Cathy! Oh my!

Cathy! Oh my!

With her anger flaming hot, she stormed out of the house, jumped into her car and tore off down the block, running the stop sign two blocks down the street. Officer Hill was sitting at the stop sign for the cross traffic and immediately pulled her over.

She jumped out of the car screaming, "God dammit, Hilly, I'm sorry. Fuck! Write me up and let me go, please."

The small neighborhood-sized village she lived in was one of those places where everyone knows everyone else's business - always. Not always accurately, but... Hey, it's just like your family town, dear reader.

She was a stunner, a trophy, if you know what I mean, with long white-blonde hair, natural breasts, no augmentation necessary, and a perfectly shaped kissable mouth. Her narrow waist and the shelf of her chest made her a major focus of a room the minute she entered.

Officer Hill had known this woman since they had been latch-key kids for almost twelve years in the local pubic school. She had been a beauty, a cheerleader, a drama student, and was a brilliant class leader.  

Hill had done four years as a Military Policeman while in the Army. Hill became a civilian policeman when he got out of the Army. He hadn't stopped her at that stop sign before, and he'd never written her a ticket, but he had stopped her for speeding on the road out of town. His impression of her was that she didn't have a sensible thought; consequently, she spoke a word salad unless stopped.

When he'd pulled her over outside of town, she had been polite and amiable until he said he'd called the stop to dispatch, then decided to let her off with only a warning. She acknowledged that she couldn't be stopped again for at least a year, or she would be arrested on the spot.

This stop was within that year, so Hill arrested her, did a thorough full-body pat-down, handcuffed her, and placed her in the back seat. He leaned in to fasten her seat belt, and she whispered in his ear, "Hilly, have you ever had sex with someone with handcuffs on?"

"No. But Cathy, I think of it with the many women that I have to take into the station's jail."

"Hilly, this is a hypothetical question. If you wanted to have sex with someone you were taking to the station's jail, would you be able to release them and make the record of the traffic stop disappear?"

"No, once the call is made to dispatch, the record is permanent."

"Don't those things have a deletion process for error correction? You know, a way to correct the log."

"Yes, it takes a supervisor to testify on a notarized statement that it was an entry error, and then it can be removed from the ledger. I have never heard of it happening."

"Well then, Hilly, what if you do not show up for my court date?"

"Then the court has to dismiss the charges. The record would reflect a dismissal of all charges."

Can I give you a blow job in exchange for you being absent for my day in court?

"No, for goodness sake, Cathy. Maybe for one blow job and two cunnilingus a month we can make a deal. Your court date will be about eleven months away. We good for that long, Cathy?"

"Cunnilingus, huh? "

"Yeah, I love to eat pussy. I actually prefer an unwashed one. Do you like your pussy eaten?"

"Of course. I get very wet, and have been able to have vaginal and clitoral orgasms at the same time. When I do that, I black out, and usually squirt as I faint."

"Cathy, follow me. I will take you to our first stop."

They arrived at an upscale apartment complex and parked in adjacent spaces in the underground parking garage.  

He led her to the elevator and into his apartment. He closed and locked the door and opened the sliding door to his balcony. She followed him out there, looked down the eleven stories and said, "I can imagine jumping, but not the result as an overall thing to actually consider."

Shocked, he said, "I think that same thing each time I come out here. I thought I was maybe suicidal, but hearing you say it, I think it is probably a normal thought, not a suicidal one."

He said, "Let me fix us a cocktail."

Within a couple of minutes, she realized she was alone on a balcony. She wanted to strip and stand there naked. The last time anyone but her husband had seen her naked body was when she was drunk and stoned at a convention out of town. That time she was with her co-workers, both men and women. She won the amateur striptease contest with a two thousand five hundred dollar prize.

That was an early December weekend.

When her husband opened up the 1099 form at the end of January, she was forced to tell him about it. She didn't tell him about the extra seven grand she made in the 'Naked Ladies and Executives' Lounge' that weekend. She lost count after giving thirty-three blow jobs, allowing twenty men to eat her cunt, and the two times she'd fucked a black stranger's very long cock, and another black cock that was bigger than a sixteen-ounce beer can.

Hilly didn't care that Cathy was a slut trying to wiggle out of a small-town gossip item, or if she was a church lady caught sinning. He enforced the law equally. All women paid his toll if he could squeeze it out of them. Cathy was one Hilly'd wanted to stop for years. In fact, he'd watched her in the hope of getting to blackmail her.

Since she'd made the first offer, he could reel her in like a tuna. He was about to bring her in for her first sexual rendezvous with him when the police internal affairs investigators arrested him.

Cathy escaped the gossip, Hilly's black cop justice, and a morals-charged divorce because her husband was named as the victim of Hilly's blackmail for fucking another man in a bar toilet. Her husband caught all of the gossip, and she seemed the innocent victim.

Of course, the police reports were still there, and when Elsie, the records clerk, saw what was on the closed reports, she made herself copies and decided that there was some pussy to get, or some money to be made by blackmailing Cathy.  

It just plain does not pay to get stopped or be arrested because it never goes away. And neither does the record of it.

Even though a record is purged, there is a record that it was purged.

So, from that day on, Cathy knew she'd made a poor choice for a husband, life partner, and father of her children. She had to acknowledge that she was a trophy wife, not a romantic wife at home. She was a possession similar to his car.

Because his fucking around was revealed, Cathy left a message at the bank, the credit card company, and the accountant. She said that he was no longer associated with the company and was barred from any company properties or activities.  

For emphasis, she stated separately that he had no authority.

Cathy had eventually found herself at the brink of asking her husband if they could agree to have a baby. She hoped to ask him the night he was arrested. He was arrested at ten o'clock that morning. She knew her eggs were safe from that bastard after that was revealed.

When she left the attorney's office, she stopped in her neighborhood liquor store and purchased a lottery ticket with her change from the quart of Bourbon she bought.   She told the woman behind the counter that if she won, she would change apartments, and then they could live there together.

The lottery drawing was that evening, and while she watched the lottery being drawn,  she was smoking and drinking, so at first she thought she'd won, and then when she checked it again, it seemed wrong, so with a pen and pencil, she proved to herself that she'd won the thirty-million-dollar lottery.  

She was wearing a flimsy, almost sheer housecoat, and was brutally jilling her clitoris when the truth dawned on her. She immediately left her apartment, walked to the liquor store, found the woman behind the counter, untied her apron, took her by the hand, and pulled her out of the liquor store.

Cathy said, "I won the lottery. You are moving into the new apartment that I will lease. You will never again need to work, save for a rainy day, or neglect your health because of the cost. I am rich, and I want to take care of you."

"Why me?"

"Because you have always been polite, kind, and understanding. Because you sold me a ticket to a new life, and you deserve a new life too."

"I have been a customer since before you bought this store. I admire you for your character. There will be a temp here tomorrow as your replacement. I will be paying for a temp for up to six weeks so you can find a strong person, without worrying about the extra expense. Maybe you can sell and swim in the proceeds in our new Jacuzzi hot tub?"

"Maybe I will. What if we can become trusting friends with benefits? I too have admired the way in which you relate with people."

Carole said, "To me, friends with benefits has always meant sexual benefits. Is that what you meant?"

"Yes."

"I had no idea. We can consummate it right now."

"Let's."

They did.