Dirty face


She was disgruntled, but smiling as she forced his manhood back into his jeans. It was a hurried movement but she was careful; she was always careful. It had to be that way. Her delicate hands encompassed his penis, acting as armour as it was reluctantly returned via the gaping trouser zipper. A gentle, loving squeeze displayed her not only her admiration of it, but also an intention that this interruption was only temporary. She longed for him; it had been three days since they had made love.

Logan could not see the clouds but he knew they were there; the moon and stars had not appeared, instead choosing to rest above the storms present. The trees and hedgerows seemed to baulk away from the blades of lightening; but could not hide from the dominant force of the wind and rain. Thunder reined its unsettling supremacy on the night. He had been warm, her head resting on his chest, her hands warming parts that had not been touched by others for many years. The aroma of her coconut creamed skin filled the car; Logan loved coconut, nearly as much as he loved Fi. Her long black hair, groomed to perfection draped over the side of her face. Her white shirt was creased, the vertical row of buttons that lined the front of her chest were stretched, struggling to contain her curved breasts. They had not spoken for hours, just sat silent, teasing each other with affection.

Other patrols had responded to the incidents in the night, but now it was their turn. With a sense of urgent reluctance Logan acknowledged his radio.
“We’re on route,” he barked towards his radio which sat neatly on the dashboard.
“Roger, ambulance have been contacted and will be attending,” echoed the reply.

They had been working together, in the same car, on the same shifts for about three months. Parking up in a secluded spot, rarely frequented by people was a usual occurrence. Nobody knew; it was their secret. Logan had been a Police constable for twelve years and had been given the responsibility of teaching newcomer Fi. Logan was a proud, gentle, man whom was devoted to his career; he could never have foreseen that he would be teaching more than police work. Fi had captured him with her web of character; her flirty innocence, with perfect teeth and lips that revealed parts of their inner, which both revealed themselves when she smiled. Logan was proud of his new love, excited about his newly revived inner being and happier than he had ever been.

The darkness hid her flush cheeks and hurried attempts to re adjust her attire. She watched as the cars yellow lights escaped into the fields adjacent to the road, whilst blue lights flashed high into the night air. Remaining silent, Fi placed her hand on her mans thigh. This made her feel safe; she did not like speed; but trusted Logan. Entering the motorway, provided Logan the means to drive even quicker, whilst Fi took advantage of the street lit highway to study her boyfriend as he drove. His blonde, short, straw like hair flowed in all directions, in an untidy styled way; it complimented his sun tanned face, which was pitted with lines and wrinkles of life. His shoulders and arms were strong looking, safe for Fi; perilous for suspects.
“Slow down” Fi commented softly. She was taunting him. She wasn’t really afraid.
“Don’t panic my lovely, relax, we won’t be long before we’re there,” he replied, smiling.
“Check the location with control and see if we can get some more info,” Logan continued.
“You do it, I hate using the radio”
Logan did not respond to Fi, instead took hold of the radio.
“Control from foxtrot mike two seven, further details required; be there in five, over.”
“One vehicle involved, casualties, ambulance on route, road blocked, over,” crackled the reply.
“Roger,”
Logan looked at Fi proudly; he did not like her getting upset. She can use the radio another day he thought. Fi rubbed his thigh with her hand, gently moving it towards his crotch. She was unspoken; her way of saying thanks.

Stone walls protected the narrow single track road from the wind but could not help the relentless downpour of rain. Their arrival at the accident scene was imminent, the corners were approached with heed, time gained with the longer runs. Fi sat upright in her seat, her eyes scanning the road ahead ignoring the hypnotic movements of the windscreen wipers. With her fists now clenched upon her lap, look now sullen, Fi tried to conceal the nervous shaking of her legs by making conversation.
“When we’ve done this job, I want to make love to you outside,”
“What, in this weather?”
He loved her appetite for him, the excitement, and the lust.

“On scene,” Logan transmitted.
He alighted from the car, running towards the vehicle that occupied the road ahead, glancing behind him as if he was an animal being chased by a predator.
“Find out where the ambulance is Fi” Logan shouted.

The beams from the multi coloured lights of their patrol car lit the scene as if it were a West End show, the spotlight focusing on Logan. He was not feeling the cold or the wet, apparent in the night air. As Logan opened the driver’s door, he could not hear the wind howling; only the stillness inside of the car.

She had the perfect frame to survive an accident; a large lady whom had no lap, her stomach resting close to the steering wheel. Smart, brown, shoulder length curly hair, matted with blood as it hung disorderly over her forehead. Sat in the seat, eyes closed, as if asleep, Logan quickly felt her neck with his fingers, pulling away the seat belt which was still attached around her. This woman was still warm to the touch, but would not be for much longer thought Logan. She was dead. Shutting the door gently, as if concerned about waking her, Logan turned his attention to the car.

The windscreen had not only shattered, but had disintegrated over the small green bonnet, spoiling the white parallel stripes that snaked down the edge. Logan did not know the woman, had never seen her before. He guessed that her neck had snapped when her head had hit the windscreen. The front of the mini was perfect, no sign of any damage, just clean aluminium headlights and a shiny silver bumper which danced with the rain causing a catalyst of reflection. Logan investigated the rear and sides of this sporty car; immaculate appearance in the show of lights. The radio crackled informing the officers that the ambulance was delayed.
“Don’t matter, she’ dead,” he muttered to himself.
Fi could not hear him as she was sitting in the patrol car. She did not like to see people hurt or dead; in any case she did not like the rain.

Logan felt not only the cold now, but also the rain penetrating his cotton shirt. His black trousers clung to his overweight legs, making him feel heavier than he usually did. Walking towards his car, shivering; his attention was drawn to a mound settled at the side of the road, only feet away from his car door. Secreted by the shadows of the overgrown trees hanging over the clad wall, camouflaged and hiding from the officers it laid still and silent.

It was never easy; the unpleasantness, the unknowing. Logan shivered uncontrollably, not from the cold but distress. His hands, creased and supple covered his face; he could not look yet. He had already seen the brown cords, neatly tucked into dark coloured wellington boots. Logan moved closer, staring through the narrow gaps in his fingers. Kneeling down as if being knighted, he balanced on one knee, and forced himself to remove his hands from his face.


Blonde hair flowed from the ten year old head, stopping at the boys jacket collar; his face comfortably resting on a clump of grass – as if placed in position as a pillow. His visible eye was open, staring at the clouds that could not be seen. Face down, motionless, but restful in appearance, this boy ignored the hysterical lamentation of Logan.

Logan did not like touching or holding the deceased, but on this occasion it was different. He pulled the boys torso from the ground; the young arms that had been trapped beneath his own body now suspended themselves in the air without purpose. Logan turned the boys head, and rested the bloodied face against his chest, snaking his arms around his back to hold him tight. Staring at the wall, Logan swayed from side to side as if rocking an unsettled baby to sleep. As if unsuccessful at attempts to send his baby into a deep slumber, Logan put Joe down gently, turning him onto his back. Logan ensured that his head was placed carefully back on the grass pillow. As if out of respect, the wind and rain ceased; the only noise was that of Logan, flooding the road with tears of guilt.

Logan briefly looked across at Fi whom had not moved from her seat. Her smile was evident as they made eye contact; He had not noticed her dirty face before.

Logan lay next to Joe, cheeks side by side, wondering how he would break the news to the boys mum; his wife at home.



©arlton Relf2010