Thursday

Renata Quinn drove slowly along the barely-lit industrial highway in an unfamiliar neighborhood. It was Thursday night and she had found the male pickings at the clubs west of town to be meager. Her husband would definitely be a decent choice on a night like this. What she had to do first was find a familiar road.

The whoop, whoop, whoop of a police siren wailed at her at almost the same instant she realized she had gone through a red traffic signal!

"Damn it!"

The red, yellow, and blue lights flashed in her review mirror and she pulled to the curb. She unwound the window and waited. Two officers got out of the car and walked alongside hers on either side. She wound down both windows.

By the time the officer came to the driver's side, she had her license and registration ready and she handed them to him.

"What is that, ma'am," said the other officer.

"What is what? Oh, damn. Sorry." She slammed the glove box closed.

"Are you armed, ma'am?" the young officer asked.

"Of course not."

"Can you open your glove box, please?"

"I think I'll just take my ticket and get out of here," she said. She was deeply incensed at the officer demanding to see what he had already seen. He was a smart ass. All he wanted to do was ... Oh, fuck him. Let him play his games.

She snapped open the glove box and the officer reached inside and pulled out her dildo.

"Sticky," he said. "Have you been using this weapon?"

"What are you doing, kid?" said the sergeant. He stepped back and reached for his gun.

"Easy, Sarge, easy. I think the woman is carrying a loaded weapon." He sniffed. "It's a little sticky, and from the smell I'd say it's been used recently."

The sergeant frowned and put his gun away. He finally recognized the dildo, and a grin crossed his lips.

"For your information, Little Mr. Smart Ass..." She had intended to tell him it had been used recently, but she caught herself.

"Will you step out of the car, please," the older officer said.

"I have not had anything to drink since lunch. One glass of wine, and that's it. It's well after dark, and by now..."

"Would you step out of the car please?"

She sighed. It was straight-up harassment, but she shouldn't have gone through the red signal in the first place. Let them have their fun.

She opened the door, and swung her feet from the car. The friction between her thighs and behind and the surface of the leather seat caused her nylon skirt to pull over her thighs. The sergeant, now as devilish as the younger, flashed his light on her crotch and she grinned.

"The young officer was right. My weapon has been used lately. Within the last fifteen minutes as a matter of fact. I am still wearing my heels, but I will walk the straightest line you fuckers have ever seen."

Even as she stood on the street, the hem of her black mini-dress barely covered her otherwise naked pussy and it hung over her thighs at such an angle the sergeant could no longer see her clean shave. He flashed the light in her face, temporarily blinding her and she looked away.

"Good looking broad, this one," the sergeant said.

"Flattery will get you nowhere. Now show me the straight line you want me to walk."

"Walk straight back toward my car," the sergeant said.

"Absolutely," she said. As steady as a ballerina, she walked toward his car.

"Nice ass too," said the younger officer.

"Now do an about face and came back."

"And the tits aren't bad."

"If you're trying to make me resist arrest..."

"Fiery temper, too," the younger officer said.

"I'm old enough to be your mother, young man." Why did she say that? She wasn't forty yet and she was describing herself as an old woman. It didn't make sense.

"Would you two assholes give me a ticket and get it over with?"

"Says here you're thirty-eight," the sergeant said of her driver's license.

"So?"

"So you'd have to be fucking pretty young to have a kid his age." The sergeant tilted his head toward the other officer.

She nodded and looked at the sergeant. She saw the slightest of grins and the glisten in his eyes.

The sergeant was probably mid-forties, and under his uniform he seemed to have a substantial body. He was well built but with a bit of weight around his middle. The chest might be the Kevlar vest, but he still looked good. She might like to fuck him if the circumstances were different, and she found herself grinning about that.

"What is it lady?"

"Your woman must be really lucky."

"She is."

The younger officer laughed. "Hey, Sarge, looks like the lady's trying to seduce you out of the ticket."

"I'd fuck Sarge here and still take the ticket," she said.

"No sloppy seconds for you," Sarge said to the other. "Like the lady says, it would be too much like fucking your mother."

"You don't have to talk like that. She's too young to be my mother."

"With me, it'd be like fucking a kissing cousin," the sergeant said.

"Or your little sister," Renata said.

The sergeant lifted his hand to slap her. She put up her arm, then caught himself.

"When do you want to do it, Sarge?" she asked. "You want me to meet you someplace? Your house?"

The sergeant's anger dissipated. He surveyed the neighborhood Where there had once been busy factories, the streets were dark. There was probably nothing alive but bats and rats, stray cats and dogs, pigeons and too many kinds of bugs to count, but he came to the same conclusion Renata had reached.

"How about now?" she asked

"You drive," he said to his younger partner and to her added, "Lock your car. We'll bring you back." He was a man used to giving orders.

"Whoa, Sarge. We gotta..."

"We gotta do what I say," Sarge said.

Listening to their quick back and forth and the sergeant's toughness, Renata's juices foamed through the soft tissue of her pussy. In the back of a police car, she might be cramped, but she was ready. She beeped the door lock with her remote key, and followed the two officers.

The younger officer opened the back door of the patrol car on the curb side of the street, and Renata climbed onto the plastic covering of the rear seat. It had the acrid odor of disinfectant.

"Have you fucked a lot of women back here?"

"Shut up and raise your skirt."

"Oh, yes, sir, sergeant. Yes, sir."

"Drive around the block and park," he said to his partner. This shouldn't take long."

"And I thought you were going to be nice to me."

Even before the patrol car pulled away from the curb, the sergeant unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. He pushed her skirt up and over her belly and spread her legs. His cock was nice ... the right thickness and hard as steel, except for the softness of the head, that helped him push straight on through the wetness and all the way inside her.

"Ohhh." It was good.

"Yeah, oh," he said and started to pump inward and outward. He pushed his hand through the bodice of her dress, gripped one of her tits and pinched her nipple. She tried to arch her neck to kiss him, but he growled at her. "I don't kiss whores."

"Just fuck them," she said. She liked being called a whore, in spite of the fact she had rarely done it for money.

He was hurting her, with a delicious pain. The pinch of her tit, the pumping cock, the growl ... it all got to her. Sending messages of "do it" to every part of her anatomy. The fuck was good and it helped her imagine the grand majesty of the perfect fuck with the perfect man ... the man she had dreamed would take her to his island and fuck her five and six times a day. There might never be such a man, but whoever she fucked at the moment served the purpose of imagining it.

Oh! It was starting.

His cock was hitting the right spot. His fingers gave the pinch. The wetness of her pussy had continued to flow and was under her ass and on the plastic seat now. He had her all the way in the back corner of the back seat.

There was a flash, lightening maybe, and the patrol car hit a bump.

"Sorry, Sarge."

"Pull to the curb!" the sergeant said.

He came out of her and it was as delicious slipping away as it had been plunging into her. She reached for it, still hard. She put her fist around his cock and pulled, but her whole fist slid away, and he let out a little cry of pleasure as her moist hand slipped all the way over the head.

"Put it back in, Sarge," she said.

"Yeah," he said, in a growled breath. He gripped it himself and knelt over her like a colossus.

The car hit another bump and he banged his head on the ceiling.

"Stop the fucking car!"

"That was me stopping. I'm sorry."

Renata was panting, grabbing for him, wanting him back inside her, but the sergeant waited until the patrol car was stopped. He let go of her tit, opened the door behind him with his fist, and kicked it all the way open. His hands, wet from the juices that had coated his cock gripped her wrists.

"You put it in, bitch."

The ultimate insult of bitch was to her, the ultimate compliment. She liked nothing better than being recognized as the goddess bitch that every man should want as long as she called the shots. She stroked his cock a few times before she put the broad head to her opening again and he pushed inside her.

There was another flash.

Her excitement had dampened only slightly and it came back at her full and hard. Yes, the red signal, she was so glad she had gone through the light.

"Give me the ticket. I don't care. Just fuck me."

In and out he went and the ripples of excitement began not at her pussy, but at her ass. It went through her and up her spine.

"Fuck me, yes."

"Yeah," he said.

"Yes. Oh, gawd. Oh, yes."

"Yeah."

"Yes."

"Yeah."

"Oh!" the shock of pleasure numbed her brain for a fraction of a second as he continued to pump. Then it numbed her for almost a minute, and then...

"Ohhhhh."

It was good, very good, far better than the dildo with its recent pleasure or with her fingers and thumb that had helped her come before.

"Ohhhhh."

His cum had gushed into her and filled her and it was oozing out of her pussy and onto the back seat of the patrol car. The sergeant left all of his weight on top of her.

The sound of breathing filled the car against a background of the police radio announcing a burglary.

It was the perfect fuck, the sudden fuck and a fuck with an audience. She loved to fuck with an audience. It was a shame she never let Shane know that.

"Yes," she said. "That was good."

But the sergeant was already off her, standing on the broken concrete of the sidewalk, zipping his fly. She lay on the back seat of the police cruiser, her dress pulled over her belly, her pussy agape, her skirt wet.

A cell phone camera flashed and she realized the younger officer had taken a photo, but it wasn't the first. She remembered other flashes when she was too wrapped up in what she was doing with the sergeant to her to understand what they were.

"Get out, we got a call," the sergeant said.

She was slow to move. He yanked her from the car and she fell to the dirty sidewalk.

"Let's go," the sergeant said.

"My car!"

"About a hundred yards up ahead. You can walk," the sergeant said, and he slammed the door.

The police patrol vehicle zoomed away with a whoop, whoop, and flashing lights. When they were out of site, she rose to her feet in the darkness of the old industrial highway, feeling a little like a whore, but she liked that feeling as long as she didn't have to live the life.

She would go home and tell Shane about some ordeal she would invent between now and the time she beeped the garage open. In the meantime, she was afraid of the dark, the bats, rats, dogs, and cats.

She brushed down her dress over the front of her and folded her arms against the nylon of her dress and under her braless tits. She walked like a teenager, bracing her hot young body against the nighttime chill.