The Naked 8
Marley Quinn
The Naked 8
by Marley Quinn
Copyright Information
The Naked 8
by Marley Quinn
© 2025 Marley Quinn
All rights reserved.
Author: Marley Quinn
Contact details: marleyquinn.reformist760@passinbox.com
Book cover, illustration: Marley Quinn
Editing, proofreading: Marley Quinn
This e-book, including its portions, is protected by copyright and may not be reproduced, resold, or redistributed without the permission of the author.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Information
Table of Contents
Disturbing the Peace
The Naked Eight
Lifesaver
Free Pass
Perfect Balance
OnlyFans
Our Little Secret
Better Than Porn
Stupid Job
Wanted for Questioning
Keep Your Head Down
A Little Crazy
Sending a Message
Hot Lunch
A Thief in the Night
Light Breakfast
Legit
Duty Calls
Taco Mix
Verisimilitude
Money Shot
Housekeeping
Forfeiture
Ireland
Big Appetites
Rom-Com
In Da Club
Flash Bang
Night Raid
Five Hundred
Not Like Other Guys
The Explorer
Highway Robbery
Rockets
Career Opportunities
Hands Full
Naughty
A Bit Disturbing
A House and a Horse
I Cheated
Spiderweb
Bum
Big Bash
The Hottest Girl
Birthday Boy
Birthday Present
The Lady or the Tiger
Begging
Preparation for War
Chaos in Motion
Sweet Randy
Smashing
Off the Books
Tested
Too Easy
Roast Duck
Discombobulated
Valentine
Disturbing the Peace
I was halfway towards dozing off when a call came over the radio about a public disturbance incident in Sloane Park.
“All units, be advised,” said the dispatcher. “We’ve gotten several calls about a 10-45 in Sloane Park. Subject is a young Caucasian female, wearing green shorts and, um, apparently not much else.”
Instantly, I was wide awake. A young woman with her clothes off probably meant she was high on drugs, but it was a lot more fascinating than responding to yet another burglar alarm mistakenly going off, so I snatched the radio off its stand as fast as I could.
“Dispatch, this is Unit 12. I’m five minutes away. Please show me as responding,” I announced, praying inside that nobody else was closer to the scene.
“10-4, Unit 12,” said the dispatcher, sounding bored as always.
Excited to have something potentially interesting to do, I flipped on my lights and put my car in gear, arriving at the west end of Sloane Park in under three minutes.
After double-checking that all my gear was in order, I got out of the car. It was pretty easy to find out where all the trouble was coming from because there was a group of people all gathered around the central fountain, with more folks eagerly making their way in that direction.
“Make way, make way,” I announced in my best police officer voice as I made my way through the crowd.
Sure enough, a young woman was wearing green shorts standing by the fountain, but she didn’t look like your typical junkie spaced out on drugs. For one thing, her brown hair was long and lustrous, not wild and matted, and her eyes weren’t dilated.
But what really caught my eye was just how attractive she was. Between those toned, slender legs and her generous chest that was barely being kept in check by a skimpy green top, she was easily the most attractive encounter I’d had since joining the force.
As I got closer, I saw that her green top was a cropped T-shirt, only the sides had been cut out, giving everybody in the world a clear look at those big tits of hers. She wasn’t topless, but she was only a few inches away from breaking the law.
But she paid me no mind as she was too engrossed in making facial expressions to the smartphone she was holding out at arm’s length, evidently recording herself, utterly oblivious to the growing crowd that was staring at her.
Several of the sketchier members of the public were now openly ogling her, and the predatory looks on their faces were making me apprehensive.
“Ma’am,” I said, feeling unexpectedly nervous as I approached her.
“Oh well, looks like the fun’s over,” said the young woman with a little giggle. She then pressed a button on her phone and turned to face me. “Yes? Can I help you, officer?”
“What are you doing here?” I said, careful to keep my voice neutral, just like I had been taught at the academy.
“Just filming some content for my channel,” said the young woman, batting her eyes as she looked up at me. “Why? Is that illegal?”
“No, but we got a report of a disturbance,” I said, forcing myself to ignore those magnificent tits of hers as they jiggled around freely in that skimpy excuse for a top. If she so much as sneezed the wrong way, I'd probably have to arrest her. “Come over with me to my vehicle, please.”
“Disturbance?” said the young woman with a coquettish grin. “How am I disturbing anyone?”
“Take a look around you,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “I’m worried something unfortunate might happen to you if I don’t relocate you. So please, for your safety, follow me over to my car, ma'am.”
“Okay, if you insist,” said the young woman with a smile, her perfectly white teeth confirming that this was no strung-out junkie I was dealing with.
“Show’s over, people,” I said, waving my arms as I faced the crowd. “Go on now. Go back to your business, whatever the hell that is.”
Several of the more wizened hoboes and other burnouts gave me an angry look as I led the young woman over to my car, but I was quite relieved to see none of them following me.
“So, are you going to frisk me?” said the young woman with a little laugh once it was just the two of us standing next to my patrol vehicle. “Because I’ve always fantasized about being frisked by a sexy cop.”
“No, ma’am, no frisking,” I said, suddenly finding it hard to swallow. “But I will have to see some ID.”
“Aww, you’re no fun,” said the young woman, tucking her phone into the waistband of her shorts, a move that once again caused her unfettered tits to move around in a most distracting manner.
“Not here to have fun, ma’am,” I said. “Just here to protect and to serve.”
“Oh, hey, your name’s Randall?” said the young woman, leaning in to look at the nameplate on my uniform. “Do people call you Randy? Because randy boys can be a lot of fun if you know what I mean.”
“Randall is my last name,” I said, feeling dizzy as I caught my first scent of her, a heady mix of shampoo and something else I couldn’t quite identify. “Now let’s see some ID.”
“Well, Officer Randy, I’m afraid I don’t have any ID on me,” said the young woman with a flirty grin. “But if I tell you my contact info, will you promise to give me a call? Because you’re really cute. I think you and I would get along great.”
Who was this young woman? And how was she this bold? She was out in Sloane Park, in one of the less well-off neighborhoods in town, half-naked and yet seemingly oblivious about the danger she was in.
And why was she trying to come onto me so strong like that? Maybe she was high, after all.
“Your name and date of birth,” I said, pulling out my notepad.
“Fine,” said the young woman with a theatrical smile. “My name is Amanda Nichols, but my friends call me Mandy.”
She then proceeded to tell me her date of birth, which took me a minute to process.
“Wait, you’re only 16 years old?” I said, incredulous. She certainly didn’t have the body of a young teenager. But when I looked closely at her face, I realized that yes, she had a freshness and youthful vitality that no amount of makeup or serums could ever replicate.
“And so what if I am?” said the girl, jutting out her lip. “I’m an emancipated minor. I can do whatever I want.”
“And that includes coming down to Sloane Park and filming yourself half-naked in the middle of the day?” I said.
“Of course,” said the girl with a brassy laugh. “I’m only in my second year, but that’s all right. I’ve got plenty of time left.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I said, confused. “Second year of what?”
“Why, the Naked Eight of course,” she said, giving me a saucy wink as she formed a circle with her thumb and forefinger on each hand and then joined them together, which I quickly figured out was her making the sign of the number eight.
The Naked Eight
I knew I’d only been an active member of the force for less than a year when I first met Mandy, but I instantly recognized that she was completely unlike anyone I was ever likely to meet as an officer.
Generally speaking, most of the people you interact with as a police officer are people having the worst day of their lives, and most of those lives weren’t that great to begin with.
If they’re the victims of a crime, they’re usually upset, traumatized, or deeply angry that the natural order of their lives has been upended. And if they’re the perpetrators or witnesses to a crime, they’re often drunk, high, or illiterate, or sometimes all three.
All in all, it’s not a very glamorous job, and there can be some really heartbreaking moments as well. That’s why I was initially so flummoxed when I met Mandy because she didn’t fit into any of the above categories.
For one, she had a healthy vitality to her, not to mention her bodacious good looks and skimpy attire. Secondly, she wasn’t distraught, and third, she hadn’t even really committed a crime.
Therefore, it was precisely because she was so different from all the citizens I’d met before that I allowed events to unfold the way they did.
“And what, exactly, is the Naked Eight?” I said as the two of us stood outside my patrol vehicle.
“Seriously?” said Mandy with a little laugh. “I thought everyone knew about it.”
“Some kind of internet thing?” I said, hazarding a guess.
At that point, I was finding it hard to resist the bewitching sparkle in her eyes. Who was this girl? And what forces had intervened to make our paths cross that day?
“Nah,” said Mandy. “Okay, let me see if I can explain. Guys get hotter as they get older, right?”
“Um, sure,” I said, doing my best to keep my gaze directed at her face instead of her jiggling chest.
“Well, girls don’t. We really only have eight years of being hot, from age 15 to 23,” said Mandy. “And so we’ve got to make the best of that time.”
“I see,” I said with a nod, although I wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. “But why is it called the Naked Eight?”
“Because you’ll never be hotter than you are during those years,” said Mandy. “So you’ve got to show it off, take lots of pictures and video and that kinda stuff. That way, when you’re old and wrinkly, you can always look back at the time when you were at your sexiest.”
“First I’ve ever heard of it,” I said with a little chuckle. “But it makes sense in a way, I suppose.”
“I know, right?” said Mandy with a little laugh, once again setting off a cascade of motion that made it hard for me to concentrate on doing my job. “So that’s why I was down at the park today, to film content for my channel.”
“Your channel?” I said.
“Yeah,” said Mandy. “I told you, I’m emancipated. So my channel is how I pay for my apartment and stuff.”
“Oh, like YouTube or something?” I said.
“Nah,” said Mandy, giving me a salacious grin. “I’m on O-F. I’m already a top fifty contributor and everything.”
“O-F? What’s that?” I said with a shake of my head.
“Seriously, you’ve never heard of OnlyFans?” said Mandy with a laugh. “It’s where girls go to post their... intimate pictures and stuff.”
“Wait, are you saying people pay you for this?” I said.
“Sure!” said Mandy. “And don’t give me that face, Randy. Guys these days are all simps. Well, not all of ’em. But most of ’em. Are you just teasing me about not knowing what O-F is?”
“I told you, my name is Officer Randall,” I said, trying to re-establish my authority. “And I’m not sure what a simp is, but I assure you I don’t frequent any websites like that. Seems like a waste of time, in my opinion.”
“Ah, see? I knew there was something special about you,” said Mandy, giving me a coy little smile that got my pulse racing.
“Well, I don’t know if I approve of your, ahem, career choice,” I informed her. “But you can’t be coming down to the park dressed like this and filming content for your channel or whatever. You practically caused a riot to break out.”
“So, where do you suggest I film then, Officer Randy?” said Mandy, sticking out her tongue. “Because if you think this outfit is scandalous, you should see the stuff I’ve got back home.”
“Then at home is where you should do your filming,” I said, suddenly finding it difficult to swallow as images of her wearing even less clothing raced through my mind.
“I do, but I’ve got to spice it up sometimes, you know?” said Mandy before pausing for a moment to look up at me. “So, are you going to give me a ride home or what?”
“I’m not supposed to transport civilians in my patrol vehicle,” I said.
“Well, I left my car at home,” said Mandy, sticking out her bottom look as she looked up at me with an innocent expression on her face. “And I’d hate for another riot to break out all on account of widdle ole me.”
“Fine, fine,” I said with a laugh. “But you’ll have to sit in the back. I’d lose my job if I let a civilian sit up front.”
“Deal!” said Mandy with a laugh as she skipped over to the rear of my vehicle, eagerly sliding in the moment that the door was open.
The very act of leaning forward caused the front of her top to swing open, giving me my first unobstructed view of her tits, an image I knew I wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon.
Taking a deep breath to try and get myself back under control, I followed her instructions and we soon arrived in one of the glitzier parts of town. As it turned out, she owned a condo in a gated community, making me feel almost like her chauffeur as I escorted her onto the grounds.
As we came to a stop in front of her complex, Mandy leaned up to the grating dividing the front of the vehicle from the back and said, “Hey, I’m throwing a party at my place in a couple of days. You should come.”
“Um, I’m not sure if that would be appropriate,” I said as I discreetly adjusted my pants leg to accommodate my incipient erection.
“Why not?” said Mandy with a little laugh. “And we’ve got a pool, too, so bring a swimsuit! Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Still partially stunned by her boldness, I gave no reply as I got out of the car and then let her out of the back.
“Thursday afternoon at three o’clock! See you there, Officer Randy,” said Mandy, pausing to blow me a kiss before turning and skipping her way into the building.
I then got back into my vehicle and sat there for a long moment, trying to recollect my wits. Surely, that had been the most interesting and even delightful call I’d had since joining the force, but I told myself it was one of those random but pleasant things that happened on the job.
I mean, there was no way I was going to ever see her again, right? She was a teenage girl who sold naked pictures on the internet, and I was a cop. Unless her house got burglarized or something, I had absolutely no business ever coming out this way again.
But, of course, that’s not quite how things turned out.
Lifesaver
Even though the rest of my shift that day was busy, I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, Mandy.
What was it about her, exactly, that made her so unforgettable? Was it that bodacious body of hers? Was it the confidence and charisma she exuded? Or maybe a little bit of both combined perhaps with the allure of the forbidden.
Back when I was in the police academy, I had a grizzled old lieutenant who taught a class called Verbal Judo.
It was all about different ways we could use to defuse a tense situation without going the usual route of drawing a weapon or issuing commands.
At the time, I scoffed at his suggestions to use humor when responding to calls like a domestic violence incident, but I probably ended up learning more from him than I did from anyone else.
One time, he got off on a tangent and started warning us rookies that there would come a time when we’d be tempted to do the wrong thing.
There were just some women out there, he said, that find cops irresistible, and they’ll use their “feminine wiles” either to seduce us or to try and get out of trouble.
I remember him telling us that there weren’t that many laws prohibiting a cop from having a relationship with a civilian unless they were someone we had in custody, but nonetheless, we had to be very careful. Because all it takes is one wrong move or even one wrong accusation, and your career will be over.
Of course, he’d been talking about adult women, not 16-year-old teenagers, so even considering calling up that girl to see her again was a giant no-no. But there weren’t any rules against thinking about her, was there? And so I let myself indulge a little.
What I really wanted to do was use the terminal back at the station to find out more information about her, but the department strictly logged all that stuff, so I restrained myself until I got home and was on my personal computer.
Of course, I couldn’t access her legal files, but I did a little bit of digging around to see what Mr. Google could tell me out about her.
Finding the court record of her being declared an emancipated minor took a while, but the details were sealed. At least I knew that she hadn’t been lying to me, which was a good thing.
Unfortunately, the only other results I could find on her was her account on the OnlyFans website. But unless you were a paid member, there was nothing to see there, just a tiny little avatar picture to confirm that yes, it was her.
Part of me wanted to dig out my bank card and pay up, but thankfully, I kept that impulse under control. I knew full well she was underage, so the last thing I needed was some prosecutor in the future waving my financial records around, showing that I was perving on a teenage girl. No, thank you!
After all that, all I’d gotten was a bunch more unanswered questions, but I told myself to let it go. I’d wanted to be a police officer for as long as I could remember, and I wasn’t going to throw it all away during my first year on the force just because I’d met a cute girl with a pretty smile and an awesome pair of tits.
But no matter how rational I tried to approach the subject, images of her kept flashing into my mind all week. Even when I had to put in two back-to-back double shifts, I found myself jumping every time dispatch announced a public disturbance call, wondering if I was going to see her again.
Something about her had burned an imprint inside of me that I just couldn’t shake, and so when Thursday rolled around, I found myself suffering on the horns of a dilemma.
If I did the right thing and ignored her invitation to attend her party, my memory of her would eventually fade, and I’d never have to worry about putting my career in jeopardy.
But on the other hand, if I did show up, I’d get to see her again. And after a mighty struggle, I found myself cruising down her street right at the appointed time.
I know it sounds crazy, but it was almost as if my patrol vehicle drove itself to her apartment complex, and the next thing I knew, I was sitting there in her parking lot.
Promising myself that I was just going to peek my head in and do a quick welfare check on her to make sure she was okay, I straightened my posture and marched down to her place.
Keeping my face as neutral and professional as possible, just in case the neighbors were watching, I then rang her doorbell, reminding myself over and over again that I was just doing my duty to protect the good citizens of Oakville.
“Oh my god, you’re here!” squealed Mandy the moment she opened the door, instantly melting away my resolve to turn around and walk away once I knew she was alright.
For one thing, she was wearing a bikini that left little to the imagination. And the sensation that came over me when she enthusiastically threw her arms around me felt too damn good.
“Just checking to make sure you’re alright,” I said, my voice cracking like I was back in high school or something.
“Why, thank you, Officer Randy,” said Mandy with a big grin, those gorgeous eyes of hers flashing in a most bewitching way. “You just saved my life.”
“Oh, I did?” I stuttered.
“Yeah, Goldfish just bailed on me,” said Mandy, taking me by the wrist and leading me inside.
“Goldfish?” I muttered even as I marveled at the size of her living room, which was probably bigger than my entire apartment put together.
“Yeah, he said he was gonna be my cameraman,” said Mandy, pouting out her lower lip. “But now you’re here, so the day is saved!”
“Um, what?” I only just barely managed to reply, my throat a hard, dry knot.
“I told you, silly,” said Mandy with a playful laugh. “I’m shooting some poolside content today. You don’t mind taking pictures of me in my bikini, do you?”
At that moment, I knew damn well that I should’ve turned her down. But the opportunity to be able to capture her youthful beauty on film? I really don’t think too many guys in my situation would’ve had the power to say no.
I certainly didn't.