The alternate title for this story is “Butt of the Joke.” Stop me if you’ve heard this one…
604 words. Adult content. Please leave a comment if you like what you read. 😊
Someone had once accused Stanley of having been born with Hall Monitor stamped on his soul. As insults went it wasn’t particularly biting. Worse had certainly been thrown at him, both before and after becoming a traffic cop, it was just… really memorable. He didn’t know why it had gotten so far under his skin, but he still thought about it every now and then.
He was thinking about it when he pulled over a wildly swerving car. The driver took a long time to notice the flashing red and blue lights, which in Stanley’s experience usually meant he would have to write a DUI.
When both vehicles were stopped along the edge of the thankfully not very busy road he got out, walked around, and peered in through the passenger side window at quite possibly the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But Stanley was unmoved. He just steeled himself for some bad flirting to get out of a ticket.
“License and registration please, ma’am.”
She blinked dazedly at him for a moment, then seemed to process the request. “Ohh,” she said, though it was really more like a moan. Then she handed him her slim pocketbook purse.
Stanley took it with a sigh. “Ma’am, would you mind telling me how much you’ve had to drink?”
Her pretty brown eyes opened wide and he saw that her pupils were dilated. “But I haven’t,” she protested. “I had one glass of wine with dinner but that was hours ago!” Her sentences were punctuated with odd little hitches and breathiness, almost as though she was panting.
“Ma’am,” he said, feeling very much like Hall Monitor Stanley, “could you please step out of the vehicle?”
“Nooo,” she moaned, and it was a real moan. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, although since the car was off all she accomplished was drawing his attention to the wedding band on her finger, and her back arched. The motion pulled her seat belt even tighter across her heaving breasts.
The woman gulped air, taking deep breaths to try and steady herself before she tried again. “I’m not drunk,” she told him huskily. “It’s just that… that… ohhhh…” She bit her lip and squirmed in her seat.
“Whatever you say, ma’am, but you are really not okay to drive right now,” Stanley said in his best reasonable voice. He was used to being flirted at inexpertly, but this was downright filthy.
“It’s the dildo my husband gave me before he left on his trip,” she blurted out hastily. “It’s magic, it’s a voodoo dick! He told me how to make it stop but I can’t concentrate long enough to remem… re…” Her head lolled back against the headrest in apparent bliss.
He stared at her incredulously. This was really beyond the pale, so far beyond that he hardly knew how to respond, and to his discomfort her hands were moving down to the hem of her dress. He needed to call in backup, or an ambulance to take the woman to a hospital, or something.
“Voodoo dick my ass,” he sputtered, backing away hastily and heading back to his cruiser. But before he could make it back to his car, the wind was knocked out of him. He stumbled and fell against the hood of his car, limp at first with shock and then…
“Oh god,” he moaned. Stanley unconsciously spread his legs a little while he continued to lay sprawled out across the warm hood, as his inner hall monitor learned that he had a lot less interest in being squeaky clean than he’d previously thought.