Irene
I just hate Mondays. After waking up, I have trouble keeping my eyes open. It's not until I'm in the shower, cleaning off the filth of the weekend, that I feel halfway alive. I turn up the hot water until it just starts to be painful and then back off a little. I let it run all over me for a long time before I start soaping. I get out of the shower, dry and look at the clock. "Holy shit!" I'm so late. I slip on a thong and a short skirt and grab a T-shirt. Tony's shirt, my ex, that is two sizes too big for me. No time for a bra. Flip flops. Snatch my keys from the hook by the door and run out to my car.
I'm sure there is a Murphy's Law that says the later you are for something, the more red lights you will encounter. The third red light seems twice as long as the first two. On green, I floor it and speed down the street. I immediately see police lights go on and I pull over. Just my luck. I will probably miss half my class.
The policeman knocks on my window with a knuckle. I take the window down. He is about my age. Sunglasses. Kind of cute. Blond hair. Surferlike. "Can I see your license?"
"Was I speeding?" I ask innocently. I have an incredulous look on my face.
"Can I see your license, please?"
My purse is on the console between the seats and I bend over and start going through it. It's a big purse. My compact mirror slides out, a hairbrush, and then a two pack of condoms. "Oh, Jesus." I whisper to myself and shove the package back in my purse
"Got to be prepare for everything, right?" The cop says.
He's seen the condoms. I turn my head and give him a snotty fake grin. I then realize that I've been giving him a full view of my 34B boobs while I've been looking for my license. I try not to lean forward so much, but now my nipples are getting hard thinking of him looking at my boobs. And he's got some sex appeal. I'm wondering how long his gun is. I find the license and give it to him, sitting back up. My t-shirt is now against my chest but my nipples are sticking out like deer horns.
