Officer Friendly — Part 1

No Dirty Words — April

I went to the gym this morning, it’s still warm so I wore my gym togs for the walk there and back. It’s not far, only about 6 blocks and our blocks are short. It was a good workout, some regulars and some not so regulars there, easy movement from machine to machine. No problem getting spotted, but then, I never have a problem getting spotted. Maybe my clothes have something to do with it. My shorts are a dark grey Lycra that are really two sizes too small. That makes them come about two inches below my navel and very tight all around, not irritating, but they do get in there; nothing hidden in the back as far as shape goes, and well defined in the front. My top is a white sports bra that shows off my figure rather than squashing it. It allows some texture in the front and when slightly damp, gives a hint of color, especially if I’ve used a little color before hand. Yes, I’m an attention junkie, and I like showing off my body; I’ve worked hard to keep it this way.

I had a good workout, and I was walking home. My shorts tend to show any bit of sweat and my shirt turns a bit translucent. As I was walking past the square, I saw a police car take off down a one way street, the correct way, and a minute later appear on the other side of the square and stop. The officer got out, and stood by the car waiting for me to approach. WTF, I was just walking.

“Excuse me, Miss.”

“Yes, officer…” I checked his name tag, “Lowry?”

“You’re dressed rather provocatively for street wear.”

“I”m sorry, I”m on my way home from the gym.” I was wishing I could get my camel toe smooth so he’d stop staring at it. He did stop looking at that and started looking at my boobs. I wondered if I should turn around, bend over and give him a three-sixty view.

He took his glasses off and actually looked me in the eye. “Well, I was just worried about you causing health issues with some of our elderly male residents, or our tourists.”

“Oh, I see, I’ll be more careful.”

“How far are you going?”

“I live right over there.” and I pointed to the street on the center of the square.

“Can I see some identification, please?”

“Um, I’m not carrying any with me, no pockets.”

So he takes out his little notebook and a pen. “Well, what’s your name and phone number?”

“Michelle Love, 342–7458. Is this for official police business?” I just had an idea.

“Well, I have to keep records.” He blushed just a bit, but still kept eye contact. He was good looking and fit with a very nice smile, not a smirk that I might have expected. He seemed to be a bit older than me, late thirties or early forties.

“And what are you going to do with these official records?” I smiled so he wouldn’t get defensive.

“Maybe I’ll ask you out?”

“Why waste a phone call? I’m right here.”

He was caught off guard. “Um, er, Dinner Friday?”

“That sounds nice, sure. This isn’t the first time you’ve followed me, is it?”

“Well, nooo, not exactly, I have noticed you before, you’re hard to miss.”

A nice compliment, I think, “So how about coffee tomorrow?”

“Sure, that’ll be nice. Eight?”

“Good, I’ll buy you a doughnut.” I always wanted to say that.

He smiled.

“Can I go now? Or are you going to put me in handcuffs and take me away?”

His grin got larger, “Well, not yet, but there’s always Friday.”

I smiled, turned and walked away. I could feel his eyes on my butt and his car didn’t move until I was inside my house. I know because I checked through the window.

Continued in Doughnuts or Donuts?