Der verheiratete mann meines nachbarn und auch ein polizist, der mich dazu gebracht hat, alle regeln zu brechen

He lived next door — impeccable uniform, firm gaze and that way of a man who doesn't ask, takes. Policeman, married, always so correct on the streets... But inside the house, away from the eyes, he showed another face. The smell of leather from the belt, the grave noise of his boots on the floor, the tension in the air as our eyes crossed in the hallway. It was inevitable. When he knocked on my door, saying he needed to "talk," I already knew it wasn't about neighborhood safety. It was about the desire that had been hovering for weeks. And he came in... with authority.