That fateful night, the boldest and fearless of her soon-to-be ex-colleagues had seen her off, with a discreet gathering at a local watering hole, a known hang-out to the force. There, at ''Our Boys in Blue'', a dimly lit, seemingly seedy dive bar, neatly tucked away in a dark alleyway off the main strip of the city, Mia lifted her glass one last time with the men and women with whom she'd earned her first stripes, graduated from rookie to police officer, and eventually became a detective.

John, her old partner, and mentor, who had encouraged her to pursue her extensive training in forensic psychiatry, and monitored her progress closely, was there. If it weren't for him, she would have never considered a long-term career in the force. With the years and the trials they faced, they had become friends, and eventually more.

He poured her one glass after the next, from the bottle of Jack on the bar, as he watched her give goodbyes to each member of the team that came streaming in, after day shift. Finally, when the crowd of drunks and errand hearts dispersed, she mentioned her desire to catch a good night's rest, as she started her new position the morning to come.

As they got up and walked away from the dusty, tired and crackling neon lights that hung above the worn out, polished mahogany bar, she felt his hand slide ingenuously under the lining of her leather jacket, and the warmth of his flattened palm, that began rubbing against her waist, which contrasted greatly with the rushing wind of the night, as he went and opened the door for her, and guided her out. Like old friends, they walked silently in almost complete darkness, in communal muteness towards the strip, which shone with obscene, spectacular gravity.

She could sense, or had an idea that he was searching for the right words to say. His deep blue eyes, their icy gaze, buried under the furrow of his dark chestnut brow, scanned for a sign from her into the darkness.

Eventually, he said, his voice seemingly sweeter, yet coarse, ''Let's keep in touch, yeah...?''

She smiled, and replied in her usual snarky, cynical tone, ''As if I'm ever going to get rid of you...''

He chuckled, a deep smile pleating upward the lines of his frown, broadening the ridges of his cheeks. His eyes, if only for a moment of bittersweet remembrance, sparkled under the orange hue of an advertisement sign, guiding them back into civilisation, before his smile faded, and he returned to his sombre demeanour. He sighed, and slowly slid his arm further around her, to wrap his forearm across her hip.

Instinctively, she followed and let her small hand softly find his shoulder under his shirt, felt him recoil ever so softly at the cold of her fingers, then lean into her, as she let her hand course down the ridge of his back, following the shiver she just sent down his spine, her fingertips carefully reading at the goosebumps that followed her path, to finally tighten her grip around his leather belt.

She felt the familiar call of a late night in his presence, and she knew all too well she could not resist him, but in the back of her mind, she was already trying to conceive of a life spent further away from him. He knew her to be stubborn and deadset on having her way. That was what got her in her current predicament. And allowed them to get closer... Yet there she was, transferred away, quickly silenced for her disorderly sense of justice, her tendencies to search too far and wide for truths better-kept secret.

Finally, they reached the strip, and he released her from his grip, only for a moment, to come face to face with her. His eyes delved deep into hers, as nightlife sleepily slowed around them, and the grizzly amber tint of the light post above them painted them as other-worldly creatures. She knew what he was about to ask, and what they both wanted.

She asked, ''Do you want to grab a drink at home?''

Her tone seemed vaguely innocent, inauspicious but he knew. His voice thundered, assured and definitive, ''Yes.''


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Moments later, and he was roaring like a mating lion, his coarse, deep moans echoing at the nape of her neck, vibrating through her eardrums, as he thrust himself deep within her. His rugged palms were kneading at the wet and sweaty pasty dough of her ass cheeks, pushing and stretching them out with each of his expert strokes, taking her further in and away from him in an entranced dance she dared not leave.

She answered each of his tempestuous cries with her own, in whispered whimpers, moaning his name and accompanying it with dirty nonsense, in between deep, needy staccato breaths. She'd gather her strengths, and held tight onto the back of her old familiar couch. Her breasts clung strongly onto his dampened chest, gyrating them stuck with each rolling of his hips against hers, which titillated at her nipples, swollen from his tonguing and the bites he had playfully given her just moments before, and glowed with fond soreness against his warmth, as he pushed and buried his thick, pulsing cock inside her.

She let her mind wander, as she felt herself drawn further and away from sanity. John was a stud. She remembered the first time he had shattered her mind in a million pieces. In the front of their patrol car, when she was just a young rookie with dreams of changing the world into a better place. He had just given her an earful. It had been the first time she had buried her nose into a case and delved too deep. And the first time she'd ever seen this strange, new side of him.

He was afraid she'd be sacked, but ultimately defended her. He posed her to his superiors as a naive, unassuming youngster with no idea what she had actually stumbled into... A classic case of judicial corruption, an affair between an uptight, pursed-lip frigid judge and a sleazy police chief in UpperPD's District 6, that turned sour and eventually ended in the gruesome execution of Police Chief's wife, on District 8's turf.

The case was buried, but Mia took the heat for it. Chief Braun had every intent to clear it with his connections with District 6 and planned to make an example out of her. But she was a hard worker, good for the numbers, had blasted her way through the quotas...Yet she did not know what she was doing... Eventually, Braun relented and John got to keep her under his wing.

That night, he was driving her home in their patrol car. She was still under the impression she'd lost her job, and shell-shocked in anger from her first run-in with internal lawlessness. John, his hands tightly wrapped around the rigid leather of the steering wheel cover, was swearing up and down at her, for her brash behaviour, the lack of consideration she had displayed to not come to him first with her discovery, his eyes buried away under his authoritative, stern brows.

She could feel his disappointment and anger, and felt tragically the same, but kept herself from speaking.

Eventually, they arrived in front of her small duplex apartment, the deserted street only now lighting up from the distant blueish sky of a new day to come. The sun had yet to rise, and it was usually when she'd arrive home from the night shift, the air had that distinct but familiar, crisp and clean quality, only this time it seemed all so heavy to her.

He parked, and turned off the engine, before falling back into his seat, his eyes avoiding hers, which were seeking an escape through the slightly cracked open window.

She finally gathered up the courage to speak, and said,'' I'm sorry, John.'' Her voice was coarse and heavy, as she desperately tried to hold back the tears. He turned to look as if realising only now that she had been listening to his angry rant, and he was not just screaming, in fact, at a brick wall.

His eyes widened, revealing a softness she had not previously seen in his traits, and he struggled a moment, to know what to say. ''Listen... Mia. What you did was not wrong. It was... suicidal. I... I was just angry... Reasonably angry, because I was afraid something would happen to you...After what you did? I'm just glad Braun listened to me, for once.''

She nodded, her eyes still averted, as if to keep him silent and contented with her mute approval.

He stopped and breathed in, deeply. His hand reached over the dashboard console, and found hers. He started playing mindlessly with her fingers, rubbing and squeezing them in his clenched fist.

He sighed heavily, and leaned over the divider, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, as his other hand softly wrapped around her neck. When he released her, she could only whisper, in a hurt, soft raspy voice, ''John...''

He leaned away, and conceded, in a defeated but caring tone, ''I care about you, Mia. More than you know...''

She was about to answer, her own admission of guilt. ''I c...''

But he stopped her, with a dry assertive order, ''Go get some sleep. We have work to do tomorrow.''

She undid her seat belt slowly, and briefly looked outside towards the paved pathway that would lead her to her doorstep, with a faint smile on her face. He had managed to saver her career, and kept her away from sure trouble till this very moment. But something within her was tugging at her soul, and in that brief moment of a still darkened dawn, she turned herself around to look at him, one last time. She looked into his tired, weary blue eyes that seemed to pour out his love and affection, as well as his worries and concerns. She wished to quiet them, if only for a second.

The next, she had given him a slow, passionate kiss, her teeth softly biting at his lower lip, lingering for a moment too late. He had frozen at first, unsure how to interpret it, before she had dug deep into him, and he relaxed, his hand firmly yet gently grasping the nape of her neck, for the first time. He could only mutter, in between breaths, her name, in disapproving confession before he embraced her waist with his strong, tensing forearms and lifted her off her seat and to his lap.

In between jagged breaths, stolen kisses, he whispered, ''Is this what you want?'' His hand clutching at her face, keeping her at short, safe distance, as he contemplated the rosiness of her cheeks, her lips that had turned sanguine red.

She answered, her own assertive need driving her to command him, ''Yes...I want you, John.''

He smiled, taken aback briefly by her brashness, before pulling her in against him, the friction between his thighs and her crotch, harshly electrifying both of them, into a locked-in embrace as she began riding him through the rugged, coarse fabric and clothes. Soon, she felt the growing bulge of his cock, throbbing through his pants, and her own panties, quickly soaking with her wetness, and cotton clinging against the tender skin of her flower.

This intimate position would become their favourite, an old familiar clasp they had on each other. He'd slowly undo the buttons on her shirt, whilst she'd work her soft, agile fingers at his belt and zipper. Soon, he'd be sucking on her nipples, his palms massaging the mounds of her breasts, gathering them in one motion to meet his face, which pressed against the coarse itch of his jaw's morning stubble, and further sent her into a greedy trance.

Soon, he lifted her up just enough, as she moaned in needy disagreement for the quick return of his touch, and slid her skirt above her waist, whilst she worked his pants down his waist, and past his strong, muscular thighs. He gently rubbed through the nylon stockings, explored the tightly gathered ridges of her folds through the gritty, tense material before balling it under his fist in a clean rub, and ripping it in one quick pull.

His hand palmed the soaked cotton, wrung it softly, as he worked his way around it, set it to the side, in under her thigh, and rubbed the tip of his fingers through her slippery slit, which she instinctively rocked against, arching her back to invite him in to further explore. He affectionately played with her rosebud, rubbing it in between the tip of his thumb and index, whilst admiring the beautiful, tortured look on her face, as his other fingers gathered and coursed up and down through her folds, and sent tingling waves of pleasure through her.

''John...'' she conceded, more bothered than she was willing to admit, and he knew what it meant, before she even confessed to it. Carefully, he lifted himself up ever so slightly, his hand still working her expertly, and pinned her firmly against the wheel, to gather a moment of respite. He slipped his other hand, down his boxers, having her pinned against the wheel, only by the sheer strength of his hips against hers. He let out his cock, that stuck out upright, curved inward, red and engorged, it's thickness almost palpable in the air. She swallowed hard.

Emboldened for the first time, she ordered ''I want you inside me.'. He shushed her with a kiss, and aimed his member to meet the entrance of her glistening fanny. Slowly, he released her from his tight pin and guided her down as she lowered herself onto it.

With the smallest amount of distance gained, she felt his tip, a burning hot, soft but throbbing ball of turgid flesh, meet her lower lips, and softly part her from within, stretching her shivering walls as it greeted them with its caressing friction. She moaned, and it ignited something in him, a primal need to give her fulfilment, and more. He jerked inward, in an instinctual clutch, as he felt the tightening of her walls, and began understanding the rough outline of her inner linings. Before he could stop himself, he had already reached deep within, and felt at the tip of his rod, the back of her garden, the lack of give in the constricting tension.

He planted a kiss at the back of her neck, and pulled her in, his arms wrapping around her waist, as he rolled his hips inward, allowing himself to feel the reach of her cervix. Just as he pulled her in, she stretched out her thighs to wrap around his legs and straddle him. She rolled onto him, her hips locking out, starting an ancestral, primal grind that weakened him, and forced him to gather his mighty strength. His hands instinctively found her ass, and began to mould her reared cheeks into further motion against him. He let out a deep growl, a filthy, animal moan that set her ablaze instantly.

Just as quickly as he reeled her in his arms, he released her in one quick stroke, pulling himself out, the lips of her cunt at the tip of his glans, clinging harder than ever. Then in one quick push, he forced himself in again, with one hard thrust of the hips, and before he knew it, she had followed his lead and rocked along with his quick, dry, thrusts which sent her moaning erratically.

She could hear under her own deeply troubled breaths, resounding loudly in the cold morning air. His own primal grunts, akin the roar of a great predator, which sent her into submission and ignited her to the dirty drive to please him.

Her hand wrapped around the nape of his neck, her fingers blissfully tingled by the electric opposition, as they met with the short buzz of his hair, the other hand clung tightly around his defined shoulder.

Her lips messily caressed and kissed the ridge of his shoulder bones with each new stroke he painted inside her. She felt closer than she'd ever been, and tried to moan out her intent. She was ready to come. She could feel her sanity give and relentlessly, gathered the courage to admit, ''I... I'm coming!'' He pulled her head away, to look into her hazel eyes, her brows twisting, as her gaze grew hazy but clung like an anchor to the deep blue sea of his.

He, himself, felt at the doorstep of an abyss to hard to comprehend, and with each moment, grew weary of what might happen to them, afterwards. He buried his face in her breasts, and bit down softly, but firmly into her fattened tit, before propping her up, and pinning her hard against the steering wheel again. She let out a small, tense yelp before he began drilling inside her, hammering at her soft, tender inner flesh which contracted harder against him, in waves of shuddering throes.

He felt her legs jerk and give in, releasing their clutch around him and extend in short, jagged bursts behind his hips, to which her hips rolled inwards, reeling him in in a mind-shattering twist, where she'd wrung him dry over every last drop of semen inside his eager balls.

He roared, and nailed her down again, in a few last shivering throws, his cock tensing painfully, pleasurably with each spurt of cum he sent drizzling up her walls. He opened his eyes, and look up at her, as he softly let both of them down, onto the ruined, sweaty seat. Her eyes were still closed, as she instinctively embraced and cuddled against him, her body still weak and sporadically convulsing. He hugged her tight and close, his nose nuzzled in her soft and silky strawberry blonde hair.

''Mia...?''

She opened her eyes, and awoke from her absent-minded reminiscence, as John planted a kiss on her cheek, and ran his fingers through her longer, now chocolate brown locks. He had slowed down his thrusts, and looked to her with an air of slight concern. His eyes were their usual sombre blue, their icy warmth a mystery not unknown to her.

She sighed and embraced him, before admitting, ''I was thinking of us...The good times we shared...''

He picked up on it instantly, and answered, in a half-believing tone, ''We do not have to end it now...and not like this.'' She looked onto him, in a disheartened yet still hopeful way. He added. ''Sure, we may not see each other that often. But... If you really want to, we can still make it work.''

She seemed too interested in studying the traits of his face, as if afraid to forget their finest details, were she to close her eyes again, to answer him just yet. She caressed his cheek, and playfully rubbed his lips with the tip of her thumb, before smiling faintly and kissing him, silencing his own set of worries.

''We will be fine. It's not like we were searching for more than this...'' She gestured her open hand, and lowered it to rest atop his Adonis belt, where their bodies met in a comfortable, loving embrace. His chuckle, like waves, had her own tummy shaking, before he wrapped his hands around her hips, clinging at her fatty sides, before pulling her in again, and beginning another set of rolls, to which she closed her eyes and followed the motion gently.

Tomorrow was another day.