Marvin reluctantly pulls his truck and trailer into the weigh station purposely bypassing the inspection bay and slows his rig to a safe stop. “My life has gone to hell!” Marvin Casey confesses as he tearfully looks at the beacon of flashing lights in his driver's side rearview mirror. “I shouldn't have looked that way! I should have kept my eyes forward! WHY DID I LOOK THAT WAY?” he scolds. Marvin looks down at the oddly shaped package and tries to think of a safe place to stow it. “God, please don't let me get inspected. Not now! Not yet!” he prays. The air leak is audible; there's no mistaking it! Fear of being fined and placed out of service enters the truck driver's mind, “what am I gonna do?” he questions himself frantically remembering he had already informed Tony Trejo of his ETA. “THIS PACKAGE HAS TO BE DELIVERED TONIGHT!” he knows his life depends on it!
Marvin quickly scans the floor of his cab for a hiding place. With no time to raise his bunk Marvin shoves the oddly shaped package in the chink behind his driver's seat; because of the dimensions, it wouldn't fit in the small refrigerator. He quickly looks back into his mirror, the officer has opened the driver side door, “Lord help me!” he prays, “What am I to do! What am I going to tell Rita? She said to stay away from her “fucking cartel family!” I promised her that I would, that was a condition of our marriage. He looks again into the mirror; he could see the officer looking back at him, “SHIT!” he screams. Nervously he looks behind him. He pushes the cumbersome package further into the small crevice until it is almost invisible. “The Lion will kill me!” he considers, “Uncle Tony didn't want Rita to marry me in the first place!” The worried truck driver looks at the air gauge on his dash, “Seventy-five pounds? What The Hell!” Marvin looks around for a reason for the loss, his pins were both in, and his foot has been on the brake the whole time he has been sitting there. The low air alarm will sound soon, and his pins are going to pop out! Beads of sweat form on his dark brown forehead and face, he knows the truck's compressor cannot refill the tanks in time. “WHY DID I DO THIS?” he panics as the “Texas Hold'em” sign at the Border Crossing illuminates in his head. The number of CDL’s revoked to date was 600; tomorrow it will read 601, he figures. “I'm fucked!” Marvin shrieks, “GOD, I'M FUCKED!”
Marvin sits shaking as he stares looking into the big mirror of his T600; the Texas Department of Transportation Officer gets out of the Dodge Charger. The officer dons aviators sunglasses and that intimidating highway state trooper's headgear, resting the front of the ranger's hat on the police issued shades and the back of her headgear rest on her fiery red hair bun. “A woman?” the trucker thinks as he watches her mannerisms. “She looks tough; there will be no reasoning with her.”
Marvin swallows as he cautiously watches as the Texas Department of Transportation (TXD.O.T.) Officer approached the driver's door; she stops to inspect the flashing hazard lights, tires & wheels, and current fuel tax sticker, MCC number, and VIN information. She motions to Marvin to open his driver door; her face looked unforgiving; the officer waits as he cracks the door to his cab, “Good Afternoon Driver,” the officer yells, “I am Texas State Trooper and D.O.T. Officer Flannigan; do you know why I pulled you in?” Officer Flannigan locks eyes with Marvin Casey. His warm brown eyes capture her attention, sensation tingles in her spine and her palms moisten, she worked to shake off the eerie feeling. “No Ma'am,” Marvin says quickly. “FUCK!” he screams in his mind noticing the small tire wedges in her left hand. “Your truck is leaning! I think you may have an air leak or a broken shock,” she says, “what is the P.S.I. reading on your air gauge?” “One hundred!” Marvin yells quickly hoping that the inspector doesn't ask for permission to step up to look for herself. “I will be performing a “level one inspection.” Turn off your truck, turn on your head and carrier lamps, leave your red and yellow pins pushed in and remove your foot from the brake. I need to see your “CDL” (commercial driver's license” and current medical card.” Marvin knows the inspector will hear the leak once he shuts down the motor. “Yes Ma'am,” he says nervously. He hands the officer his information and turns the engine off. The hissing leak was audible to several feet away. “Driver, didn't you hear that hissing when you performed your pre-trip?” the officer questioned. Marvin smirks realizing Officer Flannigan's Irish accent, her Gaelic tongue was slight, possibly diluting with each new generation to her family.” He watches as she proceeds to the front of the tractor; the young female officer looks at Marvin's license to read his name. “Mister... Casey, can you come and raise your tractor's hood?” “Yes Ma'am!” Marvin says as he promptly steps down out of his cab to lift the hood.
As Marvin Casey walks toward Officer Flannigan, she takes notice of Marvin's build. Visible were his bulging biceps, powerful shoulders, and muscular pectorals. Though his shirt was loose fitting, it left little to the imagination enticing the female inspector. She prevents herself from letting her eyes drift lower for fear that he will see her. Marvin takes the handle to raise the hood in his right hand, Officer Flannigan's eyes widen as Marvin's forearm tightens, and his bicep forms the shape of a baseball as the weighty fiberglass hood is raised and pulled toward him. With the Kenworth's hood raised the leak's audible hiss is so loud that one could barely talk over it. Officer Flannigan lowers her shades to the bridge of her nose to examine the big yellow motor to locate the source of the hissing. Marvin unobtrusively observed as the inspecting officer extended her left hand to feel for the escaping air. It took less than a minute to locate the leak; she gives herself a congratulatory smile before angrily turning to face the truck driver. She takes the torn hose to his clutch fan in her hands. “Your problem is here; you could have made this repair yourself, why didn't you?” Officer Flannigan watched the truck driver doubtingly waiting for an answer. “I don't know anything about repairing vehicles,” Marvin replied. The agitated Texas D.O.T. Officer inspects the rest of the old Caterpillar C13 diesel motor, first removing the dipstick to examine the oil, then looking at the filters for a date. She checks the steering components for grease and inspects the steers tire tread depth, taking her gauge from her breast pocket. Everything looked to meet the specifications for safe, legal operation. She summarized the problem leak must have started recently. “Sir, how long have you been driving with this leak?” She watched Marvin's eyes and body for his mannerisms, “it's only been a few days, l haven't had enough time to wait at a shop, but if you...” Officer Flannigan raised her hand up to stop the driver from continuing, halting him before he offers the oldest excuse in the trucker's handbook for not getting a repair performed. “I am placing you out of service!” her tone is stern. “Show me your logbook!” Marvin panics, remembering he hadn't started his log for the day. “Ma'am, I will be honest with you. I...” “Let me guess, she interrupts, “don't have a log started for today.” The look on Officer Flannigan’s face transforms from anger to annoyance, she gives a sarcastic smile and turns to walk away. Marvin can see she is obviously pissed as she looks to the sky. Officer Flannigan removes her sunglasses and reasons with herself. She slowly returns to the nervous owner-operator, taking an additional moment to choose her words.
“An air leak and no log started for today, is that correct?” Officer Flannigan's green eyes were piercing. Marvin Casey tries to swallow; he can't. “Umm, umm, umm!” she nods holding her aviators in her hand along with her pen. She knew the answer but thought, “what the hell... let's ask anyway, did you create a log for yesterday?” Marvin looked like a child who had just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar; his eyes were solemn. “Mr. Casey, “your puppy dog eyes will not help you!” the officer chastised returning her shades to her eyes. “You are up to your eyeballs in shit! Do you know how dangerous this leak is? What would you do if you lost your air supply while driving down the interstate? Do you think your small fire extinguisher can put out a truck fire?” Marvin had no answer.
Officer Flannigan stood in front of Marvin Casey, evaluating and admiring his six foot, two-inch frame, her mind begins calculating. Today she will solve the riddle that has plagued her and those like her for years. She looks around the weigh station, seeing no other vehicles the lady cop feels safe in assuming with the truck's hood up no one will consider stopping, to others it will appear that the tractor-trailer is undergoing a “level one inspection.” Seeing her cruiser parked alone behind the rig with the emergency lights flashing will only enforce the illusion. “Today will be the day I find out why!” the excited officer says to herself. “I can do this! This may be my only opportunity!” She looks at the truck driver, “I need to finish writing this up, and you will need to answer some questions; may I sit in your truck?” the officer asks.
Marvin Casey leads Officer Flannigan to the passenger side of his tractor and opens the door for his visitor. Officer Flannigan smiles as a courtesy before reaching to pull herself onto the lower step in front of the fuel tank. She advances to the second level to climb into the cab. The officer's perfume grabs Marvin's attention; the fragrance was inviting, intoxicating and he figured, expensive! “She smells like a real lady!” the truck driver thinks, “dainty, delicate and sexy! “Why can't all women be this way?” he asks himself wondering what the fragrant officer might look like when she is not working.
Officer Flannigan sat in the passenger seat working to complete the citations, “Driver, may I place my headgear and glasses on your dash?” “Yes Ma'am!” Marvin answers. “Do whatever you want.” She nods with a smile at the truck's owner. The petite D.O.T. Officer crossed her legs after placing her ranger's hat in front of her resting her aviators on the brim before she returns to her writing. Marvin stood with his mouth open, still holding the passenger door. Marvin was awestruck as he watched the remarkable lady officer at work. Officer Flannigan, realizing she was being observed stops to look at her spectator, her emerald green eyes are hypnotic. “Mr. Casey, it is not necessary to stand out there gawking, you may come inside.”
The interior of Marvin's cab was clean and spacious; the bed was neat and tidy. Everything was in order, nothing was out of place, just as the lady officer likes it! “Mr. Casey,” she turns to the truck driver with an authoritative face, “you are looking at two very hefty fines!” Marvin Casey takes a deep breath, “I know... but Ma'am, I have this great paying load, if you would let me go with a warning I promise I will get that air leak fixed and will also have my log book updated before I leave Laredo.” Officer Flannigan lowers her head and continues writing to complete her tickets. She pauses for a moment, stopping to watch the truck driver's mannerisms. Marvin looked as intimidated as a boy in trouble. The Texas state trooper felt empowered; she takes a second to look again at his face and hides her laughter.
Officer Flannigan completes her documentation and shuts her citation book. “Mr. Casey, your log book violation is a costly offense. And I bet if I were to look at your last seven days. I could find enough violations to keep you out of service until tomorrow night!” she tries to look sincere, “You seem to be a hard-working guy, and I realize things happen all of the time, especially when you own a big truck! I am certain you could turn your situation around if you could just get a break.” the state trooper and D.O.T. Officer sets her citation book on the dash next to her hat and sunglasses. “Sir, I am not as terrible a bitch as you might be thinking, I understand everyone needs a break from time to time.” She looks into Marvin's eyes, “Would you like a break Mr. Casey?” she asked the question with a slight smile. Marvin didn't answer; his fear of where the conversation was going made him too uncomfortable to speak, his fear placed him right where the TXD.O.T. Officer wanted him. “I tell you what Mr. Casey,” she said confidently. “If you are willing to do something for me, I will let you go and forget meeting you here today.” Before Marvin could consider Officer Flannigan stands up between the driver and passenger seats, his mouth opens watching as she unsnaps to remove her holster, placing it over the armrest behind her. She looks at Marvin with a slight grin as she loosens her belt and pulls to raise her uniform shirt from inside her trousers. “Mr. Casey, I have always wondered what it is about black men and why white women can’t seem to get enough of them? I thought maybe you could show me.” Marvin’s heart starts to pound in his chest. “Officer Flannigan, I'm... I'm a married man!” Marvin admits nervously. “Oh, you are married?” the officer questions raising an eyebrow. “Is she white? Your wife, I mean?” The state trooper looks at Marvin's bare left finger as she waits for an answer. “No Ma’am,” he says after clearing his throat, “my wife is from Mexico.”
Marvin Casey watches in awe as the unaffected officer removes the pins from her hair allowing her long fiery, curly locks to fall freely past her shoulders. Officer Flannigan is confident this is an offer this troubled driver cannot refuse, and her best opportunity to stamp one more line completed on her bucket list. “It doesn’t matter Mr. Casey,” she says authoritatively. “I tell you what, and you have the option since you are a “married man” and all. You can pay the fines or make the repairs; you are out of service until I see either a check for your fines or a work order for the repair. I will except a T-Check, Comcheck, E.F.S. Check or Cash... whatever you have is fine with me. Or, you can have your mechanic come out here and make the repairs and give me a copy of the service order.” She shrugs, “it makes no difference to me!” she sits on the bed giving it “a bounce” to inspect the mattress. “Ooo!” she remarks surprised by the firmness. “I'm not sure you realize it Mr. Casey but, I'm offering you an opportunity to make your delivery tonight. Your delivery is tonight... right?” “Yes Ma’am, the truck driver admits. Officer Flannigan crossed her left leg to untie and remove her black Patton-leather shoe and sock, Marvin looks at the redhead in both fear and admiration as she alternates. The undressing officer places her shoes together in front of the inconspicuous package, Marvin focuses on the Officer's eyes hoping to keep her attention. “Mr. Casey, do you find me attractive?” The married truck driver is afraid to answer, but the Texas Officer is the definition of “Fine!” An attention-grabbing beauty that could silence a ballroom! Long flowing red hair with curls that shine in the Texas sun, the face and tongue of an Irish angel, and the dimensions of an hourglass. “Mr. Casey, I don’t have a lot of time so here’s the deal. I am going to let you go, and in turn, you are going to show me that you appreciate my generosity.” Marvin again smiles at her dialect but, drops it immediately hearing her conditions. She extends to remove her handgun from the holster draped over the passenger seat armrest. Officer Flannigan glances at the concerned truck driver as she inspects the safety before tossing her Heckler and Koch HK45 semi-automatic handgun onto the bunk behind her just above his blanket and pillow. Marvin's eyes widen as his fair-skinned visitor lowers her back to his bunk, placing her head on the folded navy blue blanket resting on his large pillow. Her long swirling strands of auburn hair stretched to smother the old blanket and pillow. The lady officer moves her right leg, resting her knee against the bookshelf above the bunk, her left leg extended off of the left side of Marvin's bunk wanting to find the floor. Her wanting vagina was fully exposed. A small, gold hood ring pinned through the foreskin of her clitoris glistens as it reflects light from the desk lamp, her pubic area looked smooth like glass, freshly waxed and inviting! There was a hint of vanilla in the air, Marvin took a long, deep breath. As the waiting officer unbuttons the lower part of her shirt the nervous trucker takes note of her matching belly button ring, the separation of her lower abdominal muscles was visible with each breath. Rita Casey's disapproving face and screaming voice fill Marvin's mind with her objections, Marvin debates with her. “But Honey, I have no money! I have no way to pay these fines, and I need that remaining $3500! I have to do this!”
Officer Flannigan continues to position herself. She spreads her legs a little more, introducing the inner labia of her attention-craving vagina, moistening itself as it separates to display her wet pink interior. She licks her right middle finger and begins to massage her clitoris and foreskin gently pulling on the little gold ring. No denying it, Officer Flannigan's body was a magnificent work of art. “Mr. Casey, do you like what you see?” she smiles confidently as the truck driver stands speechless, Marvin tries to swallow but can't. The officer instructs. “Get on your knees and eat my fucking pussy! Work your magic! I want to experience what it is that makes a white woman no longer want a white man.” I want nothing less than satisfaction from you, Mr, Casey and if you can do that,” she nods, “I will go, and all is forgotten.” Marvin's brain is in turmoil. He looks nervously at Officer Flannigan's hairless, smooth, shiny, ice cream scented pelvic region. Her body was toned, as defined as an athlete. Her skin was fair as if it has never had more than a minute of the sun's kiss. Anxiously Marvin's mouth begins to dry, “I can't do this!” He says to himself. “Well?” she demands with a devilish smile, “my pussy is waiting!”