Message-ID: <20171eli$9902220754@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: Nick Subject: Traffic Incident by Nick (MF no sex... yet) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset="us-ascii" Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-Id: <3.0.1.32.19990221231354.007a0b70@pop3.demon.co.uk> Traffic Incident (MMF no sex... yet) by Nick (Copyright Nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk) Note that this story is provided free for entertainment. You may copy it and distribute to friends but you may not make money from it or any part of it without my agreement, nor must you claim it as your own. This story is copyrighted to me (Nick) and I ask you to observe that. This story is of an adult nature, containing some sexually explicit scenes. I do not intend either for me or the reader to break the law in any country where it may be read, and so if for any reason the law of your country forbids you from reading adult literature, do not read any further. I saw the police car coming towards me as I approached the roundabout. You couldn't miss it really, it's siren was going and all its lights were flashing. All, that is, except the indicator. I figured, therefore, that it was safe for me to carry straight on. The squeal of breaks followed by the sickening crunch as my offside wing locked in a violent kiss with his nearside, told me I was wrong. Shit! The car was just over a month old. It had replaced one which was half as powerful and half as sexy, and while one must expect that sooner or later it must suffer a dent of some sort, I certainly would have preferred it not to have made advances on a police car for its first time - or any time come to that. I climbed out of the car somewhat sheepishly. A brief glance at where the sleek lines had become crumpled metal told me I wouldn't be driving it away. Already the policeman was striding around the back of the car, talking angrily into his radio. "Yeah, sarge, some clown's just driven into us on the way... say again... no, looks bad, we're not going to make this shout. I'm going to throw the fucking book at him, stupid bastard!" His colleague, a petite young policewoman had her notebook out and was scribbling furiously as she inspected the damage. "You realise *sir*," he said with undisguised irritation as he approached me, "that through your stupidity you have prevented us from reaching the scene of a crime and have therefore potentially put the lives of the public in danger!" I love it when they call you *sir*, like that. They are obviously trained in the fine art of using a term of respect to indicate precisely the opposite. In situations like this I can't help myself. I seem to go into some kind of self-destruct mode. "If I thought for one minute this was my fault, then you might succeed in making me feel guilty, "I said as I felt my pulse-rate rise. "However, as a tax payer, I can only feel intense annoyance that the fight against crime is impeded by the incompetent driving of my governments employees!" It was almost as if a part of me was watching the proceedings from a distance, willing me to stop, but simply not having the ability. Quite predictably the policeman looked utterly pole-axed. "Right!" he bellowed, his red face now six inches from mine, "I'm going to see to it personally, that you never drive again!" Little flecks of spittle showered my face. I felt absolutely helpless as I moved involuntarily into the next phase of 'self-destruct'. I glanced briefly at the policewoman, in the faint hope that she might use her feminine ways to calm the raging bulls we had become, but her expression was just as poisonous as that of her colleague. I had nothing to lose, it seemed. "Sure, you are," I began, "we both know, don't we, who is to blame for this, but I doubt this admission will appear in your report, and," I was on a roll now and I curled my lip in a sneer, "if the judge has to make the choice between the word of a 'fine upstanding crimefighter who would sell his grandmother before telling a lie' and some ordinary 'Joe-citizen', there is no great mystery which way he would jump!" I could see the veins standing out in his neck as his eyeballs bulged. Once again I my alter-ego wrung it's hands as I held out my wrists. "So do your worst officers!" "You are dead, buster, dead!" the policeman almost squeaked as he jabbed his fingers painfully into my chest. Phase 3 of 'self-destruct' now swung inevitably into play. Reminding myself that I had a wife and kids who relied on their daddy bringing home the bacon on a regular basis didn't seem to work. I had to see it through. "Right!" I said, "So I'm going to fall mysteriously under this juggernaut while trying to escape. Or will I be found hanging in my cell later on?" I paused for breath. "By the way, were you involved in the Stephen Lawrence case, or the West Midlands Serious..." "I think," interrupted the constable, "that you'd better shut your mouth before you get yourself into more trouble!" Finally I'd reached the end of the trail, and I was able to bring myself under control. In a few short seconds, it seemed, I had succeeded in completely ruining my life. I considered my options. An apology seemed best. "Give me one good reason," he gritted chillingly, "why I shouldn't simply do just as you suggest! Why I shouldn't simply kick the shit out of you here and now!" I glanced at the traffic shooting past, the drivers smiling at the scene. I doubted if I'd get much help. "I'm a writer!" I blurted out almost without thinking, "if anything happens to me, I'll make sure the whole world hears about it!" He seemed to withdraw slightly. "A journo huh! Which paper?" Here he had me. Writing porn on the internet was hardly the kind of thing that would have protected me in this situation. If I could claim to be a journalist for one of the big broadsheets I could probably get off more or less scot-free. The question was how? I played for time and got my wallet, riffling desperately through it, for appropriate looking business cards that might help me out. Nothing. In the end I could think of nothing to do except write my e-mail address on a scrap of paper. It just might confuse them, I thought with increasing futility. A brief break in the story to make an authors note: S to r y c o p y right belongs to N i c k at c a s s a n d r a dot d e m on dot c o dot u k as should be stated at the top. Sorry for the interruption. Please carry on reading. I handed the scrap to the constable who glanced at it and then looked at me as if I was something he'd stepped in, as he handed it over to his colleague. "Are you pissing me about?" he seemed more angry than ever. "Er, Jim...", the policewoman, was tapping his arm, but he was not to be put off his stride. "You give me this shit, then claim to be some... what is it Mary?" the policewoman had become persistent. "A word, Jim." She looked serious. He shook his finger at me as she led him out of earshot. "You stay right there buster, I haven’t finished with you yet!" I watched in some confusion as the to officers conferred. Surely this wasn't actually going to work. If so, why? how? When Jim returned, he wouldn't look me in the eye. "Seems I made a mistake mate," he mumbled. "I swung out to avoid a stray kid and hit you. Could happen to anyone." You could have knocked me down with a feather. "Yeah, sure," I said trying to hide my relief. "We'll say no more about it then." The tow-trucks arrived quickly, which was a blessing, since I didn't want to spend too much time with the two police officers. I returned home on the bus, my shopping trip cancelled. I felt light-headed and began to seriously consider the possibility that there was a God after all - or at least a guardian angel who kept me safe. That night I received an e-mail: "From: ms_plod@xxxxx.com Subject: An Unfortunate Accident Text: I have read all your stories and all your postings. Now you owe me. Mary" I thought for a little while, and then, just to be on the safe side, I wrote this. I doubt I've heard the last from ms_plod. END Comments welcome. E-mail Nick~@cassandra.demon.co.uk For more stories by Nick visit the website: www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Nick/www -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----