I once heard a master chef say when he’s interviewing candidates for head chef positions he hasthem all cook the same thing, scrambled eggs. Not beef Wellington or consommé, just scrambled eggs. His position being, if a chef can produce such a simple and familiar dish successfully, with intention and care, that talent can always be upscaled.
My brother, Hatch, always had a succinct way of saying it, ‘How you do one thing is how you do all things.’
And if my brother’s words were accurate, Officer Teresa St. Marks, did all things well, with precision, all while being smoking hot. Evident by my hardening cock. I did my best to adjust myself in my seat, but there was no way she wouldn’t notice the tent I was pitching underneath my bath towel.
“I, uh…” I stammered, twisting uncomfortably in my seat. “Sorry about that.”
“That’s alright,” she said, without a hint of embarrassment. “I just need you to think about baseball stats for a few more seconds, I’ve only got two more spots left then we can get you dressed.”
* * *
Tess
Jesus, I don’t know if I have pants roomy enough for your legs and your pet python!
Officer Wallace was tall with an amazing body, so I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised he was well hung, but from what I just saw of his Loch Ness Monster underneath the towel, it was big enough to frighten the locals.
“Dressed?” Wallace asked, pulling me from mydaydream of villagers with pitchforks and torches chasing his enormous Frankendong through town, driving it deep into the safety of my woods… my dark, damp woods.
Jesus, I had to pull myself together.
I made my last few passes with the razor, then handed the warm towel to Officer Wallace. “I have a closet full of men’s clothes in the bedroom. See what fits you and we’ll work with it.”
“Where are all the men who belonged to those clothes?” he asked with a grin.
“When I found out you were coming, I did some shopping,” I replied.
“Hit the local galleria, huh?”
I chuckled. “Not exactly. I had some things flown in from Milan and Paris.”
“As in Italy and France?”
“Those are the ones.”
He frowned. “Can’t you get high-end men’s clothes here in Russia?”
“You can, just not the ones made by Francisco Andolini and Chandler Moulin.”
“Seriously?” Wallace asked, wiping the remainder of the shaving foam from his face as he stood up.
I turned my head away for fear that if I saw his bulge again, I’d rip the towel off his body and shove him inside whichever of my holes was nearest to him. I swear on a stack of Bibles I had no idea how horny and sexually pent up I was prior to laying eyes on Officer Wallace, but once I did, my libido had been working double golden overtime since.
“I mean it.These men don’t mess around. SashaFedya and his entire crew are obsessed with high-end fashion, watches, cars, boats, you name it.”
“Women,” he added.
“Especially women.”
“What’s Fedya like?” he asked.
“Charming, intelligent, warm on the outside, cold on the inside. Sasha is a snake and he’s absolutely gonna love you,” I replied.
“Why’s that?”
“Because you are a cute little bunny. And there’s nothing more enticing to a Boa constrictor than fresh rabbit for supper.”
“Is that your official assessment of me?” He chuckled. “A cute little bunny?”
