Filthy Royal

by Roxeanne Rolling

  “You can’t park like that,” he says, waving at us with his baton.

  “This is too important for you,” says Eugene, somewhat cryptically. Even I’m not sure exactly what he means, but he flashes some papers and a badge in the man’s face, and the man salutes him and backs off.

  So much for the royal family and the royal employees not having much influence with the police.

  We enter the building’s stark interior, and walk up to the secretary’s desk.

  “We’re here to talk about the prince,” says Eugene, without bothering to introduce himself.

  A policeman standing in a corner nods, and we’re whisked away to another room, then another. Finally we wind up in an elegant office, where the chief of police sits behind a large wooden desk. The room is dark, and the police chief is smoking a pipe.

  My heart is pounding in my chest. Aren’t we going to see Luke? Why are we wasting time with what feels so far like a social visit. Well, a social visit with a dark tone. Everyone is quiet and the mood is serious and subdued.

  “Aren’t we going to see Luke?” I whisper as quietly as I can in English to Eugene. Hopefully the cop doesn’t speak any English.

  “Not quite just yet,” says the policeman, giving me a mean kind of smirk. Now that he smirks at me, I realize he has a kind of weird evil vibe. He seems like someone hungry for something…hungry for power?

  Inside, I’m completely freaking out. Is Luke OK? Is he dying right now, bleeding out? What kind of treatment are they giving him? Something horribly antiquated like attaching leaches to his skin? Wow, hopefully not. It’s crazy what my anxious mind can come up with—all kinds of horrible things.

  “What’s going on?” I say to the policeman in French.

  Eugene gives me a look to remind me that I’m just here to watch—it’s my presence that’s important. I’m not supposed to be brokering any deals myself.

  But fuck it.

  Something needs to be done.

  “The prince has been arrested for a very serious crime. He was smuggling 20 kilos of high quality cocaine. One of our best undercover agents arrested him and his accomplice.”

  “And what’s his current condition?” says Eugene.

  “Critical,” says the police chief, smiling again, his lips turning upwards in an evil way.

  What a fucking asshole. He’s smiling because Luke is in critical condition.

  “This prince has always been a problem for Liseria,” says the police chief. “And we’ve had to look the other way too many times. He’s caused too much trouble. Now finally we caught him doing something really bad, something really big.”

  “So you’re going to let him die in your hell hole of a police station rather than send him to a proper hospital, just to settle some pathetic old grudge?” I say, again speaking in French.

  “Don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about, silly American,” he says to me, in English. I guess he’s speaking English just to prove he can. “And it’s cute you know some French, but I speak English.”

  “Wow,” I say.

  “Rebecca,” says Eugene. “Please let me handle this. The thing is, sir, is that this could turn into a really bad press situation for Liseria.”

  “I don’t give a shit about the little reporters with their little notebooks,” says the chief.

  Well, there goes our plan for me to pretend I’m a reporter, I think. Clearly Eugene isn’t going to be able to handle this. I need to do take care of it myself. Fuck, if only my heart wasn’t racing so fast. I feel like I’m about to pass out from the anxiety, but Luke’s probably dying.

  “You mentioned an accomplice,” I say. “I know the guy well.” That’s not quite true, but whatever. “He’s just some two bit criminal from my country. I can’t see him ever getting his hands on the type of quantity you’re talking about. And what’s more, there’s something called innocent until proven guilty. And no, don’t tell me that’s just in the States, because I’ve done some reading on Liserian law, and your constitution is based on the constitution of the United States of American. Citizens have the same rights to be tried before a jury of their own peers, and to be considered innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Listen, kid, this isn’t the United States of America. Things work differently here. These are things you know nothing about, so please leave this up to the Liserians. This doesn’t have anything to do with foreigners.”

  “Rebecca, please,” says Eugene, giving me a pleading look.

  Fuck that.

  I’m feeling calmer now that I have a handle on what I’m going to say. I know this is going to work, and I know Eugene’s solution isn’t going to go anywhere. We have to do this fast. There’s no time to mess around. Luke doesn’t have the time.

  “Listen,” I say, in my French, which has become more confident as the days have passed. “There’s no way you can keep him here and not send him to a hospital. You say this doesn’t concern foreigners, but it absolutely does. The United States give a substantial amount of financial aid to Liseria each year—yes, I’ve done some research before coming, like any responsible foreigner—and while I’m not a diplomat, I can speak with confidence when I say that the United States will not look kindly to the incident that’s unfolding before us. You’re using the prince as a political tool to prove that the royal family no longer has influence over the rest of the government. But by using the prince, you’re inherently going to be creating an international incident. You really want the prince to die here in the police station? You think the newspapers won’t print that? And you think that the US won’t withdrawal all their financial aid when they understand how egregiously you’ve violated the constitution of your own country, the constitution you are bound to uphold?”

  Eugene looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. I can’t tell if he’s impressed or what…

  There’s a horrible silence hanging over the room. The police chief’s pipe has gone out, but it’s still hanging in his mouth.

  “Well,” says the police chief, slowly. “Perhaps the prince’s current condition does require that he be transferred to a hospital.”

  “Immediately.” I say.

  He nods, then picks up the phone and speaks into it.

  “Prepare the prisoner for release,” he says. “We’re transferring him to Hospital De Flor immediately.”

  I look at Eugene, completely shocked that it worked. Eugene looks shocked too. He gives me a weak and nervous smile.

  “Come with me, and you can supervise the release of the prisoner,” says the chief.

  “What about the other prisoner?” I say. “The American?”

  “He’s not hurt,” he says.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Are you questioning my authority, you insolent foreigner?”

  “Yes,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes.

  “Very well,” he says to my surprise.

  Wow, I can’t believe that worked so well.

  “The other prisoner wasn’t hurt at all during the crash. He was reviewed by the EMT team on the scene, and they didn’t find any injury. The car crashed on the driver’s side, and the prince was driving.”

  I nod my head.

  “Come on,” he says, leading Eugene and I into the hallway.

  We wait for a moment while some police bustle around. Finally, two of them come, dragging Luke between them.

  Shit, he’s fucked up.

  There’s blood all over his face, matted into his hair, and he’s barely conscious.

  He’s mumbling something.

  His leg is bent at a weird angle.

  My heart’s racing again. Eugene looks white as a sheet, like he might pass out.

  The police chief observes the proceedings calmly, his arms crossed in front of him.

  I rush over to Luke. “Luke!” I say, and I begin crying.

  He looks really bad.

  Luke mumbles something. Then he looks up a
t me. His mouth is all twisted and bloody. Some of his teeth are missing. His nose is definitely broken.

  “Rebecca,” he says, managing to say just one word.

  “It’s OK, Luke,” I say, trying to fight back the tears. “It’s going to be OK, Luke. You’re going to go to the hospital.”

  Luke tries to say something more, but his eyes roll back in his head and he passes out, going completely limp in their arms.

  The policemen dragging him don’t take any notice, and they just continue to drag him through the door leading outside, where they unceremoniously dump him on the concrete.

  “Assholes,” I cry out, forgetting any and all of my French.

  They don’t even look back as they walk away.

  The police chief is smiling over all the proceedings.

  What a fucking prick.

  I’m kneeling down by Luke along with Eugene, looking to see what we can do. But he’s passed out, and we don’t know where to begin with his injuries. There’s nothing we can do.

  “There’s the ambulance!” says Eugene.

  The ambulance pulls up, narrowly avoiding Eugene’s sports car, still parked terribly, and the paramedics jump out.

  They put Luke on a stretcher, treating him a hell of a lot better than the police. They’re checking his pulse, injecting him with drugs, all while loading him into the ambulance.

  “We’ll follow them in the car,” says Eugene, and we rush over to the sports car to follow the speeding ambulance.

  “Good luck, Luke,” I say softly in French, while staring out the window at the ambulance.

  25.

  Luke

  I wake up. Everything’s crazy, hazy, I don’t know what’s going on.

  Days seem to pass, but it’s confusing as hell. Everything hurts.

  Finally, I seem to regain some of my consciousness. I start remembering who I am and what I’m doing here. And as soon as I remember, I groan.

  Ah, fucking Sebastian.

  Fucking Luke too. How could I have been so fucking stupid? Getting involved in a cocaine deal with an undercover cop, and then deciding to drive away. And then apparently crashing a really fast car, while driving really fast.

  Fuck, I hope Sebastian’s as fucked up as I am. Not dead, but just injured.

  “Luke?” says someone.

  It’s Rebecca!

  “Rebecca, what the hell happened?”

  “You don’t remember what happened?”

  “Actually, I guess I do. It’s not even like the memories are flooding back. But they’ve been here all along.”

  “What do you remember?” she says, giving me a worried look. Shit, I hope she’s not really mad at me for being such a fucking idiot.

  I tell her everything that happened, down to the last detail. I’m careful not to excuse myself too much from culpability. After all, everything really was my fault.

  “Luke,” she says, giving me a very serious look. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

  “That’s fair.”

  Shit, she really sounds mad. I really was starting to have serious feelings for her, and I was wondering whether I could spend the rest of my life with her. But now I doubt she’d want to.

  “But I love you,” she says.

  She’s staring me dead in the eyes.

  There’s only one way to respond that makes any sense.

  “I love you, too,” I say.

  She leans in and we kiss deeply.

  Surprisingly, my body doesn’t hurt too much.

  “How bad off am I am?” I say. “Did you talk to the doctors?”

  She nods. “You can still have sex,” she says.

  I laugh. “I was trying to ask that in a more oblique way, more round about, you know.”

  She laughs, and puts her hand on my cock. I’m just wearing a thin hospital gown, and it feels amazing having her hand tightly around me.

  She’s on top of me, straddling me, and my cock is jamming up against the insides of her thighs. She’s wearing jeans, not a dress.

  “So what’s going on with the whole political situation? Why am I not in prison right now?”

  Despite the situation, despite having her so close to me, and despite the throbbing pressure of my cock, I can’t help but suddenly worry I’m going to spend the next ten years in jail.

  “Well, you should be in jail, and the police wanted to use you for some Liserian political play. But I convinced them that wasn’t a good idea.”

  “You convinced them?” I say, emphasizing “you.” I can’t help but be surprised. “I figured that was more of Eugene’s territory.”

  “He means well, but he was basically useless.” She tells me how she made the police see that their only option was actually sending me to a hospital.

  “But don’t they want me in hand cuffs? Or, now that I’m not going to die in half an hour, bleeding out, or whatever, why don’t they take me back to prison?”

  “Apparently the palace has much more political reach outside of the police territory, but I imagine you knew that.”

  “No,” I say. “I mean, I guess that makes sense. But honestly, you may know more about Liserian politics at this point than I do. I was too busy getting into trouble to really study up on what the hell was going on in Liseria. I only knew what pertained immediately to me.”

  “Well now it does pertain to you,” she says.

  “So we’re good? The police aren’t going to walk in on us going at it like rabbits, and drag me back to jail?”

  “Not just yet. Eugene’s in court today with a team of royal lawyers or something arguing on your behalf.”

  I relax a little on hearing that. If the royal lawyers are involved, it not only means that I have a chance with the case, but also that my parents are on my side and letting the lawyers work for me, and possibly maybe even arranging it. Hopefully, this means that I’m not going to be estranged from them. I have no idea what the hell I’d do. Not that it really matters to me right now, because I realize that Rebecca’s the only important person to me. If I’m with her, nothing matters. I can’t be with her if I’m in prison, so I’m glad I’m not going to be doing pushups in a cell for the next decade.

  “I think I’ve loved you for a long time,” I say, holding her face gently in my hand, brushing her hair behind her ear.

  She gazes back to me with those beautiful eyes, gazing right into me. Her pupils are growing slightly wider, making her face look softer, almost impossibly beautiful.

  Even in the harsh hospital light, she’s the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen in my life.

  And I’m going to have her. I’m going to fuck her right here and now.

  My cock is simply throbbing. It needs release, and it needs it from Rebecca. There’s just no way I can hold out any longer. I can’t resist her, no matter what, no matter whether the whole medical staff walks in on us, and no matter whether or not I have the go ahead from the doctor.

  That said, I am glad to have it.

  “So what the hell happened to me?” I say, suddenly curious. Meanwhile, my hands are running all up and down her inner thighs, just barely avoiding her outer lips. I can feel the wetness there, and the hot heat that’s coming off it. I can almost already feel her on my cock, even though it’s nowhere near her. It’s the memory of past love making sessions, her warm pussy gripping down on my thick shaft. Fuck, I need her.

  “Not much, really,” she says, laughing.

  “Why is that funny?”

  “I just don’t know how you got out of that car wreck alive. I saw the car. You’ve got some good luck, or some guardian angels.”

  “Both,” I say, sighing. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve almost died like that, doing something idiotic. I’ve got the best guardian angels on the planet, I guess.”

  “Or maybe just princely reflexes and luck.”

  “You commoners don’t have luck?”

  She laughs. “I don’t kno
w if there’s special luck for you royals, but you personally seem to have a lot of it.”

  “I’m just lucky that I found you,” I say. “That’s the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.”

  “I am?” she says, giving me an innocent look.

  I laugh.

  “Of course,” I say. “You’re the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me.” I say it again, just to emphasize my point. “I really mean it.”

  “I’m lucky I found you too,” she says.

  “Well,” I say. “Now that I have official medical clearance, it’d be a shame to waste this opportunity, you know…”

  She giggles.

  “One thing first, though,” I say, conscious of my ever-hard cock. It’s as hard as steel for her and it’s not going to be satisfied until it gets inside her. She’s just calling out to me. Her body is beckoning me with her soft skin and delicious curves. “How do I feel so good? I didn’t break anything? Or rupture any internal organs. I think I was driving pretty fast. And, oh, shit! What happened to Sebastian?”

  “He got deported,” she says. “But he’s OK.”

  I nod. “I don’t think I’m going to be seeing any more of him. Those days are long past. You’re the only one for me now, and with you I don’t need to be running around like a fool all the time with all these shady characters.”

  She smiles at me, her mouth radiating warmth. Her eyes are sparkling, and her hair is shining. How does she do it in this horrible lighting? Her beauty can’t be contained or obscured by anything.

  “Nothing in the world could keep you from looking beautiful,” I say.

  “Wow,” she says. “You’re getting good at complimenting me.”

  “I need to keep looking for new words and phrases to describe your beauty,” I say. “But, yeah, I’m glad Sebastian’s OK and also glad he’s deported. He is ok, isn’t he? He didn’t get too mangled into the crash.”

  “He barely got a scratch…he’s a lot better off than you are. I guess the car crashed on your side.”

  “But how could he be better off than me? I feel totally fine.”

  “You really weren’t fine when you were in the police station. I don’t know if you would have made it if you’d stayed there like they wanted. You did have a blood transfusion. A pretty hefty one, since you were really bleeding out, and you hadn’t received any medical attention at the police station. It was kind of crazy, the way they were willing to let you suffer like that.”