I was half-way through a day shift on a Wednesday morning, as I sat at a computer in the muster room, typing out a report on a minor arrest I had made the day before. I heard footsteps on the carpet behind me, and I looked up to see the shift supervisor, Sergeant Morrow, standing there with a clipboard in his hand.
Morrow was one of those big, rugged, old-style cops that you just don’t see any more, and he said, “I’ve got a little job for you, Mark.”
“What’s that?” I said, sitting back from the keyboard, to show him he had my full attention.
“Your shifts have been changed this week,” he started, looking up from his clipboard, “Sorry about the short notice, but I think you’ll like this.” He smiled, like he had something interesting to show me.
He sat in a chair next to me, and said, “I know you were supposed to have the weekend off this week, but the Ocean City Expo is on this Saturday, and the Commander wants me to send a uniformed officer over there to fly the flag, and just represent the local police command.”
“I see,” I answered. I had no plans for my days off, so having my shifts changed wasn’t a problem, as far as I was concerned.
“The boss told me he wants me to give the job to a keen, conscientious young officer, who presents himself well to the public,” and as a little surge of pride went through me, the sergeant added, “but, I thought I’d send you, anyway.”
“Gee, thanks, Sarge,” I said with a smile, “I feel as though I’m being groomed for something big.”
“You’re okay,” he answered, smiling back, “I’ve got a station full of some of the laziest bunch of coppers I’ve ever seen, here. At least you like to get out and do some police work now and again, so if an easy job like this comes up, I don’t mind looking after you.”
He got up out of his chair, and added, “I guarantee you’ll have an easy day. They’re providing their own security, so all you’ve gotta do is walk around checking things out.” He grinned, and continued, “You might have some lost kids and found property to look after, but that’ll be about it. Fran’ll be down shortly with some instructions from the boss, so I’ll leave you to it.”
The sergeant walked to the door, and turned, with his big, rugged smile, and said, “By the way, Mark. You owe me a beer for this,” as he turned to walk back to his office.
Fran was the Commander’s personal assistant, aged about twenty-five, with a covergirl face, and a body that would have a Trappist monk ringing home to tell his mother all about her. One of my workmates had told me he met up with her at a club one night when he was off duty, and he’d had a one-night stand with her. He told me if Fran had fucked him any harder, he’d have been in traction, and I could never look at her the same way at work after that.
About twenty minutes later, Fran walked into the office, wearing a short skirt, and a blouse that was showing some of her delightful cleavage. Her tits, and her apparent willingness to show let her work colleagues ogle them, were a talking point among most of the male cops at the station, and objects of scorn and jealousy from a few of the female cops, as well. She sat next to me in the same chair that Sergeant Morrow had used, and I couldn’t help looking at her killer legs, as she swung around to face me. She waited patiently, until I had stopped getting an eyeful, and said, “So, you drew the short straw, did you, Mark?”
“Looks like it,” I answered back.
Fran handed me a manila folder, with a typewritten memo from the Commander in it, setting out my duties for the day, and a promotional leaflet from the expo organisers. “You should read that, too,” she said, indicating the leaflet, “It tells you all about the expo, and who’s gonna be there. South West Pacific TV is running the entertainment, like they always do, so you might get to rub shoulders with a few TV stars if you’re lucky.”
“You never know your luck,” I said, opening the leaflet, and skimming over the bold type. Fran made some small talk, and then left, allowing me to watch her swinging, sexy walk from behind, as she headed back to the boss’s office. I could chew on that all night, and not leave teethmarks in the same place twice, I thought to myself.
In the leaflet, I found a list of TV personalities from South West Pacific TV, who would be performing at the expo, including, among others, Maurie Acton, the “veteran comedian, and star of his own variety show,” Barry Kimball, who had hosted some of their current affairs programs since the 1980’s, and then there was Trish Collett, “one of the stars of SWPTV’s long running drama series, ‘Andersen’s Beat.”
Trish Collett’s name got my attention straight away. Her show, “Andersen’s Beat,” was a top-rating series about a veteran police commander, and his team of dedicated law enforcement professionals, that had been running on the network for over ten years, but she had only been in it for three seasons. She played a female cop called Amy Templeton in the show, and she had started off in a minor role, but over time she had become so popular with viewers, they had made her a main character, and now there were whole episodes about her adventures. I read a review of the show one day, that described her as, “Lois Lane in a blue uniform,” and only last week, I’d read about her in a TV magazine I found in the station meal room, where it said that in just three years, she had become one of Australian TV’s hottest young stars.
“Andersen’s Beat” was not one of my favourite TV shows, and I only watched about every third episode or so, but Trish Collett was a pretty good reason to watch it. She was slim but curvy, with wavy, dark hair, big brown eyes, olive skin, and a perky, pretty face, that had a kind of “sexy-girl-next-door” thing going. She sometimes reminded me of a young Annette Funicello, in those sixties beach movies, and I had recently read that she had just turned twenty-five. Her character in the TV series often did things no real cop would do, but that of course got her into dramatic situations all the time, where she had to use her wits and wiles to save herself, and she always got the bad guy. I wonder what she looks like in real life, I thought to myself. I flicked through the leaflet and read the boss’s instructions, and I thought, Sounds like an easy day.
I had joined the state police force when I was twenty, and had been a cop for nearly eight years. I loved my job, and three years earlier, they had transferred me from Sydney to a medium sized coastal city, but my girlfriend, Isabel, had stayed in Sydney because of her job. After two years, she had broken it off, saying she just couldn’t handle a long-distance relationship any more, but next thing I knew, I heard on the grapevine she was getting around town with some young lawyer, and my source suggested she had been seeing him before she broke it off with me. My workmates were all telling me that now I was unattached again, I should get out there and fuck everything that moved, but I had seen myself having a life with Isabel, and I just didn’t feel like getting back in the arena just yet. Consequently, my love life had been zero for quite a while now. A few months earlier, I would have been unimpressed to have my weekend off cancelled, but with no woman in my life, one day was like any other, and the boss had told me I’d now have Sunday and Monday off, so it was all good as far as I was concerned.
Saturday came around, and I went to work as normal, and they gave me a marked car to drive to the huge Crestwood Hotel complex, down by the northern waterfront, to spend my day “walking around checking things out,” as Sergeant Morrow had said. There was already a fair crowd in the reception centre, when I got there, and on the stage I saw an old guy in a suit, announcing some of the “celebrities” who were going to perform, and take turns as M.C. during the day.
I heard him say Trish Collett’s name, and I looked over at the stage, to see her step forward to the mike. She looked much the same as she did on TV, but I was surprised to see she was a little more petite than she looked onscreen. She looked like she was only about five feet five inches tall, and was wearing a red, sleeveless dress that went to just below her knees, hugging her shape on the way down, and flaring a little at the bottom. Her hair was up, and she had a black necklace with a cameo on it, setting off her olive skin against the red of her dress. She looked stylish, elegant, hot, and sexy, in an understated way, but there was still that girl-next-door thing going on as well, and she started to work the crowd, as I stood at the back of the hall and watched her, thinking of the easy day I would have ahead of me.
After a while, I left the hall and had a walk around for an hour or so, looking at some of the exhibits, speaking to a few of the guys from the organising committee, some security guys, and one or two TV people, who were strutting around, trying to look important, and I decided to have a coffee break.
I walked back to a coffee lounge, attached to the reception centre, and sat with my coffee, idly watching the crowd, and I heard a female voice saying, “Excuse me.” I looked up to see Trish Collett herself, standing at the table, with a large cappuccino in her hand. “Do you mind if join you?” she said, with a pretty, girlish smile.
I looked around and saw there were plenty of empty tables, and I said, “Have a seat,” speaking casually, like it was no big deal, and she sat opposite me, still smiling.
“Hello,” Trish said, pausing to look at my name badge, and reading my name out loud, “Senior Constable Mark Stockton.” She looked up from my name badge, and added, “I’m Trish.”
“Hi,” I answered, meeting her smile with my own, “I had a feeling you were going to say your name was Trish.”
“I see,” Trish said, still smiling gaily, “Was that one of those cop things, where you get a gut feeling and go with it”
“Pretty much,” I answered, “I just had a hunch. Like that guy in Dragnet used to get.”
“So, Mark Stockton,” Trish said, sitting back in her chair, sipping her cappuccino, as she kept eye contact, “What brings you here today?”
“Just soaking up the atmosphere,” I replied, “you know, the ambience.” Then, I added, “What about you?”
“Same thing,” Trish said, keeping that girlish, genuine smile, “What a coincidence? I just saw the light on, thought I’d drop in.”
We sat there, making small talk for a few minutes, and I asked Trish a few things about herself, probably stuff she gets asked all the time by her fans, but then she surprised me by asking me a few things about myself. As a cop, I had worked on security details a few times with celebrities, sports stars, the occasional politician, and I had found that public figures of any description tend to look upon the cops and security people who guard them as just part of the furniture, and they rarely talk to them, apart from the most trivial of small talk, but here was Trish Collett, someone I saw on TV all the time, asking me how long I had been a cop, if I liked my job, where I grew up, and stuff like that.
I told her I grew up in Armidale, and she said, “Oh, so you’re from New England too? I grew up in Tamworth. That makes us almost neighbours.”
“Yeah, guess it does,” I said, and we continued on, as she asked me what high school I went to, and asked why I joined the police force, and I asked her how she got into acting, and she told me about her time at the National Institute of Dramatic Art. I was surprised she was even interested in my story, but I was enjoying talking to this pretty young woman, as we sat there and sipped our coffee, so I was kind of deflated when a weedy little guy with a radio earpiece and a clipboard came over, and said, “Excuse me, Miss Collett, you’re back on in five.”
“Be right there,” she said to the earpiece guy, and he turned and walked back to a gaggle of weedy earpiece people on the other side of the centre, and they started to compare clipboards with each other.
Trish picked up her coffee cup, and leaned towards me, and said, “Mark, do you, umm,” pausing, swallowing, and looking at me, “Do you get a lunch break?”
I was surprised at the question, and I said, “Yeah, it’s quite civilised in my job. They let you eat and do all kinds of stuff.”
Trish smiled again, that pretty, 100-watt smile of hers, letting me know my flippant remark wasn’t totally wasted, and gave her head one shake, and she simply said, “What time?”
“Any time,” I answered, more seriously, “I’m kind of my own boss today,” and she came back with, “I’ve gotta go now. Gotta pay the rent, but how about I meet you in the bistro over there, at one? We can have lunch together.” Then, she added, kind of hesitantly, “If you want to.”
“One o’clock,” I said, confirming the time, and I added, “See ya there,” and she got up and walked back towards the stairway to the stage.
I sat back in my chair, put my coffee on the table, and thought, Did Trish Collett just make a lunch date with me?
For the next couple of hours I walked around the complex, talking to people, doing what I was getting paid to do, looking at exhibits, taking lost kids back to their parents, and occasionally going back to join the audience watching the acts on stage, and listening to the announcements. I saw Trish a few times, announcing some of the performers, looking so poised and confident, in front of a crowd, holding her mike, in her stylish red dress, and I thought of the pretty, smiling country girl in that same stylish red dress, who had sat with me over coffee, asking me to have lunch with her, hesitating like she thought I might not be interested. The same person, but somehow different. I realised I was looking forward to lunch a little more than usual.
One o’clock came around, and I headed over to the Broad Waters Bistro, where I looked around but I couldn’t see Trish. My heart sank a little, thinking maybe she lost interest, or got a better offer, but I heard voices behind me, and I looked around to see her signing autographs for two teenage girls. She looked up and smiled at me, as she handed the paper back to the young girls, and shook their hands. One of them hugged her, and they both walked away, talking excitedly, and she came over to me. “Must be fun being famous,” I said.
“It’s a bit overwhelming some times,” Trish said, as we went over to order our meals.
I didn’t answer, not really having anything to offer to that, and Trish said, “I get all this, umm,” and she paused, looking a little embarrassed, “I know it sounds big-headed, but I get, you know, fan mail, and young girls tell me I’m this big role model, and they ask me how to join the police force, and stuff like that.” She looked down and shook her head, then looked back up and me and said, “But, I’m only a pretend cop, I wouldn’t even know where you go to join up.”
We got our lunches, and I pulled out my wallet, and Trish said, “Don’t worry, South West Pacific can pay for it. They’ve taken over the whole place this weekend.”
I looked around, standing there in my uniform, and I said, “I can’t take free food when I’m on duty.”
“Why not, it’s a big company. They can afford it,” Trish said, looking at me like I was acting strangely, “Just say it was my treat.”
“Okay,” I said, giving in, and I added, “At the academy, they told us ‘Corruption starts with the first free cup of coffee.”
Trish smiled, and said, “That’s a good line. I’ll have to talk to the script writers, and get them to work it into an episode.”
“You’re not saying Amy Templeton would do anything corrupt, are you?” I asked, grinning at Trish.
“Well, Amy might not, but maybe I could be tempted if the right offer comes along,” Trish answered, leaving me to wonder what she meant by that.
Trish and I found a table, and we ate lunch together, talking, laughing, just two people, a guy and a pretty girl, and I was struck by how down to earth she seemed. She was a star, maybe not a big star like, Madonna, or Angelina Jolie, but three times as we ate, people came over and asked for autographs, and a couple of guys from the network came over to gush and fawn over her, as we sat there. I noticed they didn’t even look in my direction, although I saw one looking over his shoulder at me as they walked away, and whispering in the other guy’s ear. Even so, through all this, Trish didn’t seem big-headed, and she apologised for the interruptions, each time someone came over.
“It’s really nice to talk to a normal person for a while,” she said, as we sat there after we finished our lunch.
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“Don’t think I’m complaining about my job or anything,” Trish said, suddenly a little more serious, “But all day, I pretend to be someone, at work, and when I go home, I just want to be me again.” She made eye contact, and said, “You know, just do normal stuff, go for a walk, go for a drive in my car. Normal things.” She took a breath, and said, “But, most of the people I work with never stop pretending. Not just the actors, but everybody else. Most of the other people as well. They’re always trying to impress each other.” She gave me that pretty, sweet, smile again, and said, “That’s why it’s good to just talk to a normal guy again, like you. Just talk about normal stuff.”
“Don’t you meet any normal guys, in your line of work?” I asked.
“Not many,” Trish started, “Most of the guys I meet are so far up themselves, it’s not funny. That’s if they even like girls in the first place.” She smiled, mischievously, and then sat back, becoming serious again, and said, “The last three years have been really crazy for me. My boyfriend couldn’t take it, and he dumped me after a year.” She got a far-away look for a moment, and I wondered if she was giving me an opening, but I dismissed it as wishful thinking.
“It never occurred to me that someone like you’d get dumped,” I said, stupidly, without realising I was basically thinking out loud.
“Shit happens,” Trish answered, a little more seriously than most people when they say that.
Trish looked at her watch, and said, “I better get back to work,” then she looked up at me, as though she was thinking for a moment, and said, “Mark,” and then paused once more, tilting her head, like she was still weighing things up. I leaned forward, waiting to hear what she had to say, and she finally continued with, “They’re having drinks tonight in the upstairs lounge. You know, the network people, and the expo organisers, and a few of the performers.” She paused, again, and seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I thought, Surely she’s not asking me to come.
“Why don’t you come and meet me there?” Trish asked.
“Why do you want me to come to that?” I asked, pleasantly surprised at the invitation.
“Because it’ll be really boring,” she answered, smiling again.
“You’re not really selling it,” I said.
“That’s the thing,” she said, “It’ll be really boring, but if you come, I’ll have someone interesting to talk to and it’ll be fun.” She made it sound like it was so obvious.
“Okay,” I said, unable to keep the smile off my face, “It’s not every day a girl like you asks me to have drink with her after work.”
“You’ll need this,” Trish said, handing me her entry pass, “Just show it to the security guys and they’ll let you in.”
“Won’t you need it?” I asked.
Trish leaned over, and whispered, with a mock-serious face, “They all know who I am.” She giggled, sat back, and said, “Seven o’clock. Dress casual. See ya there.” She got up and headed back to work. I thought to myself, I can’t believe Trish Collett just asked me to have a drink with her after work.
During the afternoon, as I walked around the centre, I would go in to watch the performers on stage from time to time, and at one point, Trish and two other performers were singing, and getting the audience to join in the chorus. She was looking out into the crowd, pointing at groups and saying, “Come on you guys, over there, sing up! Let me hear ya!” and she looked over at me, and flashed me that bright, girlish smile, and went back to working the crowd. Come on, seven o’clock, I thought to myself.
Once again, it seemed funny to me how Trish could be so confident in front of hundreds of people, with a microphone in her hand, or in front of a TV camera, but she stumbled and stammered over asking a guy to have a drink with her. As for me, if you took away the TV star, celebrity thing, she was just a very pretty girl, so who in his right mind wouldn’t want to spend some time with her?
The day ended in time, and I finished my shift, and went off duty. I went home, and after a shower, I put on some jeans and a polo shirt, and took a taxi back to the hotel. It wasn’t until the taxi pulled away from outside my apartment, that the reality sank in: I’m going to meet Trish Collett for a drink. It’s practically a date. Then, the practical side of my brain kicked in, and told me, She’s bored. She just wants someone to talk to.
I walked into the hotel, and went to the upstairs lounge, but there was a huge guy, dressed in black, with a shaved head and a goatee beard, blocking the doorway. He had a name badge on his shirt, that said his name was Dirk, and under that it said, “Security,” just in case anybody got him mixed up with the guy who puts the little umbrellas on the pina colada’s. I’m big enough to be a cop, but he looked like he could pick me up by the head with one hand, and crush my skull with it.
“Sorry,” he said, his arms folded, like a eunuch guarding a harem, “Invite only.”
“I’ve got an invitation,” I said, looking him in the eyes.
“Yeah?” he said, looking me up and down, “Who invited you?” Then, he looked a little closer and said, “You’re that cop that was here today, aren’t you?”
“That would be me,” I said, “Trish Collett invited me.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, doubtfully.
I reached in my pocket, and pulled out the security pass Trish had given me, and said, “She gave me this. Maybe I should give it back to her.”
The security guy looked at the pass, and immediately, he offered me a handshake, and said, “I’m Dirk. Sorry, I was just doing my job.”
“And doing it well,” I said, accepting his handshake, “I’m Mark.” He moved aside, and as I stepped in the door, he put his left hand behind my back, gently ushering me inside. He pointed at a bunch of people on the other side of the room, and said, “Last time I saw Miss Collett, she was with those people over there, but I’m sure you’ll find her.” As I walked in, and looked around, I heard Dirk saying, “Enjoy yourself.” It was kind of funny how his attitude changed, the moment he saw Trish’s pass.
I looked around, but I couldn’t see Trish anywhere. I wondered for a moment if I should have come here in the first place, as I looked at all the TV and media types, speaking loudly, with their exaggerated gestures, some with high-pitched male voices, prancing around, and with so many people trying to be the centre of attention. To say I felt a little out of place would be a major understatement. Every now and again, a camera flash would go off, and there was an SWPTV news crew filming over in the far corner. I looked around again, trying to spot Trish, looking for that red dress, and then, I heard, “Boo!” to my left.
I turned to see Trish, jumping out from behind a pillar, with a delighted smile on her face, like a little girl. She was wearing a short denim skirt, and a sleeveless mauve top, with sandals, and her dark hair was now in a ponytail that bobbed when she moved. She looked cute, hot, sexy, she was the “girl-next-door,” in fact you could run out of words to describe how she looked, but one thing she didn’t look like was a TV star. “You’re here,” she said.
“You need to work on that boogie man thing, that wasn’t scary at all,” I said.
“Maybe I need acting lessons,” Trish replied, her smile now ironic.
“Well,” I started, “I’m no critic.”
“Anyway, you’re here, that’s the main thing,” Trish said, stepping closer. She smelt delightful, a light, sexy, stylish scent. “I watched you coming in, from behind that post over there. I was impressed.”
“With what?” I asked. I had no idea what she meant.
“The way you didn’t take any crap from that guy on the door,” she said, moving even closer.
“I just didn’t want to provoke him,” I answered modestly, with a wry smile.
“Would you like a drink?” Trish asked, looking over at the bar, “It’s all paid for by the network, but you’re off duty now, so I’m not corrupting you, am I?”
“Beer’s fine,” I answered, as we started walking over.
“Oh, you don’t know good it is,” Trish started, “to hang out with a guy who drinks beer, and isn’t madly in love with himself.”
We both got a beer each, and stood in a corner, drinking them as we talked, and watched everybody else. Trish pointed out a few TV personalities, and network people, dotted around the room. Everywhere you looked, there were people in weird clothes, speaking loudly, each trying to look more important than the others, and I began to understand what Trish meant about people being love with themselves. “You’re a cop, right?” Trish said, turning to look at me.
“Last time I looked,” I said, looking over at her pretty face, wondering what this was leading up to.
“And you rescue people, right?” she asked.
“Well, not recently,” I said, “but I think it’s in the job description.”
“Well, rescue me from this bullshit,” she said, “Let’s go somewhere else.”
“Where do you want to go?” I asked. The thought of being alone with Trish gave me a slight case of butterflies.
“Anywhere,” she said, “maybe you could show me some of your fair city at night.”
“Okay,” I said, “That’s easy. Let’s just get outa here,” as I gestured towards the door.
“Just one thing,” Trish said, and she paused for a moment, like she was working out how to say this, “If you and I walk out the door together, you’ll probably be on the front cover of the Daily Telegraph tomorrow.” She made a kind of shrugging gesture, and said, “I know I sound big-headed saying that, but it’s true.”
“The paparazzi?” I asked, although I really meant it as a joke.
Trish nodded, and said, “I wouldn’t put it that way, but there are still plenty of cameras here tonight.” She gave me a sneaky look, and said, “But, I checked out all the doors leading out of here,” as she nodded towards a sign in the far corner, marked “EXIT,” and that one over there leads to an alleyway. We can sneak away and nobody will know.”
“You scoped out all the exits?” I said, “Now, I’m impressed. That’s what a real cop would do.”
“It must rub off,” she smiled, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” Trish and I walked over towards the exit door, like we weren’t going anywhere in particular, and after a quick look around, we ducked outside into the lane. It was like something out of a movie, and once we got outside, it was almost pitch black, with the only light coming in from the end of the laneway. “Where does it lead to?” Trish said, in the dark.
“Down to the quay,” I said, “It’s really nice down there. You can see the city lights and the headland across the bay. Want to come down?”
“Sounds good,” Trish said, and we walked towards the light. As we walked along the laneway, she took my right hand in her left hand, pulling me closer, and it was hard to believe I was walking along in a dark alley, with Trish Collett holding my hand.
We reached the end of the laneway, and walked out into the streetlights. For a Saturday night, there was hardly anyone around, and we walked across the street to look out over the water, and across at the city lights. It was late summer, and the night was mild, but there was a cool breeze coming off the water, and I noticed Trish had goosebumps on her arms.
“It’s really pretty,” Trish said, looking out over the water.
“I know it is,” I said, looking at her.
Trish gave me a, “here we go again,” look, and said, “I mean the view.”
“I know,” I said, smiling down at her, “But you really can’t blame me. Come on, be honest.”
“You’re very sweet,” she said, “I never knew a cop could be a sweet guy like you as well.” She paused, sighed, and said, “I’d like to get to know you better, Mark, but life’s kind of crazy right now. There’s not a lot of time.”
I felt the breeze pick up a little, and Trish said, “That wind’s cool,” turning her back towards it.
I looked down at her sleeveless top, and suddenly realised I could see her pink lace bra, and I said, “Your top wouldn’t be keeping much body heat in.”
“Well, maybe you should offer me some of yours, then,” Trish said, and she put her arms around me, cuddling herself to me, and resting the right side of her face on my chest. I was standing there at the quay, being held by Trish Collett, the TV star, and I couldn’t believe it was happening, but just the same, I was also a man being held by a beautiful girl, and my body started to respond, as desire uncoiled inside me. I put my own arms around her, and bent my head down, to kiss her gently on the top of her head, as I smelt the sweet, fresh shampoo smell, and the scent of her perfume.
I wondered if I had overstepped the mark, kissing her head like that, taking a liberty that may not have been offered the way I thought. Then, as I held my face against her hair, feeling the smooth skin of her left shoulder with my right palm, and resting my left hand on the small of her back, Trish turned her head upwards, to find my mouth with hers, and she kissed me, softly, gently, holding the kiss for a moment. The kiss was more gentle and warm than it was hot and sexy, and after we broke it, she held her face up, looking at my eyes, waiting for me to make the next move. I kissed her again, without speaking, once again holding the kiss, as an aching need for this beautiful woman rose inside me. After we had kissed, Trish took a breath, and just looked up at me for a moment, as though she was thinking.
“I’ve got a room in the hotel,” she said, softly, after a short pause, “Would you like to come upstairs for a while?”
“I think I’d like that very much,” I said. I felt like I was in a dream.
Trish swallowed, and said, “Two things I’d like to tell you,” suddenly looking serious, but still speaking in that voice just above a whisper.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Firstly, I don’t hook up with guys all the time, and have one-night stands with them.” She gave me a wry smile, and added, “I just wanted you to know that.”
I nodded, and said, “What was the other thing?”
She took a short, but deep breath, and said, “If you come upstairs with me, Mark, I’m not just taking you up to show you the decor.” She smiled, mischievously, waiting for me to respond, and added “I just wanted you to know that, too.”
“That’s a shame, because interior decorating is a hobby of mine,” I said, as I gently kissed her mouth again. “Don’t give up your day job,” she whispered, our mouths almost touching, “because comedy is not your thing.”
We walked back to the hotel, with Trish holding her right arm around my waist, and resting her head against my left shoulder. As we approached the front entrance from across the street, we saw a few people out the front, and in the foyer, and two camera flashes went off in quick succession. “Now, the trick is to get upstairs without anyone knowing,” Trish said, quietly, and she looked up at me, and added, “Unless you want to be in next week’s New Idea.”
“There’s a side entrance,” I said, “The night manager showed me one time when I was here taking a report of a burglary,” I said, “No-one uses it after dark.” I took Trish to the side entrance, and we slipped in, and found the service elevator. We stepped inside, and she hit the button for her floor. “Are things always this complicated for you?” I asked.
“Sometimes,” Trish answered, and she looked up, and pointed at a security camera in the corner of the elevator. “You could still end up in the papers,” she said, flashing me that mischievous, little girl smile. We stopped at Trish’s floor, and she stepped out of the elevator, and made sure the coast was clear, before I got out and joined her. We walked to her room, and she unlocked the door, and we went inside. Her suite was in the executive section of the hotel, and was moderately impressive, with a queen size bed, and a small bar.
As soon as we were inside, Trish turned on her heels to face me, and said, “Now, we’re alone, and nobody knows we’re here.” Trish was a beautiful girl, and I was a healthy, red-blooded young man, but suddenly, the reality of where I was, and what I was doing, hit me. I was alone with a beautiful television star, in her hotel room, and she wanted to take me to bed. I’d had one-night stands before, but never like this. I got serious butterflies for a moment, and Trish said, “What’s the matter? Are you okay?”
I was a cop, trained and experienced in taking charge of situations, but suddenly, I felt like a young guy, going to bed with a woman for the first time. “I’ll be honest with you,” I smiled, then I swallowed, and said, “I can hardly believe I’m here with you.”
“Honest is good,” Trish said, stepping closer, looking delicious in that short denim skirt, and sleeveless top, with her hair in that cute little ponytail, smelling delicious, with that sexy scent she was wearing, and she put her right hand on the back of my neck, and said, “You know what?” as she shook her head, “I haven’t done this for a long time, and I’m nervous, too.” She swallowed, and said, “If you take away all the other stuff, we’re just two people. You’re a guy, and I’m a girl, and I like you, and I think I’d like to go to bed with you, and I think you want to go to bed with me, too, don’t you?”
I nodded. “It’s funny,” I said, “Kind of odd,” I continued, hesitantly, “But, even though I really only met you today, I feel like I’ve known you longer.” I shrugged, hoping I didn’t sound like some star-struck loser, adding, “It’s weird.”
Trish sighed, and said, “I know. That happens in my job.” She paused, and gently bit her lower lip for a moment, and gently stroked my chest with the back of her left hand, and said, “I only met you today, but, I’ll tell you something.” She made eye contact, and continued with, “I kind of wish I’d known you longer.” She moved her right hand down, and put both arms around my waist, and said, “If we’re both nervous, we’ll just have to be gentle with each other, won’t we?”
“I’ll be as gentle as you like,” I said, and then I kissed her pretty mouth, and added, “unless you tell me otherwise.”
“I like the sound of that,” Trish answered. She looked back at the bed, and looked at me again, without speaking. I took her left hand and led her to the bed, and we walked up to the right side. “Hold me,” Trish whispered, resting her head on my chest.
I put my arms around her again, and she tilted her head, offering her mouth to me. My nerves were forgotten, as I kissed her, holding the kiss, taking control, keeping it gentle, but holding it until I was ready to break it. With our faces close enough for me to feel Trish’s breath on my own face, she said, “I like the way you did that.”
“I kind of liked doing it,” I said, “and I have every intention of doing it again.”
“Well, don’t let me stop you,” she whispered in reply. I kissed her again, and her mouth was a little more open this time, so I offered a little tongue, which was accepted graciously. We kissed gently, exploring each other’s mouths, as I felt myself becoming more excited by the minute. We broke for air, and Trish released me from her embrace, and gently pushed me against the bed, so I sat down. She knelt between my legs as I sat on the edge of the big, queen size bed, and we kissed once more, but this was a hot, sexy, lover’s kiss. This was a kiss between two people who were about to make love.
Trish put her hands behind my neck, holding my face to hers, not that I wanted to go anywhere, as we kissed hungrily, me sitting on the bed, as she knelt between my legs.
With our mouths still locked together, I put my hands on her waist, just above her hips, lifting a little, and she took the weight on her legs, as I leaned back, to lie across the bed. Trish lifted herself, so as I lay back, she knelt on the bed, straddling me, while my legs hung over the side.
We broke our kiss, and Trish lifted her head, and with a delighted smile, she said, “Now, I’ve got you in my clutches, Mark Stockton, and you’re not going anywhere until I’ve had my way with you.”
“Not that I’d even think of trying to escape,” I said, as I reached up and unzipped her skirt at the back.
“O-o-oh,” Trish said, grinning, “Taking liberties now, are we?” as I pulled at the hem of her short skirt, feeling it slide down her bottom and come loose. She reached back with her right hand, and released her right leg from her skirt, and then did the same with her left, before dropping her skirt on the floor. I saw she was wearing a pair of black lace bikini briefs, and I gently placed the palm of my right hand on her bottom, caressing her firm buttocks through the lace material. “Mmm, that’s nice,” she said, and then she looked back at my legs dangling over the bed, as she straddled me, and said, “Are you comfortable like that?”
The truth is, I would have put up with a lot of discomfort to be with her, even though I wasn’t uncomfortable at all, but Trish climbed off me and scooted to the middle of the bed, and lay on her left side, facing me. “Come over here,” she said, “where it’s more comfy,” and she put her palm flat on the bed and rubbed it. I slid over and lay on the bed, with my head on the pillow, and Trish moved over to kiss me on the mouth, holding the kiss as she resumed her position, straddling me the way she had done on the side of the bed, only now I was lying on the bed properly.
I wasn’t sure where to start again, but I put my right hand back up to her bottom, and resumed caressing her with it, feeling for the cleft between her buttocks through her panties. I ran my fingers up and down her cleft a few times, barely reaching her pussy, as we kissed, our tongues gently venturing forward to explore each other’s mouths, inhaling each other’s breath, and fanning each other’s desire. I very gently moved my right hand down to the crotch of Trish’s panties, and I felt the warmth from her pussy through the thin material.
My hand’s explorations were not lost on Trish, and she looked me in the eyes, as I touched the most intimate parts of her body through her underwear. “Careful,” she said, “If you start something, you’ve got to see it through.” She smiled, as if there would be any turning back now. I felt for the side of her panties, and gently worked the first finger of my right hand inside, feeling her soft pubic hair and then the moist, warm and slick wetness of her pussy. Trish shuddered a little, and then kissed me again, her mouth feeling warmer now, and she whispered, “Keep going.”
I placed my left palm gently onto Trish’s right buttock, as the finger of my right hand very gently, teasingly, explored her pussy, not probing, but just gently parting the inner lips, feeling the warmth and the wetness. Then, I slipped my left hand inside her pants, and caressed the smooth skin of her right buttock at the same time.
“You’re very wet,” I said, speaking softly.
“That’s because of what you’re doing to me,” Trish answered. She braced herself with her left hand, and, still straddling me, she reached down with her right hand, and gently touched my hard tool through my jeans, and said, “And I’m not the only one getting excited here.” She put her right hand back down on the bed, regained her balance, and leaned forward, to kiss me again, as I ever-so-gently moved my finger inside her panties, caressing her moist pussy, while my other hand caressed her buttock. After the kiss, Trish leaned back just slightly, and half-closed her eyes, took a soft breath, and exhaled half if it, and said, “What you’re doing feels so good, Mark. It’s so gentle, but it feels so good.”
“Glad you like it,” I said, and I gently worked my finger back out of Trish’s panties. Her expression changed, as she appeared to be wondering what I was going to do next. I released my hand from her panties, and brought it to my lips, and with Trish watching me intently, I tasted the sweetish, tangy juices that had just come from that very special part of her beautiful body.
I wanted to taste Trish intimately, by going down on her, but I wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. She braced herself again with her left hand, and gently took hold of my right hand in hers, and lifted it to her mouth, tasting the finger I had just had in my own mouth, holding my gaze as she did so. There would have been very little, if any, of her juices left on it, but watching her tasting her own pussy juice was very exciting to me, and I think she knew it. “Do you like that?” she whispered, after she had wiped my finger with her lips.
“Yes, I do,” I answered, my voice also just above a whisper, “Very much.” It was true, I loved going down on a woman, and tasting her pussy, although of course, I had not done this since Isabel broke up with me. Trish sat back, still straddling me, and holding my gaze with her pretty eyes, she climbed off me, to lie on the bed on my right side. She parted her legs a little, and placed her own right hand down the front, inside her black lace panties, and she gently touched her own pussy. “Ooh, I tickled myself,” she said, delightedly, and she explored herself with two fingers inside her panties for a moment or two, still making eye contact the whole time. Her breathing deepened a little, as she moved her fingers around, and then she took them out, glistening with fluid, and held them to my mouth, inviting me to taste her again, but without speaking. She very gently placed the first two fingers of her right hand in my mouth, allowing me to experience the sexy flavour of her pussy juices once again.
Trish took her fingers from my lips, and I moved over to kiss her deeply on her own mouth, making sure she got some of the taste of her own pussy from my lips and tongue. “That was very nice,” I said, quietly, as I lifted the front of her lace panties with my left hand, and looked down at her exposed pubic hair. I noticed she had it waxed into an inch-wide landing strip. Trish looked down there as well, and then flicked me a mischievous, inviting glance, once again, without speaking. “In fact, I think I’d like to taste you some more,” I added, as I began to move over, to get between her legs. Without words, Trish had invited me to go down on her, and I was going to take her up on her invitation.
“You don’t see me putting up a fight, do you,” Trish said, as she parted her shapely legs to let me get between them. I took hold of her lace panties at her hips, and she lifted her bottom a little, as I took them off, and slid them along her legs, to drop them on top of her skirt on the floor. Trish’s pussy, with her pubic hair waxed at the front into that landing strip, but left natural down the sides, and her inner lips, pink, puffy and moist, was now exposed to me. “I see you’ve had some waxing done,” I said, grinning at her.
“It seemed like the thing to do,” she answered, “Not that anyone’s been looking down there lately.”
I gently ran the tip of a finger between her inner lips, coating it with the fluid that was pooled there, tasted her again from the tip of my finger, and then leant down to kiss her just above her clitoris, inhaling the piquant, tangy, yet sweetish scent of her pussy for a moment. My right hand was resting on her left thigh, and she placed her own left hand on mine, as I moved myself into position to taste her pussy properly.
I tilted my head, and kissed her on her moist inner lips, holding the kiss and gently working my tongue between them, tasting her sweetness, inhaling her scent, feeling myself becoming more aroused, my need to have her becoming more overpowering, as I ran my tongue down towards the opening of her pussy. I teased at the opening of her womanhood with the very tip of my tongue, tasting her there, and in the corner of my eye, I saw her swallow deeply, as I heard her taking a shuddering breath. Then, I ran my tongue back up between her inner lips, just gently brushing against her clit with the left side, making her take a sharp, hissing breath between her teeth. I dipped the tip of my tongue into the sex fluids pooled between Trish’s inner lips, and after spreading some around my tongue, and inside my mouth, so I could experience the flavour, I coated my lips with her juices, and used my tongue to sweep some onto her clit.
“Careful,” I heard Trish say, “you’re playing with fire,” as I moved myself a little to get in a better position to suck her clit. She reached down with her right hand, to stroke the back of my head, as I placed my lips over her swollen clit, and I began to apply the gentlest of suction to her there, as I worked my tongue and lips back and forth, just slightly. I heard that hissing intake of breath again, and Trish’s thighs both jerked a little, so I moved my left hand onto her right thigh to hold her in place, and lifted my head from her pussy.
“You okay?” I said, looking up at Trish’s face from between her legs.
Trish had to swallow before she could speak, and she said, “I’m really sensitive down there,” swallowing again, “and if you keep doing that, you don’t know what’s gonna happen.”
“What if I want to find out?” I said, looking straight at her swollen, pouting pussy, inches from my face.
Trish had recovered her composure a little now, and with a mischievous smile, she said, “I didn’t say I don’t want you to keep going, I’m just warning you about what might happen.”
“I think I’ll just live dangerously,” I said, and I moved in again, to kiss those moist, swollen pussy lips one more time, and I used my tongue to scoop some more of Trish’s juices onto her sweet little clit, then placed my mouth over it. I started to gently work Trish’s clit with my lips and tongue, and after only a few moments, she took a shuddering breath, as her hands clenched, and she said, “Oh, Mark, that’s so good I can hardly stand it.” I relaxed my mouth on her clit, to let her body relax again, and then I continued on, working her clit once more, but more gently this time.
The taste of Trish’s pussy, and the intimacy of what I was doing, were making me even more excited by the minute, and I was hoping to make her come with my mouth, before moving on to the main course, when our bodies would unite in sexual coupling. I was being gentle, teasing her towards her climax, but the sound of Trish’s breathing, along with the shudders and tremors I could feel going through her beautiful body, were evidence that I was taking her in the right direction.
I after a few moments longer, as I gently worked Trish’s clit with my mouth, I began to use a little more tongue, and immediately, she began to buck her hips, as her breathing became deeper. She took a gasping intake of breath, and twice made a low, warbling, moan, “O-o-ohh, o-o-ohh!” and then cried out, “Oh, God, Mark! I’m coming! I’m coming!!” The second time she said it, her voice almost sounded like she was cyring out in anguis, and I had to brace my forearms on her thighs to keep her from pulling her clit from my lips before her orgasm had passed. Then, her whole body relaxed again, with a long sigh.
I took my mouth from Trish’s pussy, and looked up at her again. She was looking at me, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, and she said, “You made me come,” then she swallowed, and said, “That was beautiful. Come up here. Let me hold you.”
I moved up, to lie on Trish’s right side, facing her, as she turned to embrace me on the bed. She kissed my mouth, still wet with her pussy juices, and said, “You are brilliant at that!” Then, she flopped back, lying flat on her pillow, and as she looked up at the ceiling, she said, “It’s a long time since I had an orgasm with someone else in the room,” then giggled for a moment, holding her belly, like a little girl who’s just been tickled. Still looking up at the roof, she said, with a sense of wonder in her voice, “That totally rocked my world, Mark,” as I placed my right arm across her chest, and moved closer to her.
My cock was now rampant, and making an obvious bulge in my jeans, but I felt pleased with myself, for making Trish come like that, by going down on her. “I’m glad you liked it,” I said, and she turned to offer her mouth to me for another kiss.
I kissed her deeply, feeling the excitement washing through me, and after we broke the kiss, Trish looked like she had just remembered something. “Look at me,” she said, “Lying here, all tingly, while you’re still rarin’ to go.” She reached down with her left hand, and stroked once along my cock through my jeans, with her thumb and forefinger.
“It’s okay,” I said, smiling, “It’s not a race.”
“I know,” Trish answered, “but now it’s your turn,” and she stroked my rock-hard tool again, through my jeans, and added, “Besides, if that was your idea of foreplay, I can’t wait to see what happens when you get serious.” She used her left hand to unbuckle my belt, and then she undid the stud on my jeans, and unzipped my fly, while I watched, looking down, almost breathless with excitement. She reached inside my fly, and after she had gently touched the leaking end of my cock with her left thumb, she moved closer to kiss me very gently, and with her mouth so close to mine I could feel her breath on my lips, she said, “Come on, Mister Stockton, I think you can take it from here,” and she pulled on the waistband of my jeans, signalling that it was time to take them off. “I would really like you inside me, Mark,” she said, “If you’re feeling the same way.”
I nodded, and continued where Trish had left off, taking off my jeans and underpants, dropping them on the floor beside the bed. Trish looked at my erect tool, and without speaking, she climbed over to straddle me again, and said, “May I?”
“Go ahead,” I said, looking at my cock as Trish sat up, and guided it to the entrance of her pussy. It was an incredibly sexy sight, to watch this beautiful girl, squatting over me, parting the lips of her pussy with her left hand, and placing the head of my cock against the opening, and sinking down, to take about half of my cock in the first movement, then lifting herself to slightly, and then allowing me to penetrate her fully with two more gentle movements of her pelvis. She took a little breath, when I was right inside, and said, “You fill me up.”
“I feel very welcome in there, too,” I said, feeling the walls of her pussy holding my cock, in a nice, snug fit. Almost instinctively, I began to move my pelvis up and down, just slightly, feeling the slippery walls of Trish’s pussy gliding along the sensitive skin of my unyielding cock.
“This one’s for you, Mark,” she said, as she lay down to embrace me on the bed, with my cock inside her. She kissed my mouth, as she fucked me, and I tilted my pelvis to meet her, and she said, “You made me come, now it’s your turn.”
I put my arms around her, as we fucked gently, with Trish on top, controlling the motion, and she said, “When you want to come, just go for it.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“You already made me come,” Trish replied, “I just want you to come now, it’s only fair.”
“Are you safe?” I asked.
Trish nodded, and said, “I’m on the pill.”
“I thought…,” I said, but I paused, not sure how to say it, and Trish continued with, “It keeps my cycle regular, which is useful in my job, and besides, it’s good for my skin.” She smiled, like it was all so obvious, and said, “So, when you want to come, just do it. I want to make you come.”
Trish’s sweet, sexy fucking was close to making me do just that, as her snug, wet pussy embraced my rigid cock, making it feel right at home inside her, taking its entire length with each gentle movement of her pelvis. I moved my hands down to place my palms on her buttocks, feeling them clench with each thrust. “Do you like that?” she asked, me, now sounding a little breathless.
“I love it,” I said, “You’re doing great,” as I kissed her mouth, feeling the pleasure mount inside me. My own orgasm wasn’t far off, but I was hoping Trish would come one more time, before we finished fucking.
Trish picked up the pace a little with her thrusting, and I could feel my cock going deeper inside her. “Do you want me to stay on top?” she said, taking a breath, and adding, “Or do you want be the one control? I just got up here to get things moving.”
“Well, things are moving pretty well,” I said, pausing to kiss her, our bodies joined at the mouth, and at the pelvis, in a sweet sexual union, and after the kiss, I added, “but I think I’d like to get on top, if that’s okay.” I thought if I got on top, I could control things better, and bring my beautiful lover to another orgasm, before coming myself.
With that, I look my left arm from Trish’s right buttock, bracing it on the bed, and I rolled us both over, using my left arm to prevent Trish from taking my body weight. My cock remained nestled inside Trish’s pussy the whole time, and we ended up in the missionary position, with me taking the weight on my elbows, still gently fucking. “Nice work,” Trish said, smiling up at me, “we didn’t miss a beat,” as her own pelvic motion changed from thrusting to a gentle tilt, to meet each of my thrusts.
I moved down to kiss Trish again, and we kissed hungrily, passionately, exploring each other’s mouths with our tongues, as my cock explored her pussy. I started to thrust harder into her, as I decided to get serious, and to get this fuck underway. I wanted to come, but I hoped to make Trish come again first.
We broke our hot sexy kiss, and Trish took a deep breath, “That’s a change of pace,” then another breath, and she added, “You’re going deep now, I can feel you going deeper than before.”
“Are you okay with that?” I asked, added.
“Ohh, yes!” Trish sighed, still meeting each of my thrusts, “The deeper the better.”
I could feel the beginnings of my own orgasm, so I ramped up my thrusting a little more, adjusting my position little, to press my pubic bone harder against Trish’s clit with each stroke. The change in position made the sensitive head of my cock push harder against the tight, slippery walls at the front of her pussy, and the burst of pleasure that I knew was on the way, seemed to get closer. Suddenly, I realised I was probably going to come before Trish came again, but there was no turning back now. The primal need to achieve a climax was taking over, and I knew it, I knew I was about to experience the ecstasy of orgasm, delivered to me by the body of the beautiful woman sharing this paroxysmic sexual embrace with me.
Then, I heard Trish’s voice, louder than before, crying out, “Mark!! When you moved!! You’re getting me! You’re getting me!! Oh, God, it’s good. It’s so good, Mark!” Her face looked like she was about to cry, and she hugged me closer to herself, thrusting her own pelvis hard.
That was it for me, as the waves of pleasure built up in me, with my cock thrusting hard into Trish’s pussy, and the sound of her exultant voice, signalling that she was on the threshold of her own orgasm. A burst of pure crystalline pleasure exploded at the base of my cock, spreading through me, as I began to empty my seed into Trish’s pussy, and with each spurt, the burst of pleasure seemed to go off the scale for an instant. At the same time, Trish wrapped her legs around me, and three times, she made that warbling, moaning sound again, “O-o-o-ohh, o-o-o-ohh, o-o-o-ohh,” and then, much louder, “Oh, Mark, that’s beautiful, beautiful, o-o-o-ohh, beautiful!!” followed by a throaty gasp from her open mouth, then she relaxed with along sigh, still hugging me to herself, as I felt the final twinges of my own incredible orgasm passing through me.
I relaxed as much as I could, while still taking my weight on my elbows, and looked down at Trish’s face, still with a look of rapture, but breathing heavily. She was looking straight up into my eyes, and after a moment’s silence, she moistened her lips, and said, “That was unbelievable. We came together.” She smiled, a sweet, but slightly awe-struck smile, and said, “We came together, Mark. The first time we ever did that, and we came together!”
I nodded, and kissed her quickly, took a breath, and said, “We did,” pausing to moisten my own lips, and adding, “It was amazing.” I moved off her, and lay down next to her on her right again.
“You were amazing,” Trish said, turning on her left side to face me, “and you could be very habit-forming.”
We lay there in Trish’s bed, talking quietly, for hours that night, making love again when the need to do so returned, and after our encore performance, as we basked in the afterglow, Trish turned to me. “I don’t have to be back in Sydney until Monday,” she said, resting her head on my left shoulder. She kissed me on the side of my neck, and said, “That means we’ve got all night, and all day tomorrow, if you want to stay with me.”
“I’d love to stay with you,” I said, smiling back at her. We slept together that night, in Trish’s hotel room, in that big queen size bed, and in the morning, we made love once more, only Trish stayed on top this time, because she said it was only fair, after I did all the work the night before. We spent the rest of the day together, sneaking out of the hotel by the side entrance, and I showed Trish the sights of the city, as we drove around in my car, with Trish wearing sunglasses so no-one would recognise her. Naturally, we sneaked back in to her room later on, to tease and tantalise each other into a crescendo of sexual desire and fulfilment, before Trish had to return to Sydney, and her life as a TV star.
“I’d like to see you again,” Trish said, in the evening, as we embraced in the underground hotel carpark, and she got into her little sports coupe, “but life really is crazy for me right now.” I understood what she meant, and I’d seen just a small part of what her life was like, and after one last, lingering kiss, she drove out of my life.
I never saw Trish again after that, not in person anyway. I watched her, just like everybody else, as Amy Templeton, on her TV series, but I would look at her on the screen, and remember the passionate lovemaking we had experienced that weekend, when she had shown me the real woman behind the pretend cop on television.
I heard Trish’s character using that line about “corruption starts with the first free cup of coffee,” in an episode of “Andersen’s Beat” one night, a few months after our brief time together, and in the next season, they introduced a new character to the show, as a love interest for Amy. Maybe it was coincidence, but in the show, he was a cop named Mark Stockdale. Some of the guys at work nicknamed me “Stockdale” after that, because my name was similar to the guy on TV, but I never told anyone about Trish and me.
I’ll never know if Trish got the producers to name her TV boyfriend after me, but what I do know is that the pretend cop that everyone watches on TV is also a flesh and blood woman, with a real woman’s needs and desires, and after an accident of fate, on that late summer weekend, few men know that better than I.