And she knows she has my attention, she can sense the pleasure of her attraction, the feel of her skirt, tight to her thigh, the loose, half buttoned hang in her blouse.
Then a flash or red and blue, and suddenly we’re both snapped out of our seduction. She glances in the rearview mirror as I twist in my seat to look rearward. A bike cop sitting tight on our rear.
Radio down, we sit up straight, filled with guilt, despite having done nothing. I naughtily spy the rub of her thighs as she pulls off the gas to press the brake and ease us over onto the soft verge.
The State Trooper climbs off his Harley. She lowers her window in anticipation, her eyes are keen, watching his slow approach in her door mirror.
His tall leather riding boots crunching the gravel, the fit of his uniform, tight on his muscled thighs, a buckled gun belt fastened on his slender hips, holding his holstered side arm.
He looks down through the open window: “Ma’am, may I see your license and registration please?”
His voice has her flustered, she’s unbuckling her seat belt and twisting up on her seat, kneeling now, leaning through the space between us, to reach behind, and for her weekend case.
“Ma’am!” the Trooper abruptly commands, one hand gripping the door, the other closing around the grip of his sidearm.
We’re both startled, he’s peering inside, clearly concerned you might be reaching for a weapon.
His eyes stare into mine, and he nods, knowingly. Easing us to a calm, he and I bond, unbidden, suddenly sharing a sense for the magnetism of your form, our heads slowly turning in unison, our eyes gathering the data, mapping the details of your outline.
You sense our eyes on you, an electricity tingles inside the closed cabin of your car. Both men watching as you slowly clamber back around, still kneeling on your wide leather seat, looking up through the open window to face the Trooper.
His features might as well be mine, in every detail, jaw, stubble, lips, smile and eyes. He reaches in with his hand, reaching for the back of your head, and easing you toward him. His eyes reaching deep inside, wanting the truth from you, your mouths meeting at the open window and you feel yourself giving in to his full kiss.
And there’s no resisting his arrest as he eases himself down on his haunches, squatting low outside your door to take you in with a long slow, deep French kiss. It seems you’re a wanted woman.
I’m watching you from behind, turned on by the boldness of the State Trooper, and the sight of your stretching skirt, the outline so sexy, fit and tight, riding up on your hips, as you scoop and spoon your spine, stretching for more of his deep kissing.
I see so much of you in her, the way she ripples with stirred arousal. She’s been aching for this, her insides bruised with the time that’s passed, waiting for his kiss to claim hers.