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"THE
BRIBE" This illustrated story is about
a cop with sticky fingers who takes money to fix something much more interesting
than a speeding ticket. (It's also notjust his fingers that end up real sticky.) |
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Story & pictures © 2005 Perfect Faces CLICK FOR
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He appeared on my doorstep about a month after I posted one of my cards on the bulletin board down at the garage where the motor squad cops kept their big bikes.
It
wasn't really an ad, of course. It was bait, and this young cop had been
the first and only taker. As soon as I saw him, I knew his type. A few
years ago he was a typical high school jock. Became a cop because he wanted
a physical job that would get him respect and maybe some adventure. Volunteered
for the motor squad because motor cops are the jocks of the force. A guy
like that might come on as a macho stud, but he'd be used to following
orders…first from coaches, then superior officers.
He began with the traditional cop greeting:
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"Saw your card." He looked down at his scuffed boots. "Can you maybe shine these up while I wait?" Before I could answer he added, "If you got a bootjack handy, I can just pull 'em off right now…." Then with a smile, "If you don't mind me stinkin' up your living room."
My heart lept at the thought of this young motorman just yanking off his tall patrol boots right then and there. He'd been sweating in them all that hot day, so the act no doubt would fill the room with the mixed aromas of his hot boot leather and his sweat. Just the thought of that tuned me on big time, but I had a very specific fantasy role for him in mind, so I declined his offer to take off his boots....reluctantly.
"Actually, I'd
prefer to work on your boots while you're wearin' 'em," I said as I motioned
him over to a large recliner chair (black leather, of course). Have a seat and
just lean back. That'll automatically bring your legs up so I can get right
to work on that boot leather." The young cop immediately obeyed (a good
sign). Without even taking off his leather patrol jacket or his gunbelt, he took a
seat as I had directed and kicked back, forcing the chair into full reclining
position. That elevated his booted feet so when I kneeled next to the chair,
they were right in in my face.
I played it Super Straight
for the next 15-minutes, polishing my way from his toe caps to his heels, then
all the way up his boot shafts just as advertised. It turned me that he let me pickup and manipulate his legs and feet any which way I wanted--all the better to get the perfect shine, of course. I liked it even more when he started
reverting to a kind of Top-Cop-Role, 
pointing
out exactly where he wanted more polish or buffing.
I gave his boots a real first class mirror shine. When I finally put down my brush and rag, the younofficer took it as his cue to shift his weight to return the recliner to its upright position. He tried, but I blocked it with my knee.
"There'll be no charge." I announced looking him in the eye. I paused, then added, "In fact, I have a little something for you if you'll do me a small favor." As I spoke, I produced a crisp new $20 bill and held it so he could see its reflection in the spit shined toes of his boots. Then I added, trying to muster my most sincere smile, "I've always wanted to bribe a cop. Are you game?"
The young man's leather jacket creaked as he leaned back in his chair. Half smirking, he asked "So what do you have in mind?"
"I..ahh… I just want to take you up on that offer you made when you walked in the door."
"And what was that?" He was getting a little annoyed - reverting to high-school-jock-type.
"I just want to pull off your boots, that's all."
"For why? They look great." He said, squinting back at me.
"Well," I answered, " truth is I just love the smell of warm boot leather. You sort of turned me on when you mentioned how your boots would- I think you said- 'stink up my room'. So I want to take off your boots and I want to....ahh... sniff 'em." I waved the twenty. "So.... will you take a bribe?"
He leaned forward and briskly snatched up the twenty.. "Knock yourself out, buddy," his voice now tinged with a boyish note of contempt.
He
let his head fall back against chair's leather pillow, which created the effect
that he was looking down his nose at me as I set to work pulling off his left
boot. Although there was almost no resistance, I pulled the bootvery slowly toward
me.
As the top
of his boot just cleared the bottom hem of his breeches, I caught my fist glimpse
of his sock. Black ribbed and pulled up snug to his leg. As his boot slid off over the golden threads in the toe of his sock,
the room was already filling with a heavy, rich sent of warm leather. 
"There,
buddy. See I told ya those boots make my feet smell kinda bad. "
I didn't respond. I held his foot in its damp black sock at my eye level. As I moved my face closer to it, its owner suddenly yanked it out of my grasp.
"Hold it, buddy! The deal was you get to take off my boots and get off sniffin' 'em. You want to play with my socks too, that should be extra!"
He lowered his foot til it almost touched the tip of my nose. The outline of his toes was clearly visible as he wiggled them just under those yellow threads as if to sell me on his deal.
"OK!" I said as I slid a second $20 bill across the seat cushion, wedging it under a bulge ( balls-I assumed ) just below the fly on his breeches.
I took my time massaging his foot though its moist sock. I nuzzled against it as I pressed the top of his empty boot against my face, inhaling a deep, mellow odor of leather and sweat.
The young
man said nothing as if all this action down below wasn't worthy of his attention.
But
as I pulled his right boot off, he seemed to know what I wanted next. I swear
I could feel him tensing his leg muscles so that his toes were jammed right
up against my face. All I could see was those yellow threads woven into the
toe cap of his sock. When I finally glanced
up at him, he was looking directly down at me. Smirking. "OK pal,
had enough now?"
" No. Not quite yet" I answered. "I really need to take your socks off too. I'll pay extra, of course!"
He picked up one his empty boots and laid it across his lap. " You can just stick your 'bribes' right in here," he said pointing inside his empty boot. "You wanna pull off both my socks, you put twomore twenties right in here. "
Everything I did from then on was like in slow motion. His socks reached up under his breeches almost as high on his legs as the shafts of his boots had. . His legs were still damp with sweat, so it took some tugging til I had both the cop's socks all rolled down, bunched up around his ankles .But from his ankles on down to his toes, those sheer, damp socks clung to his feet so tightly, they looked like skin.
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I could clearly see the outline of his toes. I grasped each foot by its ankle with one hand while with the other I'd work his sock over his heel. Then I'd yank it off him, leaving him barefoot-but still in full uniform from his ankles up.
The young cop kept looking sort of down his nose at me, showing no emotion, acting almost disinterested as I worked my fingers in between his long, moist toes. My face was only and inch or so from them when hespread his toes as wide apart as he could and popped the question.
"Don't tell me," he said with sarcasm. "Lemme guess.... now you're gonna wanna suck on my toes, right buddy?"
Something about his grin
and his tone of voice really pissed me off. It was that "I'm-In-Charge"
bored monotone that cops like to use on people at traffic stops. It occurred
to me that this macho young motor officer was still basically nothing more than
a dumb jock-kid.
I was THE MAN IN CHARGE!
After all, who put out the bait that brought him off his motorcycle straight to my door in his scuffed up boots? Who told him where he had to sit and even how he'd sit-with his tall boots on display for me right where I wanted 'em? I had decided for him when he had to give up his boots to me and even when he'd give up his socks to me. And here I was messin' around with his sweaty bare feet just because I felt like it. Of course, you could say it was my "bribes" that made all this happen, but that didn't change the fact that the one who does the bribing usually does control the one who takes the bribes. The more "bribes" taken, the more control the "taker" gives up to he bribe giver. I saw those $20 bills I'd tucked under his balls and into his empty boot as nothing more than TRAINING AIDS . I figured I had this dumb jock in uniform well trained- even if he didn't know it yet.
He was growing impatient. "So ...come on, man!" he said as he moved his bare foot even closer to my face. He knew exactly what he was doing, teasing me, bringing the tips of his toes almost (but not quite) in contact with my lips. "Do you want to suck on these beauties or don't ya?"
"NO! I really don't want to suck your toes! WHAT I WANT IS TO SEE YOU SUCK YOUR TOES."
That stopped him cold. He just sat there with this confused look on his face like his coach just told him he missed a play.
"WHAAAAT?? OH! NO WAY!!" he shouted.. (You'd think I'd asked him to eat dog crap or something). It looked like he was trying to figure out how to force the recliner back to its upright position. I knew if he did, the game would be over. Once again, I blocked the maneuver with my knee.
"Hold
on, Sir" I said, trying to sound repsectful."I didn't mean to upset you, but think about it.
What's it gonna hurt? It's not like I'm asking you to suck on your own cock or somethin'." Very slowly, I waved another $20 bill so its edge just brushed across his neatly trimmed toenails . (I assumed some girl friend had performed that service for him.) With a slight flourish, I
wedged the bill in between two of those long toes. 
I
repeated the maneuver three times with three more twenties. He watched, but he didn't move a muscle.
His face was impassive now behind his dark shades. He was now looking a little too much like
a cop for my comfort level. I began to doubt weather I really was running this show, and was getting
a little nervous about what he might do if I wasn't.
Finally I said with a forced laugh, "Of course if you're not into takin' any more bribes today……" I started pulling one of the 20's from between his toes, but he stopped me, clenching his toes tightly artound that bill.
"Hold on!" he said, and just hearing those two words made me hard.
He didn't say another word,
but grabbed hold of his own bare foot and slowly brought it to within a few
inches of his lips. He removed all the 20's and stuffed them into the boot on his lap .He spread his toes 
wide
apart, then paued like he was studying them. I wondered whether the leathery aroma of his own feet was turnng him off? Or maybe turning him on? Nothing happened for a few seconds. All this time, his eyes had been fixed on me with that cool, impassive TROOPER STARE. Then he broke eye contact and slowly focused on that row of toes. "HOT DAMN, I thought, "THAT'S A SURREDNER!" His lips ( their accustomed smirk
now totally wiped away) parted just enough to accommodate all those neatly trimmed
toenails. As his lips closed over them, he closed his eys and I heard it. It was like beautiful music ….. a soft, subtle suck....suck.....suck......( I don't think he even noticed when I turned on my video camera. (You can check out the results below.)
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