Layin' the Law

A
few years back, I dated this cop. I know, right? Me and a cop seems about the
most unlikely combination imaginable unless he was bustin' my ass for
disorderly behavior in public. I mean, when faced with a choice between getting
busted or giving head, I'll opt for something I enjoy doing anyway. It's my
civic duty, to my way of thinking. Besides, Joey busted my ass plenty... just
not in that particular way.

I
met him at this fancy thousand-a-plate charity function at the mayor's mansion.
It wasn't long after I started that freelance cocktail waitressing gig my
friend Jen drug me into. A short skirt and a big smile for a couple hours. Bare
legs toned from lots of tennis. Thong. Nice tips, from the men
and
the
ladies. There were far worse jobs that paid far less. Might as well use what
the Creator gave me, right? It was easier that stripping, although stripping
was like being paid to work out... just in spike heels.

He
looked so hot in his dress uniform, crisp shirt tight across his broad
shoulders and khaki pants equally tight across his hard ass. Clean shaven and
with his blond hair so sunbleached it was nearly as white as his teeth. Had to
be married, I remember thinking. Had to. My pussy didn't care. It was already
saying, "Let's go!"

He
was chatting with the mayor's wife, who appeared every bit as enchanted by his
good looks as I was. He smiled graciously as she prattled, not the tiniest
spark of interest in his steel blue eyes. Yet his attention never wavered. A
true gentleman, that one.

I
tried to catch a glimpse of his left hand, but it was in his pocket, probably
fondling his keys with thoughts of escape. I caught myself drifting into a
fantasy of following him out the door and sliding into the passenger seat of
his pick-up. I would kick off my shoes and put my feet on the dash, letting the
air from the vents fill the cab with my scent. Fuck! I wanted him.

I
figured he'd just roll with it, given that he probably got as much action as he
desired with those looks. He'd play with my wet pussy until we got to his place
then take me from behind—hard and fast—as soon as we got inside. The second
time would be more controlled. The third, exquisite.

I
shook myself back to the present and focused on my job, all the while
continuing my reconnaissance. I had to know whether the object of my lust had
his cart hitched to another wagon.

Now,
mind you I could have any man—or woman, for that matter—I set my sights on,
married or not, but this here girl's got a code. I don't mess with no other
sister's man... or brother's woman... or any other combination of consenting
adults. It's my fucking golden rule. Literally. There are plenty of hot, horny
people in this city. I don't need to cause anyone grief by stealing their
squeeze. I might be considered a slut by some, but I'm a principled slut.

I
don't mess with the kids, either. Just because something sweet is in a bar with
a drink in their hand doesn't mean they're legal. And their parents don't care
what assumptions you made based on that fact. I'm just sayin'. So, if a target
isn't clearly older than me, I have been known to ask for ID. Seriously.

Finding
a good lover under the age of twenty-five is rare, anyway. The dudes shoot
their loads too fast—although they do reload quickly—and the chicks are just
too full of angst, venom, or themselves. I'll take a well-seasoned lover any
day of the week.

That
reception was so busy it was well over an hour before I finally managed to
maneuver my short skirt, my big smile, and my tray of expensive champagne to
his general vicinity. Joey, I overheard someone call him. Joey Malone. He had
inched closer to the door, although he showed no signs of imminent departure.

He
was clearly older than me. Mid-thirties at least. Maybe forty. Well-seasoned
indeed.

"Careful,
honey," Jen whispered in passing, her empty tray in both hands behind her
back as she leaned toward me. "That one's got one hell of a rep."

I
put on my poker face and squared my shoulders. "I am certain I do not know
to whom you are referring."

She
rolled her eyes. "Right. Just... well... y'know... be careful."

I
watched her walk away, curious about her warning and appreciative of her
backside. Jen knew me well. She knew  I had a weak spot for strapping white
boys, especially those in uniform. Young or old. It didn't matter. It was the
protect-and-serve bit that just melted me. The chivalry. The selflessness.
Those who put their lives on the line for others usually knew how to
give
,
if you get my drift. And they also knew how to take orders... and, for
officers, how to give them. An absolutely titillating skill set.

Plus,
digging my claws into some granite biceps while he drove his hips into mine
didn't suck, either. Oh, and that soft hair. I could already feel it sliding
through my fingers.

Until
tonight, however, my infatuation had been with the military, especially the
Marines. I was a bit too much of a wild child to mess with law enforcement...
or so I believed.

My
daddy had been in the Marines. Tall and proud. He was killed when I was just a
toddler, but my mother kept him alive in my memory. I grew up fantasizing about
him. About how he'd extend that white-gloved hand and ask me to dance. About
how he'd gallantly waltz around the room with his little girl standing on his feet.
My officer. My gentleman.

When
puberty arrived, those fantasies developed right along with my ripe body. My
hand became his hand, his tongue, his cock. He'd lavish me with attention,
teach me how to please him, study how to please me. Without even being there,
he took me to places no other lover could even approach.

"Excuse
me," a deep, gravelly voice came from behind. He stood so close; I could
feel the heat emanating from his body.

Already
on edge, I shuddered.
Get a grip on yourself, girl!
I took a deep
breath, brightened my smile a notch, and turned slowly. My eyes met his chest,
and I looked up through my lashes before raising my chin. His presence was even
more impressive up close. Poised, self-assured, and commanding respect.

"What
can I do for you, sir?" I added a little pause before the
sir
, for
emphasis.

The
intended effect was not lost on him. He appeared as shaken as I felt, a very
good sign.

Smiling,
he plucked the last remaining glass from my tray, tipped his head in thanks,
and took a drink. "Ah, thank you. I was parched."

"My
apologies. I've been trying to make it to this side of the room for over an
hour, but the guests have been like piranha—"

"Biting
you?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow.

"Champagne
piranha," I clarified as I tucked the tray under one arm.

"Pity.
I was rather enjoying the image of nibbling on your thighs."

Oh,
I enjoyed it as well, but before I allowed myself to indulge further, I had to
know if he was committed to anyone. "Mister—" I made a show of
examining his name tag. "—Malone, I—"

"Joey."

"Joey,"
I corrected. "Are you
with
anyone?"

He
smiled, lifted his left hand, and waggled his fingers. "Single. No
commitments. Why?"

I
glanced at the clock. My shift ended in fifteen minutes. "Before I seduce
someone, I always check."

His
smile widened. "And here I thought I was the one doing the seducing. Shall
we skip the dance altogether and proceed directly to the nibbling?"

"Normally,"
I confided in all seriousness, "the dance is a big part of the turn on.
The scent of prey. The thrill of the hunt. However, after being on my feet in
these shoes for the past four hours, I very much like the idea of cutting the
chase."

Flirtation
is intoxicating. Playing hard-to-get while someone pursues your horny ass is
good for the ego. Grinding on the dance floor is wonderful foreplay. But,
without exception, spending that time with nothing between the two of you but a
layer of sweat beats all of those options by long mile.

He
blinked, as if surprised by my no-nonsense approach. "Very well then—"

"Serenity."

"—Serenity.
I'll meet you by the door in fifteen minutes. Oh, and don't forget to bring
your thighs, little girl."

With
a wink and light kiss on my cheek, he brushed past me and made for the head
table to, I assume, pay his farewell respects. His last words—
little girl
—made
me weak in the knees.

It's
not that I wasn't. Little, I mean. Five one on a good day and maybe a hundred
pounds dripping wet. Even so, the words meant way more to me than a description
of my physical appearance. They traveled through my ears, along my nerve
endings, and straight to my clit faster than you could say
daddy
.

I'm
not sure how long I stood there, savoring those words, before Jen got my
attention.

"C'mon.
Boss said we could take off a couple minutes early. There's a bottle of
Southern Comfort at home with my name on it." Her keys were already in her
eager little hand.

"You
go ahead. I'll see you later."

She
looked at me sideways. "Girlfriend, you
will
tell me every detail
in the morning, hear?"

"Count
on it," I nodded.

With
a wave, she flounced away, carrying her strappy pumps in the crook of one
finger. Again, I admired her retreat.

I
made a quick stop in the ladies' room to make sure everything was looking as
good as it felt. For good measure, I slipped off my panties and stuffed them in
my bag. I wouldn't be needing them for a while.

Joey
was waiting, right where he said he'd be, looking for all the world like a man
about to indulge in some toe-curling, headboard-banging, nail-gouging,
thigh-nibbling sex. Even his slacks betrayed his plans as they pulled slightly
tighter across his crotch. I liked what I saw. Not a full blown boner. Just an
anticipatory thickening. Flattering as opposed to desperate.

I
wondered if I'd get a chance to feel him harden in my mouth or if he'd already
be rock hard by the time I got on my knees in front of him. With this one, I
might have to wait until the second or third or even fourth round for that
particular pleasure. First time around, if a guy isn't hard before his clothes
come off, it makes me think that I really don't turn him on.

That
wouldn't be the case tonight. Not if the preview was any indication of the main
event. I decided to shelve my "bold seductress" and let my "bad
little girl" take center stage. I had a suspicion Joey would like that.

To
that end, I popped a piece of bright pink bubblegum in my mouth, kicked off my
shoes and slung them around my Hello Kitty purse strap, then slowly walked
toward Joey with my gaze intent on my phone. Any casual observer would've mistaken
me for a self-absorbed mocha teen princess, blowing bubbles and texting. If 
Joey was as perceptive as he seemed, my little role playing would spark a night
of fantasy fulfillment.

"Young
lady, where on earth have you been?" Joey's voice was serious and stern.
"You were supposed to be here five minutes ago."

My
stomach did a happy somersault, and I fought the urge to smile. "I'm
sorry, daddy." Might as well go for broke, I figured. I know my voice
quivered, although out of anticipation rather than fear. "I had to use the
bathroom."

Joey
didn't appear to be buying her excuse. "My time's valuable, little girl.
You should keep that in mind when you're primping in front of a mirror."

"I
said I'm sorry, daddy. I just wanted to look nice, and I really did have to
pee. Besides—"

Joey
looked at me and sighed, playing the part of an exasperated parent
convincingly. "Besides, what? Don't even
think
you can lie to me
and get away with it."

I
hesitated, then decided to push things a bit. "My panties were kinda, um, wet.
I had to take them off." If I hadn't taken them off, I thought, they
might've absorbed at least some of the moisture pooling in my slit and
threatening to trickle down the inside of my thighs.

Joey
stopped short. I caught the wicked grin that pulled at the corner of his mouth
before he reigned it in. "I can see it's time we had a little...
talk."

Without
another word, he marched ahead of me. I followed obediently, still popping my
gum and checking my texts. Inside, my excitement made it difficult to bring my
eyes into focus so I could actually read the words on phone's screen.

The
police cruiser was waiting out front, back door open. Joey was leaning against
it with his arms crossed.

"Aw,
gee. Do I
have
to sit in the back? I promise I'll be good. Please let me
sit up front with you, daddy."

Joey
glared at me. That bulge I'd observed earlier was noticeably thicker. My mouth
watered.

"Pretty,
pretty please?" I whined so convincingly that I wanted to spank myself.

He
nodded curtly, pushed the back door shut, and slid into the driver's seat,
leaving me to circle the car. My legs, although shaky, managed to carry me to
the passenger door. If I got any wetter, I would be making slurpy noises when I
walked.