Suck My Cock

There was the loud shrill blow of a whistle, and a calling voice. "Hey buddy, not there, not there. You can't..." Then more whistle blowing.

Rob slipped the car into neutral and pulled on the handbrake. He checked his face in the rear view mirror, briefly. There was coffee residue around the corners of his lips, he wiped it away with his thumb and pointer finger.

Clack, clack, clack, sounded the truncheon on the closed car window. Rob licked the ends of his fingers and wiped at the corners of his mouth again.

He gazed sideways to see the torso and trousers of the young policeman. Dark blue pants that fitted him well.

Rob took a deep breath and pushed the window switch. Nothing, he’d killed the engine.

Clack, clack, clack, sounded the truncheon on the glass, again.

Rob fumbled with the keys, they slipped out of his hand onto the floor of the car. He leant forward resting his head on the steering wheel, as his hands swept the floor for the keys.

Clack, clack, clack.

“Okay, okay.” Go around the other side, that windows open.

Clack, clack, clack.

Rob’s fingers hunted desperately. Keys, just come to my fingers. He could hear himself exhaling as if the air was being squeezed out of him with each lunge at the floor.

Clack, clack…

Ah, the keys. Snatch. Into the ignition. Push his finger on the window switch. Zzzz, sounded the window as it slid open.

“Can I see your licence, sir?” Blond hair, aviator glasses, square chin, lithe body. Rob thought he looked like a twelve year old in his father’s sunglasses.

“How long have you been out of the academy?”

“Your licence please sir.”

Rob opened his wallet and slid out his licence.

“A year?

He handed the plastic card over.

"At the most?”

Rob rubbed his fingers across the young officer’s hand deliberately. The young officer's fingers were warm.

The young policeman removed his sunglasses to read.

“Not a scar on you,” said Rob. “What is this all about, anyway?”

“You preformed an illegal u-turn to enter the car park.”

“A u-turn? Illegal, you say?”

“You crossed over double white lines…”

“Double white lines?”

“Double white lines.”

It sounded so ridiculous. “Double white lines, oh I’m guilty… handsome.”

“Sir?”

“Yes.”

The young policeman raised his eye brows, pleading.

“You are handsome, I’m sure it’s not illegal to say that,” said Rob. “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve heard that, despite your tender years.”

“Sir, I am now writing you a ticket for crossing dual lines on a carriageway. Do you want to say anything?”

“I’d wager that your prick tastes like chocolate and smells like fresh cotton jocks and your mother's soap.”

"Sir... I meant, was there anything you'd like to say in your defence about the ticket I am just about to write out for you?"

"Um... no."