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3
Blaze
I’m five minutes early the next night. When I pull up and get out, I notice the air is even more humid than last night, and the sky is gloomy. I spent the entire drive over lecturing myself about how inappropriate it is to be attracted to a prostitute I’m supposed to be arresting. I also reminded myself of how important it would be that I keep it together this time. For some reason, I have a bad feeling my pep talk won’t stick—maybe because I spent much of the morning daydreaming about her golden glazed lips with just enough plumpness to make a strong man weak.
Then, I lay eyes on her again. She’s sitting on a park bench looking like a modern-day princess. I thought I had it together before I got here, but now my little head is bouncing at just the sight of her. I pace the sidewalk by the rose garden, muttering encouraging things to myself. Things that will help me get my head in the game before I even think of approaching her.
You’re here to make an arrest, I chant in my mind over and over again. You’re a damn good officer, sworn to protect and serve this community, I tell myself, though I’m not sure I’ll ever gather the constitution to put her in cuffs. Unless it’s for other reasons.
I quiet my thoughts and approach her.
She’s wearing another provocative outfit tonight. This time, a candy apple red dress with glittery sparkles that seem to be melding into her cocoa brown skin. The dress shows off most of her chest, and the six-inch red heels on her feet bring her just about to my height when she stands, cellphone in hand. The entire outfit is screaming ‘come fuck me.’
“Hello?” I say to take her attention from the phone in her palm.
“Oh shit,” she spits out and freezes like a deer caught in headlights when she looks up into my eyes. “You came,” she says sounding extra raspy.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I know you said you were coming, and I was hoping that you would. I’m glad to see you,” she rambles.
I have to remind myself it’s all an act for her. She gets paid and has probably been trained by a pimp or, worse, traffickers, to seduce men into a stupor. This innocent girl act is likely part of the scheme.
“I’m glad to see you too,” I admit, sounding as if I suddenly have cotton in my mouth. The dryness from me holding it open in awe of her beauty is evident. “I mean, look at you. What man in his right mind wouldn’t come back and meet you?”
The comment is partially me just doing my job, but mostly I can’t help myself. The flirtations are genuine. I want her to hear every word, soak it in, and understand her beauty.
She blinks, and the sweep of her eyelashes is spellbinding in the dim light of the lamp overhead.
“I guess you’re right,” she says, smiling. “Now, where were we last night, again? Remind me.”
I step closer and let my voice drop an octave. “We were talking about what I have to do to get you in my bed,” I say, cutting to the chase. That’s easy enough to do because a larger part of me than I would like to admit wants this bed tango to happen pronto.
“Right,” she says again. Slowly, she runs her tongue across her plump lips with the promise of something I wish to have. “I was telling you that, I could do that for just for a hun—”
A loud boom of a thunderclap overhead stops her mid-sentence. It’s an ominous warning that comes out so loud she jumps closer to me. Seconds later, it’s pouring heavy raindrops that soak us both through our clothing to the skin.
“Shit,” we swear in unison.
The water is freezing. I can see goosebumps dotting across her arms, and one pert nipple, peeking out from the tight fabric of the dress and pebbling under the water.
“Fuck,” I say with feeling. My mind is racing, trying to come up with a backup plan. All I can think about is how much I want to kiss the woman standing in front of me while raindrops coat our bodies.
She looks pornographic with her dress matted to her compact frame. I never really thought I had a type before today, but now I’m perfectly aware that my type is wet. I’m going to be jerking off to this mental image for months.
“Tomorrow night,” her beautiful voice says with yet another promise to make this, whatever it is, happen the next night.
A tinge of disappointment travels through me. Yet, I say nothing. I’m staring at her, struck speechless. I’m frozen in my spot watching her ass dance as she runs away in that tight red dress.
“Let’s do it at the Day Eight Motel tomorrow so that we won’t get rained out,” she yells over the thunder. “Same time!”
By this time, she’s almost around the corner. I want to run after her, but the thought of us being in a room together. With a bed.
Meeting her at Day Eight Motel is going to be a nightmare of a test for my self-control. Only the shock of cold water raining down on me clears my head clears and stops my thoughts from derailing to all I can do to this beautiful woman with a mattress to spread her out on and a little privacy.
“Are you sure I can’t give you a ride?” I ask, in a last-ditch attempt to make this happen tonight.
“No, my car is parked right over there.” She points to a little red sports car, and I know whoever has her out here has her out here in style.
