index


Message-ID: <30127asstr$989010605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: writerzblocked@aol.com (Writerzblocked)
Subject: {ASSM} I FOUGHT THE LAW, AND...  5.1  (mc)
Date: Fri,  4 May 2001 17:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


I FOUGHT THE LAW, AND...   5.1 (mc)


Copyright by Writerzblocked, 2001.  All rights, well, you know. Repost and
archive to your heart's content, just don't charge anyone for it or I'll have
to send Harry Long after you. You all know the rest of the drill by now.  I'm
not
big on headers and/or labels, so anyone reposting may feel free to add whatever
MF, MM, FF stuff they think is necessary.  

********************************************

Tuck Amuck (Part 1)

{Authors note:   We now take a break from hearing Warren Bandan talk in order
to bring you a totally different point of view - sorta.  If you don't like it,
feel free to ignore it; the big-headed, egocentric, sadistic, big-mouthed jerk
will be back in action in a month or so.  Apologies to MM and CJ - but not
many}



"Any change?"

"No, ma'am. Pretty much the same as yesterday. The doctor says he could come
out of it at anytime, though, so I think it would be best to keep the officer
posted outside."

"Seems kind of a waste of manpower to me, but I guess it's better to err on the
side of caution."

"Is it true what they say happened at the courthouse?"

"Well, unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to say, so long as the investigation
is ongoing."

"I understand."

"Is his lawyer still in there?"

"Yes, the only time she left his side was when the DA came over to visit
yesterday."

"The DA?"

"Well, I think that's what she was.  They went and had lunch in the
cafeteria..."

"Hmm, could you describe her?"

"Tall, thin, brown hair. Very well dressed. I think she said she was the DA."

"That's very peculiar.  Thanks."

"Did I say something wrong?"

"Uh, no, it's just that...well, anyway, I'm not at liberty to discuss it."

"Oh, I understand.  Now if you'll excuse me, I have to make my rounds.  Mrs.
Maltese in 14B needs to have her catheter changed."

"Ugh."

"Oh, sorry."

"It's OK, really," she smiled as the young nurse left to tend to her duties. 

The older woman reached into her handbag and pulled out a pack of gum as she
turned away from the nurse's station to look down the corridor.  Officer
Deevers was still sitting quietly outside the door, reading the sport section. 
She unwrapped a stick of spearmint and popped it in her mouth as she walked
down the hall. Sensing her, Deevers looked up from his paper.

" 'Morning, Detective."

" 'Morning, Deevers.  How'd the Mets do?"

"Uh, well, I was actually looking at the tittie bar ads to see where the
specials were tonight.  Big Daddy's has two-for-one table dances until 7 if
you're interested."

She stopped chewing for a second and tightly balled up the used wrapper in one
hand. 

"Gotcha, " he said with a smile. "Beat the Padres, 5-1.  Piazza hit a three-run
homer in the seventh."

"Not funny, Deevers." She glared. "It'll be at least five months before they
get their liquor license back."

"Really proud of that one, aren't you?  Never mind that some of the guys really
liked that place..."

"Well, they should've, considering all the dirty money that got shelled out."

He snapped the paper open sharply and looked back down at it in obvious
disgust.  "Yeah, yeah, save it for someone who gives a shit, pardon my French.
I don't know how Mario puts up with you. Don't you have some pedophile to kick
or something?"

She moved her hand to dispose of the wrapper in his general direction, then
stopped, passed it from one hand to the other, and dropped it in the
wastebasket next to the door. Adjusting her handbag, she pushed the door open.

"Good day to you, too, Officer," she said as she entered the room.

"Fuck you, Detective." 

Instinctively, she looked about the rather large room as she entered.  Most
obvious was the television set mounted on the far wall; the volume control was
set very high and the loud noise of explosions and other cacophonous sound
effects echoed through the otherwise quiet suite.  Across the room from the
television was the adjustable bed, which was currently set upright to a sitting
position, even though the male patient on it seemed in a deep sleep.  On the
right side of the bed, sitting in a chair, also apparently asleep, was a very
young woman, her head laid pleasantly on the lap of the patient.

She walked to the television set and turned down the volume and, immediately,
the woman at the side of the bed came to life.  While the young woman rubbed
her eyes, the Detective's eyes widened noticeably as she studied her.  She was
in her late teens to early twenties, but her choice of clothing made her look
several years younger than she probably was.  She was dressed in a plain white
blouse and red-and-black plaid skirt that barely reached below her waist and
her blonde hair was done up in pigtails.  Her lips were bright red and she wore
heavy blush on her cheeks and purple eyeshadow above her fairly large brown
eyes.  The Detective continued to stare. 

"What's the matter?" the younger woman asked as she rose to walk past her to
the television set.  "You've, like, never seen a lawyer before?"  Her voice was
very distinctive, and very high pitched.

"Uh, yes, but..."

"He likes the sound turned up," the girl interrupted before she could answer,
"especially during the cartoons."  She adjusted the volume dial back and the
chaotic noises returned. 

Ignoring the television for the moment, the Detective turned towards the
apparently commotes man.  "But the nurse said he's still in a coma..."

The younger girl let out a heavy sigh and hung her head as she walked back to
the bed.  With her head no longer in his lap, the sheets had begun to slide
down his chest.  "Yeah.  But he STILL likes the sound turned up."

The detective followed her. "But if he's in a coma, how do you know?"

The young girl sat back down and reached over and pulled the sheets back up
around his neck.  "You wouldn't understand."

The detective extended her hand.  "I'm Detective Tuck, with the Sex-Crimes
division.  You must be Miss Kramer."

The girl laid her head back on his lap, her eyes closing halfway, contentedly,
and ignored the gesture.  "Call me Bubbles. Everyone does," she said in a
drowsy voice.

Tuck hesitated for a moment at that, then quickly pulled over another chair and
sat beside her.  "I know this is a bad time, but I really have to ask you some
questions."

Bubbles closed her eyes and adjusted her head, rubbing it lightly in the
sheets.  "If it's about the courtroom thing, you know, you need a court order
to, like, make me talk.  Attorney-client privilege, and all that.  And like I
would anyway."

The policewoman sighed slightly and continued.  "Well, there's a good chance
the DA will decide to file charges against YOU as an accessory.  So it might be
in your best interests to come clean right now."

It was apparent the girl was almost asleep again now. 

"Whatever," she managed, weakly.

The Detective stared at the girl for a few minutes, then, finally stood and
paced about the room. Adjusting one bra strap nervously, she took the pack of
gum from her handbag and took out another stick.  She turned back towards the
television, which was now in the middle of a cartoon.  She smiled.  Then
laughed.  Then shivered.  The cartoon ended.

She looked back at the commotes man and suddenly shuddered, barely catching her
handbag as it slid off her shoulder. Both the pack of gum and the single stick
fell to the floor and bounced in opposite directions.  Just at that time,
Bubbles awoke and lifted her head towards the woman.

"He likes you," she smiled.  

Again, Tuck's body shook all over, but this time she instinctively reached into
her handbag to retrieve her .38.  She drew it slowly and, her hands shaking,
looked over at the bed.  The patient was still comatose, his eyes only
occasionally twitching from reflex. The girl was staring blankly at her, that
same smile still etched on her face. Tuck lifted the gun and...

...watched it fall to the floor with a dull thud.  Then she wrapped both her
arms around herself and hugged for dear life.

"What the HELL are you doing, Amanda Tuck!" she cursed under her breath,
bending over as if to retch.

She barely managed to catch herself before she fell to her knees.  Then she
looked back towards the figures on the bed.  Bubbles Kramer was still staring
at her and smiling contentedly, though she appeared wide-awake now.  And calm. 

"Amanda."  Bubbles purred.  "What a pretty name."

The woman detective straightened up and took several very deep breaths before
turning to Bubbles.  "Oh, I don't know what to say, Miss Kramer...err, Bubbles.
 I'm so sorry.  I don't know what happened."

Bubbles just smiled at her.

"I mean, really.  Nothing like that has EVER happened to me before.  It's
actually only the second time I've drawn my gun."

Bubbles straightened the sheets again. 

Tuck put her hand to her head and took in another few deep breaths.  "Damn.
Damn. Damn." She repeated over and over to herself.

Bubbles laid her head back down on the man's lap, but continued to stare at the
detective.  

After a few moments, the policewoman bent down and looked at the gun lying on
the ground.  She picked up the stick of gum instead, hurriedly unwrapped it and
plopped it in her mouth.  Then she went to retrieve the pack.  When she stood
back up, the gun remained on the floor.

Then she noticed Bubbles staring, but not at her. At the pack of gum.

Her hands still shaking visibly, the detective forced a smile and held out her
hand.  "Oh, I'm so sorry.  Would you like some?"

The effect was immediate and brutal.  Bubbles' face contorted, her lower lip
started to quiver and a wetness began to wash the purple from her eyes.  She
looked up at the face of the man in the bed and her hands clutched at the
sheets.

"I promised."

"Promised?"

"snif.  I'm not gonna do it 'till he comes back."

"Do what?"

"snif.  Well, all the way back, anyway."

"Do what?"

"snif.  You wouldn't understand."  And at that, she grabbed a double handful of
sheet and buried her face in it.

The detective took in the scene for a few more moments, then shook her head
slightly, sighed and left the room. Behind her, the television continued to
blare, but neither it nor the linens could muffle the highly pitched wailing
which followed her from that suite. 

Outside the room, Officer Deevers rose to greet her as she exited, a sneer on
his face. "Wonderful effect you have on people, detective."

"Fuck you, Officer," she replied under her breath as she passed him, making her
way quickly down the hallway. Passing the nurse's station, both hands rose to
cover her ears as a trio of nurses ran past her down the hallway towards the
door from which she had come.

A half-hour later, Detective Amanda Tuck pulled her Grand Am over at a
convenience store. Taking a large wad of gum from her mouth, she deposited in a
wastebasket before entering. The large, older man behind the counter looked up
at her and smiled.

"Hello, Officer, got time for a cup of coffee?  Just made a fresh pot."

"Sounds good, Charley.  Make it a large."  

While he was fiddling with the dispenser, he noticed her staring behind the
counter.  "Oh, no, Tuck, you better watch where those eyes are going."

She smiled at that and reached over to grab another pack of gum.  "Oh, God,
Charley, I've already got a father, you know."

"Yeah, but you're a long way from Kansas. Someone has to look out for you," he
said as he handed her the paper cup.  "Of course, it's on me.  Even the gum. 
ESPECIALLY the gum."

"Oh, yeah, you're a sweetheart, all right."  She said, taking the coffee. "I've
got a couple more interviews to do today, but I might be back by."

"I'm counting on it. By the way, where's Mario?"

"He's catching up on some paperwork. I'm going to hook up with him later this
afternoon."

"Great. Be sure to take a few off the streets for me."

She stopped at the door and turned back towards him with a relieved sigh. 
"Boy, Charley, I'm REALLY glad to hear you say that. It's not even noon and
it's ALREADY been a bad day."

"Hey," he smiled back, "what are father's for?"

She laughed lightly at that as she turned away, tucked the gum in her handbag
and made her way to her car.

Twenty minutes later, Detective Tuck pulled her car into a visitor's parking
space at the Mason Ridge Apartment Complex.  Taking a piece of paper from her
handbag, she glanced at it for a moment before walking up the path towards unit
5.  She approached the door to apartment 5B and glanced down at the cup of
coffee still in her hand.  She stood there for a few moments taking in the
surroundings, turned back toward where she'd come, then finally turned back
around once again, walked up to the door and rang the bell. 

The door opened almost immediately to reveal a younger woman dressed in a white
T-shirt and jogging shorts.  She had short, bright red hair and freckles and
appeared to be short of breath. 

Detective Tuck moved the cup to her left hand and extended her right. "I"m
Detective Tuck, of Sex Crimes.  Officer Sally Hooper, I presume?"

The redhead smiled, took her hand, and stepped aside.  "That's me.  I was
wondering when you'd get here."

Tuck hesitated and brought the half-filled coffee cup to her attention. 
"Sorry, but I couldn't find a trash can nearby..."

Hooper politely took the cup.  "Oh, no bother, really.  That stuff's bad for
you anyway."

As the young woman disappeared into the apartment to dispose of the cup, Tuck
took the time to look around the entry way.  The front door opened into a
modest dining area with a kitchen off to one side and the living area ahead. 
There were many boxes lying around both on the table and on the floor - some
full, some half-filled and many more empty.  She moved towards the table and
peered into one of the half-filled boxes. 

"Yeah, I'm moving, " Sally suddenly appeared from the kitchen, carrying two
glasses full of yellow liquid.  "This place is just too small."

Tuck lifted her head from the box, seemingly startled at her arrival. Hooper
smiled and put the two glasses down on the table.  "Orange juice.  Much
healthier than coffee."

"Of course," Tuck replied, politely taking one of the glasses. "I suppose I
ought to drink more of it."

"Well, I've found that most police officers don't really take care of
themselves like they should," Hooper said as she walked into the living area
and began to clear boxes from two chairs.

"I suppose so," Tuck replied, following her into the larger room.  "I used to
have a membership at a health club on the North side, but I let it lapse.  But
you look like you take pretty good care of yourself."

The younger woman looked up and smiled at that, then proceeded to shove a large
box from a recliner.  "Thanks.  I try.  But it really takes a lot of time and
effort."  The box landed with a dull thud on the brown shag carpet. 

"There," she said finally, as she straightened up and motioned to the chair. 
"Sorry about the mess.  Moving can be such a pain."

"I understand," replied Tuck as she sat down and took a sip from her glass. 
"I've had my share of 'em."

"I bet," said Hooper as she walked to the table to retrieve the other glass.
"One thing I'm certainly not going to miss..."

At that, Tuck looked up at her with a puzzled expression.  Noticing it, the
redhead shrugged as she walked back into the living area. 

"I'm quitting the force."

Tuck wrapped both hands around the glass and looked at her harshly.  "Don't you
think that's a bit of an overreaction?"

Hooper walked over and stood against a stereo system still assembled against
the far wall. "It's something I'd actually been thinking about before...well,
you know.  Growing up, I'd always wanted to be a social worker or even, maybe,
doing something in criminal rehab."

The detective placed the glass on a small table next to the chair and reached
into her handbag. "But, still, that's a pretty radical step.  Are you sure you
don't want to see a therapist..."

Hooper rolled her eyes and placed her half-filled glass on top of the stereo. 
"Oh, please, you sound just like my mother." 

Tuck forced a smile as she pulled out a stick of gum and started to unwrap it. 
"Hey, there's a good reason we have mothers, you know.  It's to keep us from
making really stupid decisions."

Hooper glanced towards the stereo, then back to the detective. "I don't think
this one's really all that stupid.  Even before...well, you know, I was getting
pretty fed up with the whole beat thing."

"Well, there's other things you can do," Tuck replied, popping the gum in her
mouth.  There's desk work, there's..."

"Oh, yeah, fetch coffee, type reports..."

Tuck stopped in mid-sentence and stared at the girl.  Her right hand was
running lightly over one of the speakers and her left was fidgeting with the
bottom of her shirt. She was staring at the venetian blinds covering the
sliding glass window on the back wall. 

"I can see this is really bothering you, Officer Hooper."

"Please don't call me that. My name is Sally."

"OK, Sally. It's a perfectly understandable reaction.  I've dealt with a lot of
rapes in my career, and what you're going through is perfectly normal."

"Except most rapes don't happen to police officers in stupid, cheap, whore
outfits..."  Hooper's eyes moved back to the stereo system and her hands
started playing with the dials.

"Err, well, no."  Tuck's hands started playing with the clasps of her handbag.

Suddenly, Hooper turned back towards the detective, her eyes widened and her
hands clasped together tightly.

"Tell me, detective, have you ever gone through something that totally changed
your life?  I'm not talking about something simple like getting a raise or even
getting married.  I'm talking about huge, like winning the lottery kind of
huge?"

"Well, I've done this long enough to KNOW that rapes can do that."

Hooper sighed deeply and gesticulated her impatience with more hand wringing.
"Well, yeah, but this was...I don't exactly know how to describe
it...different."

"Different?"  Tuck's eyes were still looking at the girl, but her hands were
busy inside her handbag.

"Well, I haven't investigated a lot of rapes, so I don't know how this measures
up, but I figure most of them involve taking."

"Of course.  It's ALL about taking.  Except in the minds of some of the more
sick and twisted individuals..."  Tuck now had another piece of gum out and was
quickly unwrapping it.

"Well, this guy was just plain creepy, but it was like - and this is going to
sound really, really stupid - he was GIVING as well as taking."

Tuck had the gum in her mouth, but paused long enough to look at her with a
mixture of puzzlement and disgust. "Sally, I think that maybe you really need
to see one of the department therapists.  Believe me, they can help..."

Hooper threw up her arms.  "I knew you wouldn't understand!  You think I'm
crazy too, just like my mother..."

Tuck stood up and walked towards the agitated policewoman, her arms open in a
comforting gesture.  Hooper had both hands in front of her face, but the
detective hugged her despite it. After a moment of silence, Hooper removed the
hands from her face, half-smiled and calmly whispered, "There's something I
think you need to hear."

The two separated, and Tuck looked down at her calmly and smiled reassuringly. 
"Sure.  But first I need to..."

"Oh, yeah," the redhead instinctively smiled and pointed towards a small door
to her left.  "Over there."

Tuck walked into the small restroom and closed the door behind her. 
Immediately, she dropped down on the closed toilet seat and took several deep
breaths.  A few moments later, she rose and stood before the sink and turned on
the tap.  Cupping water in her hands, she brought them up to her face.  After
drying off with the hand towel, she stood silently and took a few more deep
breaths. And listened. 

 From somewhere outside, came a sound.  It was a sound she didn't seem to
recognize at first, but it slowly rose in volume until finally her eyes flashed
wide suddenly and she threw open the door.

Sally Hooper was sitting in the recliner, her face flush and frozen in ecstasy.
One hand was beneath her shirt and the other was moving obscenely underneath
her jogging shorts. Her chest was heaving and her buttocks grinding slowly but
powerfully into the padding of the chair. The stereo speakers were almost alive
with the sound of a woman's orgasm, looped over and over and over, the volume
rising with every carnal edit. 

And Detective Amanda Tuck stood there, as if frozen, glancing from the stereo
to the woman, then back to the stereo.

Hooper opened her eyes.  "Isn't it amazing, detective?  I had...a few of the,
uhuhuuu, guys from...surveillance...make it for me.  I...uuhhh...damn...figured
that they owed...it too me...shit...considering how they...fuck...made copies
for everyone else."

Hooper took the hand from beneath her shirt and pointed towards another empty
chair, her arm trembling.  "It's like...fuck...nothing I've ever felt before. 
And never...shit...uhhh...will again."

For a moment, Tuck looked at the empty chair, then at the woman now lost in the
throes of orgasm. Then again she trembled and felt the gum sliding down her
throat.

"It's the lottery, I tell you, detective! The fucking lottery!!"

Then Detective Amanda Tuck turned and ran from the room as quickly as she
could. 

Behind her, from somewhere deep within, in a world of her own, she could still
hear Sally Hooper's voice crying out in pleasure.  And for all her detective
skills, she could not tell where the recording ended and the woman began.

Stumbling through the complex, she managed to make it to her car and collapse
in the driver's seat.  Tearing at the clasp of her handbag, she grabbed
clumsily at the pack of gum, only to have it fall out of the open door and onto
the pavement. 

"Shit!" she exclaimed as she hit the steering wheel in frustration,
inadvertently setting off the horn.  Startled, she jumped a bit out of the seat
and came down laughing.

"Damn you, Amanda. Now you're scared of a little orgasm?" she said under her
breath.

"Excuse me?" came a reply, which sent her jumping in her seat again.  She
caught her breath and turned to see what appeared to be the complex's security
guard. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, bending down to pick up the pack of
gum.  "Just seemed like you needed some help."

She put her hand on her heart and smiled shamefacedly.  "No, but thanks all the
same. Believe it or not, I'm a police officer."  

"Heh," he laughed, handing her the pack of gum.  "That's a good 'un."

"No, seriously," she said, taking the pack and drawing a piece out.  "Detective
Amanda Tuck."

"Oh, cool, a real detective.  Uh, don't you think that would work better if you
unwrapped it first?"

She stopped just as she was about to put the unwrapped stick in her mouth.  

Scowling, she threw the gum AND the pack to the pavement and slammed the car
door shut.  The security guard barely moved out of her way as she thrust the
Grand Am into reverse and the tires squealed sharply as she made her way VERY
rapidly out of the parking lot. 

A few minutes later, she pulled into a convenience store and emerged with a
carton of cigarettes. 

Sitting in her car, she fought the carton with both hands, finally ripping out
a pack.  Furiously, she tore into it and removed a cigarette.  She looked at
it. She brought it up to her nose and breathed in deeply. Then she slowly
opened her lips and took it in her mouth.

It was warm to her mouth, but not to her hand. Warm and fleshy, not like any
rolling paper she'd ever felt when she was smoking regularly up until last
year. She pushed it deeper into her mouth, using her lips now instead of her
hand. She sighed deeply and closed her eyes, concentrating entirely on the
sensation growing throughout her body. Relaxed. 

"They work better if you light them," came a deep voice from somewhere outside.
Startled, she felt the cigarette drop from her mouth and her hands quickly rose
from her lap to the steering wheel.

"Unless you LIKE to suck on 'em, I suppose," continued the fellow pumping his
gas in the lane next to her.  He was smiling broadly.  "Might have to try that
sometime.  Sure looked like it was working for you."

Quickly, she shifted out of park and her tires squealed as the Grand Am sped
from the lot.  Behind her in the distance, she couldn't see the man scratching
his head and yelling after her.

"What brand was that again?!!"

Punching the accelerator to the floor, Tuck gripped both hands tightly on the
wheel, muttering obscenities under her breath. "What the hell has gotten into
you, Amanda Tuck?!!"  You haven't smoked in a year and you're not gonna start
now."

Suddenly, she heard it. The siren. And saw it in her rear view mirror. The
black and white.

"Damn! She started to swear as she let off on the gas and switched to the
brake.  Then she smiled as she slowed down and was laughing quietly to herself
as she came to a stop. "Amazing.  Simply amazing," she said to herself over and
over again as the officer exited the patrol car and stepped up to the driver's
side of the Grand Am.

"Afternoon, ma'am. Do you realize how fast you were going?" he said. "You were
doing 50 through a school zone."

She brought one hand to her forehead as she reached into her handbag with the
other. "I'm sorry, Officer, it's been a REALLY bad day."

"Oh, I can understand that, ma'am, it hasn't been all that good for me either. 
But it would've been a whole lot worse if one or two kids had been crossing the
street when you came speeding through..."

She groaned audibly as she handed her badge to him.  "Oh, please, spare me the
lecture, I know the drill."

"I understand, uh...Detective Tuck," he continued, as he studied her badge. 
"but this badge doesn't give you the privilege to ignore basic traffic laws."

"Look, kid, I'm on my way to do some interviews on the Officer Sally Hooper
rape case."

"I'm fully aware of the importance of that particular case, ma'am, but it's all
our jobs to watch out for the safety of the folks who pay our salaries."  His
right hand went down innocently and fiddled with his nightstick as he spoke.

"Great. A fucking boy scout," she sighed to herself as she finally looked up at
the policeman.  He was very young, probably not a year or so out of the
academy, curly blonde hair holding up his cap, blue eyes, and no sunglasses to
cover them.  

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, ma'am, if you don't mind," he smiled,
and she suddenly softened, her detective instincts leading her eyes up and down
his uniform, finally stopping for a moment on his badge.

"Sorry, son, I didn't mean to be insulting. It really HAS been a bad day,
Officer...Henderson."

He tipped his cap at that, smiled broadly, and handed her back her badge.  "Oh,
I believe you, ma'am. It's just that I've never actually pulled over another
cop before, so I don't exactly know the protocol."

She took her badge back and returned the smile, wide and toothy. "Well, most of
the time, unless there's a definite dangerous warning signal, like you suspect
drugs or drunkenness - you don't think I'm drunk, do you?"

His face went red.  "Oh, no ma'am. Just a bit...distracted maybe."

"Yes. Distracted is a good description," she said as he stuffed her badge back
in her handbag. "Then proper procedure is to let the offending officer go with
a warning."  She turned back to him and noted his hand was still playing with
the baton.

"Now, ma'am, you wouldn't be telling me this just to get out of a ticket, would
you?" he still looked embarrassed.

She chuckled at that.  "Somehow, I suspect it wouldn't be the most far-fetched
thing someone's said to you to try and get out of a ticket."

He chuckled along with her.  "Oh, no, ma'am,..."

"Amanda," she interjected.

"I've only been on this patrol for a couple of months now, but I think I've
already heard 'em all," he continued.  "Amanda."  His hand gripped the stick
tighter now.

"So, tell me, Officer Henderson..."

"Uh, Bob.  All my friends call me Bob."

"OK, then, Bob, what's the strangest, most bizarre line a woman has ever given
you to try and get out of a ticket?"

His right hand rose from the nightstick and took the cap off his head.  He
shuffled his feet a bit and looked over her car into the distance.  "Uh, well,
I can't really repeat it in mixed company. It wouldn't be proper."

She laughed, and glanced back to his nightstick.  "Oh, come on, Bob.  Sure you
can.  There's no one around but us cops."

He fidgeted a bit at that and one hand absentmindedly went down to adjust
himself as he spoke. "No, really, I wouldn't feel comfortable with it, out here
in the middle of the street and everything..."

"She turned back towards the street in front of her, smiling knowingly.  "OK,
then, Bob. Just hold that thought. I'm sure the rest of the day will go much
better," she said as she slowly drove off. "Come see me next time you're
downtown." 

She made certain to look in the rear view mirror as she left. Officer Bob
Henderson was slowly walking back to his patrol car, his steps light and his
hands about his waist, tugging on his belt.  She smiled naughtily as she
reached over for the pack of cigarettes...



"Write what you want, how you want, and don't worry about the rest of the
world.  If you do it long enough, eventually they'll catch up."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+