EVERYONE IN THIS STORY IS EIGHTEEN OR OLDER.
This is a story about a young Rookie Police Officer who is eager to learn all there is to learn about being a good officer. He thinks he knows what he is doing until he meets Helga. She is a HOT housewife that teaches him things he didn't learn in the Police Academy.
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Thirty-two years ago, I was a Rookie Police Officer employed by a large Metropolitan Police Department and was eighteen months into my two-year probationary period. We didn't have designated FTO's (Field Training Officers) back then. However, we still had to be partnered with a veteran police officer. The veteran officer was supposed to teach me how to apply my classroom knowledge to the reality of street policing. Believe me, it was a real eyeopener.
The veteran police officer assigned to train me was a jovial, medium height, somewhat overweight officer. He had a red complexion and large chipmunk jaws. He was affectionately called 'Jelly-Jaws.' by his fellow officers. His uniform always looked like he had slept in it. Jelly always sounded like he was out of breath every time he had to get out of the patrol car. Jelly-Jaws knew all the criminal laws just as well as any lawyer in the city. Even though Jelly had only gone through the tenth grade, he was sharp as a tack when it came to matching wits with violators of the law. Jelly completed his GED because he needed a high school diploma to apply for the police officer position.
Jelly was well versed in all of the departmental policies and procedures. At this point, I bet you are probably thinking Jelly would be the perfect partner to train a rookie police officer. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but he was the laziest one individual I had ever known. He only did what he had to do to fulfill the basic requirements of the job. I was glad when my probationary period ended, and I was assigned another partner.
Jelly's underlying work philosophy was, "Give them what they want. No more; no less." Jelly concentrated more on avoiding complaints against him than apprehending criminals. Jelly candidly told me that, "The police department would much rather we serve our eight hours with no arrests and no complaints as opposed to felony arrests with complaints against the police department or us. I could never change Jelly's thinking because he had ten successful years on the job following his lazy work philosophy.
Our police supervisors insisted that each patrol car should be able to issue at least two moving traffic violation tickets per day. The supervisors maintained that no alert police officer could patrol the streets for eight hours without witnessing two or more moving violations. Jelly would write two left-turn violations at the same location every day. He said if we gave them more than two tickets per day, they would expect more than two each day after that. A traffic violator could speed by Jelly at seventy miles per hour. If he already had his two tickets for the day, he would ignore the speeder.
I once questioned Jelly's thinking about letting flagrant violators go without a ticket after we had our two left-turn tickets. I was firmly admonished for questioning him. After all, I was only a rookie, what the hell did I know about real police work. One thing I did like about Jelly's personal philosophy, he never issued traffic citations in December. His reasoning was if a parent had to pay the cost of a traffic ticket in December, it might knock some child out of a Christmas gift.
Okay, enough with the background information. I want to tell you about some of my experiences while working with Jelly. Let me rephrase that. I want to tell you about some of my experiences/adventures while working with Jelly. We patrolled an area that was referred to as 'The silk stockings District.' For those of you not familiar with police jargon, that district is where all the rich country club type people reside. It is populated with doctors, lawyers, highly successful salesmen, and stay at home soccer moms with rich husbands who travel for months at a time on business.
I was assigned to the 3 PM to 11 PM shift in that district. It wasn't unusual to receive a prowler call any time after dark. Lonely/horny housewives would often call the dispatcher after dark to report a prowler or suspicious person in their yard. Some of the time, there was a prowler, but often it would be just a lonely housewife who needed the attention of a man. They seemed to feel safer, calling a police officer to satisfy their sexual desires. It was more convenient and safer than hiring a babysitter so they could be free to frequent the local watering holes in search of sexual relief.
Helga Egilsdottir Patterson was one of those lonely housewives. She was from Iceland and had a sexy Icelandic accent when she spoke English. Helga had all the Nordic features; blond hair to her shoulders, blues eyes, and a pale pinkish-white complexion. Helga had just celebrated her thirty-sixth birthday alone when she called us to her home. Her husband was a world traveler, and he'd met her on a business trip to Iceland. He fell in love with Helga at first sight and a month later asked her to marry him. You may think that marrying her after just one month is foolish, but if you ever saw Helga, I think you would agree that she is strikingly beautiful. Helga is 5' 6" and maybe 120-to 125 pounds, long slender legs. And as I mentioned before, her long wavy blond hair flowed down to her shoulders. Helga also had full pouty lips that beckoned me to taste them.
Helga's husband often left her at home with their two small children when he traveled on business for long periods. When we received the call to Helga's house, her husband had been in Hong Cong a month and wasn't expected back for several more weeks. Helga met us at the front door wearing a white silk blouse and a dark skirt that clung tightly to her flaring round hips. She guided us to the dining room table and asked if we wanted something to drink. We declined and thanked her for the offer.
Helga was calling about a girlfriend who had called her and said she was going to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge on the other side of town. We took Helga's information and asked the dispatcher to send a patrol car to the bridge. Jelly took the information for our report while I engaged Helga in casual conversation. I had noticed her eyeing me closely ever since we first entered her house. I didn't understand what that was all about, but I was anxious to find out.
Okay...time for a little more background information. I am six feet tall with a flat belly due to my three days a week workout in the police gym. I try not to let my weight rise above 190 pounds. At the time, I had a young-looking face, and some people questioned if I was old enough even to be a police officer. People often thought I was still in my teens and still attending high school. I was twenty-five at the time. I was insulted by their comments at first, but my youthful face made me perfect for temporary plain-clothes assignments in the Vice squad. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, people would think I was just a kid and break the vice laws right in front of me.
Now going back to the call, we were investigating. Helga was coyly eyeing me during our casual conversation. She finally asked my age, and when I told her I was twenty-five, she didn't believe me. I dug out my driver's license and handed it to her. After studying my license, she said, "Damn, you are twenty-five."
I nodded my head affirmatively.
Helga handed my driver's license back, looked me squarely in the eyes, and asked, "Officer, how would you like to fuck me?"
Without a second thought, I answered, "Hell, yes! When do you want to do it?"
Jelly-Jaws slammed his report book shut and stammered, "We have enough information to finish the report somewhere else. Let's go. Rookie!"
Jelly leaped to his feet and was almost to the front door when Helga slipped a piece of paper into my hand. She indicated she didn't want my partner to see the note. I shoved it in my pocket without looking to see what was on it. I got a royal ass-chewing from my senior partner when I returned to the patrol car. He made it clear that he would never allow that conduct while on duty. I readily agreed with him. I assured him I had enough sense not to do something that foolish on duty. The next chance I had to read Helga's note without Jelly's presence, I learned it had her contact information on it.
It was almost Christmas when I decide to give Helga a phone call. When Helga asked why I had taken so long getting back to her, I told her of the ass-chewing I'd received from my partner concerning the conversation of sex with her. She said that under those circumstances, she was okay with my not calling sooner. We both worked with our schedules and decided I would come to her house on Christmas Eve after her children were asleep.
Christmas Eve rolled around, and I told my wife I planned to attend midnight Mass at Saint Michael's Catholic Church. I knew my wife couldn't attend with me because I had given her such short notice. I arrived at Helga's home around 10 PM dressed in casual slacks and a sports jacket. Helga came to the door wearing a simple house dress that emphasized her 36C breasts, and she was barefoot. I had a visible erection even before I stepped through her front door. It didn't go unnoticed by Helga.
