Lauren's Lookalike Pt. 01

So... I have been writing on here for ten years now with dozens of stories and several ongoing series, but my favorite is by far, the never-ending "Lauren's Lesson" saga. It started out as a way for me to take my angst out on a few women who had screwed me over, over the years, by combining them into a single character: Lauren; with a visual for her as that of Joan Allen in the role of Warden Hennessy in the movie "Death Race." My character delighted in tormenting her for the first few chapters as a way to get back at all of the aforementioned women. However, after several chapters and a few years into the story, I entered my bank one day and saw a new teller behind the counter. She was blonde, with slightly post-shoulder length hair, and seemed to be having a really bad first day; complete with a totally bitchy look on her otherwise pretty face. I thought to myself, "wow, she would make a great Lauren!"

She did not wait on me that day, but the next time I went to that branch, she did. The nameplate in her window said "Dianna," and she had a completely different demeanor than the first time I'd seen her and was actually quite pleasant to deal with. She had a wonderful smile, and I became friendly with her. Gradually, her face replaced that of Joan Allen in my mind, as I continued writing more chapters of Lauren's Lesson. This was when the characters in the series began to change their feelings for one another; Jack was no longer mean to Lauren and they both fell genuinely in love with one another.

Being that I was now essentially writing about Dianna, my main character could no longer be mean to the fictitious Lauren, and that is when everything changed in the story line. Over the next few years, my writing about Lauren was based solely on Dianna and what I really wanted to do with her. She was older than Lauren's character - close to forty - and her breasts were rather squishy, so along with her face and hair, she was the perfect Lauren for me to continue writing about. Unfortunately, over those same few years, her hair gradually grew shorter and shorter, until one day she came in sporting a full fledged Karen haircut and ruined the whole image. About a month later, she had a bad episode with the money counter and quit out of frustration.

I continued writing about Lauren, always reflecting on the original image of Dianna, but over time that faded and left me with a generic sort of mental image for her character. She was now sort of a cross between Dianna and Joan Allen, but still very hot in my imagination. In time, any association with Dianna was devoid from my stories, and I let the character of Lauren develop however it may. I still desperately wished she was real and that one day I would meet someone like her, but that was obviously not going to happen; or would it?

On one particular June morning, I was running some errands that took me to a nearby town for some home improvement supplies. As I was sitting at a fairly busy intersection on a fairly busy state highway, the arrow turned green for a left turn. A silver sedan at the head of the line proceeded to make that turn, only to be struck in the right front quarter by a minivan running the light on the main highway. The sound of crunching metal was sickening, and the car spun violently around several times, before coming to a stop alongside the median, as the other vehicle careened to a stop in the ditch.

Being a part time conservation officer, I immediately put my flashers on and exited my own vehicle, opening my wallet to display my badge as I stopped traffic and made my way to the stricken car. White smoke was billowing from under the hood as I approached it, indicating burning wiring. If the fuel line had ruptured in the crash, it could get very bad, very quickly,

"Are you okay?" I shouted at the female occupant, as the smoke was suddenly replaced by a whoosh of yellow flames from under the hood.

She turned to face me, and I was shocked to see Dianna in the driver's seat, or at least I thought it was her in that moment of adrenaline.

"I can't open the door!" she screamed frantically, tugging at the handle. "I can't get out! My seatbelt won't come loose either! Oh God, don't let me burn to death! Please get me out of here! Oh please, don't let me burn alive!"

As an officer of the law, I always have a tactical knife clipped to my right front pocket; even when I am not on duty. It's just become part of me. It has a spring assisted blade, a seatbelt cutter and a carbide tip for breaking tempered glass.

"Turn your head Dianna!" I hollered, as I brought the knife up and struck the window with the carbide tip.

The glass essentially turned to snow and I reached inside, grabbing her by the shoulders as she reached for her purse. I dragged her out of the vehicle through the window, as the flames whooshed again and filled the interior of the car with yellow and orange fire.

"Run!" I shouted, taking her by the hand and dragging her after me.

We dashed across the two lanes of traffic which had stopped, as the car became engulfed in flames, and made it to the shoulder of the highway. As we turned back toward her car, the plastic fuel tank ruptured, and a loud "whoomph!" could be heard, followed by a wave of searing heat, as a fireball erupted skyward from what had only a few seconds before, been her car. The entire car was a mass of fire, and thick, black smoke belched out of the burning wreckage, as sirens could be heard approaching the scene. I guided her over to the shade of a large oak tree, so that we were out of the strong rays of the morning sun.

"Are you okay, Dianna?" I inquired again, this time in a calmer tone of voice, as I looked at her in greater detail.

It was then that I suddenly realized it was not Dianna, as she was much younger and had longer hair. I felt a little stupid for calling her someone else' name, but she nodded in reply anyway.

"Yes, thanks to you!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me and giving me a huge hug. "Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome," I replied, "and I'm sorry I called you Dianna. I mistook you for someone else."

"You just saved my life!" the woman burst out. "You can call me anything you like, but I do have an older sister named Dianna. Perhaps it's her you were thinking of. I'm her younger sister, Deanna."

"Did she used to work at a bank?" I asked, as a fire engine and several patrol cars arrived on the scene. "Karen haircut?"

"Yes!" she responded. "That's her! You must know her then! No wonder you thought I was her."

"Yeah, you look almost just like her except for the hair, and your names are almost identical too." I remarked. "Wow, I can't believe how much you look like her!"

An enormous and sturdy-looking police officer built like a city bus approached us; chest thrust out and walking very confidently. He was a member of a law enforcement fraternity I also belonged to, and I nodded at him in recognition.

"Hey there, Bamm-Bamm." I greeted him, using his nickname.

He had gotten the moniker due to his huge build and blond hair. Like I said, the guy was built like a tank, and I had once seen him take the handlebars on a crashed motorcycle and straighten them out to within a half inch of where they had been, so the guy could continue riding.

"Hey yourself." he replied. "What happened?"

"This lady was making a legal left turn on a green arrow, when that ass clown ran the light and T-boned her." I explained. "I caught it on my dash cam, I think. Doesn't really matter though; there's at least a dozen witnesses to corroborate it."

Bamm-Bamm nodded.

"Okay, let me talk to the other driver, and I'll be back in a few minutes." he responded. "Then, I'll take your statements. Let's see what he has to say first. Do you need medical attention, Miss?"

Deanna shook her head.

"No, I'm okay, thank you. I can always go to the ER later on if I need to. It scared me more than anything else. I guess the airbags did their job."

"Okay." he replied.

He turned around and strode back to the other officers, as the fire department hosed down what was left of Deanna's car and extinguished the flames. I turned to her and she was leaning over slightly, to brush something from her right leg, giving me a partial downblouse view of her chest. To my surprise, I saw what appeared to be some ballpoint pen ink on her chest in the form of two tabs and meandering lines that reminded me of the teabags tattooed on my fanciful Lauren's saggy little danglers.

Deanna glanced up and saw me looking down her top. I quickly averted my gaze, but it was too late; she's already seen me peeking at her small, drooping tits.

"Not much to look at," she said dryly, "is there? Sorry to disappoint you."

"I didn't mean to stare." I responded. "It's just that I saw the ink and it grabbed my attention. It reminded me of something."

Deanna turned bright red, apparently forgetting that she'd been drawing on her chest for some reason.

"Oh my god, I forgot it was there!" she burst out. "I can only imagine what you're thinking. I was just trying something last night and..."

Her voice trailed off, and I could tell she was very embarrassed at the whole situation.

"It reminded me of someone," I explained, "in a story. You wouldn't know though."

"What story?" she demanded, her curiosity clearly piqued at my observations and comments.

"It's called Lauren's Lesson." I replied. "Are you familiar with it?"

Deanna put her hand up to her mouth and nodded.

"Yes!" she whispered. "It's my favorite series on there."

"Oh, it's m-" I started, but was interrupted by Bamm-Bamm's return.

"The other driver failed a breathalyzer." he explained. "So there's really no need for the dash cam. It's obvious what happened and there's bunch of witnesses like you said, so his insurance is completely responsible. Speaking of that, I need your information, Miss. I don't suppose you're one of the few that keeps your registration in her purse instead of the glove box?" he inquired hopefully, as he glanced over at the steaming, burned out hulk of her car.

Deanna nodded and reached into her purse, retrieving her license, registration and insurance card.

"I never leave anything like that in the car." she explained as she handed them over. "Just in case someone steals it, you know?"

"Or it catches on fire." I added, eliciting a guffaw from the officer.

"I'm sorry." he quickly apologized.

"It's okay." she replied with a sigh. "I'm just glad this friend of yours was here when it happened. He cut me out of my seatbelt and pulled me out of the car just in time. He saved my life."

Bamm-Bamm looked at me.

"Good job." he stated with a grin, as he turned to head back and fill out the paperwork. "I'll put in a good word with your supervisor."

"Thanks, smart ass!" I called after him.

He waved over his shoulder in response, and continued walking away.

"What was that about?" Deanna inquired. "Why wouldn't you want him to let your supervisor know what you did here to help me?"

"He knows my rank is chief." I replied, rolling my eyes and making a face. "I am the supervisor."

"Oh," she laughed. "I get it now."

She looked at me intently.

"So, you're on Literotica too?" she asked curiously. "That's how you recognized what I had drawn on my chest. You've read the story?"

"Yes." I said with a nod. "Did you color them in too?"

"Kind of a personal question, isn't it?" she asked with a smile.

Normally it would have been , but the ice had been broken a long time ago.

"I suppose," I replied, "but it's sure got me curious. I mean they say that imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, but-"

"What?! Are you telling me you're Jackandjilldo?" she demanded. "Are you serious? You're my favorite author. I love your work!"

"Why thank you," I said graciously, "but it's not Jack and Jill do. It's Jilldo, like a dildo. It's a play on words."

"Oh," Deanna said with a nod, "I get it now. Pretty cute."

"You are the ONLY person on this planet other than me, who knows who I am on there." I said crisply. "I trust you'll keep this between us."

"I'll keep any secret you ever share with me!" she exclaimed. "I owe you my life- damn, I don't even know your name. Is it really Jack?"

"Tom." I said with a smile. "You can call me Tom or Tommy."

"And you can call me Dee if you'd like." Deanna responded with a smile of her own. "Or maybe I can be your Lauren. She's not a real person, is she?"

"No, but you and your sister sure fit the image I always envisioned her to be." I explained. "Meeting you is like meeting her. So... I'm guessing you um... like to be her sometimes?"

It was a shot in the dark, but I had to ask anyway. She smiled and nodded.

"Yes, Sir." she replied, mimicking Lauren's character. "I have her complete work ensemble. I like to wear it while I look at myself in a full length mirror. I get so worked up I have to release it. I always wished Jack was real and could be there with me. And now, you are real. You're just like I imagined he'd be."

I stared at her in disbelief, as my fantasy girl materialized before my eyes.

"You have the ring too?" I inquired, my voice cracking at the possibilities that lay ahead.

"Mm-hmm." she said with a vigorous nod. "I have the ring, the tiara, white cocktail gloves and heels, and... a cat leash to clip onto the ring. The only thing missing is the the actual ink on my titties. I've been saving up for that, though. I know it will be painful, but it will complete the look."

"I'd hold off on that." I suggested. "Jack had her titties tattooed to look like teabags to humiliate her. After he fell in love with her, he always regretted having done that."

"That's not in the story!" Deanna exclaimed.

"Not yet. He's going to give her the option to have her ink removed though, at some point." I explained. "Whether or not she accepts the offer remains to be seen. Personally, I think I'd like you better with uninked tits, but you would turn me on either way."

I couldn't believe how fast the conversation had turned to sex! I was already imagining clipping the leash onto her golden clit ring, and then leading her down the hall to my bedroom where I could fuck her doggy style in front of the mirror while I reached around and squeezed her little tits in my hands.

"Well, we could always do like I do for now." she suggested, bringing me out of my dirty thoughts. "I draw the string and tabs, and then use a watercolor marker to make my titties look like tiny little teabags. It's all still there from last night - as you've already seen - so maybe since you saved my life, I could invite you over to my place for dinner, and then we could indulge in our fantasies afterward."

"That would be awesome!" I burst out.

My enthusiasm was quickly curbed, however, by Bamm-Bamm's return. He handed Deanna's IDs back to her.

"I just need you to sign these." he said to both of us, handing us two clipboards with the report on them, to sign.

He then looked at us keenly.

"You two seem to know each other." he observed, as we signed the reports and handed them back. "I've had a couple of times over the years, where two people involved in an accident from years ago had another one and start talking like old friends. You two seem to be REALLY friendly, though. Either one of you ever slammed into the other before?"

"Not yet." I replied cheerfully.

Deanna giggled, and Bamm-Bamm nodded; trying his best not to smirk. He knew something was going on between us, although he was unsure of the details.

"See you, Chief." he replied. "You got everything under control on her end?"

"Yeah, after she calls her insurance company, I'll take her to the rental place so she can get a temporary set of wheels." I answered. "Take care, Brother."

"You too."

He waved, and left us sitting under the relative coolness of the large oak's shade. Deanna sighed and dialed her insurance company, from the number on her insurance card.

"May I make a suggestion?" I inquired.

She paused and nodded.

"Add that number to your contacts. Your credit cards too. That way, if they get stolen or burn up, you already have the numbers in your phone. No need to panic."

"Unless they steal my phone." she said with a smile. "That's good advice, Tom. I'll do it as soon as I get home. Thank you for the recommendation."

She spent about ten to fifteen minutes on the phone, and I could tell she was getting frustrated. She was repeating a lot of the information, and asking for clarification a number of times.

"I don't know!" she burst out in an exasperated tone. "And I can't understand you!"

I motioned for her to hand me the phone.

"Hang on." she said. "I want you to talk to my friend."

"Hello?" I greeted whoever was there.

"Hello, this is Frank, with Pan American Insurance." he replied, in a very thick accent.

He sure didn't sound like a Frank. Vijay maybe, or even a Patel, but definitely not a Frank. After trying to deal with him for several minutes, I had had enough.

"I need you to transfer me to an operator in North America." I said curtly. "We're getting nowhere here. I can't understand a damned thing you're saying, and you can't understand me either, so let's transfer this call from Mumbai to Massachusetts, shall we?"

"I can get you someone in Kitchener, Ontario." he mumbled. "Please be holding on."

"That will be fine." I replied, and handed the phone back to Deanna. "You're being transferred to Canada."

In less than five minutes, everything was taken care of except for the towing.

"I don't know." she said. "Let me ask my boyfriend."

Boyfriend! Wow, that was quick.

"They want to know where to tow it to." she explained. "I have no idea."

"Tell him to take it to McCoy's Salvage yard." I instructed. "Their adjuster can look at it there. Tell him also, you will not take a cash settlement from the other insurance company. You want it replaced. Same make, same model, same year, and equal or lesser mileage. No less, or no deal."

Deanna nodded, and relayed the information. She smiled and ended the call.

"He said you know what you're doing." she giggled. "He wanted to know if you work for an insurance company."

"If the other company gives you any shit, I'll talk to them for you." I responded. "You have a rental?"

"He said it would take an hour or so." she replied.

"Good!" I said enthusiastically. "That gives me time to buy you lunch and continue our conversation."

"I should be buying YOUR lunch." she stated. "You saved MY life, remember?"

"You can fix me dinner or even buy me dinner, but lunch is on me." I said calmly but firmly. "No arguments. Lunch is on me. How about a five dollar footlong?"

We totally lost track of time, talking and catching up on our fantasies, and finally showed up at the car rental agency almost three hours later. I bade her farewell for the moment and headed home, madly in love with her, and eager to show up at her place for dinner. She had promised to answer the door in Lauren's work outfit, and for those of you who have not yet read the series, it consists simply of a tiara, white elbow length cocktail gloves and white dress heels, and a clit ring to clip a leash to; no clothes whatsoever.

I headed to her house with great anticipation. Up to this point, Lauren had been a figment of my imagination, and essentially my dream girl, for nine years. I never expected to meet anyone like her in real life, yet here was for all intents and purposes - her real life body double - who was also my biggest fan. I know that seldomly does the real thing match a fantasy, but in this case, everything seemed perfect; unless she was a crack whore or something that would really spoil it.

There was only one thing that didn't match up, and it wasn't the teabags tattooed on her tits. That could be drawn in just as she had been doing. No, there was one thing that hadn't come up, and that was the fact that Lauren could take her teeth out to give me a wonderful gumjob. The funny thing is though, that in real life, I much prefer a good handjob. It feels so much better and gives me a much more intense orgasm, so as far as I was concerned, she was perfect!