Those Damn Traffic Light Camerasbyradk©
To the reader
This is a work of fiction suggested by an actual event. The stop light was yellow and I was slowing down to stop when I saw a car coming from the opposite direction speed up to try to beat the red light. He didn't and the traffic light camera flashed twice, nailing him for running the red light. I smiled as I thought about those cameras. They're just about everywhere now and despite what the government officials say they're more about making money for the jurisdiction than about driver safety. And as I drove on I wondered what the fool looked like who just got his picture taken. That's when I came up with this little story.
As they say on television, all characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
And just as a warning, there isn't any graphic sex in the story. Hope you enjoy the read anyway.
Thanks to jo for editing.
© 2013 by the author.
As seen through Brian's eyes
Leave it to the U.S. Postal Service to bring more bad news.
After being a full-fledged tax-paying adult for almost ten years now I'm pretty used to getting all those crappy letters from the IRS, the California Board of Revenue, and the Orange County Tax Collector's Office. Hell, I'm on a first name basis with just about every government employee who has their hands in my wallet. I pay more than my fair share by God and don't need any extra surprises to dig my debt hole any deeper.
But there it sits. A very official looking letter from the Orange County Police Department lies on top of the batch of mail I just brought in. I don't even have to open it to know that either my lovely wife Reese or I have run one of those damn traffic light cameras again. In the last three or four years, since those robotic monstrosities have been installed, I've been cited twice and my wife three times for running a red light. We aren't actually running a red light, we're just speeding up to get through the yellow light before it turns red because we're in a hurry to get where we need to be. But the little computer in the box atop the pole doesn't have any feelings, it just flashes its light and takes the picture of the so-called law breaker. It seems like both my wife and I are always in a hurry these days with the demands of our jobs and all. But the government doesn't give a damn about us and what it takes to live in a nice suburban home surrounded by nice suburban neighbors and jog in our nice suburban parks. They just look for more and more ways to suck the life-blood from all us little people.
But no matter how much I hate the government and how their hands are constantly deep in my pockets I sit at my desk looking down at another traffic ticket.
"Three to one odds that this one is Reese's," I say out loud to the empty room.
I sliced open the envelope and pulled out the one page Notice of Traffic Violation. Among all of the computer generated blah blah blah about the violation were a series of photographs taken by the little robot. The first one clearly shows the back of the car and its license plate. "Yep, that's Reese's car all right," I said out loud again. I'm really glad it wasn't mine this time so I can be the high and mighty one in the upcoming argument. The second photograph shows the front of the car from a distance and it's clearly Reese's silver Toyota Prius in the middle of the intersection. The third photo makes me go bug-eyed. The third photo is a close-up of the front windshield of the car clearly showing the driver in such exquisite detail that I can see the silly smile on their face. The only problem is the driver is not my wife. The driver is a man.
As I stared at the little picture I tried to speculate as to why Reese would loan her car out to someone. She probably did it and didn't tell me about it knowing I'd get upset at her for letting someone else drive the Prius, our insurance wouldn't cover anyone other than the two of us if there were an accident. And it hasn't been stolen because she drove it to work this morning. So why is someone else in her car? Better yet who is this mysterious someone? As I continued to look at the face of the man behind the wheel I noticed something quite odd about the whole thing. Looking between the steering wheel posts I could clearly see a white blotch covering the lower part of his torso. The problem with that is he's wearing a navy blue crew neck shirt. I looked closer and saw a hump beside him obviously on top of the console between the front seats. Something about the hump looked familiar but I couldn't immediately place what it was. I reached into my top drawer and pulled out an old magnifying glass I kept there for examining my stamp collection and focused it on the hump between the seats. Then I realized why it looked familiar. It's the exact same flower print of Reese's favorite dress.
I looked up at the top of the page for the date of the violation.
My mind just EXPLODED. Exploded with the realization of what I was looking at.
The flower print dress was the one Reese wore to work last Tuesday, the day of the citation. The white blotch in the lap of the man driving the car is Reese's white blond hair. The hump between the seats is Reese's body leaning over the console of the car with her head in the driver's lap. I can only think of one reason for her to have her head in his lap, SHE'S GIVING HIM A BLOW JOB!
And the man on the receiving end of her blow job is certainly NOT me! I have a beard!
I leaned back in my chair too stunned to move, my mind a muddled mess, feeling my world crashing all around me. I'm not going to admit to crying but I may have, just a little.
I'm not sure how long I sat there but eventually I came back to the world of the living, my life flashing before my eyes. Wait! I thought that was only supposed to happen just before you died. Maybe I did just die and my body hasn't figured out it's supposed to fall to the floor. My childhood zipped by, and my teen years, and my four years in college, all moving in super fast forward. When my timeline came up to the first time I ever saw Reese things started moving in real time again.
She was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
Tall, blond, with legs that would put a Broadway dancer to shame, and a face that could, as the saying goes, launch a thousand ships. But the absolute best feature was her smile. The minute she smiled at me I became frozen in place. I couldn't move, I couldn't take what she was holding out for me to take, and I couldn't make a coherent word come out of my mouth. "Uh.... Yeah... okay... Um... Oh..." Classy pick-up line if there ever was one.
Reese was standing in the middle of the Anaheim Convention Center wearing what could only be described as a skimpy little outfit handing out samples of someone's new product to anybody who passed by. Me included. I fumbled with whatever she handed me, put it in my pocket, and just stood there staring at her as she went to the next person, and the next, and the next. As she walked down the aisle doing her handing-out job, she kept glancing back at me and smiling. On the third or fourth time looking back she covered her mouth and laughed out loud. I must have looked like the jackass of the century because she had to come back and guide me to the side of the aisle.
"I didn't want you to get trampled," she said smiling into my heart, her eyes twinkling with each word.
"I, uh, thanks," was all I could get out.
"Hi, my name is Reese and I'm from the L.T. and T. Technology booth just over there," she said pointing to one corner of the convention center floor. "If I had to bet I'd say you have no idea what I just gave you. I don't even think you looked at it. You seem to be dazed. I do hope I was the cause of that."
"Uh, I'm sorry," is all I could come up with at first. I just looked at her big blue eyes and saw my, no our future as clearly as anything I've ever seen in my life. Then my mind and mouth started to come back to me. "Uh, you just gave me L. T. and T's latest 16-terabyte flash drive cleverly hidden in a Mylar wrist band, silver and black I think it was, with the Oakland Raider's logo embossed on the top. "
Her eyes got even wider and she put her hand on mine. "I'm impressed," she said smiling. "Most men don't see past the blond hair and big boobs, but you saw our company's little gimmick flash drive. I was going to ask you if we could walk over to our booth so you can order some more for your company, they make great little gifts you know, and they're only $69.95, but I don't think you're in any condition to talk about flash drives. I couldn't help noticing that your eyes haven't left mine since we met in the aisle. Would you like to go somewhere and get a cup of coffee or a soda of something? I'm due for my break about now."
"More than anything in this world," was my ultra clever reply.
We drank our coffee and talked. I found out that Reese did product endorsement modeling to earn money so she could take evening classes working toward her real estate license. The product endorsement modeling consisted of looking beautiful and wearing as little clothes as allowable holding up or pointing to the products in question, sort of like Vanna White except in skimpy outfits. Any red-blooded man with more than two working brain cells would turn to look at whatever she was pointing at. She had a natural beauty and animal magnetism that turned heads, whether they wanted to or not.
As I listened to her talk my mind drifted to checking out the woman sitting across from me. Physically Reese was a typical California beauty; tall, blond, blue-eyed, bronze tan, with long, very long legs, absolutely amazing breasts, oh, and let's not forget that absolutely amazing ass. The word callipygian says it all. WOW! But what you couldn't see, and what I got to discover sometime later was that what she possessed on the inside of that incredible body made the total package called Reese that much more intoxicating. She had a brain and knew how to use it. She had a dry wit and could hold her own in any conversation. And she had an infectious passion for life.
We started with coffee at the convention center lunch room and were so engrossed in talking about who we were that we lost all track of the time. During lunch her handler from L. T. and T. came by and they got into a heated discussion about why she wasn't walking around the convention floor flashing her boobs and passing out trinkets. Either the guy from L. T. and T. fired her or she quit, I couldn't figure out which, but we ended up spending the rest of the day talking and getting to know one another. She said losing the gig at the Small Consumer Electronics Convention and Show was no big deal for her, but meeting me was.
I'm not sure if I believe in love at first sight but meeting Reese is pushing me toward a reevaluation of my position.
We went to dinner at a local restaurant and talked until late in the evening. Afterwards I walked her to her car and she gave me her phone number. I didn't wait the obligatory three days to call I called the next day to set up a date for the following weekend. That led to another date, then another and another. Three months later she moved in with me making me the happiest man in the world, and judging by the constant smile on her beautiful face she was pretty happy too.
As we got to know each other we found we had a lot in common: We loved the same kind of music, drinks, and cars, hated the same foods, movies, and people, and tolerated the ever-present government crap, to a point. She helped me see things in the world that I never thought to look at before. She guided me toward a better wardrobe and hair style. We ate different and healthier foods. We even started jogging together. Now I'm getting my fair share of women turning their heads to look at me. Oh, men are always stopping to look at her but now she's got some serious competition, with women looking at me that is, not men.
But Reese also has a fault, albeit minor. She's a bit of a flirt. She had no idea what she does or the affect it has on the people around her. It was an unconscious, natural part of who she was, but at the same time to me it was worrisome. She could draw men to her like flies to excrement with just a little smile or a sideways glance or even the way she stood. It wasn't something she was even conscious of, she just did it and men fell all over themselves. I learned very early on in our relationship that she needed someone to watch over her, for her own good as well as for the sanity of those around her. I willingly became Reese's safeguard.
All in all when Reese was beside me I became a better man.
We also found that we were both on the same wavelength sexually. We each had a number of relationships before we met but felt that the past was the past and whatever happened prior to our meeting was nothing we needed to worry about. Oh we talked about my past girlfriends and her boyfriends and what we did but we knew without having to say it out loud that none of them mattered any more. I do know that we were both experienced lovers even though I showed her some new tricks she added a few of her own to our repertoire.
Sex was way beyond fantastic. Sometimes we made love for hours. We would tenderly caress each other's bodies, lovingly kiss and stroke every inch and every pore, to gently guide the other up to heaven for their release and back to earth again for their rest. It was like an elaborate symphony of senses and emotions: Gradual con amore (with love and tenderness) crescendo to a fortissimo (very loud) dramatic announcement with a calando (falling away, getting slower and quieter) peaceful ending. But occasionally we would mercilessly fuck each other's brains out, sometimes getting so vocal and tumultuous that we were constantly on the verge of having the bed cave in, crashing through the floor, and depositing our tangled, naked bodies in the basement.
I loved Reese with every fiber of my soul and felt every bit of the love she had for me.
Three months after we moved in together three life-changing events occurred. First, Reese completed her class work and received her real estate license. Second, the largest real estate office in the tri-county area offered her a job. Third, I asked her to marry me.
That was four years ago.
Now everything was a mess. I had photographic evidence that the love of my life was doing with some other man something that I thought she only did with me. So what do I do? A dozen scenarios floated through my mind, most of which originated in idealized situations in fiction books and erotic story websites, some seemed reasonable, most seemed crazy or at the very least dangerous, everything from a scorched-earth Rambo solution to not saying anything and turning a blind eye. I didn't like any of them. I'm not John Rambo and I'm not a sissy. And I also try everything I can to avoid a confrontation whenever I find myself approaching one. The one thing I did know was I had to know the five W's - who, what, where, when and most importantly why before I did whatever I was going to do.
"Honey, I'm home," Reese yelled as she walked in from the garage. "Brian, where are you?"
"I'm in the office," I yelled back. Quickly I put the traffic ticket in my top desk drawer and sat back looking as casual as I could.
"Hey babe, how was your day?" Reese asked coming into the room. She walked over behind the desk and sat her lovely ass in my lap, wrapped her arms around my neck, and gave me one of her famous toe-curling kisses. My toes curled, as usual, but for some reason so did my stomach. I tried to not let on in any way but she was always too smart for me.
"Honey, what's wrong?" She asked looked into my eyes, concerned.
I tried to keep a straight face and lied to her when I said, "Nothing, just a long day," but she saw through that too.
"What'd I do now?" she asked. Now her beautiful face looked worried.
I gently pushed her off my lap and stood up. "Nothing, I just had a long day and some bad news at work and don't feel very good. I think I'll skip dinner and just lie down for a while."
"Oh good," she said following me to the bedroom. "I thought you might have found out about my boyfriends."
I stopped in the hallway so suddenly she crashed into my back. When I turned around she was rubbing her nose. I glared at her and said, "What did you say?"
"It was a joke babe, something to lighten the mood."
"Well, it's not very damn funny."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. I don't have any boyfriends, other than you that is."
"You'd better not have. I don't know what I'd do if I caught you giving some guy a blowjob in the front seat of your car, probably kill the both of you."
There was a bit of a pause before she replied. "Uh, I assume you're talking metaphorically?"
"Don't be so sure. Why? Is there anything you want to tell me?"
"Uh, no, I'm just worried about the turn of this conversation. Why are you so upset all of a sudden? Is there's something I did, or didn't do, that's upsetting you? If so I wish you'd just tell me."
I turned and headed back to the bedroom. Reese followed. She stood in the doorway and watched as I undressed and got into bed. She never said a word.
"Babe, I hope you're feeling better tomorrow because I'm showing the Harper house down at the beach in the morning and if I come away with a contract we'll have a lot to celebrate with the commission that place is going to give me. Maybe we can even go away for a quiet weekend, just the two of us. How about we go back to that little hacienda hideaway in Monterey? Remember how romantic it was?"
"Um, maybe. We'll see." I mumbled as I turned over in the bed.
I don't know how long she stood there looking at my back but it must have been more than a few minutes before I heard her walking down the hall back toward the kitchen.
For the next three hours I lay there thinking about what I was going to do about Reese and about what I found out. About the time she came to bed I knew what was going to happen. Right or wrong I was going to do something and if the shit hit the fan then so be it. It was my plan and my solution and if it went wrong then there was no one to blame but me. She tried to spoon up next to me and put her arm over my shoulder but I just scooted closer to the side of the bed and ignored her. The occasional sob in the night told me what she was feeling.
Instead of going to work the next day I called in sick and went looking for the house Reese was going to show that morning. I went looking for a sign or something but saw nothing in the area where I thought it should be and then had to refer to the MLS on my phone to find the address. When I finally found the house I drove past it and parked around the corner, out of sight. I walked to a small grove of trees across the street and in front of the house waiting for her to show up. An hour later her Prius showed up and pulled into the driveway. Shortly afterwards a big black Mercedes pulled in behind her and an older gentleman got out. They talked for a few minutes in the driveway and then went in the front door. I watched from my hiding place for about ten minutes before walking over to the house and up the side to the beach front side, a lush growth of palm trees concealing me from prying eyes. I slid in under the rear deck and could hear them talking on the deck above. Every word I heard had to do with the house and the beach and the price, in other words nothing out of the ordinary for a real estate agent and client.
I stayed out of sight under the deck listening to them talk for the longest time before either of them said anything out of the ordinary.
The older gentleman said to Reese, "So is what Finley said about you true? With every signed contract you'll give a little something on the side to the buyer?"