(Only her hairdresser knows, unless you read the story!)
I was working graveyard as a rookie cop in one of the smaller cities just outside of Los Angeles, California. Our little city was independent from that of L.A. County so we had our own school system, fire and police departments. I was born and raised here so by the time I became an officer, I knew a lot of the residential and business people on a personal basis.
Our department worked single-man patrol cars but we believed it was actually safer than the two-man cars Los Angeles used for a couple of reasons. We didn't have any gettos, barrios, or skid rows. Also we could afford a lot more officers and cars per capita than L.A.. Finally, when we made a stop of any kind there was usually another officer within a few blocks to 'back' you up.
Well anyway that was the theory, and we had the stats showing it worked well for us. In over 50 years of working single-man patrol cars we had zero officer fatalities. Two cops had been killed on duty but both of them were motor officers who had died as the result of traffic accidents.
I was about 3 mos. out of the academy working area L-2. My Probationary period was one year so I still had 3 more mos. to 'sweat'. It was just after the 2:00 a.m. 'time check' and I was parked in a closed gas station with my engine running. I was keeping an eye on one of my beat's large intersections with a set of 4-way flashing red lights while at the same time making a quick entry to catch-up my 'Activity Log'. At this hour of the morning any car not on a call made their presence known at key locations (like where I was) to assist in the safe flow of traffic. Most drivers were aware that we were 'out and about' when the bars closed so they were even more cautious than usual. That factor alone was key in maintaining our low fatality rate.
I heard the subject's approaching car by the sound of the engine and knew this driver was not going to slow and stop as required. Maybe it was another drunk driver just leaving a bar. She 'busted' the light at well over 50 mph. Thank goodness the two other cars at the intersection were paying attention and delayed their entering or it would have taken a wrecking crew and a coroner to clean up the mess.
Kicking my patrol car into gear, I watched her vehicle go sailing dangerously through the intersection without so much as even a hint of any brake light! Flipping on my 'Reds' I hit the street with 'pedal to the metal' trying to catch and slow the driver before she 'blew' the next intersection and maybe had a catastrophic collision. I had already witnessed one of those just a month earlier that resulted in the death of two male adults so maybe I could keep the same thing from happening now!
It took a long time and the use of a couple of 'blips' of my siren to get the driver to stop but at least there would be no accident this time. As the driver slowed I could tell by the long hair it was a female. Yeah, I know there were a lot of longhaired 'hippies' in '65 but not with the shimmering blond 'bow-in-the-back' that this babe was sporting. I went '10-10' (routine traffic) and gave out the license plate prior to exiting my veh.. No hot, no warrants and no hits! She had turned the corner onto a dark side street adjacent to the closed Greek Hamburger Hut, a little stand that was favored by cops working 'Day Shift'. It was just off of a well-lighted major street and in the best part of town so I figured the most I had was maybe a D.W.I…but more likely a citation for 'failure to stop at an intersection during a flashing red light'.
*I know some aficionado'wannabe' cop will say "D.U.I" but back in '65 we only used the term Driving While Intoxicated under 23102a of the California Veh. Code. In earlier days it was known as a '502' in L.A.. Now everyone uses the term Driving Under the Influence. (Anyway shut up and stop thinking this is another bullshit make-believe story---well maybe some of it is but not yet!) Christ, some of you readers really piss me off. The other day I wrote a story and said a particular car was a '57 Chevy Impala. You'd a thought I was recruiting for the Taliban with all the e-mails I got from assholes saying, "It must have been a '57 Belair because they didn't make the Impala until '58." Give me a freakin' break. B.F.D.! Not a word on whether they got-off on a damn good story. Just bullshit about a small slip of 1 year's difference in a stupid model. Shit! Some people must live a very limited shallow fucking life.
Sorry but I had to get that off of my chest. Thank you, I feel so much better! (Ha, Ha!) Now where was I…Oh yeah…D.U.I.. That's because it was just after 2:00 a.m. and that's 'Show-time' for stopping drunk drivers. However, I didn't think this person qualified other than the speed. You get real good at recognizing a drunk driver way before the stop; especially as far as I had to chase this one. Any way, the closer I got to Blondie's window the faster my heart started beating. With each closing step I could she was one cute looking, very hot, hot, babe!
I already mentioned the hair at a distance. Up close it was even more beautiful and obviously styled by a real fine hairdresser. This was no quick dye, perm, touch and flip! And the blouse she was wearing! Geez Louise, it had to be a 2 or 3 hundred-dollar hand made silk with all the frilly ruffles and such. When I took further inventory I could see she was wearing shimmering gold Lemmae slacks. And her jewelry…wow, did this 'sweet-thang' have some expensive jewelry. Oh…yeah!
Her silk blouse was unbuttoned 2 buttons from the top showing a nice bit of cleavage and now my cock began to have a mind of its own. Her beauty was talking directly to my young pecker which was beginning to have a mind of its own. It would soon become longer and harder than my 3-cell (flashlight) unless I could gain some control. I asked for her driver's license. She bent over to pick up her purse from the floor on the passenger side and with each ensuing twist and movement of her blouse, titties and tight ass, my pecker tried more and more to impersonate a policeman's night-stick! She fumbled through her purse but had trouble locating her I.D.. Normally I would have been impatient but watching her move around was wonderful for this sols-officer working a slow shift. Turning her big blue eyes right into mine was a stunning experience. So deep, so blue and so dammed innocent looking! Man I was in love…well at least in lust!
"I don't know just where my I.D. is officer. I live in San Francisco and just came from a party in Beverly Hills. It might have been sent ahead with my luggage. I'm so very sorry. What did I do wrong?" Her voice was soft and sultry. And then she smiled…that was the capper! As my light illuminated her face, I could see she had perfect teeth and her makeup was absolutely flawless. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. This had to be an actress from one of our three nearby film studios or at the least a high-class model from Rodeo Drive or Beverly Hills.
"Are you an actress or something?"
"Why yes Officer, I was flown down from San Francisco to attend a director's party at the Beverly Hills Hotel. I'm on my way to catch an early flight back home".
