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My shift drags on as it usually does, and by the time I get to the pub, it’s just after six. It gives me thirty minutes with Amy. Probably thirty minutes too long, but I said I’d go, so I will. It’s just a ‘thank you’ drink after all.
The Kings Arms is bustling when I walk inside. Men in suits and women in business attire having their after-work drinks, couples draped on one another like they can’t stand not touching each other for a minute longer, and the regulars – you can always spot them – they command the attention of the bartender, explaining to them how to do their jobs, regaling them with some story about their day, and getting pissy when their glass stands empty for too long.
I scan the pub and find Amy sitting in a booth in the back. She spots me coming over and stands up to greet me. My heart wobbles in my chest when I see her, and my cock comes to life in my pants. She is wearing a tight black camisole dress that is way too short and shows off her beautiful long legs which are covered in fishnet stockings. All she has to do is bend in any direction and I’d know the colour of her underwear. I give her a tight-lipped smile.
“You made it.”
“Yeah, work ran late.”
“Let me buy you a drink.”
“Just a half-pint please. I can’t stay long.”
She nods and leaves me to sit down. She probably wouldn’t even be looking at me if she knew what I did, let alone offering me a drink, but she doesn’t, and as she approaches the bar and leans over it to get the attention of the barman, all I can look at is the hem of her dress rising, slipping up inch by inch.
When she spins around with our drinks in her hands, I snatch my eyes away and scan the room, noticing the looks she’s getting. I’m not surprised. But a demon of jealousy scrapes a finger along the inside of my stomach, green-eyed and hungry. I silence it, telling myself I don’t care, and why should I? I am a married man, a father, a police officer. This is nothing.
She puts a glass in front of me and holds up her own. It looks pink and sweet. It suits her. I hold my drink up and she brings her glass to mine. Her smile is contagious, and I return it as I take a long gulp from the cold drink, trying to find moisture in my suddenly dry mouth. She looks at me, amused, and takes a delicate sip from hers. Setting her glass down, her tongue darts out of her mouth and she licks the moisture from her red lips, and fuck me, for a brief solitary moment I want to be a 20-year-old man again, without a wife or kids, with the freedom to take her home and roll that dress up over her ass and fuck her with those fishnet stockings still on.
“I can’t stay long.” My voice is hoarse as I repeat the sentiment, uncertain if I am talking to her or myself.
“It’s fine, I’m just happy to see you. I can’t thank you enough for getting Derek off my back.”
“As I’ve said, it’s part of the job.” I gulp a few more mouthfuls.
She nods. “You make me feel safe.”
My stomach clenches at her words and I remain silent. How many times can I tell her it’s my job? We sit in awkward silence for a few minutes. I down the rest of my half-pint and check my watch.
“How long have you been a cop?” she asks, running a finger along the rim of her glass.
“About ten years.”
“You’re very good at your job, Detective Sergeant Rossi.”
“I try to be.”If only she knew…“What about you? What do you do for a living?” I realise as I ask, I know nothing about this girl and yet I was so easily twisted into ‘talking’ with her ex. I grind my teeth and grip my empty glass a little tighter.
She takes another small sip and looks up at me through her long lashes, showing off her smoky eyeshadow that brings out the green of her eyes. “I’m a beauty therapist.”
“You enjoy that?”
“It pays the bills, I guess.” She shrugs.
“So not the dream job then?”
She shakes her head. “The dream job would be never to work again.”
I laugh and nod. “Yeah.” I look at my watch again.
“Are you in a hurry?”
“I need to get home.” I purse my lips apologetically as she pouts and her lips curl downwards.
“Okay.” She downs the rest of her drink and stands up abruptly. I guess we’re done.
She weaves her way through the busy pub, turning heads as she goes. I follow her out, my gaze lingering on the curve of her hips and the way her ass sways as she moves. The hot sun beats down on us as we step outside, and a sheen of moisture starts to form around my body. I keep following Amy like a lost puppy. She leads us away from the pub doors and towards the road where she stops abruptly. I’m so absorbed in the shape of her body that I walk into her. She wavers as a car comes rushing towards us. Grabbing her hand, I pull her to me. Her hand reaches out, clutching my shirt. Gripping the back of her head, I crush her to my chest as the car clears the road.
I watch as the speeding car vanishes, and that’s when I realise we’re still holding on to one another, desperately. I release her and take a step away. Her hand remains twisted in my shirt.
