I swung the door open. My heart was racing. I didn't think my hands were shaking but just in case I thrust them in my jeans and leant against the door frame. Realising how forced casual and stupid that would look I stood back up straight. I kept my hands deep in my pockets, just as a precaution.

Stood before me was Dan, resplendent in full uniform. Cap, stab vest housing all the paraphernalia coppers carry round daily. Radio top right, two large pockets at waist level, both obviously full, but clipped over. Black shirt, black trousers, black shoes. Shiny, cared for. The radio crackled, tinny voices from the control room. He rotated a dial shutting off the report.

"Sorry, should've turned that off" he said, clicking the radio off. The display went dark

"No worries," I said, pausing and not knowing what to say. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I resisted the urge to lounge against the door frame again. "Would you like to come in?"

"Yes, I need to get you to sign for these", he said holding up a see through plastic evidence bag. It rustled gently as he brought it up from his side to present.

I stepped back and widened the door. I could see the nosy woman in the house opposite having a good look. Brazen enough to pull her old fashioned net curtains back for a better look, I shot her a stare as I closed the door behind Dan, and led him to the lounge. The gunge prepared kitchen ready and waiting, the door into the dining room and kitchen area kept shut just in case I was reading the situation wrong. I had to be, this was just ridiculous.

"Um, would you like a drink? A beer? No, you're still in uniform so can't. Something else perhaps" I was rambling but couldn't stop, "Tea? Coffee? Something cold? I can get you some water, coke?"

I cursed myself internally. I was jabbering, the stream of gibberish dripping from my lips attempting to sound welcoming but making me look an idiot. I willed myself to calm down. I was a man approaching middle age, not some starry eyed fan who has won a back stage pass to meet her favourite pop star.
Dan helped by smiling. The first time I'd actually seen him smile. "Coke would be amazing, it's been a hot day"
In my mind I acted cool, a nonchalant shrug, a self assured 'sure thing'. The reality was more waffle, "Diet, or full fat. I think I have caffeine free, if you'd rather?"

His smile widened and he raised his hands in mock surrender, "Whatever you find first will be fine"

"Right," I said and spun on my feet, heading for the kitchen. I snuck in as quickly as could, opening the door only wide enough to slip through, just in case was Dan was watching me exit into the kitchen that doubled as improvised gunge play pen. The floor covering cracked under foot. I tottered on toes to minimise the noise to the fridge and fetched a couple of diet cokes, then two glasses from the cupboard.
On return to the lounge Dan was stood at my bookcase, head at an angle reading the titles of my books. Both hands were in his pocket and the fabric of his trousers was pulled tight over his ass. To say he had buns to die for was an understatement. You could see the muscles on his calves, up through his thighs up to a pert, hard looking ass. He heard my return but remained checking out the books.

"John Grisham," he said, turning, "Great author".

He came towards me and took the offered bottle, and I used the neck of mine to gesticulate towards the sofa, "Take a seat"

Dan took the far left seat, I toyed with the idea of sitting on the right leaving a space between us, but bottled it and selected the armchair opposite.
We made small talk about books for a minute or so, finding our favourite Grisham books were the same. Conversation seemed natural and I felt myself calm down and start to relax. Dan sipped from the bottle rather than using the offered glass. As we talked I sneaked looks at the policeman. He had removed his hat, placing it in the middle seat. His hair was buzz cut short, just longer than stubble. Small lines crinkled at the sides of his hazel eyes. He must smile a lot. As he lifted his bottle to his lips I saw slight darkening patch under his arms. It was hot outside, had been all week, and the residual heat of the day was only just starting to fade. Maybe it's because its a hot day, but maybe he's nervous, I asked myself. His demeanour was in control, he certainly did not betray nerves. He half finished his drink in one large gulp, and placing it on the coffee table, picked up the evidence bag holding my computer and phone.
Ok, I told myself, small talk over, down to business, he really is here just to return my stuff. I should have been delighted to receive my stuff back, but felt deflated. My stupid fantasy was just that. We formally went through the process of signing over the equipment and he slid the bag across the coffee table on return of my signed paperwork. With the deed done, he sat back on the sofa.

"Another?" I said, nodding towards his bottle, condensation running, like my dreams down the side.

"That would be great" he said, and I hopped up from my chair. I repeated my noise limiting tip toe totter across the plastic to the fridge. I swung the door open, a cold blast of air greeting my hand as I reached in.

I grabbed a couple more bottles and slammed the door. Just before I could repeat my, as silent as I could return journey, Dan appeared through the doorway

"So how long have you lived...." his voice trailed off as his eyes met the scene in front of him. The table, packed tightly with custard pies, rows of multi coloured natrosol in buckets. Even more buckets, this time housing custard. I saw his eyes pan across the scene, the plastic sheeting sellotaped along the sink area, the dishwasher, the units to protect the wall.
Finally his eyes travelled up from floor, over my legs and torso until our eyes met.

"Um, well..." I said, shocked at his sudden appearance and premature uncovering of the redecorated kitchen.

Dan, actually laughed, not an embarrassment titter, but a full hearty laugh, "Don't worry," he said, "I've seen your videos"

Up until this point I had jabbered my way through, but this time I was struck dumb. We just kind of stood there, me staring at him as his eyes returned to the reconnaissance of the gunge before him. It seemed like hours, but must have been seconds. My mind swung through possible reactions, like one of those old rotary telephone number files things. Flipping round and round, spinning but selecting nothing. The spinning stopped and my reaction tumbled from my lips. Before I could assess the selection it was out.

"Would you like to, er, join me?" It was out. I tried to reign it back, but it hung there between us. The words circled us. I bit my lip, my heart threatened to jump from my chest. Dan stood silent, his eyes returning to the buckets of multi coloured liquid. He started to unbutton his stab vest. My heart, time, the world stopped.

"Yes," he said unbuttoning the second, then third button, "Yes I think I would"

Then I thought the moment was gone. With all but one button of his stab vest undone, he left the kitchen. My heart sank, my rapidly hardening cock wilted. I rocked back against the sink, pinching the top of my nose between fingers, eyes tightly closed. I let out a long held breath through my mouth and opened my eyes. Dan reappeared back through the doorway. His cap now back on his head, the stab vest left in my lounge. I eyed his cap.

"Would you like to do this naked?" I asked hardly believing the words I was saying.

Dan walked to the centre of the room, and stood almost to military attention, both hands firmly planted at his sides. The veneer of military faded as he smiled. A warm smile that rippled out from mouth to his eyes, "being on duty technically, I am afraid I will have to remain clothed"

"Is that so?" I mumbled pushing myself off from the sink and slowly walking towards him. My nerves had vanished with his stab vest as I reached him and we stood face to face, a few inches apart. His eyes stared ahead, not into mine, but through me. The military stance remained firm. His body taught and rigid

"Is. That. So." I repeated, taking in every inch of his face. His warm eyes, unmoving, the stubble on his face a rough counterpoint to the warmth and tenderness of his eyes. My eyes made leisurely descent down his torso. Now his vest was off he stood there in black shirt, trousers and shoes. I traced my finger along the buttons of his shirt from his belly towards his neck. I reached the top button and flicked it through the eyelet. The shirt parted and displayed coarse hair beneath. I ran the tips of my fingers through the hair. Dan shifted his stance almost imperceptibly.

"Is that so, PC Kane," I repeated this time in a whisper. My finger made a gentle ascent, up across his throat, the side of his jaw, and tenderly probed his lips. He allowed me entry and ran his tongue across the end of my finger. His eyes stared straight ahead but life sparkled in them, alive and hungry. I retraced my finger along its return journey back to his shirt. I slowly travelled down to his belt and followed the belt and buckle with my fingers. He moved both of his hands behind his back. Taking that as acceptance I left the belt behind and headed south. My fingers brushed his cock. It was hard, very hard and was across his thigh, reaching up at an angle inside his trousers. I traced the length, massaging the tip as I found the end, stretching his clothing.

I moved in closer, gently squeezing his cock as our noses almost touch. I could feel his breath on my skin. I squeezed a little harder and he took a sharp breath in, for the first time closing his eyes, his head tilting back slightly. I felt his hands encircle my back and he massaged my laterals, his hands searching hungrily as he moved down towards my ass. He tried to pull me towards him. I resisted, reaching round to release his hands. He relented but moved them to either side of my face, leaning in slowly, his eyes searching for my lips. I put my hands on his chest and pushed him away. His arms dropped and he returned back to military stance.

"Give me your hat", I said. I tried to keep my breath steady. It was a struggle, "we have unfinished business"