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Wednesday, August 09, 2006

 

Sex

Well it’s not a subject you associate much with Parking Enforcement is it? What we do (Next to garbage disposal) has to be one of the least sexy jobs on the planet. Out in all (Well most) weathers, dressed in less than sexually alluring attire (But aren’t there some fetishists out there who…. Let’s not go there). Let’s be candid. Some people would fuck a frog if it stopped hopping for long enough. This is the subject of which I wish to write.

You can call me a liar if you like, but the plain truth is – Women ‘hit’ on me. Not just me, on several of our other Officers out there. Of course it may be just the old flim-flam to avoid getting a ticket, but there are occasions where you get the definite impression that someone is interested in more than the contents of your hand held computers download. One of the girls even (To much male mess room guffawing, or was it prurient jealousy?) reported an attempt by a less-than-hetero female to entice her away from the line of duty so to speak. If even an old fart like me gets the ‘glad eye’, then I see no reason to disbelieve Julie’s story.

Face it; some people have a kink for uniforms and the people who wear them. Take last Sunday. Warm, cloudy and a bit too muggy for my liking. I’m in shirtsleeves out on the town centre beat. I’m busy clearing a ticket jam on one of the on street pay and display machines, not much doing at this time of the morning because the shops with a permanent sale in their prices aren’t due to open for half an hour and I’ve got another three reported machine faults to clear before the Sunday shoppers materialise.
“Er, hello?” Comes a feminine voice at my elbow.
“Just a moment, I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” I say, my voice a bit muffled by the metallic bowels of the machine I’m fixing. I twitch a glance to note a young woman, brunette, late twenties, maybe early thirties, not unattractive, and clad in a floaty summer frock. She’s actually standing less than half a metre from my right shoulder, a little too close for comfort, although none of my internal alarm bells are ringing. Her perfume is backed up by a more primordial scent. Warm and fleshy.

I clear the ticket jam and stand up straight. As I do so her eyes become a little more luminous as I rise to my natural six foot plus, a slight smile fixed on her lips and her eyes have a similar look to the one my wife gets when she wants an “Early night – Now please Bill.” Rather intent, single minded and, dare I say it horny. A slight flutter of nervousness gave me an involuntary shiver. I’m a very married man and realise that I should be extremely wary.

“What can I do for you Miss?” I hazard, working on the premise that not many radical arch feminists wear that kind of lightweight frock. She glances slyly at me and giggles. “Now that’s a good question.”
“Not in public Miss, you’ll get me arrested.” I counter with a slightly nervous smile. My dear lady wife tells me that I am not an unattractive male and has intimated to me (In no uncertain terms) that if I stray she will have me drawn and quartered, then bloody well hung (As if – some people have no trust).
“Well.” She says moving closer. Stay where you are Bill, she means you no harm. “I’m a bit lost.” Oh no you’re not.
“I’ll help if I can Miss. What do you want to know?” Close machine door, check print; all okay. Don’t panic, it’s only a girl.
“I’m looking for….” and asks me the name of a well known lingerie shop.
“Didn’t think they opened today..” I responded and reeled off the directions. All the time she’s very attentive, batting baby brown eyes at me with that slightly hungry predatory look. I’m just trying to keep my composure. She’s right underneath my nose and those pheromones are getting quite intense. This is ridiculous, I never used to get this before I got married, so why now?
“You got that Miss?”
“Oh thank you officer, did you say..” I am trying not to blush under my farmers tan and it’s all threatening to get a bit Benny Hill when suddenly my Radio crackles into life. “This is CCTV. Message for all Attendants.” Saved by CCTV! Hooray!
“Excuse me Miss, duty calls.” I pick up my Radio handset. CCTV reels off a vehicle registration for us to look out for as the Coppers are keen to ask the occupants about something. Don’t ask me what, we just get the basics. I note down the vehicle description and take my place in the queue of confirmations “515, received and understood.” I click off the handset. “Anything else Miss?” She’s still here. Where’s the camera? I glance around.
“What was the name of the Street again?” She’s well within my comfort zone and she knows it. Cheeky minx. Is she doing this for a bet? I reel off the Street name again and give her my best professional smile.
“Thank you officer.” She turns and sashays off with one of those tinkly little finger waves. “Catch you later.” I take a deep breath before a familiar voice behind me says “Nice.”

I damn near jump out of my skin. “Bloody hell mate! Do you want to give me a heart attack.”
“Well she probably could. I think you’ve pulled.” Wavey Davey grins at me, an unfamiliar figure out of uniform.
“Yeah mate, just don’t tell my wife or I’m a dead man walking.”
“How much?”
“Get knotted.”

With friends like these, who needs – well, make up your own minds.

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Exasperated expatriate expostulations all the way from British Columbia, Canada. As if anyone really cared. Oh, I also watch Icelandic Volcanoes and seismic activity. Don't ask me why.

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