It was a perfectly rotten end to a perfectly rotten day. I had spent my tenth wedding anniversary in a bar, drowning my sorrows in dirty martinis while my friends tried to console me over the fact that my bastard husband had left me for his big-titted,
20-something secretary. The icing on the cake: getting pulled over by the police on my way home. I knew why. I had blown a stop sign a few yards back. Normally, I wouldn't be nervous, but my breath smelled of vodka and it was Friday night. DUI patrols
were out trawling for drunks. Just my luck.
"License, registration, and proof of insurance," the patrolman requested curtly.
"I realise I missed the stop sign," I said as I handed him my documentation.
"I didn't see it until I'd passed. There were tree branches in the way."
The officer nodded noncommittally. "Have
you been drinking this evening, ma'am?"
"I had two martinis with dinner." It wasn't strictly a lie. I did have two martinis with dinner. The fact that I had hadn't touched my food and had two martinis before was another matter.
"I'm going to need you to step out of the car."
Great. Yet another reason to curse my ex. While the officer murmured undecipherable police lingo into his radio, I opened the door of my black mercedes benz and fumbled about, trying to find my shoes. I couldn't stand driving in heels, so I always took
them off. Floundering for them in the dark was not helping my case. Neither was the damned pencil skirt that impeded my getting out of the car. Finally, I got myself together enough to stand and face the patrolman, whose nametag read 'Reynolds'. "Please
walk ten paces up and back, one foot in front of the other," he instructed.
No problem! Unless you're wearing five inch spiked heels on a beat up asphalt road. I twisted my ankle and stumbled on the seventh step. I would have fallen, had Reynolds not caught me.
"Whoa! Not doing so well, are we, Mrs. Mills?"
"Miss," I retorted testily, bracing myself against his hard biceps as I regained my footing. Being rude wasn't smart, but I was still a little sensitive about my divorce. "It's Miss Mills," I repeated in a more pleasant tone of voice.
"Okay then, Miss Mills. How about you come over here, off the road."
He led me over to the passenger's side of his cruiser and backed me up against the rear door. It was probably police procedure, but he was a little too close for comfort.
"Turn around," he said brusquely.
I did as I was told, forcing my numb body to turn towards the police cruiser. I could hear the dull metallic sound of handcuffs knocking against one another as Reynolds fished them out of his belt.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he said, clicking the handcuffs around my wrists. "What'll it be?"
I could feel the bile rising in my throat as panic set in. This road was virtually deserted at night. I didn't stand a chance of fighting off a man of Reynolds' size. My mouth went dry and the air left my lungs.
"You want a breathalyzer, Miss Mills?" His tone was mocking. "I got something real nice for you to blow on."
The quick blast of a siren prevented Reynolds from expounding on that thought. Another police cruiser flipped on its turret lights and pulled up behind him. A tall, blondewoman in a police uniform exited the vehicle and made her way toward us. Reynolds
muttered a curse under his breath and took a step back.
"Reynolds," she called congenially, "You know you're supposed to call for a female officer when you have a female search."
"Uh, yeah, Sarge. I put in a call to dispatch. Didn't it go out?"
He did no such thing! I was about to call him on it, but he beat me to the punch.
"Let it go, Miss Mills," he cautioned in a low, gruff voice that intimated his ability to make my life a lot more miserable than I could make his.
"I didn't hear anything," she said, rounding the back quarter panel of Reynolds' cruiser so that she was face to face with us. Her nametag read "Swan".
"What do we have?" she asked, nodding her head at me, but not taking her emerald eyes off him.
"DUI," he replied, squirming uncomfortably. "I was just getting ready to transport her."
Swan eyed him a little suspiciously. "Why don't I transport her for you?" she suggested.
I could feel Reynolds bristling. "You gonna do all the paperwork too?"
Swan nodded her head. "Sure, Reynolds I'll do the paperwork" Reynolds gave her a challenging glare, then thought better of it and released me from the cuffs. "Tow truck's on its way," he growled, handing her my information.
"That's fine," Swan said evenly as she grasped my upper arm gently.
"Aren't you going to cuff her?" Reynolds inquired testily.
"I don't think that's necessary."
It seemed that Swan was enjoying her subtle yet effective smackdown of Reynolds as much as I was. He was like an ill-tempered Doberman with a shock collar and a ten inch leash. He couldn't say or do a thing, and he knew it.
Good dog, I thought smugly as we turned away from him, standing there, his furious eyes burning imaginary holes in our backs. My arrogance over escaping a not-so-pleasant evening with Officer Reynolds was short lived as it hit me: I was still being arrested.
'S-sergeant Swan,' I stammered as she quietly led me to her car, "if you'll let me explain –"
"Shhh," she soothed, "we'll talk in a minute. Let's get you out of here. Watch your step. You're likely to break your neck in those heels."
She opened the rear door of her car and I obediently got in. What else was I going to do? Resist arrest? Not likely.
Sergeant Swan retrieved my purse, nodded a polite goodnight to Officer Reynolds, and then climbed into the driver's seat of her car. She murmured some more police speak into her radio, then eased the cruiser onto the road. We passed Reynolds, leaning
non- chalantly against the trunk of his cruiser, staring daggers at me. I had to resist the urge to flip him off.
"Did he hurt you?" Swan asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.
"No." I didn't feel the need to tattle about Reynolds' vulgar threat. I'd just as soon forget the whole thing. Besides, away from him it became clear: Reynolds was a bully, all bark and no bite. He'd forget about me before his shift was over.
"What's going to happen now?" I asked as Swan pulled up in front of the tiny police station.
"Right now, I'm going to take you home."
"But I thought –"
"That you were going to jail? For what? A drink or two with dinner?"
I nodded my head.
"You wouldn't have blown more than point zero three on a breathalyzer," Swan said, getting out of the car and opening my door. "And while a designated driver would have been the prudent thing to do, you haven't broken any laws. I can't do anything about
your car until morning, but I can give you a lift home."
"I can get a cab."
Swan laughed. "In this town? We have 24 cops and two cabs. You could walk home faster. Just let me sign out."
I waited for her on a bench in the lobby. The desk sergeant gave me a curious glance, then went back to his novel. Not a whole lot going on in Maine tonight, was there?
Not a whole lot happened on the short ride to my apartment either. We drove in silence except when I was giving directions. We pulled into the parking lot, where it was quiet, dark, and spooky.
"Thanks for bringing me home, Sergeant Swan."
"No problem. And it's Emma."
At the mention of her name, my eyes were drawn to her golden blonde hair, even though I willed them not to. My thoughts betrayed me as I thought of a sunny warm day out in the sunshine. Laying down on a blanket under a tree where tiny specks of the sun
shines through the branches.
We both got lost in each other's eyes then I finally looked away and we fell silent.
"Well," I said, a little uncomfortably, "I should go."
Emma nodded. "It was nice to meet you, Regina."
I unbuckled my seatbelt and exited the low slung coupe. I had not gone more than three steps when my ankle gave out on me – again! I might have laughed had I not been so fed up with life at the moment.
Emma was at my side before I had a chance to get up. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. This just hasn't been my day" Suddenly, I was sobbing, telling Emma everything about my horrible day, my horrible ex, and my horrible life. She listened to it all, letting me vent while she helped me up and into my apartment. I didn't even
realise we'd gone inside until I felt Emma press a warm, wet washcloth on my skinned knee. I won dered if I should be upset that she'd made herself at home, shedding her jacket, seeking out my linen closet for the washcloth, and raiding my freezer
to pour me a double shot of vodka. I took a calming drink from the glass she handed me and decided I wasn't.
"The stockings are trashed, but otherwise, this doesn't look too bad," Emma said, lifting the cloth from my knee. She gently blew on the scrape, cooling the burn. A little shiver went up my spine.
Emma lifted my leg, trying to inspect my ankle as she knelt on the carpet. "I can't get a good look at this. Get rid of the stockings so we can see whether or not you should go to the ER."
"I'm sure it's not that bad," I said dismissively. I had already inconvenienced her enough for one night.
"Probably not, but let's make sure."
Too weary to argue, I stood up, trying not to put any weight on my ankle, unzipped my skirt, and shimmied out of it. I grabbed the waistband of my hose and pushed the nylon
over my hips and down to my thighs. My fingers brushed Emma's as she took over, sliding the hose down to my ankles. No need for modesty amongst girls, right? Suddenly, I felt exposed and embarrassed. I might as well have been naked, standing before her,
my lace-clad crotch leveled with her face. I quickly dropped onto the couch, and nonchalantly crossed my hands over my lap.
"What do you think?" I asked Emma, trying to relax. But inside, I was live wire. My nipples were like diamonds as they rubbed against the lace of my bra. My panties were soaked. I was totally turned on.
"I think you'll live," she said, gingerly palpating my inner ankle. There was minimal swelling and no bruising. She pressed her fingers against the tender spot and began to rub in a slow, rhythmic motion. Again, I felt a surge of arousal course through
my pelvis. I dismissed it; I was misinterpreting Emma's intentions. But there could be no mistake when Emma pressed her lips to the spot she
had been rubbing. She looked at me expectantly as her tongue slipped out from between her lips and began to trace circles around my ankle. She was waiting for permission. A flash of the eyes and an imperceptible nod of the head marked my consent.
Emma slowly licked her way from my ankle to my knee, gently parting my legs and climbing between them. A few scant inches separated our faces and I could feel her dewy breath on my skin.
Then she kissed me. Her lips felt like rose petals, velvety and smooth. My mouth was pliant beneath hers, lips spreading eagerly at the urging of her tongue. Emma slipped her hands under my ass, pulling me forward, pressing my body against hers, spreading
my legs wide. As our tongues slid over one another, I undid the braid that held her golden tresses captive. Emma freed the buttons of my blouse and palmed my breasts, kneading them through my bra, softly at first, then with more urgency when she heard
my whimper of pleasure. I managed to pull her uniform shirt free from her pants and made quick work of the buttons. Her shirt found a home on the floor with mine.
Without further ado, she reached behind her, loosened the clasps of her plain, cotton work bra. What lay beneath was anything but plain. Her C cup beauties jutted out at me, looking delicious, daring me to touch. And I did. They were the first breasts
– aside from my own – that I'd ever touched. Handling them was a newfound, sexy delight. They were warm and firm in my hands as I squeezed them, holding their weight in my palms, brushing the nipples with my thumbs. Emma moaned appreciatively.
In gratitude, she pulled down the lace cups of my bra and sucked one of my nipples into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the hardened tip. When I leant back to shove more of my petite breast into her mouth, my precariously perched rear slid off the
sofa
and onto her lap. The cold leather of Emma's holster dug into my thigh, but I didn't care. I was preoccupied with the buckle, its hard steel flicking against my engorged clit when I swivelled my hips.
"Not yet," Emma admonished seductively. "We have things to do."
Such as? My interest was definitely piqued.
She rose up on her knees, pushing me back onto the couch. Her fingers curled around the lace of my panties, pulling them off. She spread my knees wide again, sliding her hands up my thighs until they met on either side of my swollen pussy. With delicate
precision, she used her thumbs to part the dark brown almost black curls, opening my folds like the pages of a book.
"God, you're so wet!" she exclaimed, rubbing up and down my slit with the pad of her thumb. I couldn't help but moan. Emma slid her thumb all the way down my wet gash and slowly pushed it inside me. I moaned louder.
"Is that good?" she asked, drawing her thumb out and then easing it back in.
"Yes!"
Emma continued to fuck me with her thumb, sliding in and out of me at an unhurried pace. It was an exquisite torture.
"More?" she offered.
"Please," I croaked.
She bent her head and added her mouth, her wet tongue gliding over my pussy like a skater on ice while her thumb stayed its course. She affixed her lips to my tingling clit, sucking on it and releasing it every time my hips rose.
She giggled at my obvious eagerness. "Which way to the bedroom?"
"That way."
Emma grabbed my hand and we ran down the hall, stopping twice for her to press me up against the cool walls, fondling and kissing me, until we fell through the open doorway. A small lamp shone; a soft glow that was perfect for seduction. My seduction.
At the hands of a lady in blue. A cop sex fantasy come true.
My heart was in my throat as I climbed onto the queen-sized bed.
"Oh!" Emma exclaimed. "Stop right there!"
I froze in mid-crawl, on my hands and knees with my back – or should I say ass – to Emma. I could feel the mattress depress under her weight as she came up behind me.
"I couldn't help but notice this," she said, smoothing her hands over my curved rear, "when you were on your knees out front."
"Oh really?" I giggled.
"Really."
She quickly discarded the rest of her clothes. I held my pose for her, watching her over my shoulder. She reinforced her approval by pressing her lips to each of my rounded cheeks. Her breath was hot and moist as she zeroed in on the vertical smile between
my legs. She buried her face in my pussy, driving her tongue deeply into me. Her nose pressed enticingly against my crease and, when she joined me on the bed,
she let her tongue trail upward and punctuate the hot, pink pucker there, tonguing me until I begged her to stop.
She fell back onto the mattress and looked at me, her beryl eyes glinting in the dim light. "Stop? But, Regina, we're just getting started."
Boldly, I crawled over to her and straddled her hips. "Are we now?"
Emma purred like a kitten as I lowered my pussy onto hers. I ground my wet lips against her hard mound, instinctively knowing that she would like it. Grabbing her lovely tits, I squeezed them hard as I rode her. Her hips bucked off the mattress, the word
"yes" drip- ping from her lips, a barely audible mantra that was as much a plea as an affirmation. She was on the brink of orgasm, and I had a front row seat. I dismounted and crawled be- tween her thighs. Her musky scent tickled my nose, drawing
me in to taste the tangy juice that dribbled out of her pussy. I was a novice, but it was easy as pie. Sweet pussy pie. I knew what I liked; not coincidentally, Emma liked it too. Intuition and the whimpering noises that Emma made whenever I hit a
particularly sensitive spot kept me on the right path.
I swept my tongue up and down her pussy in slow, broad strokes, cleaving her puffy, shaved lips so I could service her clit. I worked that knot over, sucking and pulling on it with my lips, circling and flicking it with my tongue.
Emma snaked her hands between her legs and she pulled her lips as far apart as she could. "More," she gasped, as my tongue darted in and out of her slippery hole.
I worked one finger into her, and then another, and then a third. She was tight and hot, growing wetter and wetter as my fingers worked their magic.
"Oh, oh, ohhh!" she cried as she came, her pussy clamping down on my hand. I stayed with her, humming triumphantly as I sucked on her clit. She came again almost immediately, and I had to admit, I was fairly impressed with myself.
"Come here," Emma whispered breathlessly.
I slid up on the sheets until we were side by side. Emma kissed me, softly lapping at my lips, cheeks, and chin, tasting herself on my face, cooing with pleasure. As she was winding down, I was winding up, and we became a tangle of arms and legs, lips
and tongues, wrestling on the bed.
Emma rolled me onto my back and held my hands over my head. Drawing one of my nip- ples up between her lips, Emma sucked and nipped at the hardened pebble with her teeth and tongue until it was just shy of painful.
"You like that, don't you? Well, then how about this?" She slid backward and hooked my legs over her thighs. She plunged two fingers into my slick channel. The wet, sucking noises my drenched pussy made while Emma fingered me were a beautiful accompaniment
to the crescendo of my moans. She needed no answer. The proof was in the pussy.
I tugged on my nipples while Emma tapped out a Morse code on my G-spot; the more I tugged, the more she tapped, the wetter I got. Two fingers, three fingers, four. The way Emma filled and stretched my tight pussy made me want to die. I held on, panting
and moaning, while she encouraged me with her sweetly murmured dirty talk.
"That's it baby," she crooned as I gyrated my hips, "your pussy looks so pretty with my fingers in it. So pink and wet. I can't wait to feel you come. Will you come for me, Regina? Will you?"
I nodded. She had no idea how badly I wanted to. But orgasm eluded me, always just out of reach.
"What do you need, baby? Tell me how to make you come."
Quickly, I scrambled to my knees.
Emma smiled knowingly. "Mmmm," she said coming up behind me, "you want a little something back here too, don't you?"
"Please," I implored.
"Always happy to protect and serve." She pushed on my shoulders so that I was face down on the bed, my ass in the air. Dipping her thumb into my pussy, she coated it with slippery juice and smeared it up and down my crease. The tight rosette of my ass
winked at her as she circled it slowly on the outside with her thumb. Gently, she pressed against the muscle, patiently waiting until it gave way and sucked her in up to the second knuckle.
"Oh God," I groaned, millions of nerve endings in my ass applauding its welcome invader. I thought I might faint, but I didn't. My body became electrified, sparking and jumping at every touch, giving me goosebumps.
Wow, I thought, just wow. I had my lover's thumb pistoning in and out of my ass – a taboo treat that I'd only dreamt about before now – as her fingers wriggled against the tight walls of my pussy. Not one to sit by idly, I kept myself busy, pinching and
rolling my throbbing clit. Rocking back and forth against Emma's hands, I was on a roller coaster of pleasure, teetering at the apex of orgasm, ready to thunder down the other side.
"This is what you need, isn't it, baby?" Emma said in a whisper. "For someone to fuck your hot little ass? It's so tight! Am I your first?"
I couldn't speak. A little squeak of affirmation was the best I could manage. I used to privately sing the praises of the vibrating plug I kept in my dresser, like it was the best thing since beltless maxi pads. News flash: it couldn't hold a candle to
Emma.
She worked her other thumb into my ass, diving and retreating with its partner, stretching the tight orifice more than I'd ever dared. I furiously rubbed my swollen clit until, finally, in an incredible, repeating, pulsating rush, I came. Hard. To say
I saw stars was an understatement.
I collapsed onto the bed and Emma came with me, snuggling up, her head on the pillow next to me. She entwined her legs with mine and cupped my still-throbbing pussy possessively with her hand. I toyed with her breasts, kneading them gently.
"You're quite the little criminal," she teased as I ran circles around the taut, dusky peaks with my thumbs. "I think you broke three or four laws there – at least."
I blushed. "It was a conspiracy! I had an accomplice!"
Emma laughed. "I won't tell, if you won't."
Then she kissed me, her slippery tongue caressing mine with sensual expertise. I could feel her fingers nudging my sticky lips apart, pushing their way into my wet opening.
"This is the police," she breathed into my mouth as she started to work my pussy again. "Spread 'em."