When We Dance

Panting, she keeps her head down, catching her breath when her hand goes up, smearing the rest of my release over my length.

She licks it off right then and there when my eyes fly to the rearview mirror, and swirling lights snag my eyes.

A police car turns and enters the street, the siren booming in my ears with its dull, atonal shriek.

* * *

RAVEN

Is this a nightmare?Or is that a police car behind us?

The noise pierces my brain, and it’s not so much the jarring sound but its meaning.

Still, I have time to grapple with denial.

Pushing upright, I glance over my shoulder, hoping that what I see is not real.

And the car doesn’t stop behind us. But it does.

Oh, fuck.

“Shit. Shit…” I blurt, letting go of his semi-hard cock in a rush and zipping upright.

Frantically, I pull my straps up.

“My zipper, my zipper…” I chant, shifting my position, turning my back to him, so he can pull it up.

Tucking his dick in his pants, he slides the zipper up.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be all right,” he drawls, his smirk saying in boldface letters.

‘I just had my dick sucked.’

“No, no. I do worry. We were supposed to be at the restaurant,” I mumble, running my fingers all over my body.

Through my hair to tame it down, over my lips to remove any trace of cum, and over my cheeks to make sure there’s no funny stuff, like drops of semen.

Under my eyes to wipe away specks of smeared eyeliner or mascara.

I even smooth my dress, hoping there are no wrinkles, creases, stains from his release, anything standing out, offering them clues.

‘She just swallowed his load…. Officer.’ Wink, wink.

I know how these things go.

He and I may be bound by our secret agreement, but the police aren’t.

I yank my eyes to the car behind us. The lights keep swirling while the annoying siren has gone silent.

They’re probably checking the license plate.

I swing my gaze to him, making sure he’s all right and other than his cocky smile, nothing incriminates him.

“How did they know we were here? Do they have drones or something? A chopper, maybe?” I mutter, looking at the sky.

“Chill… We’ve been here for a while, and we’re not exactly parked, so they want to talk to us.”

Talk to us? I don’t want to talk to anyone right now other than him. Francisco.