This is a story about a cherry-red convertible mustang, girls in bikinis, men in uniform, and handcuffs. It is a noncom/reluctance fantasy. Be forewarned.
*****
There were dirt and grass stains on Marcy's new yellow bikini. Her wrists were a little chafed from the handcuffs and her knees were a bit achy. She'd be ok though. She was hungover, tired, a little sore, and her back felt... sticky. But deep down she had a guilty smile trying to find its way out.
Marcy and her friend Julianne had recently graduated and were enjoying the summer before college in their home town of Cedar Knolls. She told her parents that she and Julianne were going to spend the day at McHenry's Quarry. The quarry had been adapted to a swimming area and was supervised as a municipal park, with concessions, life guards, facilities, picnic areas, and parking. The Quarry was generally considered a safe summer hang out for the young folks from Cedar Knolls, though it was far from safe "back in the day," before it was taken over by municipal parks and regulated. Even just last year a kid died at the quarry; diving off the cliff in the middle of the night after downing a punch of pure grain alcohol mixed with Kool-Aid. The quarry was still not safe when the kids were left to their own devices.
Nevertheless, the girls did not go to McHenry's Quarry.
Instead the girls had spent their lazy, July Saturday hanging out in their short shorts and bikini tops at an unofficial recreational area, the local kids called "Steamroll Shoals." The "Shoals" was an undeveloped wild area where teens and 20-somethings went to get high, make out, and goof off in the sun. A stream from the higher ground formed a series of pools, separated by wide, stair-step water falls, sand bars, and piles of rocks. There was plenty of shade and just enough privacy for occasional outbreaks of epic hedonism, punctuated by teenage insecurity and nervous fumbling.
Marcy had always looked up to her friend Julianne, who was the daughter of the pastor of the church to which Marcy's family belonged. Marcy was shorter, curvier, and brunette. Julianne was taller, skinny, and blond, though she seemed way too tan to be a natural blond. Marcy looked up to Julianne because Julianne was a scandalous hell raiser who really did not give a flying fuck. It had been Julianne's idea to hang out at the Shoals in the first place. Julianne had the car; a vintage, cherry red, convertible Mustang. And Julianne brought a quarter ounce of indica and a cold bottle of cheap, fruity wine.
Marcy got so high she could barely talk unless it was just her and Julianne. When the boys came over to flirt, she just closed her eyes and lay back in the sun, melting into the rocks. At one point she opened one eye and spied Julianne making out with Mark Costello, who kept trying to touch Julianne's breasts. Julianne let him feel her up a little each time before half-heartedly pushing his hand away.
Marcy had drifted off a moment before she heard a stirring and gasping sounds. She slowly opened her eyes to see Julianne and Mark with their mouths firmly locked on one another. Julianne's cheeks were blushing deeply, and she appeared to be struggling with something. Marcy realized that Julianne was gripping Mark's wrist and trying to pull his hand out of her bikini bottoms; and he was just as determined to keep his hand right where it was. Julianne's eyes opened in shock as Mark's fingers finally found their way inside of her. Julianne gave a loud groan as she shoved him firmly away. Her face looked angry and her cheeks were flaming. Julianne's bikini was not really covering her intimate parts after struggling with Mark.
Marcy, on the other hand, was startled to notice the imposing outline of Mark's hard-on trying to push its way out of his cargo shorts. "God," she thought slightly panicked, "look at Mark's..." she caught herself before she thought anymore about that.
Mark pushed in close again and pitifully tried to pull Julianne's hand onto the bulge in his shorts, hoping she would just touch him for the few seconds it would take him to come in his pants. Julianne was fed up with Mark and kneed him in the balls, causing his friends to laugh from some distance away.
When it was just the two girls alone, Marcy told Julianne all the crazy thoughts and feelings running through her altered brain. Marcy asked if her friend was ok. Julianne said she was. She scandalized Marcy when she admitted, "I would have gotten him off too, if he just had some damn manners. Pushy asshole. God, did you see the size of that thing in his pants?"
Julianne was smoking a Parliament cigarette and Marcy was fascinated with the slow, winding trails of smoke drifting into the shafts of sunlight that fell through the trees.
After hours of baking (and getting baked) in the sun, and hours of watching Julianne get the boys overly excited, the sun was low in the sky and the girls were ready to head back into town. Julianne seemed a little too drunk and stoned to drive, but Marcy had only recently bothered to get her learner's permit at the age of 18, so there didn't seem to be too many options short of calling home and admitting to their parents exactly what they had been up to. That option would not win them many friends among the other young folks getting high out on the Shoals. So, the girls decided to saddle up and take it slow on into town.
As they stumbled towards the car, Marcy noticed her shorts had red clay all over the butt, so she decided to ride in Julianne's mustang in just her bikini and sneakers.
The two scoff-laws had barely made it a mile from the Shoals in Julianne's Mustang when they heard the siren wail and saw the flashing blue lights.
Marcy was petrified. She had never had any run-ins with the police and was shocked at how calm Julianne looked as she casually pulled the car off on to a dirt road back into the tall pine trees.
Marcy realized the two girls must have looked quite a sight. Two slightly wasted eighteen-year-old girls, one in only a sunshine yellow string bikini, and the other in a turquoise polka dot bikini top with
very
short cutoff jean shorts.
When the first police officer approached the vehicle initially, of course he could not yet see how short Julianne's shorts actually were, but he would soon.
Marcy watched slack jawed as Julianne batted her eyes at the young police officer, shifted restlessly in her seat, and leaned, and leaned, and leaned towards him, determined to show him as much of her pretty little body as possible. As she scrunched her shoulders together, one strap fell off her right shoulder and her breasts practically spilled out of her top, before she feigned shock and embarrassment and scooped herself back into her bikini top.