It was late Sunday night when I flew home from a business trip, landing in a cold Fall rain. I'm a haberdasher, specializing in high end suits, run my own shop and had just spent the last four days in New York City meeting with suppliers and taking in a few fashion shows. My plan was to go home, unpack my suits, and sleep for eighteen hours, but fate was about to intervene in the strangest of ways.
I parked my car in the garage and walked through the rain to the back porch, opened the screen door and saw the window was broken, the door unlocked. Oh shit, I thought, chills going through me. Dropping my luggage, I went through the house and sure enough, I'd been robbed! The flat screen tv and surround sound stereo were gone, and they also got the microwave. I ran upstairs to my dressing room, breathing a sigh of relief upon seeing all my clothes still in the closet. I've got more than fifty custom suits and tuxedos, plus all the shirts, shoes, handkerchiefs, pocket squares and accessories, a very valuable wardrobe, especially for someone in my business. Suits are my life, the only time I'm not wearing one is at the gym or while doing yard work, otherwise I'm always dressed for success.
I was relieved until checking the top bureau drawer and the watches were gone! I only had five of them but they were top of the line, Tag Heuer, Movado, Rolex, Cartier, and a very exotic Breitling, almost $20,000 of watches I'd collected over the last twenty years, gone. My face flushed, I went downstairs, poured myself a Scotch and called the police. I started making a list of missing items, everything could be replaced, except those watches. At least my laptop and camera were with me on the trip and safe.
I also started a pot of coffee and by the time I'd gone through the house it was almost an hour since I called the police. They must be really busy at midnight on a Sunday, I thought, when I heard a hard knock at the front door. To say I was irritated is an understatement, the edge was taken off by the Scotch, but I was prepared to give these cops a piece of my mind for the slow response. Until I opened the door, that is.
She was a lady cop, almost a foot shorter than me, sandy blonde hair peeking from under a black hat, her body rounded out and mostly hidden under the dark uniform, solid looking. But her face was like an angel, smooth chalk white skin and pale pink lips, a soft sloping nose and piercing green eyes. "Hi, please, uh, come in," I told her.
"I'm officer Collins," her voice was husky, like she was trying to be tough. "Are you, the homeowner?" She demanded, her light brown eyebrows furrowing.
"Yes, Thomas Avenel, I own the house." She brushed past me into the living room and could see where the tv and stereo were missing. "They broke in through the back door," I started to explain but she cut me right off.
"OK, when did you discover the break in? And why are you wearing a suit this late?" I felt her eyes on me, the cop, judging. What a bitch, I thought, my emotions getting the better of me. "I discovered the break in an hour and a half ago when I called and reported it. I just got home from New York City on business. That's why I'm wearing a suit this late. Now do you want to see where they broke in or not?"
Officer Collins pretty green eyes narrowed for a second, burning into my own and then I just laughed. "What's so funny?" she asked. "Ok," I raised my hands up, "I get it. This is probably really boring bullshit for you and I'm really fucking sorry I got robbed here and ruined your whole goddamn night. I'd say let's forget this altogether except I need a police report for my insurance company. If you want to be a bitch about it then fine, must be fun going around bullying innocent people that get their shit broken into and ripped off." I took a defiant sip of Scotch, not taking my eyes from her.
For a second I thought she was going to explode but then she softened, the trace of a smile on her lips. "Ya know, I've been attacked by stupid drunk homeowners before, bullshit DV calls," she said, walking straight towards me. She reached out and touched the lapel of my suit coat, feeling the smooth material, "But you look pretty harmless in the suit and all. This is nice," she gave a soft caress and let go.
"Thanks. Silk from China, custom made in Italy." Our eyes were locked, and I felt a thrill running through me. "And I'm not drunk. Want some coffee?"
"Sure," she smiled. "Show me the broken door."
I got her a cup of coffee and she checked the door and started filling out paperwork. "Pretty standard, these wood doors with the windows on them are a real security issue. You're better off with a solid steel door and a locking storm door. Crooks see that and move on."
I noticed a scent coming from her, like lavender, very light on the air. Her head was down, scribbling on the clipboard. I walked her through the house, noting the stolen items and then she headed upstairs. As I followed her up my face was less than a foot from the incredible sight of her shapely ass, taught against the seam of those tight black cop pants under the equipment belt with her gun and accessories. Two round globes swaying between wide, athletic hips. Jesus, I thought, licking my lips, lady cop must work out hardcore.
At the top of the stairs I lead the way to the dressing room to show her where the watches were. I opened the drawer but she was staring with a smile at the rack of suits and the full length wall mirrors. "Wow, you've got some clothes here."
"You have no idea," I smiled and explained what I do for a living.
"Really?" Officer Collins, cocked her head. "You probably know more about fashion than I do."
"Well, you're current ensemble leaves a lot to be desired," I heard myself saying as I fantasized about that curvy body, "But in your line of work it fits quite nicely." She blushed, to my astonishment.
It was strange, I normally go for the tall, dark, extra thin type, but that black cop uniform combined with the blonde hair, pale skin and those sparkling green eyes were turning me on. "Uh, anyway," I said, coming back to myself, "The watches were in here."
"Here," she pointed to the drawer at the same time I did, our hands grazing and it was almost electric. I looked into the mirror on the bureau and our eyes met. Her lips pressed together, almost a frown and the image of us kissing started off in my mind. The moment stretched on and then the radio attached to her shoulder crackled. She stepped out of the room, speaking into it and I followed her back downstairs to the kitchen, wondering if I'd blown an opportunity there.
"Okay HQ," she was saying, "I'll catch up with the other unit in five minutes, out. Okay Mr. Avenel, I need you to sign this report," Damn, I thought, she's back all business. What the hell was I thinking? I signed the statement. "So do you think I'll ever see my stuff again?"
"Not your tv or stereo," she laughed, totally serious. "But those watches, we'll see. I'm going to take a look at something right now, so give me your number and here's my card."
"Uh, yeah," my heart leapt in my throat and I rattled my number off, using all my willpower not to snatch her business card off the counter. Just be cool, man, I told myself.
"Ok," she started for the front door and I followed, "Keep your phone on, this might not take long. I know it's late, have another drink or," she cocked an eyebrow, "change outta that stuffy suit or something."
Now it was my turn to blush but I laughed it off. "My suits are definitely not stuffy. Thank you Ms. Collins."
She laughed, "You're right, it's pretty sexy. Bye!" I watched her walk to the police cruiser and jump in. She hit the flashers and raced down the street before the siren kicked on. My cock stirred, my breath was short, I loosened my tie, took it off, and made another drink.
I couldn't get the image of this hot blonde lady cop out of my mind, mentally undressing her, imagining all the naughty things we would do and I recognized it for it was: animal attraction.
I took a deep breath, and then a few more, calming myself. It was forty-five minutes later and I was pouring a cup of coffee from the pot when my cell rang. "Mr. Avenel, this Officer Collins. I've got good news and bad news if you're still up."
"Of course, I've still got your coffee going here," I tried to sound smooth, "Unless you can't..."