Downhill Lovers-A fifties cop story

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Downhill Lovers – London Township Police, Motor Vehicle Accident Number One

Rated-R

by D. Grant DeMan

During the mid-fifties the Township of London engaged a new Chief Constable, F. Gordon Stronach, formerly of the Royal Canadian Mounted, who had earned a reputation as a fair but tough cop throughout the land of Saskatchewan. Jack Whatcome was one of the first policemen Stronach hired in his reformation of the London Township Police. Jack, a decorated WW II RCAF pilot, and former RCM Police Officer was assigned to investigate the first motor vehicle accident. Some think this is a good account of the incident while others well may differ. Names have been changed to protect the actors.

“Wow! I’m so pleased with our new car Danny. So intensely fast, and just feel the smooth quality. Shall we trip to Hamilton this weekend?” Frances cuddled closer, gently laying her hand across his lap while sipping Coke through a red and white candycane straw.

“Hey, Sweetheart give a man some room here. And don’t go sloppin’ none of your cola on the brand new Bull Leather seat.” He smiled and kissed her; all was well with the world. Didn’t he have a good job at General Motor’s Diesel, a fine apartment all to himself where he and Fran could go anytime the need came on, and now a brand new Buick four door Century Hardtop? Three colors! With a big V8 that would do a hundred and thirty, no problem. Just listen to that purring power. And dig the crazy radio!

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

Rawhide!

“My oh my, Danny Boy oh Danny Boy, your Danny Boy there is risin’ high.” Her fingers caressed him and he could feel the burning warmth of them through his suntans. First his nostrils and then his mind smoldered in the scent of her juices rising. “You don’t like?” She teased, “How absolutely delightful he is this evening, I’m sure.”

“Oh Fran. Ooooh Honey. Maybe you shouldn’t do that. Ohhh”

“Danny, Danny, Danny. Pull over here at the top of the Windamere Rise and let’s baptize the big Buick. Oh, come on Babe. I can’t wait no longer for my big big man. Do imbue me with the honeylove of a Big Bad Buick Buck.”

He eased the car well off the road, jammed it in park, set the radio to CFPL, and began to strip.

Keep movin', movin', movin'

Though they're disapprovin'

He and Fran had been steadies just long enough to develop a timesaving lover’s routine. The steering wheel formed a fine clothes hanger, he remembered, gazing at her ample breasts in the sliver of available light, totally in awe as she eased her litheness into the posh back seat, completely and wantonly naked by the time he reached her there. She was on him like a cougar.

“Oh Baby, Hey, hold up. I gotta get my shoes off don’t I?” Danny cried, tossing the shoes in the front with the rest of the apparel. With one sudden urgent surge he entered Frances, plunging again and again and again, never noticing that his left blue suede had struck the shift lever which brought it down from park to drive; that the big three-ton Buick had now begun a trip of it’s very own as the song rang in the heat of the evening.

Rollin', rollin', rollin'

Rawhide!

My oh my, they had never before been like this. It must be the leather seats, the piney new car aroma mingling with Fran’s Here’s My Heart Perfume, and his Morning Tawny Brawn Cologne. Oh, the scents, the pulse of their hearts and bodies pounding, moving, grasping: “Whoo Danny. Yes there there there!” She tore at his back; he pulled her hips forward into him, over and over and over again, as the melody went. Love is like this. He’d never never had such a girl as Fran, even in his wildest dreams imagined such a smooth soft sweet thing could desire him so in every way possible, and he wanted just to crawl in warm and wet and die happy. Hot, heavy and oh so fluid. Heaven - with her legs now grasping him - holding his leanness, holding him inside her.

Ohhhhhhh.

Set 'em out, ride 'em in

Ride 'em in, let 'em out,

Cut 'em out, ride 'em in Rawhide.

They climaxed together with a shuddering shattering crash as the car came to a sudden simultaneous crunch against a bridge abutment at the lip of an embankment. “Owohewow!” Dan cried.

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Went the steam from the radiator behind the cracked half-ton of chrome grill and bumper.

“Whoooshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Came the lover’s response.

A moment passed before Dan looked up through the window, saw the pussy willows, and for the first time realized that all that rocking wasn’t due solely to their lovemaking. “We have moved,” he whispered.

“Oh Danny we’re really moving moving moving. The earth moved. Oh my gawd are we are moving. More oh more, Baby!”

“No. I mean the car’s really rolled. Sheesh, we musta gone a mile and now were in the ditch. Oh my god, my new car!” He flung his body over the seat grasping for the wheel, the shift or whatever would help. But of course nothing would, nothing he could reach from there. Back and forth the Buick teetered ever nearer the ravine’s edge.

Rock rock rock ‘till the broad daylight

Have ya heard the news, there’s good rockin’ tonight

“Do something, Danny. We’ll be killed dead all naked like this and what would mom say to that? How could I ever explain the embarrassment of it all?” The automobile was wobbling, ever closer to the river’s edge. It was just then that they saw the cop.

“Excuse me Sir and Madam, but you do seem to be having some difficulty here. Would you mind if I took a look at your operator’s permit and ownership?” The officer seemed amused.

“Okay, hand me my britches from the front seat there. If we move I think the car’s going over,” said Danny timidly.

“Have no fear, sir. Sit quietly for there’s a tow truck en route and to the rescue.” Frances began to recover from her shock, taking notice of the tall male strength of the officer, her mind in conjecture of the muscle and sinew that lay beneath the leather of his Sam Brown, his large shiny steel pistol and navy blue serge uniform. So strong and commanding. Is it proper for a lady to dream of the joys of a clandestine encounter with a policeman in the smelly old back seat of a cruiser car? She thought, and then blushed as though the men might be reading her mind.

“I’m Constable Jack Whatcome with the London Township Police. If you can manage it please get dressed and presently I’ll be escorting you to the station for an accident report. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir!” They responded in chorus, and were duly led into separate basement rooms at the police station where they filed their statements.

“Oh Jack,” wailed Frances. “It was no one’s fault really. A new automobile all kermunched like that and it must have slipped out of gear or the brake wasn’t right or something. Oh Jack…My you’re tall…” Using all the sexual guile she could muster she allowed her big baby blues to seek his, pleading for mercy like Marilyn in the movies. That stupid Danny, him and his big whang. While she loved the thing dearly, it seemed opportune to take an inquiring look at the lump at the other end -- the bulge between his shoulders -- as well, and she became unconvinced of the endurance of her desire for that rude combination. I have a notion constables possess a modicum of enhanced savoir-faire, she thought, ever-eyeing more of Constable Whatcome than he would ever imagine.

“Are you married, Jack?” Fran came right out of the blue with it, pleased with the startled look on Dan’s boyish face.

“Connie and I are quite happy, thank you,” he replied with a smile and turned to her partner: “Daniel, since we have declined to lay charges at this time, you and the young lady are free to go. We shall drive you to the garage where the vehicle was taken.”

At Padfield Motors the couple picked up the temporarily repaired Buick and drove home in spirits somewhat diminished from those that initiated the day. Even while embracing at Frances’ front door, somehow they knew their love would never again regain the blush of those former erotic moments of transport.

During the ensuing years Frances confined her love trysts to members of the constabulary: one week perhaps being honeycombed in a motel near Sudbury and the next in Tilsonburg. She sampled city as well as county officers, Ontario Provincials and Mounties wherever and however she found them - finally marrying the chief of the Newmarket Police Department whom she then motivated to a position of Deputy Minister of Justice for the Old Dominion.

As it turned out Danny was not quite as dull as Frances suspected. He soon rose to an executive position, which provided a Cadillac limousine, marketing Diesel Locomotives to major railroads. Memberships in the most prestigious country and golf clubs on the continent were included, with stock options, of course.

Jack Whatcome made sergeant of the London Township Police, and subsequently chief of Bucks County. He further enhanced a law career through court positions and now is a reputable minister presiding over his Yorkton Wedding Salon in partnership with his true love, Connie, bringing joy to a parade of celebrating couples.

My hearts calculatin'

My true love’s a-waitin',

A-waitin' at the end of my ride.

Rawhide!

All reminisce on that memorable amorous journey, and relate the story to good company over cocktails at four. To be first at anything is indeed an accomplishment, even if it’s the very first automobile crash of Chief Stronach’s London Township Revival.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Donald Grant DeMan was born in Quesnel BC in 1936 up the road from his first home at Wingdam. He has pursued many occupations, including police, private investigation, management consultant, high school teacher of art, artist, and author. As a painter Don has been successful in being elected Treasure of the Valley by the Comox Valley Arts Council. His paintings hang in numerous homes and institutions.

His written works: Donald Grant DeMan has published in the Toronto Globe and Mail, the Vancouver Sun and both the Islander and the Editorial Sections of the Victoria Times-Colonist, and is presently working on a book of 1950's youth adventures in conjunction with the Sociology Department of the University of Toronto, for which he welcomes materials from readers and friends....especially pictures of reproductive quality.

More of Mr. DeMan's work can be found on the INDITER http://www.inditer.com

Visit him on his web page http://members.home.net/deman30/index.htm

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