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I had a couple of free months before I started my new job at Taylors and Swift, so I decided to celebrate my good fortune with a much needed vacation. Then unexpectedly my air conditioner broke and my car decided to break down, and a bank error froze most of my assets. Clearly scoring the job had used up more than my share of luck. In short: I had to cancel the whole thing and stay at home. That got boring quickly, so I asked my friend Danny, who was more into odd jobs, if he knew something I could try out while waiting. He told me he was about to apply as a movie extra for a thriller they were filming at the docks and suggested I could join him.

Surprisingly there wasn't even much of a casting process. All we had to do was write a letter including photos, sizes, and contact information, and voilà; within a couple of days we had an answer. Danny was a bit disappointed, he was just supposed to play some guy at the bus station. To my amazement, they booked me to play one of the police officers at the crime scene.

To film my part, I had to come to an empty facility outside of town in the middle of the night. I nearly got lost trying to find it, but a friendly neighbor pointed me at the right direction. The location was a flurry of activity when I arrived. There were lots of trucks, equipment and people about. Some of them were reading scripts, others were rehearsing, or walking around purposefully with pieces of equipment I didn't recognize. It all looked really professional.

I finally found someone who looked like they were in charge, and introduced myself. They sent me to a trailer, where I was supposed to get into costume. There was little room inside because of all the different clothes and uniforms hanging around. I was greeted by two young women, who asked me who I was. I quickly told them and they checked a list. Finding my name, they gave me the uniform I had to wear.

I felt a bit insecure, as I stood there in front of the mirror, nervously buttoning up the dark blue shirt, with the official looking patches and all the proper insignias. One of the women hung up my personal items and the other prepared the utility belt I had to wear, with the handgun holster and all the pouches for magazines, handcuffs and so on. Suddenly the door opened again. That was, when I meet Clint for the first time.

Unlike me, Clint was a real cop. He had pumped up muscles and a chin that could open Coke bottles. Being an extra was just something he was doing in his spare time, although he often got booked because he had his own uniform and could offer some advice here and there. Sometimes Clint stumbled over someone like me, who had never even stood near a camera before and suddenly found himself playing the very thing Clint was doing for a living.

When we were ready, we waited outside for the others to get dressed and be called on set. He told me everything I needed to know to play the part. Although he demanded respect for his profession and scolded one of the other extras for fooling around with his prop gun, he made it easy for me to adjust. Once on set, I knew exactly how to stand, how to behave and keep up an authentic appearance.

Filming the scenes themselves took just a couple of hours. I was a little disappointed it was over so soon, but on the other hand, I had the chance to go for a drink with Clint afterward and ask him about his job. I never realized it, but I hadn't had any friends on the police force before. To be honest, I always felt a little intimidated by cops. But now as I had befriended one, I was so excited to hear anything about his work.

After that I thought I wouldn't see him for a while. I was surprised when, a week later, I got a call from Clint. He wanted me to come to his house, it was about a new production, a bigger role, and he offered to train me personally to make sure I would be cast. Still short on cash, I was thankful for the opportunity and came right away. He lived in the suburbs, near the highway. Nothing special: A small two level building, with a narrow roof, a white wooden facade and small front yard with more dirt than grass on it.

I rang the bell and after a couple of seconds he opened. His home had a relatively minimalistic, but warm and welcoming interior. I realized he was nervous about something, although he tried to hide it under his typical firm but friendly face. After Clint had offered me a Coke, he explained what had happened. This wasn't just any production. It was directed by John Seamus, one of his absolute favorite Indie filmmakers. When he got the call, it was the best day of his life, and yet there was one small problem: Seamus needed a pair of cops and insisted they had to be the real thing.

Clint had already asked his colleagues, but none of them had either the time or the interest to appear before the camera. He said he could have asked one of the other extras, but none of them could play it believably enough - except me. I was flattered, but also a little worried! For a good reason as I soon found out: I would be impersonating a REAL Police officer. I had to wear a REAL uniform this time, with a REAL gun in its holster, dressing up HERE in Clint's House, before driving all the way to the set in a REAL Police car.

Clint was risking losing his job if his superiors ever found out, and I had no idea what big trouble I would find myself in. I tried to convince Clint that it wasn't worth it, but he insisted. He needed to meet this man, because of a script he had written. He gave it to me and I must confess, it was really good. He looked at me with big sad dog eyes, begging me to help him. In the end I agreed, but under the condition that he reserve me a good role, should his script been adapted to a movie.

The more time I spent with Clint the more I had to admit I was impressed with his presence and demeanor. I found I really liked him. As odd as it may sound, I even started to feel a little attracted to him. I couldn't wait to start getting ready for the role just so I could spend more time with him.

The next couple of days he taught me everything I needed to know, stuffing my head full with terms and phrases, regulations and numbers. He shaved my head to a more butch like cut, trimmed my beard to a firmer mustache and acquired a uniform from a colleague. It smelled different, having a certain musk on it. The gun hung heavier on my leather belt than the prop, as did the rest of the equipment. Each movement brought on creaks and jingling. I never realized how many noises a Cop could make, I wondered how were they able to sneak around when necessary.

We practiced different procedures, like how to question or arrest people. It took me a while to learn how to overpower a suspect with one hand, pull out the handcuffs with the other and attach them, the right way, on his wrists. I also had to learn the different Police codes. A Two-One-One for example stands for Robbery. And a Four-Eight-Zero for Hit and Run. Under normal circumstances I would never use them. There was no way I would lay my hand on the radio and risk to get us both in trouble! It was just in case the director would test me, which was a real possibility. John Seamus was a known perfectionist and very distrustful. If he grew suspicious in any way we were busted!

When the day finally came I was really nervous. Clint and I drove there, in his car - a REAL Police car! I'd never been aware how much attention they cause. People were looking at us, some friendly, some suspicious, with a grim look on their face. Some greeted us and Clint told me to greet them back, which I did. I felt like an imposter. Like they could somehow smell I wasn't what I was pretending to be. And then, something happened, shocking me out of my thoughts... Clint turned on the siren!

"What are you doing?" I yelled in panic. He didn't answer. He just pulled over an old woman in a rusty old Ford. We stopped, he turned at me and with a serious face commanded: "Check her license and registration!" I looked at him in terror. Was he mad? "It's just a routine procedure, an easy target! We have trained for that!" - "In theory, Clint! That's the real thing and I'm not that good of an actor!" - "Just do what I've told you to do and everything will be fine. I promise!" This whole thing was completely mad, but he had a reassuring quality in his voice, that made me relax. So I took a deep breath, put on my Police cap, opened the door and walked, as convincingly I could, around the vehicle and at the side window of that old lady's car.

She asked if there was a problem, calling me "Officer" which, in a strange way, helped my charade. I simply told her to hand over her license and registration and as she did so, took a long concentrated look at it. Everything seemed to be in order, so I gave them all back to her, wished her a nice day and returned back to Clint. That was all! When old granny had vanished behind the next corner, I yelled at Clint and told him what an asshole he was. He simply waited until I'd finished my tantrum, then he asked me how I felt. Angry of course! But besides that: How was it like to be a real cop in the eyes of this nice, old lady? To be a person of authority and respect? As strange as it sounds, I had to admit it felt... great! I'd been rather convincing, hadn't I?! Clint nodded. I was finally ready to do the job!

The film production itself wasn't that much of a problem. We met the director, he made his expected tests and once we had convinced him we were the real deal, he assigned us to our tasks. We had to arrest a guy, read him his rights and drive away with him - that was all! Clint used a break later to speak with Seamus, telling him about his story. Seamus seemed really into it and promised to review his script and call him back.

At the end of the day, we returned to our car and drove home. Well, not immediately! We stopped at a diner and had some burgers and coke. Still in uniform. The food and company were good, and I couldn't help feeling like Clint was flirting with me all the time we were eating.

It was late in the evening when we finally arrived back at Clint's house to change back into our regular clothes. I expected him to give me a little privacy to change, but he started to undo his clothes right in front of me. I hesitated and found myself staring at him as he removed his shirt and unbuckled his pants.

Clint saw me eyeing him and came over to me. He started helping me out of my clothes and I had to admit the fell of his hands on my body and his smell aroused me. Somehow he knew just how to excite me.

It wasn't long before we were both naked and kissing each other. I spent the rest of the night with Clint, lying with him in his bed, cuddling, kissing and having hot dirty Cop sex with handcuffs and everything, making it officially the best night of my life.

Shortly after I started working for Taylors and Swift. Clint, who really managed to convince Seamus with his script, went to L.A. never to come back. Except to sell his house, fetch his stuff and say goodbye. The long and hard way!

Years later I finally took my vacation, taking a road trip crossing the states in my car. When something unexpected happened. One night, I'd just entered a small town named Hazelwood, I was pulled over by the local Sheriff. Who to my big surprise turned out to be my old friend Clint. He'd aged rapidly, had a gut like a barrel and lightening hair. But he had not lost a bit of his Sex appeal after all this time! On the contrary: He was a bear of a man!

I followed him to his office, where he offered me a beer and told me about what he had been up too since we last saw us. After his short-lived career as a writer in Hollywood. He returned to the force and took a job as a Deputy in Hazelwood. After some years of duty he was offered to succeed old Sheriff Donovan, who grew ill from old age and constant smoking. I on the other hand still had just my boring old office job at Taylors and Swift, although I nearly got a chance at the position of the CEO, if it hadn't been for the bosses brat of a nephew. Now I was driving around aimlessly, taking some time off, before I had to return to my meaningless life.

Clint thought a while, then he reminded me at the old days. When we had to pretend I was a real Cop to get his career started. All the experiences he had in California over the years he owed to me, he said. Not to forget he'd promised me a role in his movie, which never happened, because of that damn job I'd taken. I told him it's okay, but he wanted to repay me and waved for me to follow him, back to the Locker room.

After a long steamy shower, when Clint proved to me he still got it, he opened one of the lockers and gave me a barely used Uniform that was hanging inside. He seriously offered me to play his Deputy for as long as I liked. In this town he was the Law and owing to a lack of Deputies anyway, nobody was there to prove if I was for real or not. Of course Clint had to refresh my training, but all in all I could decide to be whoever I wanted to be. This time I agreed almost immediately. Minutes later my head was shaved again, my beard trimmed to a firm mustache and I was wearing the uniform of a Sheriff Deputy.

I chose Daniel as a first name, in remembrance of my old friend Danny. Without him I'd never met Clint in the first place. For my surname I chose Reynolds, which was the name of the old lady we pulled over. So, Deputy Daniel Reynolds it was! The following days we trained and patrolled the streets, met the townsfolk of Hazelwood and I befriended some of them. Every day I invented more and more facts about my persona, always taking good care that I wasn't mixing up stuff. I tried new things, to develop new interests, new skills and become more and more the man I was creating. When I made my first arrest, it was clear I was never going back. I stayed with Clint and we took good care of this town.

Last year, my old friend retired, began to write again and I became the new Sheriff. I left the old me far behind! I don't even remember my old name anymore. All I know is, I wouldn't have it any other way!