The girls got up on their knees and peered out.
Vive sat on the left. She stuck her head out the window and shouted, “What’s the matter, Officer? We weren’t speeding!” I thought she’d lost her mind to address a cop like that.
Ohhh. Then I realized it was a distraction technique.
As Vive drew attention to herself, Taddy cracked the door on the opposite side and dumped out the liquor. Smart girl.
Today couldn’t get any worse. I knew God had a funny sense of humor. However she wouldn’t give me some bogus ticket on the very day in which my boyfriend had been caught banging Mom. Would she?
Knock, knock. Hello God, are you listening up there?
Once everyone’s wheels came to a complete stop on the side of the highway—by the distance of the Queensborough Bridge to our right, I estimated we were near East Seventieth Street—the cop got off his Harley and approached.
“Stay on your bike,” he ordered in a thick Bronx, maybe Brooklyn accent. Striding past me, he went straight for the limo.
I got an eye full of him. Woof!
His ass was stacked like a baseball player’s juicy man-booty. He spoke to Vive’s driver for a minute, and then he talked to Vive.
With her diamond Rolex on her wrist and a ring on every finger, Vive’s hand waved in the air as she talked. Then suddenly her hand balled into a fist, and Vive’s thumb pointed back at me.
He looked at me directly and approached.
Why was I getting nervous? I wasn’t the one in a car drinking underage. As he came closer, I sized him up, literally.
No slouch in sight. Standing at about six-four, he gave new meaning to the word swagger. His broad shoulders moved with a confident stride.
“Afternoon,” he said, his voice deep.
“Hi!” A slight chew of my bottom lip, then I licked my upper. I gave him my most innocent smile.
“License and registration.”
“Um, I, okay, Officer…” I handed him the papers, glancing down at his badge, and read out loud, “God.” What an odd last name.
He lifted his aviators, resting them on his forehead.
Wow. Eyes black as onyx. Making me feel dainty, he stared through me and demanded, “Remove your helmet.”
“Promise not to laugh at my static hair?”
“Now.”
“Sorry, I was kidding. This pulling me over thing is, like, making me nervous.”
“Why’s that?”
“It’s been a rough day. Actually I’d say one of the worst days of my life.” I loosened the strap around my chin and realized he didn’t want to hear my pity party. I sure as fudge felt like crying again though. If I allowed my mind to revisit standing in Birdie’s bedroom doorway earlier today, I would sob up a storm. But why bother?
Officer God flashed his perfectly straight, white teeth, almost as if he was about to curl the edges of his full lips into a smile. He didn’t. Instead he inhaled deeply through his mouth. His broad chest rose up a bit as he held it for a few seconds.
You are one scary, sexy man. I couldn’t help but take in his masculine energy. I smoothed my hair the second I took off my helmet and held it up against my suddenly hard nipples. My headlights were on high. For whatever reason, when aroused they became erect and somewhat pointy.
There was no bra on the market which covered them. Trust me, I’d tried them all.
A while back, Birdie had suggested a flower-shaped silicone adhesive to contour over them. That’s what she’d used for years on photo shoots. When I’d taped them on, they’d flattened my mounds right out. I thought I’d found my pointy nipple solution.
Ohhh, the sheer torture when I’d peeled those buggers off at the end of the day. Take a band-aid and stick it on a sore spot. Then wait a few hours and rip it off. That hellaciousness is what happened to my nipples.
Calculating in my head 365 days a year multiplied by the fifty more years I’d be taping these puppies down till I hit menopause, it was close to eighteen thousand times. For sure my nipples would only stretch and sag with every application and removal of the contour. So I stuck to no tape.
Regardless, in situations such as this one right here, staring at Officer God who’d descended upon me from the Harley Davidson heavens causing an intense stir in my pussy which in return shot arousing tingles all through me. I wished I’d worn them.
Why? Because it was me on my bike, the cop standing next to me, and my nipples between us screaming for attention.
“Sunglasses too?” I asked, hoping he’d look at my face and not my breasts.
He nodded. “Regardless, I can see your eyes. It’s bright out.” He chuckled causing me to lean forward in curiosity.
“What’s so funny?”
“I could’ve sworn you winked at me when I rode up next to you.”
So friggin’ busted.
“That’s hysterical.” I tried to add a giggle of amusement. However, my tone flattened. I was the world’s worst liar. “As you said, it’s bright out. I, uhhh, must’ve squinted.”
Tugging at the front of his pants, Officer God shifted his weight to one foot. I tried not to stare but I had to look down. I cocked my chin up a bit to make it appear like I wasn’t lowering my focus on his jewels.
OMFG! Down there, he was as hard as a rock. I was afraid it was gonna get loose and slap me across my face. I swallowed the lump in my throat.
“What ‘bout when you blew me a kiss?”
Dang. Clearly Officer God had eyes on the side of his head while he talked on the radio. Quick, I had to come up with a good reason. “Earlier today, I chewed some nappy gum. I spit it out in the trash. So my lips have been involuntarily puckering at everything including cops.” I’d become convinced that all of my earlier symptoms experienced at the penthouse—such as the fever, white spots, and anxiety—had been intensified by that darn gum. From here on out, it was Dylan’s Candy Bar and me together forever, no more weight-loss scams.
The longer he stared at me the more I felt the afternoon’s heat magnifying off the highway’s pavement. The sun shined stronger than before.
Why did I feel as if I’d just been placed in some industrial-strength-professional microwave, set on high, ready to defrost and then bake a turkey, all in a mere sixty seconds? If I was ever going to pass out, I hoped it’d be right now. Otherwise I’ll just drop dead of mortification.