We have a silly little TV show on local cable channel that is a take-off on “Cops”, I think it’s called “Blue Light”. Our local TV station puts on these community interest productions with much flair and effort. Usually they come across as one step above “Wayne’s World” on SNL.
I was unfortunate enough to have a cameraman ride in my car for a night shift. Apparantly by being out of the ready room reading the Sporting News in the john while the crucial assignment was being made by the shift sergeant was good enough for the entire watch to cast a “Yes” vote for me, in absentia. What a bunch of sorry assholes I work with. “Well I don’t know why either.” Holly said, as she placed her hands on Amy’s shoulders and started to firmly rub them. “You’re overqualified for the job, YOU just don’t realize it.”
Amy closed her eyes and relaxed a little as Holly pressed firmly with her thumbs, rubbing down Amy’s spine. Amy surprised herself by emitting a small moan as she felt Holly work an especially sore spot.
“Here, I need more leverage.” Holly scooted her stool directly behind Amy’s and resumed the kneading, rubbing, and caressing of Amy’s back. As Amy sat under Holly’s touch, she began to become aware of the closeness of their bodies. Occasionally the hair on her neck was tickled by Holly’s breath.
Amy started to feel the little changing room get very hot, and she realized she was shifting on the stool to get more comfortable. “Do you need more? Do you want me to go on?” Holly’s breath tickled her ear, lips nearly touching the lobe.
“No, I mean, yes - please.”
Yes, as an answer to my prayers, this guy was a total police freak. Watched every episode of “Cops” and “Real Stories Of the Highway Patrol”. Did not understand why I watched “Friends”, “Frasier” and “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” instead of aforementioned, real, true-to-life, gritty shows. I guess any discussion of Shakespeare, one of my keen reading interests, was out of the question. The only thing he wanted to record verbally was the Macho Cop Attitude On Life, something I haven’t quite mastered yet. Failing that, I played with the radio and hummed popular tunes. After the 47th question about my service weapon, the Sig-Sauer P225, and his comparison/contrast theories to his favorite weapon of choice, the Glock19, I was quietly counting down the time to my end of shift and quick escape from this idiot.
The night went by routinely, much to my satisfaction. However, Mr. Cameraman was not happy-- no action, no shooting, no bad guys. We stopped at one fishing spot on the Gulf side of my area and I talked with some old service buddies doing some night fishing. Not too exciting to him, even though my friend had just purchased a new salt rig from Wal Mart and was happily showing it off to anyone who ventured by the fishing pier. In a decisive movement Holly slipped her hands under the sides of Amy’s dress and cupped her full breasts. Amy let out a little yelp of surprise, then relaxed again as Holly’s soft hands caressed her breasts, working in firm but gentle circles around them. Holly leaned into Amy’s back, pressing firmly against her. Her lips, then teeth gently took Amy’s earlobe between them. Amy’s mind started to swim, all sounds drowned out by the hot breath in her ear.
Holly continued to caress Amy’s soft breasts, continuing the circles in tighter and tighter spirals until they ended at the soft points of her firm nipples. Holly’s fingers closed - gently - on the little soft tips, and as she tugged on them she bit firmly into Amy’s ear. Amy let out a long sigh, partially a pant, and pulled her ear free to turn her head to Holly. Their lips met in a first kiss, hesitant - then with more confidence. As Holly continued her gentle but insistent tugging, she ran her tongue across Amy’s sweet lips, begging entrance to the soft warmth inside. And Amy granted it with abandon.
Their mouths were locked together in a long, deep kiss. Tongues searched and found each other in an intimate dance hidden from the rest of the world. Holly bit gently on Amy’s lower lip, pulling Amy’s nipples with more force as she did so. She was rewarded with a long moan and a sigh.
Holly started to slowly rub along Amy’s inner thighs, pressing and caressing, pinching softly. Avoiding the center of Amy’s need. Amy shifted on the stool to try and draw Holly closer, but Holly was stronger, and continued the gentle teasing of her thighs. Amy’s own body felt out of her control, as if she was nothing but a fine musical instrument to be played by Holly’s experienced, gentle hands. Holly’s hand began to rub higher along Amy’s thighs, then along her outer lips. She teased her fingers through the soft heat, stroking gently. Amy gave a little gasp, and started to pant. Holly’s hand moved almost casually upwards, and found Amy’s little bud. Her slim fingers carefully avoided it as they moved up to caress the hood which covered it, rubbing gently in a small circle. They slowly pulled the little hood away, exposing more of the engorged bud beneath. Amy began to pant openly, and tried to sift her hips to force the contact, to put her over the edge. But Holly held her tightly, and continued the exquisite torture.
Mr. Cameraman asked me afterwards if I should’ve checked their fishing licences. I think my reply was “…yeah right”
We finally got a domestic violence call six hours into the watch, with the husband fleeing the scene on foot. Mr. Cameraman had, in six hours, polished off quite a mountain of food from this monstrous cooler that took up a good portion of my backseat area. I was told to go on foot and meet with a K9 unit about six or seven blocks down this housing area. I run biathlons and 10Ks regularly, so I figured I’d take a quick run and told Mr. Cameraman to follow me if he wanted to. He belches once and moves his bovine ass out of the car trailing the videocam and a good segment of Hardees wrappers and condiments. From behind me I hear the sounds of a man who has not seen the inside of a gym in quite some time. Holly’s left hand continued it’s assault on Amy’s breasts, and Amy felt Holly’s right hand draw very near to her center. She held her breath, then released it in a frustrated sob as Holly once again avoided the bud directly, instead resting on either side. Amy bit Holly’s mouth in her frustration, and Holly pulled free and placed her teeth on the soft skin of Amy’s neck.
About halfway up the slightly inclined hill I hear a loud crash behind me. Mr. Camera had failed to hurdle a vicious garden hose that was placed in his path and basically had fallen and couldn’t get up. Amy sobbed aloud as Holly’s finger moved delicately along the sides of her bud, rubbing the shaft on the left, the right, the left, in a torment that brought tears freely to Amy’s face. Holly kissed the tears away as she continued, and Amy started to sob “Please Holly! Oh please! Help me!” I checked to see that he was OK and was relieved to see that he was noisily puking up the contents of his lunch cooler. At least he was breathing and some blood was circulating. I left him to fend off a rather irate neighbor who was asking him why he was sprawled amongst her lawn ornaments like a beached whale.
After the incident was over, I met him at the car where he was recovering a decent part of his pasty pink coloration again. “That area’s really sore, can you get it more?” asked Amy.
“Those muscles are always sore on women, from holding our breasts up all day. Just relax now.” Holly scooted even closer, until her own breasts were lightly grazing Amy’s back. I voiced regret about his cracked camera casing and possible ankle injury sustained by secondary collision with gnome-shaped lawn ornament. I apologized to the lady who owned the gnomes and took full responsibility for waking her up at zero-dark-thirty. ("He’s with me ma’am, you could’ve been on Blue Lights, if he wasn’t unconscious!) I tactfully suggested to Mr. Cameraman that if he was going to truly be a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist enroute to that prime assignment to Fox TV, then he might want to get in a better physical shape. As she felt Amy’s body finally relax, Holly slowed and then stopped her caress. She wrapped Amy in her arms and rocked her gently, running her fingers through her hair and whispering little nothings gently to her. After a couple minutes, Amy stirred and looked up at Holly. She sniffled a little as Holly wiped her flushed, damp face with a clean handkerchief from her purse. I pointed out that a lot of the cops in the big cities are young and fresh out of the Marines and Army Rangers-- they do love to run and hurdle fences! Thankfully it was a quiet trip back to the station as Mr. Cameraman soaked up as much A/C as his overheated body could muster. Amy finished dressing, and they straightened up the room. Except for the lingering scent of their desire, no one could ever know what had they had done.
“So, how do you think you’ll do tomorrow now, Amy?”
Amy turned and gave Holly a quick kiss.
“I’m going to kick ass and take down names!”
Well, that was as close as I came to potentially getting on TV, even though it was only local cable access. Oh well, fame is a fleeting thing.