Um', I said, my mind whirring for an answer. I must have elongated the um subconsciously into a long uuuuuuuuum without realising it. You could see the confusion at my reaction.
"Your browsing history...UMD... appears to be a password protected site. Give me the password"
It wasn't a question, it was an order. I coughed and shifted in my seat. I silently cursed Brad, his perfect toothpaste ad smile, the toned and ripped body. The penchant for drug dealing.
"It's, um..." I coughed, "Gungemenow123, dollar sign, exclamation mark"

I dropped my eyes back to my now whiter knuckles. "Capital G" I added quietly.

To his credit, Lock didn't laugh, roll his eyes, or ask me to repeat. He saved me that further embarrassment by just clacking the password onto the keyboard. The slight pause as he hunted for the shift key before the final louder bash of the enter key, and he was in.

A gentle thump, thump thump getting louder heralded the searching policeman's PC return from the search upstairs. The door opened and he came in.

"Nothing to do with the suspect guv. He's cleared his stuff out, there is only this gents...", his gaze shifted from Lock to me, "personal possessions"

This was the first time I had looked at Plod one properly, during Lock's monologue I had been distracted with the shock of what was going on. I appraised him for the first time. Same height as me I guessed, 5 foot 10, 5 foot 11 maybe. Even in his uniform you could see he looked after himself. Not to the level of Brad's Adonis state, but broad shouldered and narrow waisted he cut a great shape. Tanned skin, dark hair, hint of stubble after a long day. Nice teeth, an open honest face. He looked like someone you'd hit on in a club. He removed his hat, and rubbed his hands over his buzz cut hair before repositioning the cap. There were fine black hairs on his large masculine hands. My appraisal was interrupted by sounds from my laptop. Plod one moved behind Lock and bent slightly to focus on the squelching slapping sounds from the small speaker on my machine
Oh great I thought, Lock has clicked on the pieing video I made with a guy I met through UMD. Thankfully you couldn't see his face clearly as he had already been face pied by the time we started recording, but I knew the video well, if Lock didn't hit stop pretty damn soon both he and Plod one would see the guy pull my speedos down and slap a pie onto my hardon.
From the speaker you heard me sigh 'yeah' which confirmed that the two policeman had just seen me naked taking a sloppy full crust cream topped custard pie to my already excited cock. I looked down. I heard the mouse click and the soundtrack stopped. I realised I had been holding my breath and let it out slowly. I daren't look up. A few mouse clicks later and the speaker crackled to life. Tinny seagull noises and the rushes of waves permeated the room. Adding to the seaside soundtrack came the laughing and cheering of several men. I remember it was 5 or 6 at the start but as we progressed there must have been around ten?
"Ladies and gentlemen" a male voice, doing a terrible impression of a ring side announcer bellowed, "please welcome your wrestlers"
Even in the reflection of Locks glasses I could make out the shape on the screen. Me naked, semi erect mid screen ankle deep in mud at my local mud wrestling pit. I knew the video well, any second now, my 'opponent' would appear stage right, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt and plough headlong into me and we would roll in the mud, arms flailing around trying to get the upper hand. I would be pushed under the water into the mud and reappear totally covered, only the whites of my eyes giving any contrast to the complete mud brown covering. They would see me wriggle out and place my weight on my opponent's chest pushing him under. Any second now they would see his T-shirt ripped off as we struggle. The cameraman struggling to keep up with us as we roll through the mud towards the laughing, clapping cheering onlookers. You see me pop up from the pit. I look toward one onlooker, bellow 'you want some?' before hooking the guys legs from under him and he rolls into the mud alongside us.

The mouse click heralds the silence that follows as the video is stopped. I hear a dog bark outside so it's not dead silence. Actually I hear the clock ticking too. I've not died. Not just yet.

"I am going to take the computer back to the lab to search deleted files" Lock said as he closed the site, the program and my shame down, "the tec guys will be able to throughly interrogate it. We will get it back to you in a few days"

Lock closed the lid, placing his hand on the top. A wedding ring, old, pinched up against the skin as he got larger but the ring didn't. He couldn't get it off if he tried. Probably wouldn't want to. Unlike my partner, his wife wasn't a lying, cheating, criminal motherfucker. Fuck! I hate Brad right now

Plod one speaks as Lock bundles away my laptop into an evidence bag, "I will get it back to you as soon as I can. I appreciate your willingness with our enquiries and you understand even though you've said it's your laptop, which Mr...?"

"Gillingham" I confirm, almost spitting it out.

"...Had no access to, we do need to take it and any mobile phones back to the lab. If you give me your landline number I can arrange a day for returning your possessions"

I nod and look up at Plod one. I start to well up, the emotional release after the ordeal. My vision blurs and I blink my vision back to clarity. His eyes are deep, hazel brown. In other circumstances I could get lost in them. Right now, I just want all this, and them to go away. Despite all that, there is a warmth to his eyes, a compassion. Maybe all part of the police act, but it gnaws away at me. Is he 'good cop' and Lock 'bad cop'. I blink more tears away and the illusion of his warmth evaporates, he's now just a policeman stood over me. Lock slides a receipt to me to sign for my possessions. My hands shake but I manage it.

Plod 2 joins the party unaware that his two colleagues have seen their suspect on screen naked, erect, and mid gunge. He reports nothing of interest. His radio crackles, some female talking in code and numbers. He grips the handset, sends back an equally cryptic response and heads outside. If Lock or Plod one understand the code they ain't telling and go about their business. Within minutes they are gone. I am minus my mobile, my laptop, my dignity but I still have my freedom. Unlike Brad I am not running from the law, but merely the humiliation. I go to the kitchen and for some reason flick the kettle on. I stare at the blue LED on the kettle. Just like Brad abandoned me, I abandon the kettle and head for the cupboard in the lounge. I pour the largest whisky I've ever had and slump onto the sofa.

All I can do now is wait for Brad to reappear so I can kill him, or the police to catch up with him and wait for the call from Plod one to get my stuff back