Southern Justice (1)

with apologies to my Southern readers, this story came from a little masturbation fantasy i’ve been enjoying of late….

She wasn’t quite sure how she’d ended up here. Somewhere along the line, things had gone remarkably wrong. She sat on the hard bench of the jail cell, and tried to think back. Was it when Dwyane had left for Vermont out of the blue? Was it when she had to work overtime one more shift before she took off for Maryland to visit her friend?

She was somewhere in East Bumfuck, US of A. The twang was deep, the heat was oppressive, and the night had been filled with the chirrrrrr of insects. Last thing she recalled was that hum, just filled with all sorts of critters of the night, and the goose bumps that skittered up and down her arms as she wondered what-all was out there in the dark.

She’d sat in her car watching a possum family cross the road through her headlights, and a larger animal, gawd she hoped it was a deer, eyes gleaming for a second, silver-green flashes and then gone.

Her fucking car had chosen to die here, on a long and lonely stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. No lights broke the darkness other than her headlights. No houses. No city. Not even a two-bit bar.

Gawd she missed the city. The stink, the noise, the ebb and flow of large groups of people on the move. What had motivated her to take the scenic route north? She must be fuckin’ light in the head to have done this…this scenic America drive.

She turned the lights off to conserve the battery, and wondered, nervously, if ‘gators could chew through her floorboards to get at her. Well wouldn’t that be a decidedly gross way to die, she mused. Gators scared the holy fucking shit outta her, and that was the Lord’s truth.

Damn fucking asshole boyfriends and their shit cars! Figures he’d take her Camaro when he took off with that wild hair across his fucking ass. Left her his shit Malibu, the dickhead.

She was pissed, and she was scared. When she saw the headlights bouncing down the road from behind her, she felt such a surge of relief that she almost pissed herself.

She turned her lights on, tapping her brake lights.

The car slowed as it approached her.

Sheriff.

She saw the bubble lights on the top flick on, the flashes of blue and white illuminating the darkness, adding to the surreal atmosphere. She almost expected Barney Fife to peer into the car as he pulled up almost parallel to her.

He was cute.

That was her first thought.

“Ya’ll are blocking a public access.”

“Yessir, my car died.”

“Gonna hafta take you in and book you,” he said, the beam from his flashlight darting around the inside of her car, looking at the diet coke in the drink holder, and her tits. Something sailed in front of her face and she drew back. The beam shot over to the passenger seat. It illuminated a baggie that was not there before.

“And looks like I’m gonna need to book you on possession, too.” He said with a smile that was wicked and frightening.

She wanted to protest, but understood that she was being railroaded, and there wasn’t a fucking thing she could do to prove it was his pot and not hers.

Maybe the jerk needed a quota or something. She opened her door and stepped out, when he slammed her up against her car, whipping her around.

There was a flurry of movement as she fought him, frightened. A hand grabbed her tit, squeezing hard, then slid down to her crotch and grabbed, harder. She wriggled and writhed, and in seconds was cuffed.

“Gonna hafta add ‘resisting arrest’ to that charge. Things are totin’ up for you, little girl. You’re gonna be in some big fuckin’ trouble when I get you back to the station.”

She heard the smile in his voice, and felt a chill run through her.

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