by Dawn Marie
“Yes, Deputy,” I replied. “That is correct.” I gave him my most pissed off look.
He reached up with the papers still clutched in his hands, to push up his sunglasses. I wished he’d left them on his face, because now I could see his navy-blue eyes burning into me. He seemed to be searching for something, but what I didn’t know.
“Do you realize you were speeding?” he firmly questioned.
“No. I didn’t,” I replied softly with a sigh. I only wanted to get to work!
“Wait here a few minutes, please,” he told me. He gave me a hard look and walked back to his patrol car that was parked behind me.
I reached into my purse as I glanced back in my rearview mirror as the deputy slid into his car, pulling out my cell. God, he was a sexy man. I texted my office to tell them I was late but would be there. Just didn’t know when. As I finished sending that text, I felt heat on my face, and looked up. He was there! He was back.
The deputy wasn’t happy. I don’t know how I knew that but I just knew. He wasn’t happy with either me or this traffic stop. Or maybe both. Or nothing. But his face was pulled up in a grimace and I could clearly tell he wasn’t pleased.
“If you’re done Ms. Little I’d like to have your attention,” he snapped at me.
“Yes,” I had to bite my tongue. The nerve of the man.
“I’m going to be fair today,” his voice was frankly mean. Nothing was going to be fair if it concerned him. “I’m letting you off with a fine for speeding six over.” He explained as he handed me a yellow slip.
I grabbed it from him, looking at the writing, the fine was over $500 and I saw red. Maybe purple. Maybe green. I was pissed. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Really!” I exclaimed. I was mad. “You have some freaking nerve!” I yelled.
He laughed. The man actually laughed at me. And, trust me when I say laughed at me. He leaned his head and shoulders into my window, I could smell his cologne, feel the heat from his body, as I gazed into his eyes. I swallowed quickly, suddenly I wasn’t pissed off I was nervous. Nervous of this man that was so very male watching me as if he could gobble me up. No doubt he could. If he wanted too…
“Trust me,” he whispered to me. Whispered. I could hardly hear him with the cars whizzing by on the highway. “It could be much worse.”
I guess I’m a glutton for punishment. What would you say? Probably not what I said.
“How worse?” I asked him in a quivering voice.
“I could handcuff you,” he replied cynically.
“You would do that?” Naively I asked.
“That and much more,” he taunted in a husky voice. And, he winked at me.
Winked at me. Can you believe it? I was shocked.
A call from his radio blasted into our conversation. It sounded important whatever 10-16 meant. He said something into the radio, all the while holding my gaze, as if he knew something I didn’t. Maybe not. But he acted like he was going to say much more if we hadn’t been interrupted.
“Call me if you want more,” he told me as pulled his head out of my window, and turned to walk to his car.
“How?” I yelled out my car window. My head turning to watch him walk to his car never stopping till he got to his door.
“Number is on the back of your ticket,” he calmly told me as he continued getting inside his car and pulled away.
I was shocked. I turned the yellow paper over and sure enough in bold, black ink was his number. His writing was firmly printed, bold just like the man. I didn’t know what to think in that moment. The traffic going by pulled me out of my daze and I pushed the ticket into my purse.
I don’t really remember the drive to work but somehow, I made it there that day. All the stuff I wanted to do that day, it didn’t get done. Mainly because I was distracted. Distracted by the fact that a sexy overbearing male deputy had to sneak into my focus. During lunch, I read over the damn ticket information. Six over with a certain date to pay, if I wanted to contest the thing I could, but with court costs. Yeah, I really want to pay more. Not. So, I knew I would just pay the fine by mail and be over it.
Although I really was reading his number and putting it inside my phone. Also, his name was on the ticket. I seem to have forgot to get that information. Deputy Dyane Nelson was at the bottom of the yellow slip. The name was a strong one I thought and it suited him. It came off as strong, robust, hard, and restrained. Just like the man. And the last thought of restrained intrigued me more than anything else.
What would he be like unrestrained?
Did I really want to find out?
The lure of the unknown pulled me to discover more. Unrestrained really enticed me into wanting to know want exactly controlled the man. Who was he? What was he like? He looked tough. Was he really that tough? I know his occupation isn’t for every person. Only a handful of people really want to make that ultimate sacrifice and put their lives on the line every single day they go into work. What does that do to a person?
As I drove home that afternoon, I did the speed limit, however my thoughts were on Deputy Dyane Nelson. The man under the crisp, ironed uniform. What interest did he have in a simple woman like myself? I wasn’t interesting. Mysterious. Sexy. I didn’t think of myself in those terms. I was simply plain me. What you see is what you get. Honest. Loyal. Loving. Compassionate. A woman just living her life the best she could. And there laid the real questions for me.
Why me? I wanted to call that number of his at the red light before I turned to head home. But I didn’t. But it ate at me to call it.
Call it…
Chapter 3
Later that night it was around nine when I just couldn’t wait any longer to personally talk to Deputy Nelson. However, I am a shy person and I texted him. It was sort of a safety measure I thought. Laughing now but not back then because with Dyane there is no safety measure.
I sent a simple text: “What did you mean about much more?”
I poured myself a glass of wine and got a snack of chips while I waited for a reply. The television in my bedroom was on just so there was some noise in the house. I decided to watch the show that was on to pass the time. I had my cell on my nightstand by my bed. I was involved in the show when my phone went off. I jumped. I was suddenly afraid to see what it said. What he said. If it was from him.
I couldn’t not look at the reply I wanted to read so badly. So, I finally picked up my phone.
Dyane Nelson reply: “I think you know.”
What the hell did that mean? I wouldn’t have asked the damn question if I knew the answer. The nerve of the man!
Reply back: “I wouldn’t have asked the damn question if I knew! Oh, and thanks a bunch for the TICKET.”
The replying message went off as soon as I hit send. He has the same kind of phone I have. Seconds and I had a reply.
Dyane: “You’re welcome. Just doing my job since people like breaking the law.”
The man is it is obvious now an asshole. I couldn’t help but mutter it under my breath. I also was laughing in bed. It’s plain to see that the man is wound up too tightly and needs to have fun. Then I remember not everyone is able to laugh, relax and just enjoy the hectic pace of life.
Reply to Asshole: (Yes, I changed his name in my phone.)
“At least it gives you a job. Would be hard for an ass like yourself to find a job. ;) “
I turned the television off and went to the bathroom. My phone light up again and I decided to not answer it. I decided to go to bed. However, once I laid down and turn out the lamp I couldn’t relax. Especially since my phone lit up again. Again.
I opened my text messages. Sure, enough he had replied. He was not a happy guy. Too bad.
Asshole: “I’m going to blister your ass.”
No reply from me…
Asshole: “What’s the matter you get scared little girl?”
No reply from me.
Wait…
Me: “I didn’t start this. You did. Just asking wha
t does more mean? Spanking? Bet you’d enjoy that.”
Asshole: “Call me if you ain’t scared.”
Me: “You call me.”
Asshole: “Call Me Now!”
Me: “I’m busy.”
Asshole: “LOL. Bet you’re not…”
I didn’t reply. I laid my phone down. It must have been ten minutes or longer, but I’d finally shut my eyes. The house was quiet. The darkness had calmed me or was it the fact that I did reply to him. Maybe it was the excitement of talking to him finally. I don’t know. I was almost asleep when the phone rang.
Asshole.
Asshole. Came across the screen of my cell phone.
Accept.
Decline.
I pondered what to slide. My phone buzzed and buzzed when at the last second I hit accept. And I said, “Hello.”
His deep voice responded with, “Hello. Didn’t think you’d answer.”
“I wasn’t. But I decided to hear what you had to say.”
“What do you want me to say?” he responded with a detached voice.
That had me thinking why was he distant? What did he want?
“The truth,” my voice quiet. Calm.
“You couldn’t take the truth,” his voice firm almost bitter.
“Try me,”
“I don’t do romance shit. So, if you’re after that stuff look somewhere else. If you’re looking to fuck or hook-up. That can be arranged.” He was firm, direct, almost no emotion in his deep voice.
That of course I had heard before from men but they didn’t make the statements so believable as he did. What happened to him? Why are people so afraid of love? To be loved? To give love? I shook my head. It was sad. It is sad. Love is a wonderful thing. Or, it can be.
As a single woman, especially at the age of forty-three of course I get lonely. I want sex with the right person. I miss being held. Connecting with someone that has the same passions and desires that you do. I miss the maleness of having a man in my life. And, at times, crave one. And, this happened to be the month I craved one. It’s been awhile since I’ve been with anyone. Over a year since I had a very heated “affair” with a very delicious guy. I’ve been taking a “man-break” if you know what I mean.
However …
I craved Deputy Dyane Nelson.
Somehow, I knew he craved me also. Or I had the feeling he wouldn’t have called me personally. It didn’t fit his style. I knew now he was a fuck-them and leave-them guy. At least I knew it from the beginning. Could I handle him? Handle it? I haven’t the slightest clue.
Reply: “Okay.”
The silence on the phone was vexing. Almost unnerving.
Asshole: “Alright. But listen up, you know the score. It’s only fucking for me. Don’t make yourself get any ideas of anything else. It isn’t happening. Got it?” His voice hard, almost cold in tone. Wait… it was cold.
Me: “Got it.” I stated firmly.
Asshole: “I have to work tomorrow morning but are you free for dinner after six?”
Me: “I can be.”
Asshole: “I’ll text you when I’m ready to pick you up. Bye.”
Me: “Goodnight.”
I put my phone on charge for the night. Tomorrow is Friday and I can’t wait to have a break. I love weekends. But now I’m ready for another reason. I get to have dinner with Dyane. I want to find out what makes him tick. What is behind the hardness of the man? Why is he so hard?
I drift off to sleep but it’s a restless night of tossing and turning. I ask myself if I really want this? Do I? I sleep on it and tell myself I can back out tomorrow. But I know I will not do anything of the sort. I want Dyane. I want to feel his passion. I know he’s going to fuck me…
Passion can burn.
Did you know that?
Have you felt that?
Have you been so hot for someone just a look could melt your heart?
A kiss?
A whisper?
A touch?
A lick?
A nibble?
Passion can also be your downfall.
A person’s Achilles heel.
I’m not sure I can continue telling any of this. The pain in my heart is so awful now. He was a weakness I shouldn’t have fallen for. But I did. God did I. I am not ashamed to say I love him. I loved him. If only things could have been, should have been, I don’t know anymore. I just can say with the raw honesty of a woman who loves a man that does not love her that it is hell.
But I will try to finish the story of us…
Chapter 4
Ah…that first dinner between us.
When the tears stop maybe I can finish telling you. I am not sure I can express the hotness of the moment between the two of us. I can just say that old saying about fireworks when you meet a person. It’s true. And so much more. That small moment was one I can remember so vividly. I know we had other dinners, other lunches, breakfast out, breakfast in bed, but that first dinner together.
Ah, the memory of it.
Of him.
Dyane was very pleasing on the eyes. He was one mesmerizing male piece of flesh when in his deputy uniform. When I had first encountered him while he was working during that traffic stop I had thought he was one good-looking guy. Afterwards, I can tell you he’s even better looking, mouth-watering, one-hundred-percent all male dressed in dark blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and a black leather jacket. Add some black boots, black belt and his dark sunglasses with that jet-black hair of his, and just – wow.
I’ll try not to get ahead of myself. The need to tell my story burns inside. I will try to not rush ahead. It’s so hard to get the memories out of my mind. Out of my heart. They are buried there waiting to be let out again. I don’t want them out again but I must tell this story. To get past him…
I had dressed with extra care that Friday night. He had texted me like he had said after he got off work. I gave him my address and he said he would be there in an hour to pick me up. I said alright I will watch for you. And that is when the nerves set in. I got so nervous I had thought about calling the whole meeting off. But then I thought about the pull he gave off and how much I wanted to know more about him. The man. What was he really like as a person? A man?
A nice purple silk dress with some black designer sandals and my white purse I was prepared for Dyane. My makeup was lightly done. Not too dark. Light shade of purple lipstick, and just black eyeliner on my eyes. Some pink-tinted blush on my cheeks and I was done after brushing out my long brown hair. My hair fell to my shoulders in straight waves. A hint of my favorite floral perfume completed me.
The hour dragged by for me. My stomach was in knots from wondering what would happen. Would we get along? What was he thinking? Did he do this kind of thing often? I didn’t even know if he was single. Oh, my God! I can’t believe I forgot to ask that question. It was an important one, don’t you think? I would say well if he was dating someone he wouldn’t be picking me up. Not true currently I am afraid to say. Some men just do not care about being faithful or loyal to someone.
While I waited for Deputy Dyane Nelson to pick me up on a Friday night, I thought about what faithful meant to me. Funny how you don’t think of meanings till they come up in life. Loyalty to me means being faithful to only one person. Faithful personally to me means that you are committed to something or someone through circumstances good or bad. Difficult times or situations doesn’t mean you run away, a person is supposed to stay strong and fight through the difficulty.
With that said, being forty-two and divorced makes me doubt I will find the loyal person I seek in life. Especially after this gut-wrenching episode in my life. Why should it be so hard to find someone to love? Why can’t people try anymore? Most people want life to be easy. Newsflash for you, life is not easy. Never has been. Never will be.
I ask myself if I just want a “hook-up” with this man. Do I? Just the thought of having sex with this man turns me on so much till the words I can’t express. Maybe I can. I crave hi
m in the most epic way. His only wanting to fuck I can do it. I want to do it. I want an us. I can feel the yearning for this man. It is eating away at my insides. Almost primal the urges to mate with this man. There I said it for what it is. This desire I feel.
It’s primal.
The urges that are running through my body are so wild and hot. I haven’t felt these feelings for a man in a long, long time. If I had panties on they would be soaked. No lie. Soaked. It’s as if my body has a mind of its own. And it happens to want to “fuck” and “hook-up” with this man. Deputy Dyane Nelson may only fuck and not have any relationships but that is fine.
Soon I hear the noise of someone in my driveway. I look out the living room window and sure enough he is here. I am suddenly so shy till I am scared to open the front door. But then I think about wanting more and I know I have to carry through with what I want. I want Dyane. In the back of my brain I wonder for the slightest second, does he want this as much as I do?
I’ve been thinking for so long till I hear a knock at my door. Oh Goodness. He’s actually knocking at my door! I can’t remember the last time a man knocked on my door. I grab my purse off the counter and go to open the door. As I pull it open, the shock of seeing him so close and in plain clothes is shocking. I wasn’t sure what he would look like in everyday clothes. Now I know. Sexy. Delicious.
Dyane is all male dressed in dark blue jeans, a white tee shirt, and a black leather jacket. Add some black boots, black belt and his dark sunglasses with that jet-black hair of his, and just – yummy. He pushed the sunglasses off his eyes as I opened the front door. I stood there like a silly person just gazing at him. He was regal. All male.
“Hello Dawn. Are you ready?” He questioned in a light tone with a smile.
“Hi, Dyane. Yes, thank you,” I replied. Nerves were taking over and I could barely form words.
“Good. Let’s go,” he told me in a relaxed tone. His left hand held open my door.
“Alright. Let me lock my door,” I muttered.
He waited behind me as I clumsily locked my front door. Then he put his right hand on the middle of my back and guided me to his truck. It was white and big. Big just like the man that drove it. I remember the barest of pressure as he directed me to the passenger side door on my back. There was no mistaking he was in charge. He opened the door for me and assisted me up inside.
