My partner is a veteran female police officer. She is married. I am not. Why we got assigned together, I don’t know. At first, I thought it was some type of cruel joke, to test us. Sandy was a good cop and had been on the force for thirteen years. Her husband was also a police officer, but in another city.Sandy was like one of the guys. She was athletic and tough. She was also very business-like and she rarely, if ever, let her emotions show, even when we were alone. She’d tap the steering wheel when frustrated, if she was driving, or make quirky facial expression, but that was generally about the extint of her emotions.Sandy and I always had each other’s backs. We counted on each other. When the end of the shift came, she went home. I would go have a beer at the bar and look for a girl to pick up. My relationships were never long ones. I guess my snarky sense of humor took a lot of getting used to.Sandy could always tell when one of my conquests was about to end. She’d tell me to “take it easy.” That was her cue to me, to take a step back and re-evaluate.Sandy refused to talk about her güvenilir bahis family, her marriage, religion or politics. She said anything and everything else was fine, but those areas were untouchable. My love-life, on the other hand seemed to be fair game. I hated it at times, because the conversations seemed so one sided, with me asking things like, “Why do women have to be such emotional creatures?” After about my third girl-friend in three months, Sandy told I was not hitting a homerun when it came to relationships. I told I wasn’t trying for homeruns, that I was just happy to be able to play.“So, what is it that you’re looking for?” Sandy pressed as we rolled down Bacon Avenue in the central patrol district, past small businesses and bars, drunks and gangs of guys standing on the street corner, ready to bolt if we tapped on the brakes.“I want a hot ass blonde, in her thirties, who can hold her own, and who isn’t afraid to have some fun,” I replied. Sandy was 32 and a blonde, so my insinuation comment was not lost on her. “Pretty high standards,” Sandy replied. She waited a few güvenilir bahis siteleri seconds and asked,“So what do you consider fun?”“You know,” I replied.“No,” Sandy shot back, “Spell it out for me.”“You’re married,” I replied.“So, what does that have to do with you having fun?” Sandy shot back.A white sedan ran a stop sign right in front of us. I hit the overheads while Sandy radioed in the plate. The errant driver pulled over. I approached the driver, while Sandy casually approached from the car from the passenger side. Suddenly the driver and the passenger bolted from the car, each going in opposite directions.“Foot pursuit, need cover, 1300 Vargas street,” I yelled into my shoulder mike. Sandy took off after the passenger, while I went after the driver. It wasn’t much of a foot pursuit, because the kid couldn’t run very fast with his pants falling down around his knees. I managed to coral him after a mere block, flip him on to his back and cuff him.Sandy was not as lucky. Her guy managed to get away. One of the other patrol units was assigned to take the juvenile to iddaa siteleri the juvie jail. Our sergeant wanted to keep us on the streets and let the rookies do the jail hauls. We went out of service to complete out reports, sitting in a vacant parking lot.“You’re getting old,” I told Sandy. “Maybe it’s time for school patrol.”Sandy did not like to be told she was getting old. The truth be told, she really wasn’t getting old and she was still in her prime.“I can still best you,” Sandy replied. I knew she could, so I didn’t press the issue.“You never answered my question,” Sandy pressed. I had to admit, I had forgotten the question.“Your idea of fun,” Sandy repeated.I sat my clip board on the dash. Okay I thought, it’s time to get real here. “I like blow jobs,” I replied. I don’t know why I said it. It was such a crude remark. Immediately recognizing I had crossed a line, I apologized.Sandy laughed.“That sounds so like you,” she replied. She then asked, “Would you like for me to blow you?”“Yeah right,” I sarcastically replied. “You’re married.”“I can still give you a blow job,” Sandy remarked before asking, “You don’t think I could give you a good blow job?”“Yes,” I replied, staring out the driver’s window. There was no way I could hold this conversation and look Sandy in the eye. Just the thought of getting a blow job made me horny.