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Grace (#006) was my consultant at my March 16 pleasure party, and did an absolutely wonderful job. ...

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Traffic Stop

Traffic Stop

Erotic fiction by Michele London

All day, she could feel the panties she’d worn sliding further up, leaving her exposed and almost naked under her dress.

She could feel him watching her, watching the dress sway around her legs, and the bounce of her bottom when she walked. When he dropped reports at her desk to be typed up, she saw his gaze travel to the valley of her neckline, and felt suddenly as though her conservative v-neck was daringly low.

He’d been promoted to sergeant that day, and as she sifted through the paperwork she listened to the others congratulating him; back-slapping, making jokes, and inviting him for a drink.

His deep voice filled the small office. When he laughed, a flush spread over her cheeks and down into the hidden warmth between her legs.
    “Congratulations, Ben,” she said, handing him the collated and hole-punched report.
    “Thanks,” he replied.
    “We all knew you deserved it.”

He smiled, obviously a bit embarrassed, and Melissa hurried on.
    “A few of us were going to go to The Goose after hours, to toast your success.”
    “I’d love to,” he said, “but I can’t. I promised Charlie and Dean I’d have a drink with them.”
    “Oh. Oh, right, of course.” Melissa backed away, feeling foolish.
    “But I might join you later.”

His eyes flicked to her breasts and Melissa was aware of her panties again, of how wet they were already.
    “Ok,” she said. “Great.”

She went back to her desk, her cheeks stinging, desperate to have the conversation to do over again, but reeling from the thought of possibly seeing him later that night.

At five, Melissa clocked out and joined the other admins in the station lobby, holding her coat over her arm, chatting and pretending her stomach wasn’t buzzing with anticipation. When the last of the group had assembled, they rode the elevator down to the street and set off together on the three-block trek that would take them to The Pickled Goose, a sports pub that catered to the blue. They arrived early enough in the evening to find a large booth still unoccupied, and they settled their purses and coats around them and got comfortable.

Rounds were ordered. Melissa drank hers slowly, not wanting to be too far gone by the time he arrived, and risk looking like a fool in front of him. But the night wore on, and though her attention snapped to the door every time it opened, it was never to admit Ben and his group, and she began to lose hope that he was, in fact, coming to join them. She stayed perky, hiding her growing disappointment as the minutes ticked by, and agreed to a round of shots after all.

It was getting late. The others began to get up, gather their coats and bags and say their goodbyes. Melissa lingered with the last of them long enough to finish the drink she’d been nursing, and have a discussion with herself about how sober she actually was, and whether or not driving the few blocks to her house was a good idea.

She had a glass of water and played a few rounds of solitaire on her phone. Her head was much clearer after that, and she figured it would be okay to drive now. She was glad now that she had drunk so slowly; she’d be waiting on a cab otherwise.

By the time Melissa made the trek back to her car, jabbing the key into her car door and plonking herself down into the seat, the station parking lot had filled with the cars of the night shift. Makes and models she did not recognize. She scanned for Ben’s Mazda, but with no luck. He’d obviously gone home already.

The streets were empty. It was past midnight on a Wednesday, and very few people had reason to be out driving. Melissa let her thoughts wander as she drove. Where had Ben ended up? She’d been so sure he was going to come, the way he’d looked at her when he had said...well, it didn’t matter now. He hadn’t come, and that was that.

As the car coasted down the lonely road, her phone dinged out a text message. She leaned over to fish it out of her purse on the passenger seat. For a moment, her eyes left the road, and when she looked up again she was halfway into the opposite lane.

Her hand flew back to the wheel, and she turned sharply the other way to correct herself, swerving into the lane on the other side of her before she evened out again. Even as she shook with relief that there had been no one else on the road, red and blue lights began swirling in her rearview mirror.
    “Shit,” she muttered, and eased her car over to the curb.

Who was on patrol tonight? She ran through a list of possibilities as the uniform stopped his car behind her, swung long legs out of the driver seat and sauntered to her door.

A flashlight shone into her window. She rolled down the glass, blinking in the sudden brightness.

    “Hi, sorry, it’s...it’s Melissa, I know I was driving a little crazy, I was looking for my stupid phone, it’s my fault, it was dumb, I...who is that? I can’t see your face.”

Ben lowered the flashlight enough to take the glare out of her eyes. Her words dried up at the sight of him, inexplicably back in his blues and leaning into her window like a beat cop. Her hand twitched to clutch together the fabric of her v-neck, but she restrained herself. He was very definitely looking directly into her face this time.

    “Did you go out drinking tonight?” he asked. Her face flushed.
    “Well, yes, but, I mean, I’m not that stupid. I wouldn’t...you know...drive. Why, um, I mean, I thought you were going to come join us.”
    “Malcolm’s wife went into labor. I told him I would cover part of his shift so he could be with her. Jenner's covering the other part. Can you step out of the car, Melissa?”

She almost laughed, but the expression on his face didnt' really seem amused. She pushed open the door and got out, swaying a bit in her heels as she did so.
    “How many drinks did you have?”
    “Ben, I’m not drunk. I just had a drink. I was swerving because of my phone, I --”

He came so close to her she was afraid, for an instant, that he was going to kiss her. Instead, he bent down and inhaled deeply.
    “You smell like whiskey.”
    “Well, I had a cocktail.”
    “Just the one?”

His eyes drifted down to her cleavage, and any nerves she had felt at getting pulled over were immediately dissolved into a flood of heat that infused her from her face to her groin.
    “I could arrest you for DUI,” Ben said, a rough timbre deepening his voice.
    “But you won’t, right? Not if I, cooperate?”

He turned off his flashlight and set it down on the hood of her car. Taking her arm with one hand, his other settled into the small of her back and guided her around to the other side of the car.
    “Turn around,” he said as he positioned her with her hands on the hood.

She looked back at him over her shoulder, the sight of his dark blue collared shirt and gold buttons making her wet again. She arched her back, tilting her hips in his direction and her chest up and out. Then, his hands were running down her arms, around her shoulders, and down the sides of her stomach.

She could feel the warmth of his body behind her as he frisked her, slower than any procedure ever dictated. She leaned into his hands. He gathered her soft, heavy breasts together and massaged them, tweaking the nipples beneath her blouse and squeezing the warm mounds with the care of a connoisseur.

    “You have beautiful tits,” he said, moving closer until he was flush with her back. His hard length pressed against her bottom, and Melissa felt her own moisture soak the fabric of her panties.

As his hands moved lower down her body, she covered them with her own, pressing him closer to her. Ben’s mouth found her neck. He sucked and nipped at her throat and neck, his fingers pushing up the hem of her skirt and walking up her leg to her hip, looping around the band of her panties. Melissa’s hands joined his again, slipping her panties down, tossing them aside. He pushed her legs open wider then, the same way she’d seen him do to countless perps, and let his finger slide into her opening.

Melissa let out a cry and leaned against her car for support. His thumb circled her already shaking clit, and she could not keep herself from giving voice to every wanton moan he had ever inspired in her. He was still pressed against her back when he made her come, and his presence kept her standing when her knees shook and threatened to give way beneath her.

As she lay gasping against the hood, Ben pushed her skirt all the way up and a rush of cold air hit her. A zip and the rustle of his patrol belt, and then his skin was nudging hers, his cock probing her throbbing and over-sensitive folds. She pushed back against him. He entered her easily, and thrust into her as far as he could, grunting at the sudden feeling of it.

The car was cold against her thighs as he plunged into her again and again. She pushed back against his rhythm and helped him go harder. His belt pounded against her ass, and she could see his black boots straddling her own red heels, both of them standing on the curb beside her car.

He reached his hand into her shirt and brought one of her breasts out of her bra. The nipple hardened even further when it hit the night air, and he stroked it as his thrusts grew faster.

When he came, he buried his face in her neck to muffle the sound of his groans, and wrapped both arms around her chest to hold her against him. He stayed that way for some time, letting his breathing slow into the back of her hair, relaxing his muscles against her.

    “Couldn’t you arrest me for this, too?” she asked, just to break the silence. For the first time, she heard him laugh.
    “Would you like me to?”
    “Only if the punishment fits the crime.”

He withdrew from her, leaving her back cold and her body empty. She bit back a sudden wave of embarrassment at having been so bold. Of course, it was only to be expected that this was a random occurrence, a one-off tryst that could never be spoken of or repeated. She was a fool to think otherwise.

But by the time she had put herself back together again and turned around, Ben was standing with a pair of shiny silver handcuff dangling from one finger, and a daring smile on his face.
    “Care to find out?” he asked with a grin.

Copyright ScarletGirl.com

Michele London is an author, editor, and romance consultant with Scarlet Girl. She is a regular contributor to Scarlet’s Letter and the archive of articles at ScarletGirl.com. She writes dark fiction and erotic fantasy, and dips into real-life tales of sexy for the lovely ladies as a Scarlet Girl pleasure party consultant in the San Francisco Bay Area.

If you like this bit of erotica, and would like to see more, please let us know.
In the meantime, for 10% off the items of your choice from ScarletGirl.com, just enter code "TRAFFIC13" into the Coupon Section at checkout.

This article was added to our catalog on Thursday 21 March, 2013.

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