On the Job Ch. 01

The unmarked police SUV sat parked near the corner, across the street from a bar catering to college students from the local university. Inside the vehicle, two officers observed the comings and goings of patrons. In addition, their eyes scanned the area on either side of the front door. Over the last few weekends, there'd been several civilian complaints about fights and drug activity in and around this particular establishment. In response, the department decided to discreetly post people nearby around closing time on Friday and Saturday nights.

Pulling the first shift on this post, Bear and Jasmine sat in the front seats, listening to classic rock on the radio. They'd been partners for nearly two months, and had only recently become comfortable enough with each other that Bear - a nickname bestowed due to his size, a hair over 6'3" in his bare feet, and having the first name Teddy - could drum on the steering wheel, as Jasmine quietly hummed along with the songs.

"Is this going to be our regular Friday night gig," she asked, when The Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows" ended.

Just 23, she'd been on the force - not only the first female, but the first African-American female - less than six months, and Bear was her second training officer. She'd come close to pressing charges against the first TO, accusing him of trying to run her off the force.

When Bear asked the chief why he - a cop with a scant five years experience - was training anyone, his superior made it clear that he was to be more babysitter than training officer. Bear got the message loud and clear, and was wise enough not to question his boss. The path to advancement is rarely smooth for those who rock the boat.

Despite this, he'd taught her everything he'd learned, ironically, from the man who may or may not have tried to make her quit. Keenly aware of the situation, their first month together had been strictly by the book, and all conversation kept on a professional level. But, Bear knew the TO was nearing retirement, and could be a bit too "old school." As they got to know each other, things loosened up, and he also taught Jasmine many of the things he'd picked up on the streets.

"For the foreseeable future," he said, answering her question.

"Woo hoo," she hooted in feigned delight, "a wild and wacky Friday night watching drunks puke in the street."

"Well, Jazz, you piss off the chief, you get stuck with the shit details," Bear said, without thinking.

Realizing what he'd said, he turned to look at her. He could see her staring at him, eyes wide. The dim light coming from the dashboard reflected off her soft features and dark caramel-colored skin. Her mid-back length ebony hair, pulled back in a ponytail, softly swung side to side as she shook her head - processing his statement.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "That was a dumb..."

"Dick," she shouted, cutting off his apology, then punching his shoulder.

"I'm really sorry," he said, as she spun away from him.

He let out a long, low whistle, and she turned back toward him.

"I'm just messing with you, Bear," she laughed, before becoming more sober. "I get it. I'm the black sheep - so to speak - and they don't want me around."

"Not everyone feels that way," he said.

"I know," Jazz acknowledged, nodding. "It's just hard to take sometimes."

"Hey, I'm here for you partner," he said, facetiously. "I'm dealing with the puke, too."

"Oh, lucky me," she retorted.

They fell silent for several minutes as "Hotel California" played.

"Do you think they'll ever accept me?" Jazz asked, finally.

"Eventually," he answered. "They're still getting used to you."

"I've been here a while now," she said. "I just get tired of the constant ball-busting."

"The secret is to give back as much as you get," Bear said. "If they think they're getting under your skin, they'll do it even more. Once they know you can break balls in return, they'll back off; the younger guys, at least."

"They just want to fuck me," she offered, not completely joking.

"Actually, most of them are pretty sure you don't even like guys," he replied, guardedly.

"As if that would stop them," she mumbled.

He nodded. Bear had already lost count of how many times he'd been asked if he'd nailed his partner yet.

"Yeah, that's true," Bear said, shrugging his shoulders.

"I'm sure even the older ones, who really hate me, wanna bang me too," she said.

Another shrug.

"Probably," he allowed.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Huh?" he returned, looking at her.

"I'm sure you boys have talked in the locker room," she said.

"I've been asked about it," he admitted.

"What do you tell them?" she inquired.

"I don't tell them anything," he said. "First, that's not an appropriate question. Second, it's none of their business who either of us is sleeping with. And, third, you're my partner, not my partner."

"What does that mean?" Jazz asked.

"What?" he returned.

"My partner, not my partner," she pressed.

"It means you and I are responsible for each other's lives when we're at work," he said. "But, we're not seeing each other in a social sense, or sleeping together."

"Well, why don't we?" she asked.

"Uh..." he began, then stopped.

"Uh, uh, uh," she mocked. "Cat got your tongue, Bear?"

He only stared at her in the darkness.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she asked, bluntly.

His mouth fell open for a moment.

"Is that 'Layla' coming on," he asked, turning up the radio as he attempted to avoid answering her question.

She punched his shoulder again, then turned to look out the window. Two figures stood near the door of a building next to the bar.

"Hey, we might have something here," she said.

Bear's attention returned to the sidewalk on the far side of the street.

"Saved by the bell," Bear whispered.

"Oh, no, you're not," she clucked.

Trying to ignore her remark, Bear eyed the subjects. He estimated the taller of the two to be about 5'10"; the shorter was about Jazz's height, 5'4". Both were white...and both female.

"They don't exactly fit the profile," he said.

"Little white girls can't sell drugs?" Jazz questioned.

"That one's not very little," he laughed.

The taller one, her brunette hair pulled back in a bun, wore neon pink spandex pants, which ended at her knees, and an oversized t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing the black sports bra underneath. She looked as if she'd been out for a run, and as Bear and Jazz watched, she took a long drink from the liter water bottle she carried.

The shorter woman wore a tight halter top and a short black skirt. Loose-fitting, it fluttered slightly in the light breeze blowing down the street. Her curly, dirty blonde hair fell to her shoulders. And, as the two spoke, she steadily inched closer to the other woman.

"I've got good news and bad news," Jazz said, after observing for two minutes.

"Bad news first," Bear prodded.

"OK. They're not selling drugs," she said, confirming the opinion Bear had already formed. "But, the good news is, Blondie is hitting on Runner Girl."

"I was getting that vibe, too," Bear agreed.

"Look how she keeps moving toward her, and reaching out to touch her," Jazz said, demonstrating by placing her left hand on Bear's right forearm.

"This could get interesting," he said, his gaze still on the two women.

"Mmmm, hmmm," she purred.

The tone of her voice made him turn his head. He could see a smile on her lips as she stared across the street. His eyes drifted down to where her hand remained on his arm, before rising to look through the windshield once more. Another minute passed and then Blondie took Runner's hand and led her to the doorway. Two pair of eyes followed them as they stepped into the recessed entryway.

"Come with me, Sweetie," Jazz urged.

Thinking themselves out of sight, Blondie pushed Runner to the wall and pressed her body against the taller woman. Courtesy of the illumination coming from the lobby, Bear and Jazz watched as two silhouettes merged into one.

"Here we go," Jazz whispered, her hand involuntarily squeezing Bear's arm.

"That didn't take long," he said.

The two women kissed and groped each other, clutching at each other's clothing. Runner pulled Blondie's skirt up to her waist, exposing pale ass cheeks.

"Blondie needs to go sunbathing," Jazz declared.

The shorter woman struggled to lift Runner's shirt and bra, then pushed her face into a pair of sizable breasts. Bear cleared his suddenly very dry throat.

"You OK over there?" Jazz teased.

Before he could answer, the taller girl jerked violently, and leaned forward against Blondie. The two officers could see her body shaking.

"Fuuuuck," Bear groaned.

"Oh, God, she's cumming," Jazz said, telling Bear nothing he didn't already know.

As the two women continued their activities, Jazz turned to Bear.

"What should we do?" she asked.

"What?" he said, answering her question with one of his own.

"Should we go charge them with Public Nudity, or Lewdness, or something," she asked.

"You want to stop them?" he asked in return.

"Hell no," she said. "I just figured we could offer to let them off if they fucked us."

Bear's laughter filled the vehicle.

"Just kidding," she said, when he stopped. "Mostly."

"Bad cop," he chided.

Now it was her turn to laugh.

"With my luck they'd only want to do you," he said.

"You could watch," she offered.

Runner seemed to recover, and stood up. The two women straightened their clothing, then walked through the door, entering the lobby, and disappearing from view.

"Shit," Jazz seethed. "Show's over."

She removed her hand from Bear's arm.

"God damn it," he empathized.

As the two mused about the lost opportunity, a small light came on in a second floor room facing the street.

"No way," Bear laughed.

"Yessss," Jazz hissed.

"You gotta be fucking kidding," Bear said in disbelief.

Now topless, Runner appeared in the window - facing away and gesturing with her hands as if talking to someone. Blondie - nude as far as Bear and Jazz could tell - stepped to her and pushed. Runner fell backward, but remained in view.

The bed must be right next to the window, Bear thought.

Blondie, her C-cup breasts prominently displayed for anyone who might be looking through the window, crawled on the bed, and knelt between Runner's legs. Bear and Jazz admired her body for several seconds, before she lowered herself onto Runner. The officers watched as the two women kissed passionately, while running their hands over each other's skin.

"This post may not be so bad after all," Bear croaked.

He could feel himself growing hard, his cramped cock trapped in his pants. The situation was becoming uncomfortable quickly. Trying to alter this, he wiggled as much as possible, but had little room to move; unable even to spread his legs any wider. The torture intensified as Blondie kissed her way down Runner's body.

"Unbelievable," Jazz sighed, her gaze locked on the exhibition unfolding before them.

Bear noticed the windows of the SUV were beginning to fog up.

"Stop breathing so hard, perv," he said.

"Like I'm the only one," she protested, her voice ragged.

Glancing over at Jazz, he reached out to flip on the defroster. His partner seemingly transfixed by the Sapphic activity across the street, as his hand returned from the dashboard, he lifted his hips an inch, and adjusted the position of his aching cock.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her eyes suddenly on him.

"Just moving a bit," he said, quickly relocating his hand.

"Awww, does little Bear need more room?" she asked with a laugh.

"What are you talking about?" he returned, trying to dismiss her question.

"I saw what you did," she said. "Pants getting tight all of a sudden?"

"Shut up, rookie," he said.

"Go ahead, whip it out," she said.

"What?" he barked, knowing he couldn't have heard her correctly.

"Let it out for some fresh air," she said.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked.

"Come on, Bear, show me what you're packing," she demanded.

"An S&W nine mike-mike," he said. "Just like you."

"Funny," she fumed.

She didn't relent, as they saw Runner's pink pants fly into the air, then drop out of sight.

"I'm serious," she said. "I wanna see it."

"Too bad," he said.

"I'll show you mine," she offered.

"You must be crazy," he said.

Bear noticed Jazz's right hand between her legs. Even in the low light, he could tell her fingers were moving.

"What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, barely managing to keep his voice from elevating to a yell.

"I'm trying to rub my pussy," she stated, in matter of fact manner. "But, it's fucking impossible with these pants, and sitting like this."

"Jesus Christ," he blurted. "Are you trying to get us both fired?"

"Nobody can see us," she said, evenly.

"That's what those two think, too," he said, pointing toward Blondie and Runner.

"Yeah, but our windows are tinted, and we don't have lights on, dope," she teased.

"Pay attention to the street," he ordered, attempting to defuse a situation that had grown dangerous on more than one level.

"Is it because I'm black?" she asked.

"Would you cut out the racist bullshit," he nearly exploded. "Have I ever treated you differently than you've seen me treat anyone else on the force?"

"Easy, Killer," she laughed. "I'm just breaking your balls."

He let out a low growl.

"I was just thinking you might be afraid I've seen a lot bigger," she teased.

"I've got nothing to be ashamed of," he retorted.

"More like, you've got nothing, I'll bet," she sneered.

"Bitch," he spat.

"Pussy," she responded.

"I need a new partner," he groused.

"You need a blowjob," she said.

"That too," he agreed, but immediately regretted it.

As they returned to observing the two women, Bear's cock - having wilted somewhat while arguing with Jazz - hardened again, causing renewed discomfort. Once more, he squirmed, trying to find a position allowing him some relief. Runner's legs were now draped over Blondie's shoulders. The taller woman writhed as the shorter pleasured her orally.

From the corner of his eye, Bear noticed that Jazz still had her left hand between her legs. A small groan escaped his throat. As she'd done earlier, Jazz placed her left hand on his arm. She dragged her nails along his skin.

"Take it out," she moaned. "It's OK. Nobody's gonna know."

He turned to look at her face. She nodded at him as she bit her lower lip.

"Jesus," he whispered.

"OK, I'll go first," she said, smiling.

As he watched, Jazz reclined her seat nearly a foot, unbuckled her equipment belt, and opened her pants. She lifted her ass and struggled to push her pants down past her knees. Her legs spread as she sat down, and both hands drifted to her crotch.

"Fuuuck," she sighed as she touched herself.

She rubbed herself for several seconds, then lifted her fingers to Bear's face. He could smell her juices. Before he could react, her hand fell into his lap, and she grabbed at his cock. His resistance melted away in an instant, and he reached down to put his seat back.

"Holy shit," she purred, as she continued groping him. "They should call you Horse, not Bear."

When he was almost perfectly horizontal, he brushed away her hand, shed his equipment, and fumbled with his pants. In the cramped quarters, it took nearly a minute to free his cock. It stood up straight - more than seven inches - the thick shaft illuminated by the faint dashboard lights.

"Oh, my God," Jazz stammered.

Tentatively, she reached out.

"Can I touch it?" she asked. "Please."

Some small part of Bear's mind knew they'd already gone too far - things had spiraled out of control - but he was unable to stop. He nodded in the darkness. Jazz didn't hesitate. As he watched, her left hand floated over the center console, and she caressed the tip of his cock. Without waiting for a reaction, she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, holding him gently, judging his girth.

Bear opened his mouth to speak, though no words came out. Jazz tightened her grip and stroked up and down his length. His head fell back to the seat.

"It's so hard," she wondered.

He turned to look at her. She was staring toward the apartment, and he tried to follow her gaze, as she worked his cock - moving her hand along the smooth flesh. Blondie knelt on the bed, straddling Runner's head.

"I bet that feels fucking fantastic," Jazz hissed.

"It does," Bear told her.

She looked at him and smiled. Staring into his eyes, she increased the speed of her jerking, and he began to writhe in his seat.

"Jazzzzz," he moaned.

"Are you OK?" she mocked.

"You're gonna make me cum," he warned.

"Shit," she gasped, releasing his cock. "Don't do that."

"What?" he demanded.

"Don't cum," she said.

"Why the fuck not?" he said. "What did you think was gonna happen?"

"You'll make a mess," she teased, leaning toward him.

His balls were aching, needing relief soon.

"You're killin' me," he said, as her face approached his.

"Well, I might know a way we can avoid making a mess," she whispered, then kissed his lips.

"I'm all ears," he said, as she slid downward, at the same time twisting her body to kneel on the passenger's seat.

A moment later, she took the head of his cock into her warm mouth. Involuntarily, his hips lifted from the seat. She placed her left palm on his stomach, pushing downward gently, as she took him deeper.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Mmmm, hmmm," she murmured.

Bear placed his right hand on the back of her head. It rose and fell along with her for a few seconds before traveling along her spine - though her Kevlar vest prevented her from feeling it - until reaching her ass. He squeezed her left cheek, clawing at her flesh with his fingers.

"Don't hold back, Bear," she said, her mouth abandoning him for a moment. "I want it."

As she enveloped him once more, the head of his cock slipped into the back of her throat. She held him there for several seconds and his body quivered. His fingers found her slick lips, and her body jumped as he rubbed her clit.

Bear could feel the tightness growing in his balls. He fought against the overwhelming need to cum as he manipulated her button. Jazz moaned, and began to shake. It pushed him over the edge. Unable to hold back any longer, he barely managed a terse notice before his hips bucked, and he fired a stream of hot cum down her throat.

She kept her mouth on him, even as her own orgasm washed over her; her lips locked around the base of his shaft as she convulsed. Her right hand massaged his balls, and Bear groaned loudly as she milked him for every drop he could give her.

"Jesus, Jazz," he rasped. "Don't stop."

She began moving her mouth up and down along his shaft, sucking hard. His left hand flew to her head, and he forced himself into her throat again. She didn't resist, letting him remain there as his body shuddered.

Jazz put her hand on his chest, then raking her fingers over his shirt, as his muscles relaxed, and his hips slowly returned to the seat. Breathing hard, Bear continued rubbing her clit, and gently brushing her wet lips. Releasing his cock, she leaned against him.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked.

"Making you cum again," he said, seriously.

Her body trembled as she encircled the base of his shaft with her right thumb and forefinger. Squeezing roughly, her hand traveled upward steadily, and she took the head of his cock in her mouth once more, letting her tongue dance over the tip, cleaning off the last drops of cum which dribbled out.

"Yes! Get it all," he begged.

Still moist with her juices, Bear's fingers easily slipped inside her. Only a minute later, her pussy constricted, and her body shook. She contorted atop him, and struggled, trying not to scream as another orgasm rocked her like an earthquake.