C Ralston - X-rated lady cop

Laurel Blakely was as excited about meeting Dean Kennedy at the Blue Goose bar as she ever had been about anything in her young life. There was something about the way the handsome, youthful vice squad officer looked at her that sent shivers up and down the gorgeous twenty-year-old's spine.

Parking her beat up Ford in the Goose's lot, Laurel turned on her overhead light momentarily and adjusted her make up. There wasn't much to do to a face as pretty as hers, Laurel thought with smug satisfaction. She made sure her eye shadow and liner were intact, smoothed out her lip-gloss, and tossed all of her long, strawberry blonde mane back over the shoulders of her uniform shirt.

Laurel polished her badge with her shirtsleeve, feeling very odd about it being pinned atop one of her large tits. The tight uniform, with its gaudy City Police patches and bold striping, really called attention to Laurel's well-formed ass, trim waist, and big breasts. She felt ridiculous wearing it, but it was a departmental rule that all dispatchers wear uniforms when on duty, even though the public was very unlikely to see them.

Finishing her make up inspection, the lovely redhead got out of the car and headed for the Goose's front door. She had never been to the place before, but she knew it was the best-liked cop hangout in town, from the way the guys were always talking about it. Like everything else about her new job at the department, going to the Blue Goose – really getting in with the guys socially – excited Laurel immensely.

The stunning police dispatcher pushed the main door open and peered into the blackness. The place was lit by a few beer display signs and the jukebox's glow. The music was country. The place was packed.

"Well, there's our pretty little squawk box queen now!" Dean Kennedy's voice rang out above the raucous laughter and music. "Over here, beautiful!"

Laurel smiled and followed the voice, gradually identifying the members of the vice squad at a back table, as her eyes grew more accustomed to the light. She made her way through the tables full of admiring, bantering men easily, trying to act more self assured than she felt.

"Get the kid a beer, someone!" a guy at the table yelled toward the bar.

"Ah, hell, she probably doesn't drink!" Dean kidded Laurel, smiling up at her.

"I do so!" Laurel responded quickly. "The legal age in this state is eighteen and I'm twenty! I've been drinking for two whole years now!"

"And probably before!" Captain Peters, the head of vice, grinned at her. "One of you assholes probably should have busted her and whoever was selling it to her years ago!"

The table roared with laughter, and Laurel blushed as the beer was placed in front of her. She could have told them that busting her would have been impossible for them, since she had gone to a rural high school far upstate, but she only smiled and sipped her brew.

Laurel nearly choked with her successful effort not to make a face. She hardly ever drank anything, and beer was her least favorite liquor. But she poured the ugly tasting fluid down into her throat and swallowed it. She didn't want to be known in the office as "the kid" anymore!

"Well, how do you like police work and the big city?" the captain asked Laurel.

"Oh, I like police work fine, and I've been in the city for over two years now – remember, Captain?" Laurel reminded the half drunken officer. "I worked my way through City College, answering phones at night. That's why I'm so good as a dispatcher, remember?"

"Oh… yeah," the captain sighed, clearly feeling his beer.

Laurel looked around the table at the grinning, silly faces and realized all of her companions were well on their way to being bombed. She decided to catch up a little – by downing the rest of her beer as rapidly as possible, reasoning that it wouldn't taste any worse if consumed quickly.

The fiery carbonation had Laurel's ears ringing and her eyes tearing as she put the empty bottle down on the table. A rush of wooziness hit her almost immediately.

"Hey, the kid's quite a belter at that!" Dean laughed. "Barkeep, another round!"

Laurel sat back and sipped her next beer, trying to get a hold on her swirling senses as the first one took full effect. She gradually got to where she was paying attention to the heated discussion going on between Dean and the captain, but she felt as if it were coming to her from quite a distance.

"And that's why I say a dodge like mine is the only way to get 'em!" Dean was shouting.

"Nah, those guys are super-pros!" the captain retorted drunkenly. "They'd spot your loop as a phony in minutes!"

Dean thought about it for a minute. "Okay," he said at last. "Let's make our own movie… a REAL one! We can get ourselves a hooker, some film, rent a camera. Hell, I'm sure one of us would be the guy!"

The whole table exploded with laughter. All the men were raising their hands and saying things like, "Me, me! I got the longest one!"

The captain grew thoughtful amid the clamor. He looked at Dean with grudging respect and nodded slowly.

"You know, it just might work… IF we could get someone they didn't know to be the girl," the captain said softly. "A hooker's no good. They'd know her face right off the bat!"

Laurel's drink-fuzzed mind tried to sort out the conversation. She knew they were talking about movies of some kind, and hookers, and "they". Apparently the captain and Dean wanted to nail "them" quite badly, whoever "they" were! Laurel asked Dean.

"Huh? Oh, some dudes who make and distribute porno films right here in town," Dean said absently, still lost in thought.

"Oh," Laurel answered, knowing nothing about porno films except what she had heard. She had never seen one.

"Yeah, it just could work, with the right girl!" the captain intoned again, staring off into space.

"Yeah, she'd have to be a stone fox… sexy, with a really spectacular body!" Dean sighed, as if finding such a girl would be utterly impossible.

"And YOU'D have to be the guy!" the captain said in a more animated tone, facing Dean again. "You got the best build in the department, with all that weight lifting stuff you do, and you're a good lookin' kid, too!"

"Hey, now, wait a fuckin' minute!" Dean panicked.

A chorus, of catcalls and cheers, came from the other vice officers. They pounded the muscular young cop on the back and made all kinds of lewd comments.

"Nah, it'd be perfect!" the captain shouted, really into his idea by now. "Your idea in the first place… you gotta be the one to screw this dream girl on film! I'll play the go-between, the snake peddling the filth, once we get some filth to peddle, that is!"

"B-But…" Dean looked defeated and exasperated.

The whole ridiculous scene seemed to spin in front of Laurel's hazy eyes. She finally realized that they were plotting the seduction, on film, of the man she had a heavy, heavy crush on. The very idea made Laurel sick and… and, sort of… funny feeling, right down between her firm young thighs.

Laurel had had very few sexual experiences. She had been in love with the same boy for three years in high school and they had finally progressed from the heavy petting stage to the point in their senior year where Laurel would shyly jerk his big cock to completion in a cloth or napkin. On the night they had graduated, Laurel had let him strip her completely in a moment of booze fired weakness. He had shot off before he could even get it in her, in his eagerness at the sight of her exposed, voluptuous body.

Disgusted by her body's betrayal and wanting to remain a virgin until she married, Laurel had gone away for the summer. Her boyfriend had proved unfaithful as soon as she left town, and Laurel had been shattered by how close she had come to giving her prize away to a boy who cared for her so little. She had thrown herself into her studies at college, having little social life between her long hours in the library and the classroom, and her nights at the answering service.