A cozy secluded cabin- somewhere

  Hazel Northrop releases a deep sigh and squeezes both eyes shut. Senior Deputy Dave Newsome softly kisses her neck, while continuing to thrust inside of her.

  Nevermind that Hazel is the youngest daughter of Sheriff Northrop, his boss. A man his age doesn't say no to an offer this good. Hazel's fickle district attorney boyfriend has once again flown the coop. For likely the fifteenth time, Hazel has needed a shoulder to cry on, and Dave had answered the call. Without a second thought, or consideration for his own well-being.

  Sheriff Northrop is a gun man. Always has been. If the sheriff were to ever find out about Dave's extracurricular activities, Dave is sure there will be a bullet somewhere with his name on it. Maybe a whole cartridge full. However, he and Hazel have come to an understanding, and at the moment they are reaffirming it with their unabashed passion.

  Hazel's light brown skin is flushed from exertion, and she moans softly as Dave tenderly kisses her flesh. Hearing Hazel call his name with such passion, Dave shifts his attention to her full lips. Lips just like her mother's.

  Before becoming Bernadette Northrop, Hazel's mother had been Bernadette Simmons--Dave's elusive and undercover girlfriend. Many hot summer nights, they had snuck off into the woods. And many nights he had undressed Bernadette by the light of the moon, her supple breasts equally as inviting as those of her daughter.

  The late Bernadette Northrop had been anything but your average girl next door. They hadn't even lived in the same town. Bernadette's father had been a handyman, doing odd jobs for most of the big wigs in the area. One day, Mr. Simmons had brought along his beautiful daughter, tattered coveralls and all.

  The job Samuel Simmons was working on required an extra set of hands. But Samuel only had a daughter and couldn't afford to hire a helper. So along came Bernadette.

  Dave had thought Bernadette was the most beautiful thing he'd seen in a long time. Without being noticed, teenage Dave had often snuck glances in Bernadette's direction. He found himself admiring her tiny waist; light brown skin; soft oval eyes; high cheekbones, dingy white tank top--which showed a small portion of her side and midriff; those temptingly large breasts; and her full pouty lips. The coveralls had done very little to hide Bernadette's expansive bosom. When Samuel left them alone the next afternoon, Dave had enjoyed removing said coveralls.

  They'd made steamy love in the back of his father's bright red Ford pickup. The same pickup Bernadette's father had been tasked with fixing. Bernadette had teased him wonderfully, doing things with her body Dave had never seen or experienced.

  Sometimes, he would go to Bernadette at her father's place. Sometimes, she would sneak out to meet him. Each time, he found himself swimming in emotions he couldn't understand. If they had been caught, his father would have lost everything. Bernadette's father might have been run out. He certainly would have never worked in any of the surrounding towns again. Yet, Dave had gladly taken the risk. It was worth it to feel himself slide into her, and to feel her hands all over his body.

  More than thirty years later, almost to the day, he'd made love to Bernadette's daughter. It's a story few people know. A story he sure as hell won't tell Hazel. He enjoys their sporadic romps under the covers. The first time she'd cried on his shoulder, and tenderly kissed his neck, Dave had been beside himself with worry. However, once Hazel's blouse had come off, the worry was quickly replaced by raging hormones. Hazel seldom wore a bra.

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  Staring dumbfounded at Hazel's exposed girly parts, Dave had watched her back slowly toward the cabin's guestroom. She wore nothing but a sly smirk, and a pair of lace panties, tossing her blouse playfully across the room. They never made it to the guestroom. Dave had taken her against the living room wall, on the bearskin rug, underneath the 12-point buck Sheriff Northrop had bagged the previous summer.

  Thank goodness for prick boyfriends. One man's loss is another man's gain. No wonder Hazel had called him all the way out here. Him; of all people. This had been her plan all along. Eleven months after that first coupling, Dave has no regrets. Nothing, save early retirement and Hazel's surly father, will jeopardize his place in her bed.

  Hazel places both arms around Dave's neck. They are truly finding a rhythm when Dave's cellphone rings on the nightstand. Dave groans and rolls his eyes. He reclines his upper body, reaching for his phone.

  "Damn!"

  "Dave," Hazel impatiently groans. "Why don't you ever turn that thing off?"

  "You know I can't do that, Hazel," Dave explains for the hundredth time. "I'm always on-call. The day I shut it off some serious crap will go down. I'll lose my job faster than you can say job. Besides, it might be your old man."

  "Ooo...Which one?" Hazel says playfully.

  "Either one," Dave replies, leaning and kissing Hazel's lips. "Give me a sec, honey. I gotta call whoever that was back."

  Sitting up on the bed, Dave scrolls through his call log. Finding the most recent call, he heaves another loud sigh and curses.

  "It's the station. Damn!"

  "Damn...Is right," Hazel pouts, running a hand down Dave's arm. "We were just getting to the fun part. No fair."

  Stifling a laugh, Dave dials the requisite number. He waits for the familiar voice on the other line. Sheriff Jeffrey Northrop is anything but happy when he answers the phone.

  "Hey, Dave. Where've you been? I tried to call you. Did you get my message? And why are you out of breath?"

  "Uh...Yeah. I...Uh...Subscribed to a gym a while back and finally decided to work out a bit this weekend. I can really use it. That's where I'm at, right now. What's up, Sheriff?"

  Sheriff Northrop sounds unconvinced, his voice low and dry.

  "Yeah, I believe that. Just get here as soon as you can, Dave. We've got something going down I don't want to discuss over the phone."

  "Yessir," Dave mutters to a dead phone. Sheriff Northrop has already hung up.

  Dropping the phone back onto the night stand, Dave leans over and kisses Hazel on the mouth. She wraps an arm around his neck, hoping to keep him there. Dave politely removes her arm and scoots off of the bed. Hazel sits up, watching him throw on his clothes.

  "What was it, Dave? Where are you going?" Hazel says in a worried voice.

  Dave rushes back to the bed while attempting to zip his fly. He roughly kisses Hazel again, placing a hand behind her head as support. His expression is serious as he pulls away.

  "Let's just say your old man isn't happy," Dave says.

  Hazel crosses both arms over her chest and smirks. She throws her long curled hair over one shoulder.

  "So...What else is new? I'm beginning to think my father was born angry. Mom used to think so too. God rest her soul."

  "Well, there's something really important going down. He wouldn't talk about it over the phone. Gotta go. It's almost an hour drive. Maybe I'll put my flashers and siren on. Get there a little faster that way."

  "Until next time?" Hazel says, lowering her voice and her eyelids.

  "Until next time, honey," Dave replies, kissing Hazel one more time for good measure.

  Without another word, but with several glances back, Dave hustles from the room. Moments later, Hazel hears his Ford pickup start up and peel out of the gravel driveway.