Search in Snow
Stupid. I should’ve worn my gloves. My knuckles were blue — the wind-chill numbing my fists as I balled them into my pockets. Damn weather!
I should’ve expected it. Window shopping for Andrea’s Christmas gift, I’d ventured to the mall on my day off, bracing myself against the wind. It was snowing, and I didn’t even have a hat.
Drops of melted snow cooled my tongue as I licked them from my lips. I turned, head down, into a side-street, seeking temporary shelter from the worst of the blizzard.
Around the corner the dark shadow of a uniformed police officer blocked my progress. I stopped, glancing up into the woman’s face. Was she too taking refuge from the stinging onslaught?
I expected her to step aside, let me pass, but she didn’t. She just stood there, solid and impassive, an imposing figure next to a battered old table abandoned against the wall. The snow was already settling on its shattered laminate.
“Pardon me,” I mumbled, making to step around the officer.
“Not so fast, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?” Had I done something wrong? Something suspicious? I glanced up once more, this time recognizing the stern features, the confident expression, the solid build of a strong woman who keeps in shape.
“Would you mind telling me, ma’am, what you’re doing?” It was her. The name on the uniform confirmed it: Walowski.
“W-what I’m doing?” My teeth chattered, though I couldn’t be sure whether it was from apprehension or the cold blast of wind that buffeted us. “I-I’m not doing anything,” I said. Why should I tell her I was window shopping? I’d done nothing wrong. We’d met before, but that was no excuse for victimization.
“Ma’am,” she sighed. “I have reason to suspect you may be concealing illegal substances on your person —”
“You’re not serious!” This was too much.
“Perfectly serious, ma’am. Now, if you’ll just allow me to perform a search ...”
“What? Here?” She had to be kidding, right?
“Ma’am, it’s up to you.” She leant toward me. “You can submit to a quick search right now — it won’t take long — or you can come with me to the station. Your choice.”
“Now look here, Officer ...” I glanced again at her name sash. “... Walowski. I’ve done nothing wrong, and I most definitely am not concealing anything —”
“In that case, ma’am, you should have no objection to being searched.” She held out her hand. “Give me your purse.”
I stared at her, and she stared right back, her piercing hazel eyes boring fire into my skull. I imagined snowflakes vaporizing as they drifted unsuspecting into the path of that gaze.
I slipped the purse from my shoulder and handed it over. Rather than opening it up, Officer Walowski placed the purse unopened on the battered table.
“Your coat, if you please.”
“What? I’ll freeze —”
“Not if you’re quick.” Once more Officer Walowski held out her hand.
I shrugged. She was right. Best to get it over with. I shucked off the coat, and she took it from me, plunging her hand briefly into each pocket as I stood shivering. Satisfied, she tossed the coat onto the table, over my purse, and turned back to me. I let my arms drop to my sides, readying myself to be frisked.
“Okay,” Walowski said, waving her hand up and down in front of me. “Everything off.”
“What?” Was she really telling me to strip? Out here?
“You heard me.” She had that determined look — the one that told me there was no way I could persuade her that what she was suggesting was ludicrous. I knew this officer would brook no resistance.
I sighed. Under her implacable gaze I peeled off my tee-shirt and dropped my jeans, stepping out of my shoes before pulling the jeans off. Walowski took them as I stood shivering in bra and panties. She didn’t examine my clothes, but tossed them onto the table, still fixing me with her steely gaze. As I sucked in an icy breath that threatened to set my teeth chattering again, I knew I would have to go all the way, despite the biting wind raising goose bumps on my skin.
Walowski drummed her fingers on the table, waiting. I had no option but to reach both hands behind me to unclip my bra, and as I did so Walowski’s gaze strayed downward to my jutting chest, her eyes wide with expectation. I pulled the straps forward and slipped the bra free of my shoulders, flinching as the wet snow swirled against my naked breasts. My nipples, hardened with the cold, seemed to transfix the officer. Her gaze slid up to my face as I hesitated before her, and again she held out her hand. I passed her the bra and attempted to shield my nakedness with my shivering arms. Walowski dropped the bra on the pile, and her gaze traversed downward to my only remaining article of clothing. She nodded.
There was no escaping this, it seemed. Oh, to get it over with! And as fast as possible! I unfolded my arms and slipped my thumbs into the waistband of my panties. I slid them down, bending, and the wet, icy air buffeted my exposed rear. I stepped out of the panties and straightened up, holding out the narrow, lacy garment between finger and thumb. Walowski took it and balled it up in her fist. None of my intimate warmth would have survived the few seconds the panties had dangled from my hand in the cold wind, but the officer raised her fist to within inches of her face before dropping them atop the rest of my clothes. I glanced anxiously at the pile, hoping that my underwear would not take flight in the blizzard, forcing me to perform an undignified chase once the officer had released me from her inspection.
And so I stood, nude, shivering, hugging my arms around me — as much for modesty as for warmth — in front of this insistent officer.
Walowski eyed me for a moment, her gaze roaming over my naked skin. Then she pointed to the table, at the area of crazed laminate beside the rumpled pile of clothing.
“Over the table,” she said, “Now!”
I let out a resigned sigh, ragged in the cold. I had no choice but to obey, so I stepped up to the table. No sooner had I done so when Walowski’s hand lashed out, grabbed my neck and pushed me down. Then she took both my wrists in her tight grasp, pulling my arms across the table. I was forced to lay my body across its damp, dirty coldness. My nipples, already stiff from the harsh wind, hardened further the instant they touched the worn surface. The stinging cold spread through my breasts as they deformed and compressed beneath my weight.
The table continued sucking the heat from my skin wherever my body pressed into it, and I was shivering again, yet Walowski’s hand was warm on my thigh as she hissed into my ear. “Spread your legs.”
Obediently I shifted my weight and moved my feet, and then the officer’s probing fingers slipped purposefully between my buttocks, causing me to clench involuntarily. “It’s best if you just relax,” she said as her finger slid lower, deeper, finding a place as yet unaffected by the cold. I took a deep, shivering breath as the officer placed her other hand on my rear, gently spreading its unclenching cleft. I tried to relax while her insistent fingers remained deep within me, persistently wriggling, exploring....
I don’t know what she was looking for, but what she found, and what she did when she found it, made me gasp out loud. And rather than withdraw her inquisitive digits at my protest, she pursued her search, worrying her find until the heat of my reaction made me forget the cold snowflakes dancing around us like agitated silver butterflies.
Walowski stroked and teased me until I thought I could stand it no longer, but despite my attempt to press my ass into her exploring hand I could not advance the situation. The officer had the measure of me. She knew how little farther I needed to go, but her teasing touch refused to take me all the way.
“P-please ...” I murmured.
At last Walowski’s delicate manipulation erupted into a brief frenzy of stroking, pinching and rubbing, and my release came with an ecstatic shudder — the cold and my nakedness forgotten.
I lay across the table, cooling rapidly in the afterglow.
“Ma’am?”
I swallowed, grunted and raised myself up, leaving soon-to-be-frozen perspiration filming the laminate. I brushed off the dirt clinging to my wet skin. Walowski gestured toward the pile of clothing. “That will be all, ma’am.” Her expression was blank.
“Thank you.” I began to pull on my clothes before my teeth resumed chattering.
The officer didn’t wait. She was out of sight in an instant. I finished dressing and walked uncertainly toward the mall. I still had time to find the gift I wanted, and hide it in the apartment before Officer Andrea Walowski returned home after her patrol.
Copyright © 2005 by J. Hadleigh Alex. All rights reserved.
J. Hadleigh Alex is the pen-name of a writer living in Portsmouth, United Kingdom, whose stories have appeared online (Thermoerotic) and in print (Violet Blue’s anthology, Taboo: Forbidden Fantasies for Couples).
J’s website: http://www.hadleigh-alex.co.uk/
J’s blog: http://inaptwords.blogspot.com/
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