She had a thing about panache so the Audi A5 convertible had to have the top down even though the tropical sun threatened to boil the blood in her head and turn her eyeballs into aching migraine globes, unmitigated by the midnight-black sunglasses perched on her nose. A Mercedes SL or a Porsche 911 would have been ideal, of course, but if a humble Audi A5 was all that was available you had to compensate for it with a dash of panache; which meant that it had to be startlingly white, the top must be down, and the driver must have blonde hair streaming in the wind and wearing only a white off-the-shoulder lace crop top and tiny denim shorts that clung to her toned bum like painted skin.

She powered the Audi through the last hairpin turn into a long straight length of empty road stretching to the horizon, pressed the accelerator, and the silky supercharged V-6 effortlessly accelerated with a throaty growl. Time to see what her car could do.

It wasn’t her car, exactly. It belonged to Dr. Fletcher and technically she was supposed to be keeping an eye on his house while he vacationed in Cabo San Lucas, but, after all, the car had been in the garage which was part of the house, and surely he wouldn’t mind if she borrowed it to run a few errands.

The speedometer skyrocketed through 100 mph and was touching 110 when she glimpsed the police car hiding in a pull-out as she flashed by fast as a jack rabbit fleeing a prairie fire.

“Oh, crap! Oh, crap! Oh, crap!” she shrieked and immediately mashed the brakes but it was too late. Flashing blue lights exploded onto the road behind her and she was well and truly caught. “Oh, crap crap crap!” she swore. The last thing she needed was another ticket. Her husband had nearly had a stroke when he found out about her last one and this time she was sure to pay. “Crap!” she said again for emphasis, then sighed and turned into a dirt road conveniently screened by foliage that would mask her indignity from passing motorists and turned off the engine.

“Get a hold of yourself,” she scolded, checking her hair in the rear view mirror. “I can talk my way out of this.” The cop eased up behind her and sat in his car, obviously running her license plate.

It seemed like the policeman was going to take forever. Thank God she wasn’t driving her own car. If he had pulled up her license plate ... well, it would not go well. Finally she saw him emerge from the cruiser and begin to saunter warily up to her door. She put on her most innocent face and doey eyes.

“I guess I let my speed get away from me, officer,” she said with her best smile calibrated to be just a little bit rueful. “It’s so hard to judge how fast this car is going. I noticed it just as I passed you. I don’t blame you for issuing me a warning,” she suggested and did her best to appear contrite.

“License and registration, ma’am,” the officer growled.

“Why, certainly, officer. I do hope that we can work this out. My husband would be positively livid if I got a ticket. Surely you can see the position this puts me in.” she cooed seductively.

“Stay in your car, ma’am. I’ll be right back.”

Oh, God, please, please, please let me get off this time. I promise I’ll stop speeding, and I’ll go to church every Sunday and, and ... But she didn’t get a chance to finish her prayer. The cop was back.

“Ma’am, is this your vehicle?”

“Um, actually it’s not, officer. It belongs to a friend of mine, Dr. David Fletcher.” She emphasized the Doctor to show that she had important friends.

“And did Dr. Fletcher give you permission to drive his car?”

“Well, not exactly. But I know he wouldn’t mind. He asked me to watch his things while he’s on vacation, and...”

He abruptly cut her off. “Ma’am, please step out of the car.”

Slowly she opened her car door and unfolded her shapely legs, teetering on the six inch stiletto heels of her Steve Madden Yeskia platform pumps and thrust out her chest in what she hoped was an alluring pose. She smiled to herself when she perceived the sharp intake of breath as the cop surveyed her trim, tanned torso, pert rear, and perfect roundness of her braless breasts. She’d befuddled more than one man with her charms and bent him to her will as easily as shaping modeling clay and she must –must- get this cop to overlook her indiscretion.

“Officer, I’m sure I was going just a teensy bit over the speed limit,” she cooed, “but no one was on the road. No harm was done. And I would be ever so grateful if we could just let bygones be bygones. Ever so grateful.”

“Ma’am, I need you to turn around and put your hands on the hood and spread your legs.”

Why, certainly, officer.” She turned, and put as much panache into it as she could. “This certainly puts me in a vulnerable position. In fact, I’m completely at your mercy.”

He quickly and thoroughly frisked her, none too gently.

“Ooo! You have such big strong hands. They just send chills up my spine.” She was enjoying herself. He’d be eating out of her hand in no time. “I’m sorry that I’ve caused you so much trouble. Surely I can make it up to you somehow.”

“Hands behind your back, ma’am.”

She complied without thinking. “I’m sure you can see that there’s no need to involve my lawyer or your supervisor in this when we can just work it out between ourselves.”

There was a sharp metallic snick as handcuffs snapped shut on her wrists and her heart suddenly froze.

“What ... You jackass! Why did you handcuff me? I said I was sorry!” she spat, trying to turn but he had her crowded up against the side of the car. “Okay – fine,” she hissed. “If it makes your dick hard I’ll take the ticket.”

The cop snorted in derision and bent close until his lips were right by her ear. “Ticket? Oh, this is way beyond a ticket. You’re going to jail, little Missy. Fifty miles per hour over the speed limit. Fifty! That’s enough to haul you in by itself. And not only were you speeding, you were going over 100. There are special penalties for that. With your record, you’ll be locked up in the county jail for thirty days, at least. And to top it all off: Unauthorized Use of a Motor Vehicle. That’s grand theft auto, Missy, and the penalty for that- is- state- prison!” His finger poked her back emphasizing every word.

She was speechless. Prison? What would her friends think? What about her kids? And when she thought of what her husband would say she cringed. She couldn’t go to prison. Not her!

The cop continued his tirade. “You think you can come to our county and flout our laws like rules don’t apply to you! And on top of that you insult me and try to seduce me and threaten me! People like you make me want to puke! You think you can do anything you want and never have to face the consequences. Is that it? Is that what you think? You think that all you have to do is wiggle that butt and jiggle those tits and I’ll let you go. Not this time, Missy. Not ever! You picked the wrong cop to screw with.”

He grasped her pinioned arm and whirled her around until she faced him. His face was a mask of rage as he leaned in so close that their noses almost touched.

“None of this would have happened if your Daddy had been a man and said ‘no’ instead of gratifying your every whim and letting you get away with doing anything you wanted! Well, things don’t work that way in the real world. In the real world, when you break the rules you have to pay the price. I’ll bet you were never even spanked, were you? Were you?” He was right in her face.

Frightened, she shook her head no. Her lip quivered and tears coursed down her cheeks, truly contrite.

He rocked back on his heels, triumph in his eyes. “I knew it. Maybe if that delicate little heinie of yours had been whipped every now and again you wouldn’t be in this fix now. I’ve half a mind to teach you myself!”

“O ... Okay. Anything but jail. Please, officer!”

“Are you saying you want me to whip your butt? You think that will get you out of this? How many smacks do you think it would take before you learned that it’s wrong to take someone else’s property without permission?”

“I ... I don’t know.” She was sobbing now. “Five?” she offered up in a little-girl voice.

He guffawed. “Five? Five swats instead of a year in prison! I don’t think so. “ He considered as sobs wracked her body amid terrified whimpers.

“Look at you, all cowering and sniveling and weak. How long do you think you’d last in prison? How long!?” He shook her.

She was sobbing now.

“No time at all, that’s how long. Those ‘ladies’ would tear you apart. And some of those guards should be in prison themselves.” She cried harder as he contemplated her speculatively. “By God, maybe I’ll teach you a lesson myself. Maybe I will give you the spanking you deserve. You should be thanking me that it’s not some prison guard administering your punishment, because they don’t spank! Let me hear you say ‘Thank you!’”