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From: Nick <nick@cassandra.demon.co.uk>
Subject: Traffic Incident by Nick (MF no sex... yet)
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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.org/~Nick



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