Misty laughed. “You want him to do it again?”
Reflexively, Mollies hands flew back to protect her ass hole. “Not right away, please, darling.” That led to full-fledged hugs and kisses. Even Shey joined them on the sofa, cuddling and kissing. Things were progressing well, until Mollie’s phone rang.
As has been said, earlier that same morning, Sara and her dog, Herman, had left to participate in a pre-dawn drug raid. That early morning raid on the dealer’s house had gone as expected. The dealer was caught without a fight and, with Sara and Herman’s help, his stash was discovered in about 5 specially built secret caches within his home. The raid and search still took all of the morning, and most of the afternoon.
Once she’d gotten home, Sara’d cranked up the air conditioner, and serviced her impatient Herman, who felt that since he’d done a good job, he deserved release by fucking his bitch. In her post-orgasmic blissful haze, Sara now lazed semi naked on her bed, her voluminous panties still gummed with a mixture of her own and Herman’s recent secretions. Herman had plopped down beneath a window, panting and licking himself lazily in the warm Texas sun.
This quiet interlude was interrupted as Sara’s phone, beside the bed at this moment and never far from her anyway, began to ring. The ringtone was not Mollie’s nor her parent’s, but a jarring sound, signaling it was work calling. With a sigh, she rolled over and scooped up her phone, her forefinger swiping across the answer icon. “This is Sara,” she yawned into the phone.
The voice on the other end was the mid-shift dispatcher. Originally she had been introduced to the department as Tammy. However, 5 pregnancies in the 5 years she’d been with the Department – each baby having a different policeman as the father – called for a nickname modification. She was about 8 months along with the fifth baby now, and had been renamed ‘Tummy’ by everyone in the department.
“Hi Sara,” Tummy began.
“I’m off duty, Tummy, ’sup?” Sara responded.
Tummy replied. “Well, as you know, there’s a cougar terrorizing the suburbs, right?”
“Oh, yeah, I think I heard mention of it. Why?” Sara asked.
“Um, well, with everyone in Animal Control patrolling for the cougar we’ve just received a call from a man who’s cornered by a rabid dog, and he can’t move or get into his house, because the keys aren’t fitting. Now in all likelihood, the rabid dog is his wife’s purse Chihuahua. The address is near to your house, and since you’re our resident canine specialist the Sarge is hoping you could take a short drive and swiftly put a leash on the ‘rabid hound’ and diffuse the situation until the poor guy’s wife gets home. The address is in the Gated Community Indian Foothills, 2196 Blackbear Boulevard. Can you check it out for us?”
Sara sat bolt upright. She knew that address. “OK, Tummy. I’ll swing by, permission for Code 2 on this 11-59?” she responded. Since she was being asked to work when off duty, it had to be considered an emergency.
Tummy’s response was straight out of a controller’s text book. “No unit SO 12. You are cleared for speed but no lights or sirens. This is not an 11-59 National Emergency. Control standing by. Please report once you are on the scene. Out!”
“You’re not a radio host, Tumtum”, Sara chided playfully. “OK, lemme go save the world! Standby for update once this unit is dressed and enroute.”
Sara, still in her rather unglamorous passionless pink, soiled ‘granny’ panties, swiftly snapped a clean bra into place. Pulling on a freshly starched uniform shirt and trousers, she laced up her boots, picked up Herman’s leash and made for the door. “Herman, shehr!” she commanded, as she swung her belt around her slim waist, scooped up her phone and holstered her Glock 19 Compact, with it’s slightly protruding +2 magazine holding 19 rounds of 9mm Parabellum.
The moment Sara opened the door of her squad car, Herman hopped in and nimbly laid himself down, filling most of the back seat. Emblazoned on the doors of the car were the City’s Coat of Arms, K9 Unit and a slightly confusing number of 6456. This was Sara’s ‘office’ – in other words, her Police Department issued 2018 V6 black and white Ford Explorer. The police tuned 3.5 L Ti Vct V6 twin cam motor had all its 290 horses purring moments after she keyed the ignition. While not quite having the same power as a Police Interceptor or even Mollie’s Silver Mercedes 450 AMG GT Roadster Coupe , her vehicle was extremely fast. She pressed a hand free knob on her steering wheel intoning, “Unit SO 12 10-1; 10-6.” (responding to call… stand by)
Tummy’s response was immediate, as Sara reversed. “Roger SO 12. Confirming enroute and Control is standing by. Control out!”
As she sped toward Mollie’s house, Sara wondered what she’d encounter. The only dog that should be there was Clawed, and he was certainly not rabid. However, if he was in his ‘guard dog’ mode, she imagined the man he was facing would see sharp teeth as Clawed snarled and barked at this intruder in his domain. Since the man had said it was ‘his house’ that jerk had to be Mollie’s errant husband, Desmond. Yes, Sara knew about Desmond’s mistress, Dolores. Mollie had explained everything when she’d presented Sara with a new house key.
When she approached the gate, Sara depressed the fob that Mollie had given her and sped through the gap as the gate smoothly slid open. Skidding to a stop near the house, Sara informed Tummy, “10-3” (on scene), and received a ‘Roger’ in acknowledgment.
Leaving Herman in the car for the moment, Sara walked toward the front door, hitching up her belt authoritatively. What she saw was a pathetic looking, sub-par example of the male of the species, who was pinned against the door, with Clawed, hackles fully raised, snarling and menacing him. Desmond was frantically babbling on his cell phone, calling Mollie for help. He looked even more pitiful since his pants showed a huge wet streak from his crotch downward, since he’d pissed himself from fright.
Seeing the officer approach, Desmond yelled, “Officer, this dog is rabid! Shoot him! Shoot him! Shoot him!” as he was disconnecting from Mollie.
Sara commanded, “Clawed, auff!!” Clawed slowly backed up a couple of paces. “Clawed, zitz!!” Clawed sat on his haunches. “Clawed, leiben!!” Clawed laid himself down, but continued to fix eyes with Desmond, and still showed his teeth as he growled. Clawed had not heard any command that this was a friend, and he should stop, so his hackles stayed raised.
“Put that phone away now and talk to me, Sir. What’s going on here?” Sara ordered and asked.
“M… m… my name is Desmond Jones, officer. And I live here.”
“Oh, is that so? I need to see some ID, Sir.”
With a shaking hand, he reached toward his back pocket. Clawed’s growls got slightly more menacing when Desmond started moving. Slowly, and carefully, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket. Thankfully, it was not soaked with his urine. “Sir. Do not make eye contact with the dog. He’ll see that as a challenge. Just keep looking at me.” As he tried to hand her the entire wallet, she said, “Just hand me your driver’s license, Sir. Hang on to the rest of your wallet.”
After looking over the license carefully, Sara compared the image on the license to the man standing at the front door. She also read the vital statistics. “So this is you, Sir?”
“Y… yes… of course it’s me,” he whined.
“You seem to have lost quite a bit of hair, Sir. And perhaps put on fifty pounds or so?”
Desmond looked indignant. “Now see here, Officer!” he began. But Clawed’s growl increased in both volume and savagery. Desmond squeaked in fear. “Yes. Yes, I have, Officer,’ he stated with a much quieter tone, before turning towards Clawed. “Quiet Claude!” he yelled as Clawed growled. The Weimeraner bared his teeth even more.
“Clawed, bleib!!” Sara commanded. “I suggest not antagonizing the dog sir. Clawed has shown remarkable self control for an animal, but I suspect he doesn’t have any more patience,” she commented and began walking to her car.
“Where are you going? Wait. Wait!” the man pleaded.
“It’s fine, Sir. I told the dog to ‘stay’ and I’m just running your data through the system. It’ll only be a few minutes.” She was following routine, but she was also waiting for Mollie’s arrival. Not very long after that, she heard the growl of a turbocharged V8 as Mollie gunned her car up the winding driveway, followed by the screech of tires as Mollie’s silver Benz skidded to a halt. Two car doors slammed as Mollie and Misty strode purposefully toward where her dog still kept her husband cornered.
“You moron!” Mollie screamed. “Shoot him? Shoot him? Shoot my dog? Are you insane?” Hearing her voice, Clawed lowered his hackles and thumped his tail, but his eyes never left Desmond.
“We have a dog?” Desmond asked, mystified.
“No! I have a dog! It has nothing to do with you,” she rebutted.
“But honey, I thought he was attacking me, and I couldn’t get into the house. My key’s not working. Why didn’t you tell me about the dog, and the new locks?”
Mollie was livid as she yelled, “You never answer your damn phone when I call you! So I had no fucking idea when you’d return! The locks are changed because you don’t live here any more, idiot! Remember? The house is in my name!” With a strange expression on her face, she added, “I suppose your lawyer had no idea where to send the divorce papers.”
Desmond sputtered. “B… But baby, why are you doing this?”
Mollie looked ready to spit. “I’m not your baby. Maybe Dolores is your baby. Crawl back to her!”
At the mention of her name, Desmond went pale, and looked like he might faint. His jaw flapped several times, but no words emerged, since he had no defense.
Mollie drove the point home. “It’s over, jerk! Get lost!”
Sara watched this interchange with amusement, but kept her ‘all business’ cop expression on her face as she watched Desmond wilt. She cleared her throat and asked, “Would you like me to escort him off your property, Ma’am?”
“Yes, Officer. I’d appreciate that. If he’s near the police station, he can get a hotel, or take a taxi to the train, bus, or airport. I don’t know how he’ll get to where this Dolores lives. If you could get her address from him, so we know where to find him to serve the papers, that would be helpful.”
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