Authors note: Horner Springs is a collective concept as discussed in thread "The Birth of Horny Town U.S.A" thread started by litfan10 in the Authors' Hangout forum. Authors who add to this town will pay at least lip service to the other Author's creations and may share characters. My contribution is part of a series of stories that will use your feedback to advance or reduce a character, depending upon how you, the readers respond. Tell me what you think.
JackLuis
The Policeman's Progress #1
The Policeman's Progress
~oOo~
Horner Springs Police Lt. Lee Johansson, had been in town more than four months and nobody had been killed, except for in traffic, and he did not cover traffic. That, it was explained to him, was Belinda Blight's department and she didn't need his assistance, "Thank you very much, and Good Day Mr. Johnson."
She was away on her scooter, so Lee yelled to her, "It Yo-Han-Son, Ms Blight!" She couldn't hear him over the scooter, but it made him feel better.
The Chief had asked Lee to try out the new Infrared Surveillance equipment that had been shipped to them from Homeland Security. Apparently, a Congressman was sure they needed at least one, maybe two of them. Lee later found out the Congressman's aid's wife was chief financial officer for the company that sold them to the Government.
Lee figured he could cover the night shift from his cruiser, rather than his desk and Lois Quartermain, the dispatcher was happy to get the brooding brown hulk out of the office.
"He need's to get laid," she confided to her before work coffee clach in the cafeteria of City Hall. "He's really smart and funny, but he's so serious all the time. I think it would be a civic service if somebody just up and screwed him until he couldn't stand it up."
"Are you volunteering?" Muriel, the town clerk asked with a giggle.
"No, not me, he's too complicated for me. I like simple men. Meat, potatoes and football. Keeps 'em out'a your hair and you get to drool over the locker room interviews." Lois said. She looked at Rachel Washington and asked, "How about you, Rachel. You look like you could use a beef injection."
Lois and Muriel laughed at Rachel's expression, which was shocked, not by the crudity, by the realization that in deed she
could
use some masculine company.
Rachel leaned back and began to smile. She too delighted in shocking Lois and Muriel as she said in a drawn out drawl, "Well, you know us southern girls, so loves a chocolate man."
Rachel was glad she had been able to shock Lois with that line, but as before she had shocked herself, by voicing her feelings before these women, she was forced to recognize the feelings herself.
While Lois and Muriel got over their shock in seconds and broke out in knowing laughter, Rachel was having to deal with a biological repercussion of imagining a luscious chocolate shaft reciprocating inside her. Rachel stood and said, "Well enough foolishness, almost time for work." She picked up her tray and left.
Muriel looked at Lois, "Do you think that she meant what she said?"
Lois smiled and looked at Rachel entering the ladies room, "She meant what she said, but did she know what she meant, when she said it?"
"Is that a New Age thing? I swear, Lois half the time, I don't know what the heck you're talking about." Muriel said picking up her tray.
Lois smiled and said, rising, "Then we're even Muriel. Half the time it just comes out, I think its psychic, or maybe..."
The women left and a few seconds later, Lee Johansson peeked around the edge of the door and seeing it empty, walked over and poured a cup of coffee for himself in a tall stainless steel Starbucks thermo cup. He mixed the cream and sugar to the potent brew that had seen him through many stakeouts and eons, it seemed, of looking at mug shots and MO's.
Horner Springs was tame by Chicago standards. There was more crime in a day in his old precinct, than all the time he had been here. Truthfully, he wasn't sorry he left Chicago, but he was going to have to find something other than crime fighting to think about.
Rachel tried to re-gather herself in the ladies room. She primped her hair and took her time refreshing her lipstick and the simple routine did calm her libido, a bit. She could still feel it low in her belly. The warmth and the need were ebbing as she thought about her job and she felt calm enough to take her desk at the City Crisis Center hotline.
One last look at her hair, she smiled at herself and thought, "
Rachel Washington, you're hot and sexy, and Mr. Lee 'YO-Han-Son' just might be the answer to the burning need you feel."
She caught a small flaw in her lipstick and corrected the edge with her fingernail.
"There, ready to face the world again,"
she thought and exited the rest room.
He had had several opportunities to dip his wick since he had been here, but he had been cautious. Maybe he was looking for something different than just a one-night stand?
"No,"
he decided quickly,
"I could use a good slow comfortable screw,"
he thought as he sipped the coffee and turned.
Rachel came out of the rest room, just then looking down at her nails; she glanced up and saw Randy Leroy,
("don't call me Johnson"),
Johansson himself standing at the coffee counter. She squeaked as her
need,
throbbed, down low in her belly.
When she squeaked, Lee choked on his scalding hot coffee, the potent brew erupted from his nostrils as his body rejected the idea that it could accept the scalding coffee while trying to support a Johnson erection that had suddenly reacted to Rachel's luscious, some might say, overstuffed body, but not Mr. Johnson. Oh no, Mr. Johnson, thought Rachel, a Rubinesque Cherub, dipped in extra dark chocolate.
The pain of the hot coffee exiting his nostrils at high velocity ended the rising of Mr. Johnson, about as fast as it took the coffee to hit the floor.
~oOo~
Lee came out of the locker room dressed in his spare uniform, the silk suit needed cleaning after he had blown scalded snot all over it, right in front of that bodacious Rachel Washington.
As he went to the parking lot behind police station, he wondered about her. She seemed nice and friendly, as she had helped him swab up most of the mess. Fortunately, he hadn't spilled his coffee cup too.
"It's those Swedish reflexes,"
he thought. He'd always had good reflexes.
Mr. Johnson stirred as he started the engine of the Ford Cruiser. 425 Hp and 200 Mph tires they had told him. The rumble from the exhausts was somewhat invigorating after driving that 'POS' Dodge Shadow in Chi town.
He backed out and drove out through town, the rumble of the engine seemingly filled the streets with the sound of justice as Lee drove slowly through much of the down town, checking shops and pulling into the Knight Market to get a few granola bars and fill his thermos.
The kid behind the counter looked up and grinned as Lee entered, "Hi Lt. Yohanson," the kid came around the counter, "Here let me wash out your thermos; I just made a fresh pot of Colombian French roast."
"Thanks, It surprises me that, here we are in Horner Springs and you're serving Columbian French roast and not, I don't know, Folgers or Farmers like the truck stops."
The kid smiled, "With the University and the Institute in town we cater to an upscale market. We sell a lot of fancy vodkas too, and well stuff I never even heard of."
Lee selected his granola bars and glanced at the latest issue of "Rowdy Cowgirl" that lay open to the 'spread' next to the cash register.
"Mighty pretty, in a blond sort of way, but too skinny,"
Les thought as the kid filled his thermos and wiped it down.
"Not like Rachel Washington,"
he thought, she had some nice big hooters and
"an ass like a brewer's horse"
Lee remembered that line from "The Young Lions" a war novel. He always thought it was funny, but he did appreciate some booty,
"and Rachel's uniform trousers were, showing hers were . . ."
"That all you want Lt.?" the kid said, looking at him and grinning. "She's a real looker isn't she?"
Mark, the kid, evidently was not a Philosophy major.
Lee looked up at Mark and grinned, "If you like silicon and paint. Real women don't generally look that good, I've found." He smiled, "Although," he nodded knowingly, "you do meet one or two."
Lee paid up, drove down along the river, and crossed near the row of shops and restaurants that perched on the steep bank.
Lee drove slowly, finding the cutoff that lead up the hill that was across the river from town, just downstream from Futter College.
The trees huddled close to the gravel road that lead up to the radio shelters at the peak. A hundred foot tower supported various antennas, from WKYY, the local radio station,
"Five Thousand Watts of Power! WKYY! Yeeee Haw!"
to the more prosaic cellular phone antenna array that covered the valley for 40 miles. The University had a shelter of its own and the antenna array on its tower was, perhaps, more free formed than the sleek radomes of the commercial shelters.
Lee pulled over and parked when he reached the top of the hill. The road widened as it serviced the several structures. Weeds grew at the edges of the gravel but Lee ignored the weed seeds in his cuffs as he deployed the detector array on it's tripod over looking the town. Lee could see the streetlights and house lights clearly, this elevation was new to him. He had been used to seeing the town as, that big tree, or, the dildo factory's corner, up here seeing how all the elements fit was at least, entertaining.
After he had all the "screws A in the holes B," he opened the case of the display and recording unit, found the "ON" switch and pushed it, nothing happened.
He flicked on his pen light and checked the manual. "Power Supply Select Switch must be set before switching on", was listed on page thirteen!