The Carjacked Blonde

Info silverhawk
26 Aug. '19

I figured that night wasn’t going to be much different from any of my other six hundred plus nights since graduating from the academy.  At the briefing that Saturday night, Sergeant Marshall handed out the current list of stolen vehicles and another page of pictures of suspects we were looking for, and then reminded us to keep on the lookout for drivers who were in no shape to drive home.  He then gave us his standard “Be proud and be safe”, and dismissed us.  By eleven-thirty PM I was in my squad car and starting my regular route.

My route encompassed a small business district and some residential areas in what was once just a small town close to Nashville.  As the city grew, it gobbled these little burgs into the city limits to increase the tax base.  Along with the taxes that added to the city coffers came the responsibilities of police and fire protection, and hence, my job.  

It was a great place to patrol.  Unlike some areas of the city, there wasn’t much crime to speak of.  The area still had that small town flavor with some mom and pop shops in the business district and mostly well-manicured houses in the residential area.  In two years, I’d been called out to only one murder and maybe half a dozen domestic disputes.  Most of my job was checking the alleys in the business district to make sure no doors were open and making people feel safer because I was driving around.  While I didn’t know it when I slid into the seat of the patrol car that night, that was about to change.

It was almost four in the morning when I turned off a side street onto Main and behind a little white Honda.  The driver was speeding, not quite five over, and I wouldn’t have bothered to stop the vehicle if the driver hadn’t quickly braked as soon as they saw me behind them.  Even then I probably would have just followed them for a while.  A lot of drivers get nervous when they see a patrol car behind them and slow down, so that wasn’t unusual.

This one I decided to pull over because once the car was under the limit, the driver was doing some weird stuff.  A lot of drivers wander on the road a little, but they usually don’t leave their lane.  This car was.  The driver would drift across the center line and then quickly pull back only to drift into the parking spaces on the right before getting the vehicle back between the lines again.   That’s one of the classic signs of a driver impaired by alcohol or drugs, or of a driver who’s texting while driving.  Either way, I couldn’t let them keep doing that.  There wasn’t much traffic at that time of night, but one car driving erratically was a recipe for an accident even if it was just that one car.

At the next stoplight, I used the computer on my center console to run a check on the vehicle license number.  The vehicle came back as belonging to a Holly Hastings of 2156 North Elm.  Holly was twenty-four and had never had even a parking ticket.  I followed the car for another block to confirm the erratic driving wasn’t just a one-time thing.  By the end of that block, it was obvious the driver was having problems controlling the vehicle, so I thumbed the switch on my light bar control to turn on the flashing red and blue lights.

The driver did what I’d hoped and drove half a block to the gas station on the corner, turned into the lot and stopped.  I saw the backup lights flash as the driver put the vehicle in park.  I figured this was going to be a routine stop, but you’d think by then I’d have realized there really isn’t such a thing as a routine traffic stop.  Every one is different.  This one was more different than most.

I called dispatch and told them I was stopping a suspected DUI and my location, then got out to talk to the driver.  The driver already had the window rolled down when I walked up to the vehicle and flashed my light through the rear window.  I saw a passenger turned around and watching me, but I couldn’t see the driver.

The passenger didn’t concern me too much.  Not being able to see the driver did. For all I knew, the driver could have a gun waiting for me when I walked up beside the window.  It had happened before, not in my precinct, but it had happened.  I’d stood at attention at Tim’s funeral while the honor guard fired the salute, and after giving my condolences to his wife, was glad I wasn’t married too.

I pointed my flashlight beam at the driver’s side mirror to try to see what the driver was doing.  The face in the mirror was female and it looked like she was just really small.  She had both hands on the steering wheel.  I breathed a sigh of relief and walked up to the driver’s side door.  

It still wasn’t clear what was causing the erratic driving.  I didn’t see a cell phone and while she wasn’t smiling, she didn’t look like she’s had too much to drink.  After stopping a few drunks, any officer can tell if that’s the case just by how the person sits in the seat and by their eyes, and usually by the smell of alcohol on their breath.  Drugs, except for marijuana, don’t have a smell, but the other signs are about the same.

This woman looked a little tired, but other than the tight, low-cut top that was showing me a lot of really nice cleavage, she didn’t look much different than any other woman.  I kept my flashlight on her as I bent down and asked her how she was doing.

“Hi there, Ma’am.  How you doin’ tonight?”

Her eyes looked scared, and her voice sounded the same.

“I’m fine.”

“Well, you seem to be having some trouble staying between the lines.  That’s why I stopped you.  You feeling OK?”


“Any reason you were driving all over the road?”

The passenger, a man, answered for her.

“She’s just tired.  We’re going home to go to bed.”

After a cop’s been patrolling for a year or so, he learns to watch and listen to things people do that might turn a traffic stop into something worse.  The guy’s voice had a threatening tone to it, and that set off a warning bell in my head.  I also didn’t like it that he answered for the woman.  I was talking to her, not him, to make sure she was indeed OK to drive, and his interruption led me to believe she probably wasn’t.  I pointed my flashlight in his face and started to tell him he should keep his mouth shut.

I hadn’t really looked at him before except to make sure I could see his hands.  Now, with him squinting against the bright beam of the light, I could see he didn’t match the driver at all.  That put me even more on the alert.

Like I said, the woman looked a little tired, but her blonde hair had that shiny look that said she’d washed it that day and she was wearing makeup.  Her clothes, the top and what looked like jeans with a few holes, looked clean too.

He looked like he hadn’t had a bath in a couple of weeks, or at least his long, brown hair looked that way. The fact his clothes looked like he’d slept in them for at least a few nights only confirmed that.

He also hadn’t shaved in at least that long.  He didn’t really have a beard and he wasn’t sporting that two-day growth that seems to be popular these days. I couldn’t figure out how in hell a woman like this one could get hooked up with a jerk like him, but you see funny things these days, so I don’t rush to judge anyone.  The difference in their appearances just made me decide to keep him in sight.  I couldn’t let he keep talking for her though.

“Sir, I’m talking to the lady and I expect her, not you, to answer me.  Please just stay quiet and we’ll get this over a lot quicker.  Now, Ma’am, why were you having trouble?”

“I don’t know.  I guess I am tired like he said.”

“OK.  Is he your husband?”

“No.  He’s my…he’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh?  How long has he been your boyfriend?”

“Uh…I…I just met him tonight.”

Another bell went off in my head.  Most women wouldn’t say a guy was their boyfriend if they just met.  They’d say he was a friend, or a date, or they were just giving him a ride, but they wouldn’t say he was their boyfriend.  

I was starting to think maybe he was a john.  I didn’t know of any girls working that part of town and it’s usually the other way around – the john picks up the hooker in his car and drives them to some out of the way place for the fun and games, but maybe this hooker was different.

“I see.  What’s your boyfriend’s name?”

Again the guy answered.

“I’m Mark, Mark Jones.”

The guy was starting to piss me off and I let him know that.

“Mr. Jones, I’ve asked you once to please let the lady answer my questions.  I’m asking you to do that again, but I won’t ask a third time.  I’ll put you in cuffs and sit you on the curb while I talk to her.  Now, Ma’am, can I see your license, registration, and insurance?”

I kept my flashlight beam on her hands as she dug through her purse for her license.  She handed it to me and then said, “my registration and insurance are in the glove box.”

“That’s OK.  Just get them for me.”

Like I always do, I was holding the flashlight in my left hand.  As she reached over to the glove box, I let my right hand drop to the butt of the Glock .40 on my belt and thumbed the strap open.  That was in case the glove box had something inside besides registration and insurance paperwork.  Once she opened the box, I shined my flashlight into the opening.  There was nothing in there except some papers and a hairbrush.  

When she handed me the papers she looked me straight in the eyes, her face changed from tired to pleading, and she silently mouthed “help me”.  It was then I knew this wasn’t just a traffic stop.

I moved my flashlight beam to the guy in the passenger seat and said, “Ma’am, please get out of the vehicle”.  The guy shifted position a little and let his right hand drop to his side.  That was enough to make me draw the Glock and yell, “passenger, put your hands on the dash and don’t move”.  

He started to do that, but when his hand moved past the door handle, he yanked it open and took off like a bat out of hell.  I yelled at him to stop, but I might as well have saved my voice.  In seconds, he’d rounded the corner of the gas station and was out of sight.  I keyed the mike on my radio.

“A4065 to Dispatch, suspect wanted for questioning on foot at Fifteenth and Maple.  White male, long brown hair and beard, white T-shirt and jeans.  May be armed.”

After Dispatch acknowledged, I turned back to the woman.  She was sitting there sobbing.  I asked what was going on.

“Your license says your name is Holly, Holly Hastings.  That right?”


“Well, Holly, get out, come back to my car, and tell me what was going on tonight.”

She’d stopped sobbing by the time she got in my passenger seat and started to talk.

“I work as a waitress at The Lone Star Bar and Grill.  I was walking to my car after we closed up when that guy grabbed me by the arm and said he had a gun and he’d shoot me if I didn’t do what he said.  What he said was for me to unlock my car and get in while he got in the other side.  When I did that, he asked me where I live.  I told him, and he told me to drive there.  

“That’s where we were going when I saw your car.  I don’t know what else he was going to do to me, but he kept reaching over and squeezing my boobs.  Once, he tried to put his hand down my jeans, but I almost drove off the road then so he stopped trying that.  He just felt me through my jeans.  I was sure he was going to rape me as soon as we got to my house.  That’s why I was driving all over the road when you started following me.  He kept yelling at me to stop it, but I told him I was scared and couldn’t.  I wanted you to stop me.  Thank God, you did.”

“Did he show you the gun?”

“No, but he poked something hard in my side that hurt.”

“Do you know the guy?”

She shook her head.

“No.  He came in the bar about an hour before we closed and I served him a beer.  When I went back to ask if he wanted another one, he was gone.  That happens a lot, so I didn’t give it a second thought.  I never dreamed something like this would happen to me.”

“Well, you’re safe now.  Can you give me any information about him?  Did he tell you his name?  I figure the name he gave me is made up.”

“No.  He didn’t say anything except to tell me he wanted a beer in the bar and then what he said after he grabbed me.”

“How about any scars or tattoos, anything like that?”

She thought for a few seconds, and then frowned.

“I think he has a tattoo of a skull on his left…no…his right arm because I was on his right side when I served him.  It was hard to see because it’s pretty dark in the bar and his T-shirt covered some of it, but I think it was a skull.  Oh…he has those big ring things in his ear lobes and his nose is kinda funny looking.”

“Funny looking how?”

“Well, it sorta points to one side.”

“Which side?”

She sighed.

“I don’t remember.  I only noticed it when I looked over at him once while he was telling me what to do.  I was pretty scared by then.”

“Would you recognize him if you saw a picture of him?”

“I think so.”

I called in the information about the tattoo, ear spools, and his nose, and once Dispatch acknowledged, I had Holly lock her car.  Then I drove her back to the station.

Holly found the guy in the mugshot file after half an hour of looking.

“Here.  This is him.”

His name was Walter Eugene Fobbs and he matched what I’d seen of him and what Holly told me.  His hair was the same though his beard wasn’t quite as rough looking, and the skull tattoo on his right arm was there.  His nose did look funny, but it was easy to guess why.  He’d probably gotten into a fight at some point, gotten his nose broken, and never bothered to get it fixed.

Fobbs had an interesting record, well, interesting for a cop anyway.  When he was eighteen, he’d been arrested for peeping into his neighbor’s bedroom window.  She saw him and identified him in court, but he claimed he thought the house was on fire and was only looking in to see.  That defense didn’t do him any good, but since peeping is only a misdemeanor and it was his first offense, he was sentenced to one year of probation.

He’d been pulled in for questioning several times after that for peeping, but none of the victims could identify him, so we had to let him go.

When Fobbs was twenty-five, he was riding on a city bus one day and decided to have a feel or two of the woman sitting next to him.  She testified he had fondled her thigh and had brushed her breasts.  Fobbs claimed he was only stretching to relieve a cramp and had inadvertently touched the woman.  That defense didn’t work either.  He was convicted and sentenced to two years in prison, but was paroled after serving eighteen months.

Fobbs was apparently escalating his crimes as he got older.  He was convicted of sexual battery again when he was twenty eight and served three years of a four year sentence this time.  Then he was convicted of aggravated sexual battery when he was thirty-two, and had gotten out of Bledsoe County only two weeks prior after serving ten years of a twelve year sentence. His MO for that crime was the same as with Holly.  He had forced the woman to drive him to her house and then held her at gunpoint while she undressed.  

He hadn’t raped her.  He’d just fondled her for an hour and then tied her up before he left.  I was thinking Holly might not have been quite so lucky if I hadn’t stopped her car.  The mistake that got him caught was leaving the woman alive since she was the only one who could file a complaint and then testify against him.  He might have decided not to repeat that mistake with Holly.

He’d registered as a sex offender when he was released.  I had his parole officer's name, but he apparently didn’t have an address yet and hadn’t made his last two parole appointments.

I gave his mugshot and other information to Dispatch so they could relay it to our other cars, then went back to Holly.

“Well, Holly, we’re done here.  We’ll ask you to come back to identify Fobbs when we catch him, but you can go home now.  I’ll take you back to your car.”

Her smile changed to a look of terror.

“But he knows where I live.  I can’t go home, not until you have him in jail.  He’ll find me.  He said he would if I got away.”

“Well, how about a motel then?  He can’t track you to a motel.”

“I’ll still have to go home to get my clothes and other stuff.  What if he’s already there?  My house is only four blocks from that gas station.”

I didn’t think Fobbs would be that stupid, but Holly was obviously scared to death and I couldn’t blame her.  Officially, I was done until we caught Fobbs, but I couldn’t help but feel some responsibility for her safety.

“OK, Holly, tell you what we’ll do.  My shift is over in a couple of hours.  You hang out here and I’ll take you home then.  You can get what you need and then I’ll take you back to your car so you can find a motel.  Will that work for you?”

Her smile came back.

“I’d feel a lot safer if you did that.”

We pulled into Holly’s driveway about a quarter to eight that morning.  When I shut off my engine, she put her hand on my arm.

“I know I’m being paranoid, but could you come in with me?”

We were half way up the walk to the front door when Holly stopped.

“My bedroom light is on.  I can see it through the gap at the top of the drapes.  I never leave that light on when I go to work because I don’t turn it on to get dressed.  It’s always daylight when I get dressed.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.  What if he came here after he ran away?”

I shook my head.

“Not likely.  He knows we’ll be looking for him and that it means jail time if he’s caught.  He’s probably several miles away by now if not farther.”

Holly grabbed my arm.

“Can you make sure before I go inside?”

After Holly unlocked her front door, I left her standing on the walk while I went inside.  What I expected to find was that she’d turned on her bedroom light for some reason and had forgotten she did.  That was the most probable scenario in my mind.  It wouldn’t be logical for a burglar to turn on lights when all Holly’s neighbors probably knew she worked nights.  Still, there’s no law that says criminals have to be smart.  All of them think they are, but most aren’t.

She’d said her bedroom was on the left side of the living room, and I saw the door as soon as I entered.  It was standing open and that seemed as odd to me as the light did to her.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t usually pick up after myself very well where my bedroom is concerned and I wouldn’t want anybody coming into my apartment to see inside there so I keep the door closed.  Maybe Holly was very neat or just didn’t care, but I doubted it was either.

Since I was still in uniform and had my Glock in the holster, I switched on my body cam, pulled the Glock and started toward that door as quietly as I could.  I needn’t have been so cautious.  Fobbs was sound asleep on her bed amongst several bras and at least six pairs of panties.

When I yelled, “Police officer. Don’t move”, Fobbs sat up and reached toward his waist.  I saw the butt of a revolver sticking out of his pants and yelled, “Don’t do it Fobbs, or I’ll shoot”, but Fobbs was dumber than I thought possible.  He kept moving his hand, and as soon as he touched the butt of the revolver, I fired three times.

I guess I needed some more range time.  I was aiming at Fobbs’ chest, but the first bullet caught him high and to one side of his right shoulder.  The other two missed him and left two holes in the headboard of the bed.  He screamed in pain, grabbed his shoulder and fell back on the bed as blood flowed out from between his fingers.  I ran to the bed, pulled the revolver from his belt and tossed it behind me.  Fobbs kept screaming while I rolled him over and cuffed him.  I was in the process of rolling him on his back again when Holly ran into the room.

“Oh my God.  He did come here.”

“Yes, and he’s gonna bleed to death if I don’t stop it.  Bring me a towel and then call 911.”

An hour and a half later, Fobbs was on his way to the hospital, I’d given my statement to the other officers who’d been dispatched, the crime scene techs had lifted prints off a broken window in the kitchen I was sure would match Fobbs’, and Holly and I were sitting in her living room.  

“So what happens now”, she asked.

“Well, Fobbs will go to the hospital to get the bullet wound taken care of.  He’ll stay there handcuffed to the bed and under guard until he’s well enough to go to jail.  Because of where he touched you and because he had a gun, he’ll be charged with aggravated sexual battery, possession of a firearm by a felon and using a firearm in the commission of a felony.  Since he broke into your house, he’ll be charged with breaking and entering and unless the DA is in a really good mood, with carjacking.  

“We don’t yet know where he got the revolver, but it’s probably stolen.  If it is, he’ll be charged with possession of stolen property too.

“His lawyer will probably try to get some of those charges dropped, but I’m pretty sure since this is his fourth sexual offense, that charge will stick and he won’t get bail.  He’ll stay in jail until his trial.  If he’s found guilty he’ll go back to prison for a long time.  That won’t happen unless you testify though.  Can you do that?”

“If you’re there, I can.”

I smiled.

“Oh, I’ll be there.  I’ll have to tell the jury about him running and then finding him asleep under your bras and panties and why I shot him.  I’m sorry about your bed and your clothes, but I didn’t have much choice.”

Holly patted my arm.

“Don’t worry about that.  I can sleep on my couch until I can buy another bed and I can buy more clothes. I hate to think what might have happened if you hadn’t been there.”

“Well, he won’t bother you or any other woman for a long time after this.”

She stroked my arm and I felt a tingle race down my spine.

“I suppose you’ll be leaving now.”

“Yeah.  I have to file my report before I can go home.  After that, I need some sleep.”

“Do you have to work tonight?”

“No.  I’ll be placed on paid suspension until the investigation into the shooting is complete.  That’s standard procedure any time an officer discharges his or her firearm.”

Holly sighed.

“I suppose I’ll have to work.  Working won’t be hard, but I’ll be terrified when I go to my car tonight.  I don’t know if I’ll ever feel safe doing that ever again.”

“There’s nobody who could walk you to your car?”

She shrugged.

“There’s Jerry, the bartender, but he’s almost seventy so I doubt he’d be much help if something happened.  Other than him, well, if I asked one of the guys who come in to hang around until we close, he’d probably think I was asking him for more than just a walk to my car.  I get propositioned all the time as it is.  I don’t need to give them any encouragement.”

As I drove back to the station, I reflected that Holly probably did get a lot of offers.  I was pretty busy during the traffic stop and then when I took her to the station so I didn’t really look at her.  At her house I had my hands full with Fobbs and getting him to the hospital.  It wasn’t until we were sitting on her couch I really did look, and what I was looking at was a very inviting woman.

Holly was still wearing her work clothes, clothes designed to get her a lot of tips.  I already knew her top was cut pretty low.  I just hadn’t realized how well she filled out that top.  The twin swells of her large breasts welled up from the neckline and formed a deep cleavage that swayed softly when she moved.

She filled out her jeans really well too, not because she was heavy or anything like that.  She was far from carrying any extra pounds.  Instead, she had a firm, round ass and slender legs the jeans hugged like a second skin.  I’m a cop, but I’m still a guy, and it was easy to imagine how she’d look without those jeans.

Both those things would have been enough to turn on any guy, and after a few beers, her face wouldn’t have mattered all that much, but Holly also had one of those faces that could have been on a magazine cover.  Her long, blonde hair framed a face with a delicate nose, full lips, and eyes that sparkled when she looked at me.  All in all, Holly was a very sensuous, pretty woman any man would find extremely desirable.  I was still thinking about her when I got home, ate a bite, and then crashed in bed.

Like I always do, I woke up about four in the afternoon.  I’d forgotten to set up my  coffee maker when I got home that morning, so I stood in my kitchen in my skivvies until the coffee maker gurgled its last, then poured myself a cup.  Half a cup later, I was eating a frozen egg and sausage biscuit fresh from the microwave.  

At five, I got dressed and went shopping for groceries because it was probably going to be a week before I was cleared to go back on patrol.  I’d be going nuts around my house with nothing to do and I don’t watch much TV, so I picked up one of those plastic model kits of the same model car as my patrol car.  I figured I could spend the time putting it together.

I did start the kit, but about one AM, stopped.  I couldn’t stop thinking about what Holly had said about being afraid to walk to her car by herself.  It was rationalizing, I know, to say that I was just going out for something to eat, but at a little after two, I pulled into the parking lot of The Lonestar Bar and Grill.  A quick check of the rest of the lot told me Holly was there because her car was.

When I walked inside, there were only half a dozen guys there, probably guys who’d gotten off second shift in one of the factories in Nashville and had stopped by for a beer or two to relax before going home.  As a result, Holly was sitting at the bar waiting for one of them to signal they wanted another.  When she saw me, she grinned and stood up.

Her clothes were different, but fit the same way, and with each step she took as she walked toward me, those twin mounds of her breasts swayed seductively.

“I didn’t expect to see you in a place like this”, she chuckled.

“Well, this is about the time I usually eat lunch, so I thought I’d give this place a try.  Can I still get a burger and fries this late?”

“Sure.  Can I get you something to drink while you wait?”

As she walked back to the bar to get my soda, I couldn’t take my eyes off her swaying ass.  It wasn’t that she seemed to be trying to make it do that, because the movement wasn’t exaggerated.  It was just the sensuous sway of a very desirable woman walking normally, and it made me glad I was there to watch.

The burger was a good burger, the fries a little soggy, but neither mattered to me once Holly sat down at my table.  She grinned.

“So, is this what you usually do for lunch – eat at a bar?”

I grinned around a mouthful of burger.

“No.  Usually I eat at a fast food or waffle place.  If I came in here in uniform, I’d probably make at least some of your customers nervous.  Most people don’t really care to be around cops.”

“Well, I’m not one of them.  You come in here to eat any time you want.  I’ll take care of anybody who gets nervous.  I’ll tell them what you did for me.”

I smiled.

“I appreciate that, but I’ll probably keep eating at a fast food place.”

“So, what’s on your schedule after lunch since you aren’t working tonight?”

I hadn’t really been able to tell myself what I was really there for.  I suppose it’s some kind of self-protection thing your brain does in case things don’t turn out like you hope they will.  After she asked, I could finally say it.

“I thought I might hang around and walk you to your car.”

She beamed a smile at me.

“Well, thank you for thinking about me.  I was going to ask Jerry, but you’ll make me feel safer.”

I did walk Holly to her car that night, and every night for the next week and a half  until the investigation board cleared me.  I’d drive over about two, have a burger and fries or some chicken strips and fries, and then wait until the place closed.  Then, I’d go outside until Holly came out.

On the last night, I told her I’d be going back on duty the following night.  Holly looked sad.

“I was getting used to having you around.  It was nice knowing you’d be here.”

“I was getting used to being here too, but I do have to do my job.”

She sighed.

“I know, just like I have to do mine.  Since this is our last night, would it be OK if I gave you a hug to thank you?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

Holly draped her arms around my neck, put her cheek against mine, and pushed her breasts into my chest.  It felt right to put my arms around her waist and hold her close.

When she whispered in my ear, “this could be more than just a hug if you want”, I didn’t know what to think.  I mean, yes, like any guy, I’d thought about it being more, but until then she’d only been friendly.

“I’m not sure more would be the right thing to do.”

Holly wiggled a little closer and I felt her thigh brush mine.

“You could come home with me and we could find out.”

“Are you sure you want to find out?”

“More sure than I’ve been about anything in a long, long time.”

To this day, I’m not sure what caused it and Holly won’t tell me what she was thinking that night.   She says it’s personal and I don’t need to know.  That night, I chalked it up to the stress of what she’d been through and tried to say no.  She wasn’t having any of that though.

“Please don’t tell me you won’t.  It isn’t because of what you did.  It’s just because of you.”

“You might have second thoughts once some time goes by.”

“No I won’t.  I know how I feel and why I feel that way.  I think you must feel at least a little like that too or you wouldn’t have come here every night.  I know I don’t want to go home by myself again.”

Well, she had me there.  That first night, it was truly just because I wanted to help her because she was afraid.  After sitting at that table with her for an hour though, I started to realize it was more than just helping her.  We sort of clicked, if you know what I mean.  It was like we’d known each other for a long time instead of just a couple days, and I didn’t want to go home once she pulled out of the lot.  Instead, I wanted her to stay with me even if things didn’t go any further.

“Holly, I do, but you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.  A cop’s life isn’t very easy for most women to handle.  I don’t really have regular hours and there’s always a risk I might not come home some day.  A lot of the guys have lost girlfriends or wives because of that.”

She nibbled around my chin and then kissed me.  It felt so natural I didn’t have to think about kissing her back.  I just did.  When she put her cheek back against mine, she whispered, “It can’t be any worse than not being with you.”

If I still had any reservations, they evaporated as soon as she closed and locked her front door.  Holly didn’t say anything.  She just pulled the top over her head and then unsnapped and unzipped her jeans.  She kicked off her shoes and then worked the jeans down over her ass and legs before stepping out of them.  Once she had, she put her arms around my neck again.

“You do me the rest of the way.  Make me naked and then make love to me.”

“I don’t have anything with me.”

“Don’t let that stop you.  You don’t need anything, not tonight.”

She unbuttoned my shirt while I unhooked her bra, and as soon as her heavy breasts slipped from the cups, she shrugged off the straps and then pressed her nipples into my chest.  I felt her working on my belt buckle, and as soon as she had it undone, the snap and zipper of my jeans.

If her nipples and breasts pressed into my bare chest hadn’t been enough to raise my cock, the small, soft hand that slipped into my underwear would have been.  Slender fingers closed around my shaft and stroked gently, then a fingertip moved around the swollen head.

Holly put one arm around my neck and kissed me, then pulled back and breathed, “I got a new bed.  Let’s go see if it works or not”.

Holly did pause long enough to roll her panties down and step out of them, but as soon a she did that, she fell back on her bed, spread her thighs, and held out her arms.  The tuft of blonde hair on her mound wasn’t thick enough or dark enough to hid the pouting lips between her thighs.  I climbed up beside her and cupped her right breast.

Holly shuddered when my fingertip stroked that nipple, and she stroked down my chest to my cock again.  She began slowly stroking me, and when I kissed her, she moaned into my mouth and her hand moved a little faster.  

I sort of got lost in Holly that night.  I’d never had a woman, what few there’d actually been, be both so responsive and so participating at the same time.  There’d been a couple who seemed to want to hurry things along and a few that just laid there while I aroused them, but none were like Holly.

Every touch seemed to bring a little gasp or moan from Holly, and every touch caused her to stroke my back, nibble my ear lobe, or pull my hand to wherever she wanted to be touched next.  I know we must have spent half an hour or so before she put her hand on my ass and pulled me between her thighs, but it seemed faster than that.  She spread her thighs wide when I knelt between them, and then pulled on my rigid cock gently until the head was touching her soft, swollen lips.

“Put it inside me”, she whispered.  “I want to feel you inside me.”

She was in a hurry, but I wasn’t.  Instead, I pushed in gently until I felt resistance and then eased back out.  She was wet and slippery enough to make the next push easier but I was still going slowly.  Holly grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled as she murmured, “I need you inside me.  Don’t hold back”.

I still didn’t just ram my cock inside her.  I pushed in until the resistance stopped me, then pulled back out again.  Holly caught her breath, and the hands on my ass kept pulling so I pushed a little deeper.

I thought I’d make sure my cock was slippery and kept going in and out, a little more each time.  It was on one of these slow strokes Holly dug her heels into the mattress and thrust her body up, pushing my cock in her warm, wet depths.   Holly moaned, and I think I groaned a little.  It felt that good.

It kept feeling better and better, both because she was a snug fit and because she was so responsive.  Every one of my thrusts brought a lifting of her hips that let my cock sink into some place warm and very wet.  Each time I pulled back, that warm, wet place seemed to suck at my cock head.

I was still going pretty slow because I had to.  If I’d been thrusting my cock in and out much faster, I’d have cum way before she was ready, or so I thought.  As it was, it ended up being me who was behind.

I was just stroking away, taking my weight on one arm and using the other hand to stroke and squeeze her breasts and nipples.  With each stroke, Holly would either moan or catch her breath, and she’d lift up into it.  Her hands were on my ass trying to pull me deeper, but each time, I felt the base of my cock spreading her lips so I was in as deep as I could get.

After a while, she started to pant, and I could feel contractions around my cock and the little flood of wetness that coated it with each one.  

“Faster”, she gasped.  “I’m almost there.”

Well, that caught me by surprise, but I didn’t need any encouragement.  Now, I didn’t start the jackhammer thing you see in all the porn films.  I can’t believe a real woman having real sex really likes being pounded like that and having the guy drip sweat all over her.  Holly did like my slight increase in speed though.  

“Oh, God, yes.  Just like that.  Don’t stop.”

I felt Holly’s body tighten as she started raising up off the bed.  She gasped and fell back, then started raising herself and me up again.  There was a tightening around my cock and then Holly cried out and began to shake.  That was all it took to tip me over the edge.  I groaned as the first spurt flew from my cock head and splashed deep inside Holly.

It had to be just instinct that made me pull out quickly and then ram my cock back inside Holly as the second spurt raced up my shaft.  She gasped when I did that, and I felt her body clamping down on my cock again.  I don’t know if that made the second spurt feel better than the first, but it was at least just as fantastic.  A quick withdrawl and another rapid thrust buried my cock in Holly just as the third spurt joined the other two.

Holly was still shaking and her hips were rocking up and down when I gasped out that last shot.  I kept stroking my cock in and out until she moaned, wrapped her arms around my back, and pulled me down on top of her.  

“Mmm”, she whispered in my ear.  “If it’s like this every time, I’m not going to let you leave.”

“I have to leave sometime or I’ll get fired.”

She lightly raked her nails from my ass to my shoulders.

“You don’t have to leave until tomorrow night though, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Then we can do this again, can’t we?”

“If that’s what you want.”

Holly kissed my earlobe.

“What I want is to do it every day as many times as we can.”

I chuckled.

“That’s going to be difficult since we live on opposite sides of town.”

Holly stroked my back again.

“We could fix that if you moved in here.”

“I don’t think we know each other well enough to do something like that.”

“I don’t mean get married.  I mean just living together.  We can talk about something more when the time comes.”

That time came after Fobbs’ trial.  He pled “not guilty” of course, and his public defender did his best to show that Holly picked the guy up on her own and then had second thoughts when he started touching her.  

Holly did well when she testified.  She told her story and when cross-examined, didn’t change anything.  The lead CI tech pretty much proved Fobbs’ had broken into Holly’s place when she testified the prints on the broken kitchen window frame matched Fobbs’ and the match had been confirmed by the FBI.  I finished putting the public defender’s theory to bed when I testified about finding Fobbs in Holly’s bed with her bras and panties, and the footage from my body cam confirmed Hobbs did have a revolver.

The public defender didn’t have any questions for me.  Instead, he whispered something to Fobbs.  Fobbs nodded and then the public defender asked for a ten minute recess.

What that recess was all about was brought to light when the court re-convened.  Fobbs had agreed to change his plea to guilty of the single charge of sexual battery if the DA would drop the gun and other charges.  Harry Elders said that would be acceptable to the city.

Judge Elaine Elders was known for not being very lenient with repeat offenders. She asked both the public defender and the DA to approach the bench.  Harry told me what she said.

She asked Harry how he could agree to reduce the charges given Fobbs’ history and the fact Tennessee law is very specific about the use of a firearm in the commission of a felony even if that weapon is not displayed.  She also asked the public defender why he’d even suggested it.

The public defender said he believed Fobbs would seek treatment while in prison so the shorter sentence for sexual battery would serve as well as the longer sentence mandated by the aggravated sexual battery charge.  Harry said though he didn’t agree with the reduced charges he agreed to support the plea because it would get Fobbs off the street and save the court’s time.

Judge Elders rejected the plea and said any plea she’d accept would have to include aggravated sexual battery at a minimum.  Otherwise, she would order the trial to continue and let the jury decide his innocence or guilt on all charges.  It took five minutes of whispered discussion between the attorneys before Fobbs pled guilty to aggravated sexual battery.  Judge Elders accepted that plea and sentenced Fobbs to the maximum of thirty years in prison.  He’ll be over fifty by the time he’s eligible for parole, but given this was his fourth offense, he’ll probably serve out most if not all of his thirty years.  That’s assuming he lives that long.  Some of the inmates in prison take a dim view of sex offenders.

As for Holly and I, I moved into her house as soon as the lease on my apartment expired.  That was a month after the trial, and we’ve been together for almost a year now.  Last night I asked her about getting married.  She snuggled up to my side on the couch and said, “Could you put up with me if we were married?”

“It hasn’t been a problem so far.  I like living with you.”

“It’s just the sex though, isn’t it?  I mean, I like it too, but sex isn’t all there is.”

I put my arm around her.

“No, it’s not just the sex.  It’s you, the way you are.”

She squeezed my hand.

“I suppose we could try it and find out if it works or not.”

We went shopping for rings the next Saturday, so I guess we’re going to see.  I’m not worried about being married to Holly.  It’s what she said when we got home that shook me up a little.

“If we were married, we’d be a family, wouldn’t we?”

“Well sort of.  Families usually have a kid or two.”

“I think two…a boy and a girl.”

I don’t know if I’m ready for the pitter-patter of little feet, but Holly seems to be.  We’ve been practicing making babies a lot since that Saturday.  I figure once we’re married, she’ll tell me I don’t need condoms anymore.  I guess we’ll see if that works too.