dripping, and walked around the patrol car. He lifted Lorena off the hood, bent her over the metal face down, her tits flattened against the sheet metal, her brown ass raised and her legs spread. He grabbed one cheek in each hand, pulled them apart, and rammed his cock into her cunt in a single stroke, all the way in. Lorena howled, her cheek pressed against the hot metal.

—Damn, you’re tight —Fuentes growled, pulling out and thrusting back in hard—. Cop pussy, tight cop pussy.

He fucked her from behind with brutal thrusts, grabbing her black hair, yanking her head back, while Valeria settled underneath, on her back, her face just at the height of Lorena’s cunt. Now Valeria licked Lorena’s clit while Fuentes fucked her from behind, and in between she sucked Fuentes’s balls every time he pulled his cock out. It was a chain of skin and fluids and moans that echoed across the pond as if the whole forest were listening.

—Who’s in charge now? —Fuentes asked at one point, with a smile that wasn’t one of pleasure but of triumph, driving harder—. Say it, black girl. Who’s in charge of you?

—You are —Lorena panted against the hood, saliva dripping from her—. You’re in charge.

—And you, blonde?

—You are —Valeria answered from below, her mouth full of her partner’s cunt.

Neither of them recognized themselves. They were too deep in the trance. Fuentes turned them both over, laid them side by side on the hood, on their backs, legs hanging, cunts dripping. He stood between them and began to alternate: two thrusts in Valeria’s cunt, two in Lorena’s, two and two, without giving them a break. They held hands and kissed between moan and moan, tongues out, no longer knowing what they were or whose they were.

Fuentes came over both of them, pulling out at the last moment and spurting thick streams over the officers’ tits and faces. The hot semen ran down their parted lips, over erect nipples, between tits pressed tightly together. They, still in trance, licked the droplets from their faces with the tip of their tongues, then kissed to pass it from one mouth to the other.

***

The gas has a limit. Everything does.

Lorena was the first to feel the change. It was gradual, like when the body starts metabolizing alcohol and lucidity returns in layers. First she recovered her sense of place: the damp grass beneath her knees, the scent of pine, the warm metal of the patrol car behind her. Then she recovered her sense of who she was.

She saw Fuentes a meter away, panting, distracted by his recent climax, with his cock still out and dripping. She looked at the ground around her. Her eyes landed on a stone the size of her fist.

She didn’t think. She acted.

The blow was dry and precise. Fuentes fell on his side onto the grass, his temple bleeding and his eyes rolling white.

—Lorena! —Valeria shook her head, blinking, looking at her semen-stained tits, looking around like someone waking from a bad dream—. What happened? What...?

She looked at her hands. She looked at her naked body in the middle of the field, her thighs sticky with her own fluids and Fuentes’s cum. Horror arrived at the exact same moment as lucidity.

—It was the gas —Lorena said in a voice that didn’t tremble, though it was hard for her to keep it steady—. He drugged us. It wasn’t us, Valeria. It wasn’t us.

They dressed in silence, with a mechanical efficiency that was the only way not to collapse. They cleaned themselves with whatever they could find: a rag from the patrol-car trunk, water from the pond. They wiped the rag between their legs, over their faces, over their tits, erasing every trace. They dragged Fuentes’s unconscious body to the back seat of the patrol car, half-dressed him, and put the handcuffs on him with a pressure that made their intentions clear. They gathered every piece of equipment from the grass, every magazine, every cuff, every boot. They left nothing behind.

When the second unit’s siren tore through the air and the blue and red lights appeared between the bushes, the two officers were standing beside the patrol car, in uniform, arms crossed.

—Are you okay? —Gonzalo shouted as he got out of the car with his weapon drawn—. We looked everywhere for you, what happened?

—We’re fine —Valeria said—. The detainee had a hidden device. Irritant gas to try to escape. It disoriented us for a few minutes, but we took him down.

Hernán looked at Fuentes, who lay unconscious in the back seat with a dark cut on his temple.

—He resisted quite a bit —he observed.

—Quite a bit —Lorena confirmed, without changing her expression.

***

They handed Fuentes over at La Cordillera Penitentiary with all the paperwork in order. They signed the reports. Answered the shift chief’s questions with the same coldness with which one signs an inventory form. When they came out to the prison’s outer yard, the sun had already gone down and the night air had the clean smell of open country.

Fuentes regained consciousness during the final stretch and leaned toward the grate with a cynical smile.

—We had a great time, didn’t we, girls? —he whispered—. I warned you we were going to have fun.

—Shut your mouth —Lorena said without looking at him, knuckles white on the wheel—. You’re a convict. Nobody’s going to believe you. And if you open that mouth in the prison, we’ll say you tried to escape and that the blow to the head was self-defense. Choose.

Fuentes didn’t say anything else.

Gonzalo patted Valeria on the shoulder before they parted in the penitentiary parking lot.

—Impeccable operation. That guy is dangerous and you delivered him without a scratch. You really know how to do this.

—Thank you —said Valeria.

In the patrol car on the way back, with Lorena at the wheel and the dark road stretching out ahead of them, they went a long while without speaking. The silence between them was different from the professional silence on the way there. It was heavier. More honest.

—Nobody can find out —Lorena said at last.

—I know.

—It wasn’t us, Valeria. It was the gas. It was him.

—I know —Valeria repeated. And then, more quietly—: But I was there.

Lorena gripped the wheel. The asphalt passed beneath the tires with a constant murmur, just as always, as if the entire afternoon had been a pause the world never registered.

—We were both there —Lorena said—. And we both got out.

There were no more words until they reached the city. The pond was left behind, somewhere between Route 14 and the dark forest, keeping a secret that neither of them would ever again say aloud. Fuentes was behind the bars of La Cordillera Penitentiary. They were driving back to their lives.

Commissioner Méndez received them at headquarters with a satisfied smile and extended his hand.

—Excellent work —he said—. I knew you were the right ones. You have the rest of the day off, you earned it.

Valeria and Lorena looked at each other for a second. A blood oath of silence was sealed in that glance.

—Thank you, sir —they said at the same time.

They walked toward the exit, leaving behind the building of stone and law. Outside, the same sun that hours earlier had seen them surrender to instinct was gone. Only night remained, clean and cold, and the certainty that some afternoons are kept forever in places where no one else can find them.