It was only a tiny bump, but as soon as I felt it, I knew that I'd have to pull over. Sure enough, my sharp ears picked up the telltale hiss of a punctured tire. I put on my hazard lights, got over safely, and got the car stopped as quickly as I could to try to save the rim. At least I'd finally get some use out of that folding safety triangle reflector thing that came with my car's tool kit. I'm surprisingly strong considering my form, but given my light weight, I wasn't really sure how well that translated to changing a tire. Plus, I was wearing one of my favorite silk blouses, and it was really getting dark. I figured I'd see if some good Samaritan was willing to help a cute, innocent damsel-in-distress like me. Okay, maybe not so innocent.
As it happened, my good Samaritan came in a car with flashing red and blue lights. Great, I thought. Probably some married middle-aged beat cop who eats too many crullers. So I was more than a little surprised when the dark-clad figure who came out of the cruiser completely shattered my mental image. He looked like a larger-than-life statue that someone had given a police uniform, and his handsome leonine muzzle looked professional and matter-of-fact.
"Good evening, ma'am," he said, his voice a powerful rumble. "Got a..." his voice trailed off as he shined a flashlight in my direction and he got a good look at my body. I have that effect on people. "...flat?"
I couldn't resist. "Only my tire."
"Well, I'll get you back on the road in a jiffy," he answered, his slight Midwestern twang suggesting that he wasn't originally from around here. Sure enough, he handily got the ruined tire off and the good tire on, even bolting the old wheel down into the trunk after he had dropped it in practically without effort. I couldn't help but hope he was showing off on my account; though overall, he seemed to make a point of taking no notice of my appearance, I did see him glance my way once or twice.
"Thank you so much, Officer--"
"Dahlgren," he said, "Tom. Think nothin' of it. It's nice to be able to interact with a citizen without having to write 'em a ticket."
I smiled. "You're sweet."
"All part of the job, Ma'am. You're free to go, but, ah, I'll be happy to escort you for a few blocks just to make sure the new tire holds air."
"You can follow me anywhere," I said. What can I tell you? I've always had a thing for big fluffy cats.
"Uh...I, uh..." the big officer stammered. "I'm on duty..."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to fluster you, Officer," I said. And sure enough, he was blushing! "But...well, you've been so helpful, I feel like I should repay you somehow..." At this, I arched my back just a little. Bad wolf!
He recovered a bit. "Now if ya do too much of that, you will stop traffic, there, lady," he said, smiling.
"And then what? Will you have to run me off to the pokey?" I asked playfully.
"Welllll..." he answered, sensing that perhaps this was his lucky day, "if you'll have coffee with me after my shift is up, perhaps we can bargain it down to good behavior."
"You drive a hard bargain, sir," I said, and gave him my phone number. Good behavior, though, was the last thing on my mind.
Later that evening we met at an all-night diner that he enjoyed--and it turned out that they not only had really good, strong coffee, but some of the best pie I've ever had. The company was the best part, though.
As it turned out, my ears hadn't deceived me; he was originally from Duluth, and had come down here for college. After he got his MBA, he realized that he despised the corporate world: he didn't like not being able to speak plainly; he hated not even being able to describe his own job in one sentence; and he had a particular disgust for "creating value for shareholders," which to him translated to slashing costs at the expense of service and quality.
So he became a cop.
After going over the details of his own life, he apologized for going on so long. I put my hand on his. Here was a guy who could sum himself up in less time than it took for me to eat a slice of pie (and rather enjoying the subtle changes in his sweet face as he pretended not to notice me...savoring it), and he was worried about talking too much.
"I could stand to hear a little more," I said, putting a paw on his.
"That's awfully nice of you," he answered, "but I don't know anything about you...and I think I'd really like to."
Before the invention of the smartphone, guys like this wouldn't have been able to fit their proverbial Little Black Books in a reasonably-sized barn. Or at least, they shouldn't have been able to. The world would be a better place for it.
So I told him about...well, everything. How I started out as a technology demonstrator that somehow gained sentience in a freak accident and went on to parlay my exotic appearance and abilities into a successful career in the world of adult entertainment, and one or two various events that had led me to our chance meeting on the side of the highway. He blushed cutely as I went over some of the naughtier parts, of which there are many, but he didn't act judgmental. (I did leave out a few details, just in case the statute of limitations hadn't run out yet.)
"So there you have it," I finished. "Just a good time girl."
He smiled a cute half-smile. "There's more to you than that."
I arched an eyebrow at him coyly. "Is there, now?"
"Here's just what I can get from the superficial stuff. You drive a nondescript late-model sedan. Not ridiculously expensive, but roomy, efficient, handles well, rides nice, and is easy to get parts for. So when you're not working, you don't draw undue attention to yourself. You're wearing an off-white silk long-sleeved blouse that buttons all the way up and has a ribbon at the neck, over a dark purple skirt that comes down to the knee and wouldn't be out of place in an office. Simple flats in matching purple leather over sheer black stockings. The whole look is attractive without being flashy.
"Now, the hair...sandy blonde ringlets. Not exactly wash-and-wear, so either you do spend considerable time on it, or some of that technology that made you...you..." He paused and tried desperately not to let his gaze drop to my curves, "helps with the hairstyling."
I nodded, a little stunned. He was the first person ever to notice that, except for the scientist who created me!
"Makeup: fresh-faced. You don't need it anyway. So based on that, I figure you for a no-nonsense type who is always looking ahead, but doesn't forget what's going on in front of her. Am I getting warm?"
It was my turn to blush a little. He was getting warm, and wanted to warm him up in an entirely different way.
"Okay, Detective," I teased. "What kind of art do I like?"
"Tough call. The way you eyed the 'Nighthawks' print at the entrance when we came in tells me that you're not a big fan."
I shook my pretty head just a little. "No, I just thought it was one of the parodies at first. I like Hopper's style, though I am a complete sucker for Escher."
He brightened. "Now THAT tells me something," he said, his voice dropping to a low, sexy rumble. "You like simple, dramatic pieces, but also well-designed work that challenges your point of view. And you like variety."
"I do."
"So, your turn: what can you tell me about me?"
I smiled, letting my tongue touch my upper lip as if deeply in thought. I also kinda like the way it makes men stare. And he didn't disappoint. "You take pride in your appearance, but you also constantly take in the world around you. You like things you can understand, or things you can simplify. You don't do a lot of judging. You like character. I'm guessing you probably prefer paintings to sculpture, but that could just be because you mentioned it first...though I bet you strongly prefer literal to abstract, and that you like knowing how pieces are actually made--the process is just as important as the product."
Just then, the waitress brought the check, and I took care of it. "Huh," he said, after a long and thoughtful silence. "I'd say you pretty much nailed me."
I had to fight mightily not to say that I wanted to. The look in his eyes, and the abrupt change in his scent, suggested that he'd gotten the message. He walked me to my car, and I kissed him on the cheek. "Thank you for a wonderful time," I said, perhaps a little more breathily than I'd meant to. "Unless...?"
