“I didn’t realize fifty-six in a fifty-five was unsafe.”
“Exceeding the speed limit is never ok, Mr. Sterling. Speeding is always considered unsafe. We’ve been over this, but you persist in being a rule breaker. Then there is the issue of the noise pollution.”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m driving one under or ten over, you always find a reason to justify pulling me over. Why even try?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “Did the corn complain about hearing U2? I can change it to Flogging Molly. Maybe corn prefers Irish punk?” Sometimes I get wild and mouth off, but it has consequences. The next day, sometimes even two or three days later, I’m sore from being reminded who is in charge.
I’m not sure why I even look at the speedometer. It doesn’t make a difference. If he wants to pull me over he has both the willingness and the power to, regardless of how I drive.
He smiles, but his eyes don’t soften. “Spin it any way you want, Mr. Sterling, you were breaking the law. Any day now you’ll have so many points on your license that you won’t be able to drive for six months. Is that what you want? To have a chauffeur for six months so you always have someone in the car with you?”
That would be hell. I shudder at the thought of having to be picked up and dropped off at work. I’d rather buy a bicycle.
“While I’m not surprised you are trying to blame me for your mistakes…”
“Officer—”
“It’s Sheriff Wells, Mr. Sterling. I’m not going to argue. If you took more care with your driving, I wouldn’t have a reason to pull you over, so please spare me the blaming of the messenger.”
“Whatever, Pete.” I say it in that snotty teenage way, even though I know it’s poking the bear. It worked when we were sixteen and it works even better at thirty-two. Especially if I call him officer instead of sheriff.
“Get out of the car, Mr. Sterling.” His voice is commanding, his well-practiced I’m-in-control cop tone booming through the night, and I try to ignore the flare of heat it sends through my body. Damn my cock for liking it.
“It’s Doctor Sterling, Petey, has been for a few years now.” I’ve been on my best behavior for over a decade, and even though I’m now the town physician, everyone still thinks he’s the good one and I’m the bad seed. He had our parents fooled for years.
“Out of the car. Now, Lachlan. Right fucking now.” My name hits deeper when it comes from his lips. Hearing it said with force has my whole body coming to attention.
Having the doors off the Jeep and stashed in the back makes slipping out easy. The closer proximity to him is not. Being near him sends heat through me, even in the chill of the night. My pulse increases. My heart beats harder. A rivulet of sweat trickles down my neck and continues its path along my spine. Headlights flicker in the far distance, and that, along with a deep breath, calms me. Witnesses on the way, noted.
“Mr. Sterling, what do you expect me to do when you drive through here, speeding, no seat belt? You’re asking me to pull you over.” He takes a hard look at my driver’s license, flipping it against his finger, then tapping it on his palm.
“You know full well I was wearing my seat belt until you told me to get out of the car. I had to unbuckle it to get out.” It’s all part of the game he likes to play with me.
“It’s hard to tell with all of these aftermarket changes you’ve made to the vehicle.” He taps my driver’s license on my side mirror. “Pretty sure these aren’t regulation.” You can bet your ass they are, I made damn sure. I didn’t want to hear about it for the rest of my life, traffic stop after traffic stop.
“Turn around, hands on the hood, Mr. Sterling.” He tucks my license into the pocket of his pristine uniform, then gestures toward the hood.
I turn to face the vehicle, lifting my hands as instructed. My jeans slip down low on my hips. I’m on the lean side, and wedding stress took a few pounds I didn’t intend to lose. On the upside, I now have the hint of a six-pack starting just in time for my deferred honeymoon. I won’t get much sleep tonight, but it’ll be worth it for two weeks of sand, warm cerulean water, and an overwater bungalow for two.
My old soft t-shirt rises as I raise my arms, leaving my hips and lower abs bare as my Levi’s cling to my ass. They slip another inch lower, holding on for dear life.
I ran short on underwear while I was away, I’m sure Golden Boy would never be so foolish as to take four pairs of underwear for a five-day trip. Hunting down a laundromat last night sounded like more trouble than it was worth, when the simple solution was driving home commando. In hindsight, that decision seems more like extending an invitation. There’s no way he won’t notice with the way he watches me. He follows me in the dark.
“I’m going to pat you down, any weapons, drugs I should know about? Better that you tell me now, if I find them myself we’ll have a real problem here.” A few legal pats down my hips and legs, up my inner thighs.
“No, nothing like that.” This has never happened with anyone else, so I have no idea if his touch is lingering or professional, if he needs to have his hands quite that high on my thigh, or if I should have goosebumps on my neck from his breath when he does it. The headlights draw near, and a car I don’t recognize passes. I look up the road then turn to stare down the stretch of asphalt, but no more lights appear in thedistance. He finishes frisking me, but doesn’t take his hands off my exposed skin.
This is how it starts, every single time.
Lachlan, get out of the car. Can you afford a ticket right now, medical school is expensive isn’t it?
Lachlan, spread your legs. I need to pat you down.
Lachlan, if you can’t afford this ticket maybe we can make another arrangement.
Lachlan, take my cock like a good slut. I won’t tell anyone how you get out of tickets if you do what you’re made for, your body is meant to take me nice and deep.
Have you missed my cock, Lachie? It’s been too long.
“I might have to give you a ticket.” Hah! It’s like I’m psychic. “It’s one hundred and fifty dollars. It went up on January first. Can you afford that right now, Mr. Sterling?”
