Title: Cops and Copiers

Couple: Val/Jon

Warnings: none

Implement: hand

I quickly glanced at the clock in the car, as I pulled out of the dentist's parking lot after my having my teeth cleaned. It read 11:38 and I needed to fit in lunch and the drive to work so I could be there for a noon appointment. I should have been done by 11, but the dentist was running way behind. I would never understand why doctors and dentists didn't think their patients had schedules to keep. They apparently were of the opinion that their services were in such high demand that it didn't matter if they kept everyone waiting and made them late for their work.

My original plan had been to drive home and eat lunch there before going to work, but my late running dental appointment forced a switch to plan B. The trouble was that I didn't actually have a plan B prepared, so I had to come up with one on the fly. Idecided to grab lunch from the McDonald's drive through before heading to work. After receiving my burger, fries and coke I glanced at the clock which now read 11:51.

As I left the parking lot I gulped down the burger in about four bites. I was trying to wolf down my fries as I grabbed the cell phone to call Suz to let her know I might be a few minutes late for my appointment. I glanced down as I grabbed a couple of more fries, while telling Suz the problem when I looked back up to realize the traffic light ahead of me was not only no longer green, it wasn't even yellow. I immediately slammed on the brakes as I grabbed my fries to keep them from dumping-only to see my coke go tumbling out of the cup holder and into the floorboard of the passenger seat.

“Damn!” I tried to reach over and grab the coke, only to have the fries dump out of my lap and onto the floor and seat. Damn cup holder! Thankfully the lid didn't pop off and spill the drink all over the floor.

“I gotta go!” I yelled frantically into the phone before disconnecting it. Then I shifted my left foot onto the brake pedal to extend my reach a bit further. I stretched across the console, grabbed the cup out of the floorboard and eased it back into the world's crappiest cup holder-ever.

My fries were everywhere-in the seat, the console and all over the floor-so I began to pick up the fries while waiting for the light to change. I wasn't going to eat them, but I didn't want to leave them in the floor to get squished either. While I was picking up the fries, I glanced up towards the light, and saw green. I quickly sat up straight, pushed my foot on the gas and moved into the intersection-only to hear the squeal of screeching brakes as another car came to a stop.

It was at that moment that I realized it wasn't my light that had turned green, but the left turn light for the lane next to me. Of course this meant that the left turn light was on for the opposite left turn lane as well-the one turning towards my car.

“Fuck!” I yelled as I stomped down on my own brakes. Know what is the only thing worse than almost having an accident while running a red light? Almost having an accident with a police cruiser while running a red light.

It didn't take long for him to flash his blues on, and I was left with no other choice but to proceed through the intersection and pull over to the side of the road. I muttered another “fuck” under my breath, put the car into park and leaned my head back on the head rest as I waited for the police officer to approach the car. This was the last thing I needed.

The officer leaned towards my half open window and asked for my license and registration.

I shifted my weight onto my left hip and reached back for my wallet as I managed a respectful “yes, sir.” I pulled my license out of my wallet and handed it over then reached over and pulled the registration out of the folder in the glove box. Thanks to Val, the very organized neat freak, I wasn't reduced to sorting through napkins, old receipts and other junk in order to find it. My registration was tucked neatly into the folder where all the maintenance for my car was recorded.

Armed with the requested paperwork, the officer said to hang on while he went back to his car. I had no doubt what he would do when he got there, he would run my plate, license and registration through the system and learn that I already had three speeding tickets on my record. This pretty much meant that I had no hope of getting a warning for running the light. Which also meant I had no hope once Val learned about the ticket. It had barely been a month since my last ticket, and he hadn't been pleased that time either. It wasn't even like I was a horrible lead foot, I was just easily distracted when driving and I missed important things like speed limit signs and red lights.

After handing me the ticket, the officer was cruel enough to tell me to have a nice day. If he only knew just how bad my day was going to end, he would have wished me luck instead.

I arrived at work a good fifteen minutes late for my appointment. Thankfully my customer was a regular and was more than understanding-she even sympathized with me over the ticket, but I had a hard time being my usual talkative self, mostly because the rest of the afternoon all I could think about was the ticket and how I was going to tell Val. I knew I was in trouble-the spanking kind of trouble. My apprehension wasn't so much about what was going to happen, but more when it was going to happen.

By the time I got home in the late afternoon, I still hadn't come up with a good way to tell him. When you are in a relationship like ours it isn't easy to tell on yourself. It was a difficult dilemma. On the one hand is the part of you that knows you broke a rule and wants the absolution that comes with the punishment, but on the other is the desire for self preservation that wants to protect the butt at all costs.

In the end I opted for the cowards way. I simply left the ticket on the table where Val and I usually left messages for each other-leaving it completely up to him to decide the when of my punishment. I still had several hours to wait, since Val taught a class until 7 on Tuesdays.

I spent the evening trying to distract myself from thinking about the ticket and eventual consequences. I did some housework, walked the dog, and eventually ended up fooling around on the computer. I wish I could say my attempts at distraction worked, but they didn't . I was still pretty nervous. The ticket and looming discussion were always at the forefront of my mind. I was unsuccessfully playing minesweeper when I heard Val's car pull into the drive, and while the butterflies really stirred up in the pit of my stomach, a part of me was relieved that the wait was almost over.

I heard Val come in the door, shuffle around a bit in the kitchen then walk down the hallway. He stopped in the doorway and casually leaned against the door frame. I confess that I was mostly pretending to be playing mine sweeper at that point, so it didn't require much effort for me to close the window and give my full attention to him.

He gently waved the ticket in the air, “Do you want to deal with this now, or after we have dinner?” This always felt like a trick question to me. Sure, all day I wanted to just get the whole thing over with, but now faced with the prospect, there was the part of me that wanted to put it off a bit longer. I was tempted to request that we have dinner first, or wait until right before bed, and of course there was still the little piece that just wanted to bolt and avoid it altogether, but I didn't give in to the temptation because more than anything I knew I mostly wanted to get it all over with.

“Now,” I muttered softly looking down at my toes. Val gave a slight nod and entered the room to sit down on the couch and lightly tapped the seat next to him indicating I should come have a seat beside him. I stood up with a sigh and walked towards the couch feeling like a condemned man on his way to the execution chamber. I plopped down beside him, leaned back into the couch, and stared up at the ceiling.

I took a deep breath. “It really isn't as bad as you think Val, I wasn't speeding or anything. I just, I was just trying to eat my lunch, and then my lunch spilled on the floor and I was trying to pick it up when the light turned green, but it turned out it really didn't . . . turn green that is. At least not for me. It was for the other lane, but it was too late. I was already way out into the intersection . . . but at least the cop stopped before he ran into my car.”

“Jon, wait slow down. You mean you almost hit a cop?”

“Well, actually the cop would have hit me, but he didn't. I was just . . . unlucky enough that there was a cop sitting in the intersection, if he hadn't been there I would've been fine.”

“So, are you trying to argue that it was bad luck that made you run the light?” He raised his eyebrow.

“Well, uh, no. Luck didn't cause me to run the light, it just caused me to get the ticket.” I didn't realize his eyebrow could actually go higher, but I think it just did. I figured abandoning this line of defense was probably in my best interest.

“Jon, you ran a red light, you got caught, you got a ticket. And from what I can tell from your story, you weren't paying attention-again. I don't understand why you didn't just wait until you got to work to eat your lunch. It isn't like the drive was much more than five minutes-ten minutes tops. That way you could have driven without having to divide your attention between driving and eating. If this was a one off, it would be one thing, but you are making a habit of collecting tickets. And it isn't just the fine that is the problem, it also makes your insurance costs go up, which affects our budget. But then you have heard this lecture before.” I couldn't deny that, so I just nodded.

He reached over and lightly tapped my chin up, “This has got to stop. We can't afford it, and you can't afford it. Understood?” I nodded my head once again. He sat looking at me, his eyes telling me he was waiting for my verbal answer. A nod wasn't good enough.

“Yes, sir.” What else was there to say? It wasn't like I didn't know tickets came with fines and points and that insurance companies frowned highly on them. I just seemed to forget those details, when I needed to remember most.

“Also, understand that if you get any more tickets, I will use a paddle and you will be riding your bicycle everywhere, because I will take your keys even if the state of Virginia doesn't.”

“But Val, it is at least 6 miles into town.” It was hard to keep the whine out of my voice. I wasn't a whiner by nature, but I also didn't relish the idea of riding my bike that far every day because I had to.

“Then think about that extra long bike ride the next time your mind starts to wander while you are supposed to be driving. Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then let's take care of this.” He gently but firmly pulled me off the couch and rearranged himself into a position more suitable for administering a spanking. That wasn't a good sign. Staying on the couch usually meant Val intended the spanking to be a painful and intense one.

I gathered my courage and took a deep breath as he reached out and quickly undid my belt and pants then quickly pushed them and my underwear down. Just as quickly he had tugged me down over his lap with my butt in the air, and my body braced partially on the cushion of the couch. My whole body was tense as I felt his hand rest lightly on my bared butt, and held my breath waiting for the spanking to begin. It was probably just a few seconds before the first swat landed, but it felt like minutes, maybe hours. Val's spanks were very quick and efficient. At some point I remember reaching my hand back in an inept attempt to protect my battered posterior. Val just moved my hand and held it away from my backside as he continued to carry out the spanking. Eventually my brain didn't think about anything other than the pain and why it was in pain. In the end I completely dissolved into tears of remorse and Val soon ended the spanking.

He didn't really say much. He just sat there quietly lightly rubbing my back and occasionally whispering words of comfort. After a while we shifted positions so that my head was resting in his lap as I lay curled on my side. I was perfectly content to just lay there with Val. The spanking wiped me out emotionally and physically, but there was something in those moments after the spanking was over and all was forgiven that made me feel strongly connected to Val.

Gradually my tears stopped, with the occasional hitch in my breath, and I was mostly left with an aching throb in my butt that I would likely be feeling for a while. I continued to lay there and enjoyed the comfort of Val's arms. I gradually became much more aware of my surroundings and not just how much my butt was hurting. We just sat there quietly together. He was rubbing my back, and I was lightly tracing figure 8's on his thigh next to my head. At some point I glanced down and realized Val had fine black spots all over his pants. I had been so focused on my ticket and the spanking that I hadn't noticed Val's pants earlier.

“Um, Val, what is all over your pants?”

“It's a long story.”

“I have plenty of time, so tell me,” I nudged him in the ribs in the hopes it would get the story out of him.

He laughed, a low rumbling kind of laugh that I felt as much as heard. “Okay. Well . . . it all started when I was making copies of a test for my class tonight.”

“Why didn't you just have Jan do it?” I interrupted.

“Because Jan works for three other professors in addition to me. She isn't at my personal beck and call. Not to mention she had gone home for the day around noon, because her daughter got sick at school. She wasn't available.” I felt as much as saw him shrug. I turned my head so I was looking up towards his face.

“Well don't you have a graduate assistant? Why didn't you get him to do it?”

“Her, the graduate assistant is a her and her name is Kelly. And she only works 20 hours per week and she isn't in my office at 4 in the afternoon on most days, much less Tuesdays. Now stop interrupting or I won't finish the story.” I could see the smile on his face and the twinkle in his eye, so I knew he wasn't serious about not finishing the story, but I figured I would play along.

“Okay, okay, I'll stop. Finish the story.”

“So I am running a test off for about 40 students. The copier isn't that difficult to use, you just put the pages in the tray, hit the number of copies and wait for the copier to spit 40 neatly collated tests out the other side. Except when the copier is being temperamental, and today it decided to be temperamental. Somehow one of pages fed wrong, so the copier stopped. The copier is computerized so there is a screen that starts giving out commands-'open door two and door three, slide drawer 5 out, and lift lever 10 up and pull out tray 5 and so on.'”

“Mmm sounds kind of bossy. Does it come equipped with a paddle?” He rolled his eyes at me, and lightly shook his head, but he smiled.

“Well, I eventually found the jammed paper, pulled it out, and shut the various drawers and doors, but it still insisted there was a paper jam. So I went through the process again, and couldn't find any jammed paper anywhere. So I did it a third time. By that time I was so frustrated I was ready toss it out the window or down the stairs or something-maybe even an impromptu bonfire. Then Mike popped his head in to make a couple of copies, and thought maybe he could figure it out, so we started looking for the jam together, but we still had no success.”

I rolled my eyes. “You would think two math professors-with doctorates-would be able to figure out something as simple as jammed paper in a copy machine.”

“Well, the problem is two math professors didn't design the damn thing. If we had, it definitely would have been less difficult.”

“Excuses, excuses. So, get back to why there is black stuff all over your pants.” I prompted with a smidgen of impatience in my voice.

“Not sure which one of us actually did it, but in the process of pulling out drawer 5 and lever 15 or maybe door number 10 and lever 4, the toner bottle popped out of place. And it didn't just fall on the floor, no, the damn thing shattered all over the place,” he added the arm motions here, stretching them out wide as he added a “whoosh!” for sound effect then he continued the story.

“Toner was splattered everywhere-on the floor, on the machine, and as you can see on my pants and Mike's too. Mike decided at that point to make himself scarce. So I went to inform the janitor of the mess, wrote a note for Jan to fix the copier. Or, to be more precise, have the copier serviced by the copier people, then I snuck down to the humanities department to see if I could use their copier to finish copying the test. Needless to say, I don't think I have uttered so many cuss words in one very short afternoon since I was a teenager. Good thing my mom wasn't outside the door, she probably would have drug me out of there by my ear and shoved a bar of soap in my mouth.”

“I bet she would've too, knowing your mom,” I laughed. “Mmmm, maybe I should call her and tell her.” I teased.

“Wouldn't do you any good, she doesn't tolerate tattle tales.” He reached over and nudged my hip towards the edge of the couch and pushed me up into a sitting position. “Come on, I am starving, and I am pretty sure I heard your stomach growling a minute ago. How 'bout something quick and easy. I am pretty sure I can manage soup and sandwiches without destroying the kitchen.”

I quickly nodded in agreement as I stood up. Glanced down at his ink spattered pants and observed. “You know you are going to have a hell of a time getting those pants clean.”

the end