She pushed the car up to one hundred and thirty kilometres an hour, trance thumping through her body, the air beating in the window, and the rainforest blurring into pastel greens. Her hands gripped the wheel, and warm thrills and shivers rippled through her body as she relished the speed, leaving the memories of New Years Eve behind her. She could almost taste Paul's cum from when he'd shot across her tongue, and she smiled, remembering the creamy texture as it had dribbled down her chin. It was a night of dancing, drinking, kissing and fucking. Her hand fluttered off the wheel, softly caressing a breast and sliding down to gently press between her legs. She sucked in a breath and pushed her foot slightly harder on the accelerator.
Waking her from her pleasant thoughts was the flash of blue and red lights in the rear view mirror, followed by a pulse of high-beams coming from a central motorcycle headlight. "Fuck," she muttered, instantly easing off the pedal. The bike's indicator came on, and a gloved hand pointed toward the side of the highway. 'That's all I need at ten o' clock in the bloody morning,' she thought, braking gently and pulling the Audi over to the gravel shoulder.
The cop took his time to slide his visor up, unbuckle the clasp, flick out the stand, remove his gloves and switch off the bike. She adjusted her flimsy dress, making sure her breasts were concealed and pulling the hem as far as she could down her thighs. The cop climbed from the bike, removed his helmet and slowly walked towards her car. She noticed his hair was thick, dark and tousled from the helmet. Her heart beat faster as he approached and she prayed he wouldn't test her for any substances.
"Morning Miss," he said, towering beside her window, his hand brushing back his hair and sunlight gleaming on his dark glasses. "Do you have your licence on you?" His face was angular and she could see the dark outline of his whiskers. She noticed flecks of grey running through his hair.
"Just a moment..." She picked up her silver handbag and searched for her purse. 'He's pretty cute,' she thought as she turned back to him. "I've got it here... Here you are."
He took the card and turned slightly, examining it, then sighed loudly. "Okay Sara, I'm going to go write you a ticket. Just wait a moment, and keep the engine switched off." His voice was chocolaty smooth, and she picked up a tone of playfulness. As if he thought she had been a naughty little girl.
Sara watched him walk back to the bike, checking out the way his rump moved under the cotton fabric of his uniform. 'He sure is a handsome son-of-a-bitch,' she thought, noticing the way his leather jacket gripped his frame tightly, angling up beneath his arms to cover broad, thick shoulders. Ideas curled through her mind, from stories she'd read in her brother's Penthouse magazine's 'Forum'. She recalled one particular tale where a girl was pulled over by a cop, and she'd sucked him off to avoid getting a ticket. 'God, I wouldn't half mind doing that to him, for any reason,' she thought, becoming aware her nipples were hard and somewhat noticeable through her dress. Tingling anticipation settled deep in her belly and she felt herself begin to smoulder within her panties.
He was beside her window again as she smoothed her hemline once more, glimpsing an enticing shape packaged beneath his sparkling belt-buckle. His belt was slung low holding his black baton, silver handcuffs and his sidearm. She could make out the thick, rounded shape of his cock through the material and by all indications, he appeared to be partially erect. Excitement crept up her spine as the Penthouse story again sprang to mind. She gulped as she realised she was staring at the bulge of his cock, and felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. He smiled and leant down closer to her window, the ticket in his hand. She realised she could smell her own excitement, her pussy releasing fragrant aromas of musky sexuality. She felt herself blush even more fiercely.
"Is there anything you want to tell me?" He asked, and she heard him inhale deeply.
"I'm not sure what you mean," she gulped, feeling the sexual tension rising like a curtain between them. 'Does he mean what I think he means?' she wondered, incredulous. He was so handsome, and had a mature, experienced air of charisma about him, as if he'd seen it all, and understood the way of the world. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach.
"What do you think I mean?" She watched as his tongue moistened his dry lips and his fingers curled over the window edge.
Suddenly her nervousness peaked, and she moved beyond herself, to a place where the curtain of tension disintegrated. "I'd like to tell you to forget the ticket," she said, keeping her voice low. "I'd like to help you to forget the ticket." She let her own tongue flicker across her lips, and sucked gently on her lower lip, brushing back a bang of sandy hair.
His face suddenly hardened, and he stood up tall, his sunglasses gleaming in the Byron Bay sunshine. "You do realise that attempting to bribe a police officer is a serious offence. As is solicitation," he added. "Just how far do you think you can go, Miss?"
His words were like a slap in the face. "Umm, oh, that's not what I meant! I'm sorry..." She cringed, in a hot bath of embarrassment. 'This is not what happened in Penthouse,' she thought. "Jesus. Please officer, just give me the ticket and I'll get out of your way. I'm truly sorry."
"It's too late for that." He said. The rasp of leather from his jacket became the only sound in the quiet country road. "I think you'd better step out of the vehicle." He tugged on her door and it clinked open, his other hand rested threateningly on his nightstick.
"I'm fucking sorry. Please, I take it back, I don't know what came over me. It's just... I just thought... Oh, it doesn't matter." Realising she'd made a huge mistake, she unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out of the car. The asphalt felt hot beneath her feet and she could smell the salty sea air.