Assault With a Loaded Gun

Jake loved driving around with nowhere to go. Sometimes he would spend hours behind the wheel of his gleaming red sports car, heading nowhere in particular, just enjoying the feel of the wind in his face and reveling in the power of the engine under the hood. He loved speed. Even as a student, his Driving School teacher had ordered him to slow down. "You're going to get your license taken off you one day, if you aren't careful," he was told. Jake didn’t care.

Even now, as he whizzed down the winding, tree lined road, the speedometer was just topping 70mph, and Jake didn’t worry about being stopped the police. This road was relatively quiet due to the new by-pass, which had recently been completed, and being out in the wilds somewhat, it usually did not merit police attention. Usually.

"Oh, fuck," he muttered, as the sound of the two-tone siren began its high pitched wailing. Through his mirror he could see the flashing blue lights on top of the County Trooper car, two male officers sitting in the front.

Resigning himself to his fate, Jake pulled off to the side of the road and waited for the cops to stop behind him. Through the rear-view mirror, he watched as the driver got out and proceeded to walk purposefully towards his parked vehicle. The cop looked big, at least six foot three and powerfully built by the look of it. The policeman stopped by the window of Jake's car, pulled out his little black ticket book, and began to write some details down. "What’s the big rush?" the cop muttered condescendingly. Jake remained silent and didn’t make eye contact. "Your license and the vehicle registration,” he barked.

Jake handed them over grudgingly, now looking into the officer's steely blue eyes. The cop wasn't all that bad looking, Jake noticed, even kind of hot. A bit heavily macho, with hard rugged features and a bushy black moustache, but not bad at all.

"Are you aware you were doing over 70 miles per hour on a 50 mile per hour road?" he asked, scribbling more details down in his little black book.

Jake grunted. "Yes, I'm sorry," he replied. "I got a bit carried away. It's a new car..."

The cop cut Jake off. "No excuse for breaking the law, son." "Arrogant fuck!” Jake thought.

“The fixed penalty in this area is 2,000 dollars," the cop went on, a sadistic tone in his voice. "How do you feel about having to pay that?"

Jake now smiled, sweetly, "I'd prefer not to” he said.

The policeman grinned menacingly. "I'll bet you would," he said, scratching his ear with his pencil. "I suppose we can always give you an oral warning."

"Don't you mean a verbal warning?" Jake asked, puzzled.

"I know what I mean," the cop muttered, removing his flat police cap. As if it was some kind of signal the other cop clambered out of the Transit. "Need any help, Jeff?" he called out to the cop standing beside Jake's car as he strolled over. He wasn't wearing his peaked cap either, but unlike the first officer this one was blonde and fresh-faced, much younger than his dark partner.

The cop called Jeff shook his head. "I think our friend's co-operative, aren't you, son?" he said, an evil leer on his face.

Jake began to feel uneasy. "Sure. I'll do whatever you say."

"Then why not step out of your vehicle and accompany us to the van."

"Am I under arrest then?" Jake asked, climbing sheepishly out of the driving seat.

The two cops smiled and exchanged a knowing look. "Not if you play ball," the dark one grinned. He must have been in his early thirties, a good ten years older than his blonde pal.

Together the three of them walked to where the Transit was parked, Jake between the two policemen. Something seemed strangely wrong, and suspicion was making Jake unsure if he was doing the right thing by "playing ball". In truth, he'd always had something of a fetish for men in uniforms ever since he was an adolescent, but he'd never had the opportunity to indulge his wild fantasies.