My Stash or yours?

2015… through a catalogue or comedy of errors Governor Mike Pence enacts draconian anti vaping legislation in Indiana.

The war on vaping has unfairly victimised many upstanding citizens and led to a resurgence in certain share and bond prices.

Vapers continue to enjoy their lifesaving hobby albeit clandestinely and with the aid of health conscious, kind hearted souls in other states…

I jolted into consciousness as my front door hit the floor with a sickening thump and the pitter patter of adrenaline fuelled cops invaded my dreams.

I had just gotten my feet to the floor when two ham fisted, meatheads grabbed me under my arms and threw me downstairs, I arrived at the bottom bruised but alive where once again I was dragged into my kitchen and rudely handcuffed to a chair.

A goggled goon snarled something about a search for my stash and with the briefest of nods appointed a female officer to stand guard over me as the sounds of a deliberately provocative search filtered through the door.

I glanced over at the police and could not help noticing that she was alarmingly attractive and worse still she had the most peculiar look on her face.

“Where’s the stash?” she demanded, staring deep into my soul with a pair of bewitchingly hazel eyes.
I was lost, I did not dare look away, I couldn’t have even if I wanted to, although somehow I was aware that a not inconsiderable amount of drool had just landed on my left knee.

“The stash, where is it?”

I was lazing in hazelnut…

“Tell me!”

I was wallowing in hazelnut…

“They’ll find it, they always do, even if they have to bring in the dogs… animals!”

I was drowning in hazelnut… but something in the way she said animals resonated, reverberated, ricocheted around my brain.

“Look” she said, “you have a minute maybe two tops before someone finds it or they come back in here, and you fall down the stairs… whatta’ shame”

My brain spun at warp speed, could I trust police, fine police, damn fine police?

“It’s in the fridge… behind the coffee” came pouring out of my mouth as once again I was fighting for my life… drowning delectably in a hazelnut haze

She ripped open the door observed the mini delicatessen artfully arranged inside with a nod and a stifled gasp then grabbed my stash bag and opened it, right underneath the most perfectly formed button nose I had ever seen.

“Well I do declare it smells like Elvis’s kitchen in here” she purred with a grin and a flare of those magnificent nostrils.”

I nearly swooned.

She had purred in a way that only a fellow gourmand would recognise upon smelling the stash.

We looked at each other in utter shock as I heard myself purring right back.

She opened the first bottle and pulling a battered old cana with a magma on top… as if from thin air, she dripped a good ml of Suspicious Minds inside and fired.

My nostrils flared at the smell of sweet banana followed by a lick of dry peanut butter, not crunchy, smooth with just a hint of salt, I felt the drool hit my knee again as I was mesmerized by the vision of this gourmand goddess in tactical assault gear.

“Damn… that’s good” she said through a large cloud of scrumptious sandwich, “what’s next?” She asked as she pulled out another bottle.

“Lushington…” fell from her perfect lips as she rinsed out the dripper and rewicked within thirty seconds, while I marvelled at her dexterity, a voice in my head murmured… “bet she could do that blindfolded.”

Switching on the extractor fan, refilling the dripper and speaking into her radio all at the same time she reassured her colleagues that she had found nothing so far and asked if they had found anything?

I gaped as she vaped… even as her colleagues got busy rearranging my home with extreme prejudice, I found myself in her thrall completely, her hazelnut eyes locked on mine.

Nice police had just lied to nasty police and was vaping away in a kitchen as my home was ransacked?

All thoughts were banished from my head as she leant in and pressed the drip tip against my lips.

She fired and everything was peachy.

Ripe peaches (almost fizzy, perhaps a sneaky raspberry?) slathered in a creamy vanilla coupled with her proximity resulted in complete sensory overload and a temporary shutdown of my cranial circuitry… MELBA… Melba… melba…

I awoke after my brain rebooted… to a wicked grin that only served to emphasise my current predicament.

Once again my eyes boggled as the cute cop, blew plumes of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches throughout the kitchen and then my heart almost leapt out of my chest as she leaned in and blew a plume directly into my mouth.

I tasted a stronger peanut butter (almost crunchy) with a light strawberry background and white bread? I longed for more close contact vaping but her radio squawked and squelched ruining the moment. I satisfied myself by looking angry and hoping that enchanting officer tried the PB and Jam again.

She responded to the radio with a terse “all good” and once again rinsed and rewicked within seconds.

Leaning back to drip some Forever Young allowing me a surreptitious examination of her statuesque figure, she looked down and caught me and with another heartbreaking grin she leaned in and smothered me in a cloud of cereal scented vapour. I inhaled and tasted a more toasted cereal than Covals crunchberry with a snozzberry/ crackberry / whoknowswhatberry milk undertone. Not my usual style of e liquid but very good all the same.

The chugging extractor fan was the only sound as once again this vaping vixen rinsed and rewicked only to fill the dripper with My Sweet One.

I wished she was my sweet one as once again she inhaled deeply and filled my kitchen with clouds of a custardy trifle. The smell was exquisite, not quite real trifle as it had none of the sherry soaked sponge or the hundreds and thousands sprinkled on top but it was close, very close. I could taste the jelly.

Next up came Cinnamon Girl… Neil Young crooned inside my head as the sounds of the police remaking my bed, refitting the doors from my closet and rehanging my picture frames in their (properly conducted and gentle) search for what my cute captor was currently flaunting in front of me.

The smell of a buttery rich pastry caressed my palate as once again she taunted me by blowing soft cinnabon clouds into my mouth… her lips less than an inch from mine. I crossed my legs in a vain attempt to hide my growing excitement, I felt like I had died and gone to hell, doomed to be teased for eternity by a babe in blue whilst handcuffed to a now uncomfortable wooden ladderback.

Her knowing smirk indicated that had she noticed… but her subsequent attempts to straighten her long dark hair gave me hope… could it be that she was actually attracted to this drooling, unshaven boxer clad detainee?

Or was this simply the worst episode of COPS ever?

Only time would tell…

Licking her luscious lips she leaned against the counter hipshot and began to fill the dripper one final time with Dark Star.

I gulped, desperately attempting to halt the drooling and shifted in my seat, vainly trying to cover my mounting embarrassment as once again she leaned in and smothered me with clouds of a complicated custardy concoction.

This vape was far more than the sum of its parts, light custard, a brace of coconuts, doused in chocolate liquor and a slightly salted caramel sauce with something mysterious (think turbocharged dark chocolate bounty bars) swirled around my palate. Then my tormentor leaned in and kissed me right on the mouth.

I kissed her back in sheer shock and for a second the world shifted on its axis and the stars aligned, I felt lightheaded and breathless, like a fly suddenly suspended in amber.

She pulled herself away reluctantly, put her finger on my lips to still my protests and listened attentively.
Silence… and then… the sound of booted feet slowly descending the stairs. She flicked on the coffee maker, gathered up all the evidence and stashed the calico bag behind her bulletproof vest.

Grabbing two mugs from the tree, she quickly poured out two black coffees and held one to my lips, I drank it down greedily, all the while nervously watching the door.

Her captain poked his head around the door and grunted “nothing up there, anything here?

“Nothing” she replied as cool as a breeze, “had to give this jerk some coffee to keep him awake, we got the wrong house again… goddamn anonymous callers.”

“Release him and hustle” replied the grunter “see you outside.”

She uncuffed me, smiled and tucked a card into my boxers.

“Call me if you want to share my stash” she whispered with a wink and turned on her heel to rejoin the animals…

Avoid the cute cops, irrational Governors and wanton rearranging of property by visiting http://www.stasheliquids.com and try a taste of real America.

All liquids 6mg/ml, max vg, enjoyed in a rayon wicked 1.6 ohm magma firing at 20 to 26 watts.

Rating: An original Roy Lichtenstein http://www.lichtensteinfoundation.org/