NYPD Screw
by Aurora Dupree
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 Aurora Dupree
***
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters and incidents are either
the product of the author's imagination or are used in a fictitious manner.
Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events or locations is purely coincidental.
***
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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When Martin saw the flashing blue and red lights in his rear view mirror, he couldn't believe it.
"Not today," he muttered to himself. His eyes trailed over to the speedometer, and he saw the number slowly descending from the high eighties. Was I really going that fast? Goddamnit. His mind had been elsewhere. The divorce with his wife, for one thing, and worrying about how they were going to divy up his stuff, and a million other concerns that a speeding ticket was only going to add to. He cursed, banging his hand against the steering wheel, which let off a little, weak-sounding honk. All he wanted to do was go home, make dinner, and watch the football game. And he couldn't even do that right. For a brief, crazy moment, he contemplated gunning the engine and taking off, daring the cops to catch him. He was driving a BMW, and it got up to some pretty high speeds. But he knew it was a bad idea. He didn't think he had the guts, besides. Sighing, Martin pulled over to the shoulder, already rooting around in his glove box for his license and registration.
He got the necessary paperwork and sat with his hands clutching the steering wheel. He could see the cruiser pull to a stop behind him. Martin cursed again. This would probably be another 2 points on his license, and it wasn't as if he had a stellar driving record to begin with. He turned his head at the sound of the approaching footsteps, and there was a knock on the window. Martin buzzed it down and was surprised at what he saw.
It wasn't some fat cop standing next to his car. It was a woman--in fact, a beautiful one. She was wearing the tight blue uniform, and her pants showed off her shapely legs. Sizable breasts hidden away behind her outfit. Her hair was tied into a long blonde ponytail, and he eyes were hidden behind dark sunglasses. On her uniform the name "Fontaine" was emblazoned. Martin was so taken aback that he was speechless. The policewoman stared at him gawking, and nodded. She had her hands crossed over her chest, and a stern look on her face.
"You know, the Daytona 500 isn't for another couple of weeks," she said. Her voice didn't have that obnoxious tone that Martin was used to from most cops. It was firm, but also kind of playful, as if she knew he was busted and there was nothing he could do. Martin, taken aback by the stunning woman standing before him, hung his head sheepishly.
"Yeah, Led Zeppelin came on the radio and I guess I kind of lost track of how fast I was going," Martin said.
"That's no excuse. You were doing almost 90 in a 55. Let's see your identification."
Martin handed over his license and registration, and she flipped through it, not really giving them more than a cursory glance.
"Name's Martin, huh?Where are you coming from?"
"The gym," Martin said, nodding to his gym bag in the backseat.
"The gym, huh? You work out a lot?"
He shrugged.
"Not as much as I could, I guess."
"Don't have a lot of free time?"
Martin shook his head.
"I just got divorced," he said. "I've got lots of free time now."
She nodded.
"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. But it doesn't absolve you for breaking the law."
Martin sighed. The appeal of talking to a beautiful woman was starting to wear off. He knew he was going to get a ticket, one way or the other.
"Look," he said. "I'm very tired. I'm exhausted from the gym. I just want to go home. So if you would, just write me the damn ticket so we can be on our way."
Officer Fontaine stared back at him. He couldn't read her expression behind the dark sunglasses. Finally, she spoke:
"Get out of the car, Martin?"
"What? Are you kidding me?"
"It's not a request. Do it, before I called for backup."
"Jesus. I can't believe this." Martin unbuckled his seatbelt, and reluctantly stepped out of the car. Immediately, Fontaine grabbed him and pressed him up against the hood of his car.
"Hands against the hood," she said.