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 DisOrder" (mc) (parody)  
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<1st attachment, "IFTLA1-4.txt" begin>


I Fought The Law, And...  1-4  "UnLaw and DisOrder" (mc)(parody)

Copyright by Writerzblocked, 2002.  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. 

(Author's Note:  Reposted in this format by request so the files
will be easier to keep.  The series is getting TOO long to keep
reposting by individual chapter.  One of these days I WILL get a
website :-)

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

CHAPTER 1


Yeah, OK, you might just say I'm one of those guys that has
trouble with authority.  Always have.  My Mom and Dad figured it
out a bit too late for 'em to do anything about it, lucky for me.
 Otherwise I never would've made it past infancy, much less to
adulthood. But I don't like to talk about that, so I won't.

I'm also one of those guys that hates to lose.  Always have,
always will.  Again, lucky for me it doesn't happen often.  So,
you might ask, how the hell does a guy like me end up in a
position like this?

It all goes back to that problem with authority and the fact that
those three damned cops decided to set up their sting operation
on my corner.  Now, my corner isn't any corner - it's MY corner.
Everyone in the whole damned neighborhood knows it's my corner,
but they decided to set up shop there anyway. It's hard enough to
chase away the bums and hoods that come every night to watch me
get my by-pass pussy.  I mean, all I ever asked for was to be
left alone to do what I do - it's not much considering all the
trouble I could cause if I really wanted to.  But, nooo, I guess
some goody somewhere decided that all the women hanging around
the corner meant it was the place where the whores hang out. 
Like I'd ever have to resort to that.  So now you're all dealing
with it.  I mean, wouldn't YOU rather be going about your
business instead of keeping me company like this?

Anyway, Officer Hooker comes calling in her tube top, mini, and
garters like anyone in the hood couldn't tell she was anything
BUT a cop.  I guess they figure all the Caddies and Benzes they
see parked around the area every night means that fancy folk
can't tell a cop from a whore like the rest of us can.  Who
knows?  But, dammit, they were on MY corner, butting into MY
business and, like I said, I have this problem with authority. 
Looking back on it now, maybe I could've just ignored it, but I'm
not like that.  Not like that at all.  Besides, I like a
challenge as much or more than the next guy and I hadn't had a
good one in quite a while.

So Hooker is walking along, doing her best job at pretending to
strut up one side of the block and down the other and I started
watching her a little closer.  Not really tall for a cop, but not
short either.  Either had on a blonde wig or someone at the
precinct can NOT do hair worth a damn.  It started to bug me.  I
mean, REALLY bug me.  So I went right up to her and asked.

"Hey, Officer, is that a wig or is your hairdresser blind?"

"Excuse me?"

"No, I really mean it.  That's either a wig or you need to find
another hair girl." "Uh, it's a wig."

"Figured as much.  Probably got it the same place you got the
rest of the outfit, right?  Take it off a dead hooker?  Or did
you just watch bad '70s cop shows when you were growing up?"

"Uh, actually, my sergeant picked it out."

"A guy, right?  Can't imagine a sister sending you out in that
outfit." "Uh, yeah.  We really shouldn't be having this..."

"No, I guess we shouldn't.  You're probably wired, eh?"

"Well, yeah, but..."

"Cool.  Where is it and how many folks you got listening?"

She quickly glanced down at her handbag.  "Uh, two."

"Geez, great budget they got you on.  Kinda explains theoutfit."

"Really, you need to get out of here before..."

"Before what?  'Sergeant '70s' gonna come haul my butt off for
harassing one of his finest?"

"Well, yeah, kinda..."

Like I said, I have this problem with authority.  Don't like
being threatened either. So I put my head down at purse level and
yelled.

"Hey, Mr. '70s Cop Show Sergeant, I'm gonna take your cute friend
here into my alley and introduce her to Mr. Chuckles!!  If you
know what's good for you, you'll just keep eating your donuts for
another 15 minutes or so before you come looking for her!"

Officer Hooker took a few steps back into the street and clutched
her purse.  I really wonder about police training nowadays, she
almost got run over by a passing Toyota. Probably would've too,
if I hadn't grabbed her arm with one hand while getting out Mr.
Chuckles with the other.  She recovered fairly quickly and
started fumbling in her purse for either a gun or a badge. Never
found out which.

"All right, mister. That's enough!"

"Geez, Officer, I haven't even gotten started yet.  By the way,
Mr. Chuckles says hello."

"You're under arrest.  You have the right to..." 

Her head glanced down to my fly as she continued.  This is always
my favorite part.  I'm no porn star, but I get by.  But the looks
on their faces as they start to understand what I'm all about is,
as they say in those credit card commercials - priceless.

"...remain silent.  Put that thing away before you get in more
trouble, mister."

"Oh, come on, Miss Officer Hooker, I'm not in no trouble."  I
said as I gently walked her backwards toward my alley.

"Anything you say can..."  Mr. Chuckles was pretty hard now and
he was definitely smiling.

"Oh, I think I've said enough."  I continued moving backwards and
she kept her eyes glued on Mr. Chuckles.

"...and will be used against you in a court of law.  I don't know
how you're doing this, but you'd better stop it right now!"

"Oh, come on, Miss Officer, you were just getting to the good
part.  Don't stop on my account."  We were in the alley now and
she removed the hand from her purse and brought it to her tank
top.

"You have the right to an attorney."  Her fingers of one hand
slid along the top of her tank while her other tweaked her right
nipple through the thin fabric.  She wasn't the largest in the
boob department, but it doesn't take much to show off a tank top.


"If you cannot afford one..."  She lowered the tank to her waist.
 Yeah, she was OK for a cop.  They kinda stuck straight out and
didn't sag much.  Really small nipples.  But, hey, she looked
like she loved 'em all the same and, right now, they were showing
their affection by poking out right at me.

"One will be appointed for you..."  I found my mattress and sat
down, admiring the view.  The hoods and bums know to stay away,
but I figured some of them had to be watching this from above. 
Kinda made me more excited, actually. I stopped having to show
off a long time ago, but still get a little thrill out of it. 
Gets me a lot of respect.  I like that.

One of her hands went to her hair, and she slowly removed that
awful hair.  "Do you understand these rights?"  Good old red
hair.  I like red hair.

"Uh, Miss Officer Hooker, can you explain them a little more for
me?  Especially the part about what I say can be used against me.
 I've never been arrested before." 

She continued to play with her nipples as her purse slipped off
her shoulder to the ground.  Even in her current frenzy, I could
tell she was puzzled by the question.

"Uh, I guess.  If you were to say anything right now, I could
testify about it."  One hand now moved from her boobs to her
skirt.

"So if I told you I thought you look pretty good for a cop, you'd
be able to find a way to use it against me?"  Both hands now
pushed the skirt down off her hips.  Plain white panties.
Figures.

"I suppose so.  But I really can't see...umh."  One hand found
it's mark.  She gasped a tiny gasp, despite herself. Quite cute,
really. 

"And if I told you I think your ass is nice and firm...for a
cop...you'd testify to it?"  One of her hands was running down
the length of her thigh as she turned her back to me and began to
bend over...

"Uhh, yeah, I...I guess if we went to court...uhh..."   As she
bent over, her smallish boobs pointed straight at the ground and
her right hand continued to massage herself though her panties. 
Suddenly, they weren't so white anymore.  I smiled at that.

"And if I said that your lips looked like they'd suck a pretty
mean cock...for a cop...you'd get on the stand and tell it to a
jury?"

She turned back towards me, still bent over at the waist and
stared at Mr. Chuckles for a tiny fragment of a second.  "I...I
guess I'd have to do that too."

"I dunno.  Looks can be deceiving, or so I've heard."  She bent
down to her knees and took me in her hands and, again, she
hesitated.

"Please, mister, I don't know what I've done to you..."

"You picked the wrong fucking corner to harass," I managed to get
out before she engulfed Mr. Chuckles.   And that was pretty much
the end of the Q&A session, because he just HATES being
interrupted.

She wasn't the best I'd had. Hell, I can't even remember the best
I'd had, seeing as I'd done something like this at least twice a
night for as long as I can remember.  But she was pretty
good...for a cop.  Unfortunately, Mr. Chuckles has grown so used
to getting swallowed day in and day out that he can't cough up
that way anymore.  So after five or six minutes of that kind of
fun, I reluctantly pushed her head away and moved her around. 
Besides, this way I got to ask more questions.  

I LOVE asking questions and actually getting honest answers.

By this time, her white panties were, well, pretty gray and down
around one foot or another.  Despite frigging her cunt like
crazy, she still hadn't cum.  I was saving that.  Dunno, why,
really, but I just hadn't found exactly the right time for it.

"Do you enjoy being a cop?"  I said as she turned her back to me
and proceeded to lower herself on me.

"Uh, yeah, though not...right now."  I had to laugh out loud at
that one. Amazing how she kept her wits despite frigging her cunt
for five minutes and screwing a stranger in an alleyway. I've had
a few like that, but most are like you, they just shut down and
don't give me much other than simple answers.  They're no fun. 
No fun at all.

"The people you work with, they treat you pretty good?"  She slid
all the way down me and Mr. Chuckles was happy once again.

"Most of...them...are OK.  I do...OK."  Damn, she was tight. 
Hadn't had one quite that tight since that Catholic School Band
bus came through on their way to the state championships.  
Officer Hooker obviously worked out, too.  It was hard not to
notice the ripples of her thighs as she moved them up and down.

For some reason, I checked my watch for the time.  I knew this
was an enjoyable session, but not THAT enjoyable.  The 15 minutes
was just about up. 

Oh, well, in for a dime, in for a dollar, or so my Pops used to
say.

"How about the two guys you're working with now?"  She slowed
down now, but I was getting more and more excited. 

"Uh, they're...OK."  This one's vocabulary needed some serious
help.  Oh, well, can't expect Tupak or anything from a woman cop
humping you in an alley.

"No, I mean, specifically.  You hot for either one of them?"  She
slowed down even more.

"Uh, no way.  Gilbert's too damned...uhh...old...uhh...and
Sergeant Dias is just an ahhh...asshole." 

Ah, so 'Sergeant '70s' had a name.  This might be fun after all.
"C'mon, you mean you've never thought about fucking either of
them?  Not even for a second or two?"

"Uh, of course not.  It's....ahhhh.....it's against regulations."


Her breathing began to get more labored.  I think she was finally
getting tired.  Not that I cared, of course.  But she was due for
a break anyway, when the lights from the police car broke the
darkness and the screeching of wheels pierced the relative
silence of the alley.  At least the viewing public was being
quiet this time.

I could barely make out the silhouettes of two figures framed
against the glare of the headlights. 

"Whoever you are, drop your weapon and release the officer!!!!
NOW!!"

Must have been the asshole.  'Drop your weapon,' indeed.  Not
likely.  Officer Hooker moved one hand up to shield her eyes, but
kept sliding up and down on Mr. Chuckles.  I likewise cupped my
hand over my eyes and paid attention to business.  I was pretty
close now...

The two officers moved in closer, their weapons drawn.  Just as
they got to within ten feet, I finally let Officer Hooker loose.
I've listened to some nasty orgasms in my time, but they probably
heard this one all the way back at the precinct house. 

Her purse was a good two feet away and I imagine it burnt out the
wire. 

They're probably still passing copies of that tape around the
boroughs to this day. 

Might be a nation-wide police-network Top 40 hidden microphone
hit for all I know.

And despite two cops with drawn guns in my alleyway, on my
corner, I could hear applause coming from the homies, near and
far, but the loudest came from the windows and rooftops right
above me. 

That was one freakin' GREAT orgasm.   A true work of art.

Oh, yeah, and I came too.


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

CHAPTER 2


"You OK?"

"Yeah," I answered. 

"I wasn't talking to you, dipshit!" Sergeant '70s Asshole was
pretty pissed right about now.

I would've taken issue with his attitude, but I was still
sky-high from that cum in the alley.  I mean, I was really up
there in the clouds.  I don't do drugs, but I imagine it's how a
junkie feels during his first week or so.  Maybe that's why I
didn't put up much resistance when they slapped the cuffs on me
and shoved me into the back seat of the wagon.  Or maybe it was
just that I hadn't had so much fun in years and I didn't want it
to end.  I mean, these guys were just soooo full of themselves
that messing with them seemed the thing to do.  It's that little
problem with authority again, I guess. Anyway, I just kinda
glanced behind me long enough to say good-bye to my corner as the
cop car scooted away.  One way or the other, I figured I wouldn't
be back for a while.

The two cops had helped Officer Hooker into the front seat right
after they'd stuffed me in the back. She wasn't saying or doing
much.  She was so far out of it that she couldn't even put her
own clothes back on.  Oh, yeah, I learned her name was Sally
Hooper.  Hooper, Hooker, I wasn't far off.  I kinda watched 'em
as they slid the tank top back on and fixed her mini.  They both
balked when they came to the panties, though, and they went in an
evidence bag in the trunk. Sergeant Asshole was just too damned
pissed to show much anything else, but the other guy - I think I
remember she said his name was Gilbert - looked like he was
enjoying himself a little bit too much.  Not that there's
anything wrong with that. I bet he was popping one downstairs
while his hands were doing their official duty.  And, yeah, he
was old, but not all THAT old.  He slid in the driver's seat
while Sergeant Asshole parked his big butt next to little old
nasty cop rapist me.

They'd made it several blocks and Sergeant was still trying to
get a reaction out of Hooper.  I'd like to think it was because
of that world's greatest cum she had back in the alley, but I
knew better.  She'd come back to earth just as I was starting to,
but I don't like women who fuck and tell.  She wasn't going to be
saying anything for quite a while...

But, still, it didn't stop him from trying.

"What the hell happened back there, Hooper?"  he asked her
through the mesh.

"She had the fuck of her goddamned life, that's what happened."

Gilbert took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot me some
eye lightning through the mesh.  "He told you, you dumbnut,
homeboy wannabe, you shut the fuck up!!"

I smiled and showed off my gold tooth.  "I might not have the
skin, Officer Gilbert, sir, but everyone around here likes me
just the same..."  It was kinda, sorta, the truth.  I'd been
hanging here for years now and no one'd complained - much.

"...or didn't you hear all the love from my boys back there. 
They all appreciate a good screwing, especially when it's one of
you folk what gets screwed."

For a minute, I thought he was going to actually pull the car
over and come at me.  That would've been...interesting.  No one's
tried it in years.  Not after what happened to Hector the Hamster
Homo.  Word spreads pretty quick through my part of town.

But Sergeant Asshole was evidently a by-the-book Asshole.  "He's
not worth it, Crowley. Wait until we get him in the box.  Then
we'll see who gets screwed."

Geez, guys, I thought, just give me MORE ideas, won't you?  This
was just going to be TOO much fun.

"So, Gilbert," I asked offhandedly, you enjoy putting that tank
top back on Hooper back there?" 

Gilbert let up on the gas again, but quickly got back up to
speed.  Sergeant Asshole revved up to give me an elbow, but
suddenly stopped, and his teeth started grinding rather
painfully.  Seemed he was having a seizure.  Or something.

"I mean, 'fess up.  I bet you wanted to throw away your badge
when you were decidin' whether or not to put her panties back on,
didn't you?"

I stared at his eyes through the rear view mirror as his mouth
did its best to try not to answer.   He looked and sounded more
like Mel Tillis than one of the city's finest.

"I....I..."

"Oh, c'mon now, Gilbert, don't lie to me and tell me your pecker
didn't want to run head first under that skirt and get some of
what I got."

His face was shaking now, his brows doing the shimmy around his
eyes.  "I...I guess so..."

I leaned forward on the seat approvingly and nodded my head. 
"Hey, whataya know, there ARE honest cops in this town!"

I didn't think it was possible after that last cum, but Mr.
Chuckles was enjoying the way this line of questioning was going.
 Not ecstatic, mind you, but just happy enough to let me know he
approved.  You see, Mr. Chuckles doesn't like authority much
either and he's really the only guy I listen to on a regular
basis.

I leaned over to the mesh to Gilbert's ear and whispered, just
loud enough so that Hooper and Sergeant Asshole could hear. 
"Sorry, guy, but she told me she think's you're too damned old to
fuck." 

Evidently, that was a sore spot on Officer Gilbert Crowley and he
turned to the near comatose Hooper.  "What the hell?  I'm only
45, I'm not fucking dead!"

"Well, in her defense, I've heard you start to...well, shoot your
gun pretty damned quick when you hit 40," I chimed in merrily. 
"That's probably all she meant.  I dunno if you kept track back
there, but she needed almost 20 minutes of heavy action to bring
the hood down around us."

"Hell, you little shit.  I've held out longer than that."  Talk
about full of himself.

Suddenly Mr. Chuckles was at full attention.  He was loving this.
 "Yeah, right.  Give a guy a badge and police powers and he
thinks he's Ron Jeremy or something.  She gives really, really
good head...for a cop.  I bet you wouldn't even last from here to
the station house."

"Oh, give me a fuckin' break.  That's only five minutes away if
we catch the lights."

I leaned back again and smiled as I caught his face again in the
mirror.  I didn't think his eyes could get much more crossed than
they were a minute or so ago - but I was wrong.

"What the hell?  Hooper??!!!!"

"Hey, Mr. Gilbert, Officer, sir, you'd better keep those hands on
the wheel.  Think what the papers would say if we got in a wreck
right now."

I've never actually seen a police uniform up close and personal.
I always figured the zippers worked pretty much like any other
zippers.  Again, I was wrong.  They were louder.  Or maybe she
was just being especially blatant about it for all of us in the
back seat without a clear view.  In any case, Mr. Chuckles was
enjoying himself and that was good enough for me.

"Hooper?!!!!   Stop it!  I mean...  "C'mon now, I'm a married
man.  What the hell has gotten into you?!!!"

Of course, being the good law-enforcement official he was, he did
his best to avoid the possibility of injuring innocent
pedestrians and kept both hands on the wheel. He even slowed the
car down to a crawl to account for the adverse driving
conditions.

"Geez, please, Sally, I didn't mean...  c'mon, Sally...  For the
love of..."

She must have really wanted to prove how good she was.  Between
the amazingly loud slurping and the occasional choking noises, I
was wondering if we maybe might need the paramedics instead of
the cops. 

"...oh, damn it, Sally.  Please.  Oh, geez.  Watch the teeth. 
Oooooh."

These two were just TOO good. It was beginning to be just a
little too much for Mr. Chuckles to take.  He was going to need
some help - and soon. I turned to Sergeant Asshole to see if he
was enjoying it as much as we were.  He didn't seem to be.  So
sad for him.

Suddenly, he seemed to snap out of his seizure (or whatever) and
take in the situation.

"What the hell is going on up there, you two?"

"Sorry...Sarge...I don't...ahh.. know what's...come..
aaaahhh....over..."

I scowled at Officer Asshole.  "Damn, Sarge, don't you know true
love when you hear it?"

He looked perplexed.  Evidently Officer Asshole Academy didn't
cover this one.  He pushed his head to the mesh to better
observe. 

Again I barked at him.  "Hey, down in front!!!  Some of us are
trying to watch the show!!!"

He turned to me, staring in disbelief.  "What the hell are you
talking about?!!"

I stared back.  "Look, man, stop being a part of the problem.
Didn't they teach you in cop school that you gotta treat your
prisoners nice or cost the department a lawsuit?"

His mind was definitely running in five directions at once now. 
Of course, the numerous obscenities now coming from the front
seat didn't exactly help his situation much.  As Hooper cranked
it up a notch, you could almost hear the cheesy '70s porno music
start playing on the soundtrack.

"Uh, yeah, but what the hell's that got to do with this?" was all
he could manage.

"Right now, I got a real problem with my treatment...or lack
thereof."

"What the hell are you blabbering about?"

Just then Officer "I Ain't Dead Yet" Gilbert must've been just a
little bit distracted and we hit a pretty big pothole.  It sent
me bouncing right up on my seat and Mr. Chuckles got jostled
around a bit.  He must've been really anxious, 'cause he managed
to slip right out my fly.  I tell 'ya, the little guy has a mind
of his own.

But his timing, as usual, was simply fucking superb.

I looked at Sergeant Asshole and tried my best to go into pain
mode.  Probably wasn't a terribly good act, seeing as I was
laughing pretty hard inside, but it was good enough. "Look, you
got two blue fucking ferrets in the front seat getting me all
worked up AND you got these damned cuffs on so I can't take care
of it.  Now, I don't know how it is where you come from, but I
call that police brutality."

"GOD DAMN!!!"  Somewhere in the front seat, Gilbert must've been
getting close to heaven.

And while they had their fun, I was still arguing with Sergeant
Asshole in the back seat who just wasn't seeming to get my
meaning.

"What the hell you want me to do about it?"

"Take these damned cuffs off."

"No can do, it's against regulations."

"Fuck the regulations, Sarge.  You're looking at one bad Rodney
King for the city if I don't get some relief here!"

"Sorry, I can't do it."

"Well, then, get Hooper back here to give me some of what
Gilbert's getting."

"Sorry, it's too dangerous to stop the car."

"Geez, Sarge, I'm dyin' here!!!!"

"Oh, Damn, for a gangsta wannabe, you're a fucking pussy, you
know that?" he said with obvious irritation as he leaned over Mr.
Chuckles.  "Anything to stop your fucking whining!"

He even took off his hat. Let me tell you, I was honored.

Now, I hate to stop the story just when it's getting good, but as
you must've figured by now, I'm the kinda guy who gets lots of
sex.  Hell, since the time I could get it up, I've had lots and
lots of sex.  All kinds of sex.  More sex than one man should be
allowed to have. I've learned a few things in all those years of
all that sex. 

One of the biggest things I've learned is that when it comes to
blow jobs, hell, a mouth's a mouth.  But, then, you already know
that, right?  And most guys learn pretty quickly - quicker than
the girls most of the time.  But, then, you already know THAT
too.  Ok, back to our story.

Ok, so Officer Asshole - well, OK, maybe I shouldn't call him
that anymore 'cause he was really trying to help me feel better -
is one of those quick learners.  Who'd have guessed?  But like I
said before, Mr. Chuckles doesn't cough up in the mouth and
hasn't for a looong time.  And we were getting near the station
house anyway.  I looked up to the rearview mirror because Hooper
and Gilbert were more quiet (or maybe Sarge was making so much
noise back here that I couldn't hear 'em) than I remember.  Man,
what a sight.

My view wasn't the best, but Gilbert was rocking his head from
side to side and had this really fucking huge grin on his face. 
It was one of those clowny grins that looked like it was painted
on if you know what I mean.  Hooper moved in front of the mirror
and was trying to apply her lipstick, but all the cum on her face
was getting in the way.  I thought it was kinda disgusting,
really, but some guys like that kind of thing, so I'm telling you
about it anyway.

So I guess Ron Jeremy doesn't have to worry about losing his job
to any of these bozos after all...

Linda Lovelace on the other hand...

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

CHAPTER 3


"Now I know why they call this 'the box.'  Can't you do something
about the temp in here?"

"That's enough out of you, dipshit!  We'll ask the questions!" 
Sergeant Dias was rolling his eyes.  He looked like one of those
chubby cat clocks with the wagging tail and the rolly eyes Miss
Johnson had hanging on her kitchen wall. I always hated those
things.

"It doesn't look much like a box to me.  You sure you guys don't
wanna sit down? I got up, offering the lone chair to Dias and
Gilbert. 

Gilbert grabbed me by the shoulders and forced me back down into
the chair.  Whatta man.  "Sit the fuck down, shithead!  I don't
sit with rapists!"

I spread my hands face down on the table in front of me and
stared straight into the huge mirror across the way.  "I'm not
going to answer any more questions unless you ask me nicely."

Dias sat his fat butt down on the table in front of me - I barely
moved my hands out of the way before they got squished - and
stared me in the face.  "Listen, scumbutt, we got you dead to
rights on a rape charge.  You better start giving us some real
answers before we just go ahead and hand you over to the DA."

My turn to roll my eyes.  "Hey, I didn't rape nobody.  You got
the tape.  One minute she was arresting me, the next minute she
was giving Mr. Chuckles the strobe light treatment.  Then you
guys show up and slap the cuffs on and next thing I know, I'm
here getting stomped on by Briscoe and Curtis!"

I was having second thoughts about the whole thing.  At first it
was kinda new and different, messing with the city's finest
instead of the faceless drivers zipping through the hood.  Kinda
fascinating in a perverse way.  That trouble with authority
thing, I suppose.  But once we got out of the car and into the
station house, it just became...well, kinda routine and boring.
Hooper went off to get rape kitted or whatever they call it -
they'll be some strange looks flashing 'round the department with
they take the samples off her face, heh - while Dias and Crowley
hustled me off to get processed.  I was just about to correct
Gilbert when he dipped his fingers into the ink, but I guess he's
got nice enough prints.  Sarge's fingers are just too damned fat
to look good on a guy's rap sheet, and the clerk at the desk
looked like he was bored out of his skull, which is probably why
he didn't notice what the hell was going on.  I caught the name
on his badge, Officer Bernard, and he looked like he'd rather be
anywhere else.  And here I thought police work was supposed to be
exiting. I kind felt sorry for him.

But that was before he handed me that huge fucking stack of
paperwork to fill out.  Ah, he can rot with the rest of 'em.  All
three of 'em looked at me kinda strangely when I seemed to fill
out the stack in five minutes or so.  It was the only fun I'd had
up until that time.  They put a copy of the prints with the
paperwork in a file and Gilbert was waving it around in my face
at the moment.

"And what the hell is with this, anyway? He was yelling. 
"Hannibal Lector??!!!  This is the police department you're
screwing around with now, you homeboy wannabe!  What you wanna
bet that when your prints come back, you've got a record a mile
long."

Idiot.  "I'd bet you your pants, but you've already lost them
once tonight."

OK, so I was getting bored.  But he kept on going down the rest
of my sheet. 

"Address, 1440 Pennsylvania Avenue? What the fuck is that?"

OK, so I'm not terribly creative either.  So arrest me.

"...And it goes on and on."  He threw the file against the mirror
and I could almost feel someone dodge on the other side.  Sarge
Asshole isn't the only guy who's seen a lot of TV cop shows.

But it gave me an idea.

"OK," I said.  "What's say I'll answer your questions if you'll
answer mine."

Dias grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me around in my chair.
The wheels weren't greased very well and it was all I could do to
hold onto it as he got in my face again.

"Listen up, shithead, WE'RE the cops! We're the ones who have the
power to put you away or let you go!  You got NOTHING! 
Understand?  NOTHING!!!"

"I'll take that as a 'yes,' then."  I smiled back.  Mr. Chuckles
woke up.

"For the last fucking time, what is your real name?"

"Warren."  Warren Bandan."

Dias backed down and sat back on the table as Gilbert started
scribbling in a notebook.  "Now we're getting somewhere. 
Address?"

I folded my arms.  "Nope.  Not until you answer one of mine."

"Oh, for crying fucking out loud....this isn't 20 questions
here."

"Who's on the other side of the mirror?"

"What the...?  None of your damned business."

I smiled broadly.  "Then if you won't answer my questions, I
wanna lawyer."

Gilbert and Dias both clenched up at the "L" word.  Like I said,
they ain't the only ones who watch cop shows.  I could almost
hear whoever it was behind the mirror suck it up too.  Better
than profanity around here, that "L" word.

Dias glanced to the mirror like he thought I wouldn't notice. 
These guys should learn by now, I notice EVERYTHING.  It's one of
those survival instincts you learn on the streets.

He sighed.  "That's our LT. Our Lieutenant."

"Is he always here this late at night?"

"She. And no, she's not.  But when an officer gets raped..."

"She?!!!" You take orders from a woman?!!!!"  My eyes opened wide
in mock astonishment.  Mr. Chuckles was starting to pay attention
now.  Much as I gotta say I love the sistahs, this was just tooo
good to pass up.  As I said earlier, I LOVE getting honest
answers.  So much you can do with 'em.

"Yeah," Gilbert had to put his two cents in. "But she only got
the promotion because she was black."

"Oh, yeah?" I ventured, looking straight into the mirror. "A real
sistah in charge? What do you think about that, Officer Dias,
sir?"

His face was twisted a bit, one eye on me and one eye on the
mirror with his mouth walking a tightrope between the two.  Tough
question, that one.  But he was a real trooper, Sergeant Asshole
was. 

"Uh, I guess she's....she's....Oh, hell, she's a real bitch, is
what she is."

A real trooper, but not much of a politician.

At just that time, the door next to the mirror crashed open and
LT. Sistah herself came lurching into the room.  She was almost 6
foot tall and looked like she had to get off the interstate at
each one of those weigh stations, if you know what I mean. 

My kind of woman.

And boy was she PISSED about something or other.

"Dias!!! Crowley!!!  IN MY OFFICE!!!  NOW!!!!

Mr. Chuckles was trying his best to claw his way out of my pants.
 Boy was I embarrassed. OK, maybe not so embarrassed.  Whatever
was going on here, neither one of us wanted to miss it.

"Sorry, Miss Officer LT. person, but we were just in the middle
of something import..."

"Don't you EVER interrupt me, you little white excuse for a worm!
 What kind of a rapist are you supposed to be anyway?!!!  I've
met tougher perps in the line for 'Pirates of the Caribbean!!!" 

She was almost in my face now.  That's when I discovered
wintergreen breath mints don't work on bean burritos.  But it
didn't matter.  Mr. Chuckles was in love.

"Well, I'm not really a rapist, really..."

"Damn straight you aren't!!!!  Little skinny asshole like you!! 
I bet you couldn't even find a pussy, much less stick it in!!!" 
Her humungous boobs were just at face level as she continued to
spew her words (and dinner) at me.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far..."

Dias picked up his backbone and shoved it back down his uniform
just about then, and tried his best to get between us and calm
her down.  "Hey, LT, maybe we should..."

She didn't take to that at all and thankfully turned her
attention away from me.  "What the fuck?!  Like you were getting
anywhere with this little prick?!!!  He's clearly got an attitude
problem and needs is a little reminder about who's in charge
here!!!  He was leading you two dicks around by the head!!!"

She was on a roll now.  I'd seen some upset sistahs in the last
few years and I gotta tell you there's just something about black
women and power.  No white woman I ever met could whoop ass like
a sistah in the mood.  And this sistah was IN THE MOOD.

As was Mr. Chuckles.  With both men's attention focused on the
boss, I nonchalantly closed the door.  This didn't sound like
something she wanted the rest of the station to hear. 

She turned her full attention on Gilbert.  "And I did NOT get my
promotion because I'm black. I got it because I sucked off the
Commissioner in the back of his car. Get your fucking rumors
straight!!!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, softly, lowering his head. 

She hovered over him like a Marine in basic.  "I can't hear you,
Crowley!!"

He started down to his knees.  "Sorry, ma'am."

She reached around and fiddled with the clasp on the back of her
long skirt.  "I don't believe you, Officer Crowley."

Oh, this was something Mr. Chuckles definitely wanted to see.  So
I sat down in a corner and let him out to watch.  Everyone so
often, I'd look over at the mirror to see if I could make out any
shadows.  

As the skirt fell to the floor, LT Sistah stood there in long
boots, black blouse and plain white panties.  What is the deal
with cops and white panties, anyway?  Must be a dress code thing.
 Oh well.

As Crowley crept between the massive black thighs to show his
regret, I glanced at Dias.  He was staring at the scene, with
mouth open but not saying anything.  He had taken his hat off
again - I think that must be something he does when he's turned
on.  He started creeping ever more closely until the black woman
noticed him.  She's pretty good, I figure, at noticing things
too, considering the treatment Crowley was giving her.  Most
women close their eyes when guys are slipping them the tongue and
two-fingers, but not LT Sistah.  She had her eyes wide open.  Cop
instincts, I guess - always on the alert.

"C'mon over here, Dias," she hissed, as her right hand reached
around to slide her wet underwear down past her massive butt,
"and I'll show you what a bitch I can REALLY be."

Being the good by-the-book Sergeant Asshole that he was, Dias did
as he was commanded and lost himself so deep between Mount Ebon
and Mount Onyx that I don't even think Lassie could've helped him
find his way out.  After a minute or two, the only way I could
tell he was breathing was by the way his legs shuffled on the
floor every time she tensed a bit. Well, that and the incredibly
loud slurping noises, of course.  After a while, though, I
couldn't tell whether they were coming from in front or behind.

By then Mr. Chuckles and I were both pretty excited watching this
black/white/blue six-legged sex show monstrosity slowly quiver
and sway from one side of the "box" floor to the other.  Had a
hard time figuring how she stayed standing through a couple
orgasms.  Best guess was kinda like when a crowd gets so packed
that you can just get carried along.  The LT had one hand on the
back of each cop's head and was playing with their hair as they
went about their business. 

I could've watched for a while longer, but Mr. Chuckles was tired
of being ignored.  So I meekly approached the trio as they leaned
against one wall.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt, Luetenant, Ma'am, but wasn't I supposed
to be the one under interrogation here?"

"Oh....yeah....ahhh....the punk...I forgot...ahhh...."

"No problem, really, but if I'm not needed anymore, I'd like to
ask permission to leave."

"No...way...uh...ahh...Mr. Bandan....if that's...Oh,
Jesus....really your name."

"Uh, yeah, but I ain't no rapist."

Between gasps, she glanced down at Mr. Chuckles.

"ahhh, no, I guess you're....damn...not.  Couldn't
hurt....aaaaahhh...a fly with...that...thing."

Well, Mr. Chuckles knows when he's been insulted and I started to
tell her as much when she suddenly reached into her blouse and
pulled one huge black bosom out of her bra and stuffed it in my
mouth...

"You talk too...ahhh...much. Here....something to keep
you...ahhh, quiet until...damn...I'm ready to...Jesus...deal with
you."

What can I say? I mean, how do you argue with that? 

So I didn't. Like I said, this was my kind of woman.  And her
nipples were HUGE.  I hadn't had to five finger Mr. Chuckles to
cough up in a long, long time, but I was really tempted to do it
then.  But I figured a better time would come along, so I held
off.

About five minutes and two orgasms later, I guess she was finally
ready to "deal with me."  She shoved Dias and Crowley away from
her and parked her butt on the table.  Amazingly, it groaned and
swayed, but didn't break.  She motioned for me to sit down in the
chair.

"OK, let's get one thing straight, little man, this is MY
department and I run things MY way around here."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"So, you're going to answer every question I ask you and if I
don't like the answers, I'm going to put your head through that
mirror.  Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am." 

"Did you rape my officer?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She pulled her other boob out of her bra and started playing with
the nipple.  "Now, let me get this straight.  First you deny you
raped her, now you're saying you did?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She moved her other hand between her legs and I couldn't help but
watch.  Sistahs have THE most amazing pussies on Earth.  The
darker the skin, the more the contrast between outside and
inside.  And that curly hair.  The LT had hair halfway to her
knees. Again, I know a lot of guys find that disgusting, but some
like it, so I thought I'd mention it.

"I don't believe you.  Do you expect me to believe a skinny
little white clown like you could take one of my officers down?"
She said as she brought her nipple to her mouth and gave it a
nibble.

"Well, she really didn't have much choice.  You see, I can
control minds."

With that, she leaned back and tossed her braided hair behind her
head.  I thought she was going to fall off the table, she was
laughing so hard.  Fortunately, her other hand kept its position,
fingers standing apart like two guards at the door.

"Did you hear that, boys?!  Little white homeboy wannabe can
control minds."

To her left, Dias and Gilbert had their cocks out at full
attention, stroking slowly and were shaking their heads (all four
of 'em) in laughter. 

"Stop wasting my time, little man. If you were a rapist who could
control minds, you'd have me over there sucking your cock,
wouldn't you?"

"Uh, I suppose so." 

She let out a deep series of chuckles that shook her all over. 
"Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen.  I'll tell you what IS
going to happen, though."

She parted her thighs a bit more and spread herself wider.  "This
is MY precinct, little white boy, and what's GOING to happen is
that you're going to come over here and suck my proton until I
have the best cum of my entire life."

Again, what can I say? 

So I did.

And she did.

And Gilbert and Dias did.

And Mr. Chuckles did.

Cryin' shame only two of us remember it.

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

CHAPTER 4


This is the part of the story where I introduce you to Bubbles. 
Well, OK, her real name was Barbara but no one calls her that
anymore.  She showed up the day after LT Sistah and the boys
figured they weren't going to get anymore out of my mouth.  Well,
OK, so Sistah did get more out of my mouth, but doesn't seem to
recall the details, which is fine by me.  And that's another
story anyway. 

Anyway, soon as I said the "L" word, everyone went kinda quiet
and sullen and they sent Bernard back to show me to my new home
for the rest of the night.  I noticed he looked at Sistah and the
boys kinda close now and saw something wasn't quite right, but I
guess he figured they were just throwing me around the box a bit,
because their clothes were all messed up and the room looked like
Public Works hadn't been by in a while.  So I had him throw a few
bucks in the corner for the cleaning crew who had to clean up the
mess.  Hey, I'm not all that heartless.

I spent the rest of that night on a pretty bad mattress, which
was OK, just not up to my high standards - for sleeping, anyway.
Early next morning, Bernard and another of the city's finest
escorted me further downtown to central booking and I was
seriously starting to get bored again.  Luckily I persuaded them
to stop at the donut shop on the way because I'd heard that
jailhouse food was pretty awful.  Since I got no ID on me and the
prints didn't turn up anything (surprise, surprise), they threw
me down in the wing reserved for the homeless nut cases, which
was actually right down my alley, to use the old cliche, the more
you think about it.

Or is that two old cliches?  Whatever...

Anyway, I spent most of the first day around the kind of
homeless, crazy people I tried my best to avoid on the street
and, believe it or not, when you actually get to know 'em (or
have little choice), most of 'em are pretty cool guys. 

Take ol' Chester Thomas for example. He was in the cell next to
mine, and kept talking to John Wayne the whole first hour after I
got there.  Finally, the Duke got sick and tired of ten years of
harassment and told him to go take a flying fuck.  I think
Chester's back in his old accountant's job now, last time I
talked to him.  I imagine the Duke's happier too, but I ain't
talked to him so I can't be sure.

Then there was the mad screamer down the hallway.  Kept screaming
about having all these strangers looking at him.   Finally got so
bad the guard (his name was Officer Frank something) let me out
to go see what it was all about.  Turns out it was this really
old guy (his name was Dwayne something) who couldn't stop looking
at his shadow on the wall.   OK, so most of these flakes aren't
the smartest people in the world.  Just told him to close his
eyes and pretend he was somewhere else.  Really simple stuff.  
Last time I heard from him, he was living on his ranch down in
Texas and he said he'd put me in his will.  Yeah, like what am I
gonna do with a million dollars?

Like I said, pretty cool people, once you get to know them. But
like everyone else around, they just don't value the really
IMPORTANT things in life.

Like Mr. Chuckles.

Which brings us back to Bubbles.  Just after noon, an old man
with a briefcase came over to talk to Frank.  He looked in the
cell, gave me the once over then proceeded to look kinda confused
when Frank told him he's got the right guy.  I guess I didn't
look like your ordinary cop rapist, whatever your ordinary cop
rapist looked like back then. So he introduced himself as the guy
in charge of the public defenders for the day and figured I
needed a lawyer since I didn't look like the kind of guy who
already had one lined up.  We kinda hit it off (like I keep
saying, I'm not such a bad guy when you leave me alone) and I
convinced him to send his best girl right over.

So imagine my surprise when, a few hours later, this kid who
couldn't have been more than twenty years old shows up and starts
talking to Frank. At first I figured she must be part of a candy
striper program or it was "Bring Your Daughter to Work to Gawk at
the Crazy Prisoners Day" at the jail or something.  She was
blonde (of course), impossibly tiny (about 5 feet tall), couldn't
have weighed over 90 pounds, and when she opened her mouth, it
sounded like Alvin, Simon and Theodore all talking at the same
time. 

Needless to say, Mr. Chuckles was in love - again.

Now the jailhouse had a policy of not letting women in alone in
jail cells with rape suspects, but Frank and I had come to an
arrangement where I promised to behave myself if he promised not
to watch - too close.  Yeah, OK, you can stop snickeringalready.

So this teeny tiny thing comes in with her booksack - well, OK,
it was a briefcase, but I kept thinking booksack because the
image kinda fit - but when she starts talking (and I actually
start listening), she actually seemed to know what she's talking
about.  Not that I was listening really closely, mind you, Mr.
Chuckles still had pretty firm control back then.  Said her name
was Barbara Cramer or Kramer or something close and that she
didn't normally take such important cases but her boss said she'd
be perfect for this one for some reason.  Made a mental note to
send her boss a special present for Christmas or whatever the
next holiday happened to be. 

She'd come dressed in this brown pantsuit kinda thing - which
made me wonder how much schoolyard lawyers made these days. 
Looked like she bought it at Penny's or something.  Knew right
away she had nothing much upstairs, but that kinda fit,
considering she looked and sounded like a blonde Minnie Mouse on
crack anyway.  But she seemed to know her stuff.

"Anyway, as I was saying, I can only take your case if you stop
looking at my tits."

"Uh, what was that again?"

"I said, I can only take your case if you're honest with me."

"Oh, yeah. That's me. Honest as the day is long."  Geez, where do
they come up with this stuff?  She was talking about honesty in a
place full of crazy people.

"I was looking through your file and noticed that you love to
have your cock sucked."

"Pardon?"

"I said, I was looking through your file and noticed that the
only honest answer you gave was as to your name."

"Oh, yeah. I was just playing around. I like to do that."

"Well, if I'm going to take your case, I need to know that you'll
chew on my clit until I have at least three screaming orgasms."

"Excuse me?"

"Do you have trouble hearing or something?  I said if I'm going
to take your case, you're going to have to tell me a lot more
than you told the arresting officers."

"Oh, yeah, the honesty thing again.  I raised my right hand.  "I
swear I'll be honest with my lovely lady lawyer."  Well, OK,
maybe now that Mr. Chuckles is satisfied hearing Minnie Mouse
talk dirty.  Trouble is, Mr. Chuckles is NEVER satisfied. Oh,
well.

I noticed around the corner that Frank wasn't keeping his end of
the bargain. Evidently he must've had a thing for cartoon
characters.  Either it didn't bother little Miss Schoolyard
Lawyer much or she didn't notice.

"So, I need to finish out your report for the record.  So I'll
need some more personal information."

"Uh, how personal?"  I tried to do the coy act, but I've never
been that good at it. Go figure.

She looked up at me with a scowl.  "Oh, please.  Save the act for
the streets. You know the drill by now. First, I need your
address."

"Don't have one."

"OK, then, the last place you stayed for any extended period of
time."

"Hmm, that would be the Governor's Suite of the DowntownHilton."

There was that scowl again.  Her eyebrows did a cool little dance
and her short bangs kinda shook when she got an answer she didn't
like.  Good thing it was kinda cute, 'cause I had a feeling I'd
be seeing it a lot over the next hour or so.  "Honesty, Mr.
Bandan."

I shrugged my shoulders.  "It's true. The managers just really
liked me.  Stayed there for almost a month until I decided to
move on."

"Occupation?"

"Uh, gainfully self-employed."

"Yeah, right.  How gainfully?  You had no money or credit cards
on your person when you were arrested."

"Don't believe in 'em."

She looked down at my feet. "And I imagine those hundred dollar
sneaks just appeared on your feet."

I smiled.  "Hey, what can I say? The manager at the corner store
just likes me."

"A whole lot of people just seem to 'like you,' is that it?"

I leaned back in my chair and almost fell over.  "Hey, when you
got it, you got it.  And I got it."

She scowled again and started to close the file.  I dunno why,
but I was beginning to really dig this one. The whole "cute and
smart" thing, I guess, but I sensed something a little more there
than your ordinary book case here.  Had a bit of the streets in
her and something else I couldn't finger at the time.  Yeah, back
then I was just in it for the sex, but there was still something
here that got part of me hooked.  Part of me that wasn't much
connected to Mr. Chuckles even...

"Look, if you aren't going to be more cooperative, I've got more
deserving slime I could be helping..."

I jumped to my feet and put on my best happy face.  What? You
don't think I can do happy?  OK, I'll cop.  Still wasn't much of
a citizen back then, but I could really play at being happy.

"Hey, Miss Lawyer Barbara, don't go.  I'll be a good boy,
honest."

She turned around and, honest to God, started to laugh.  I make
lots of women laugh, but she was a little different. It was an
honest laugh.  Kinda surprised me, really.  Got Mr. Chuckles'
attention too.

"I just don't trust people very easily.  Living on the streets
like I do, you gotta be really careful who you tell your secrets
to."

"Well, Mr. Bandan, you should also learn very early that if you
can trust anyone, it had better be the person who can keep you
out of jail."

"It's just that I've never opened up like this before."  OK, so I
was getting better at this coy thing.  It was really hard,
believe me, especially hearing stuff like this from someone who
looked and sounded like Olive Oyl's midget cousin. 

"Now, again, how do you make your living?  Drugs?"

"Oh, no, nothing like that.  People give me things because I make
'em feel better."

"Yeah, right. Drugs."

"Oh, C'mon, Miss Barbara, you're killing me here.  I solve
problems for people and they pay me back by making my life
easier."

"What kind of problems?  I'm having a difficult time believing
you can live the way you do by barter."

"It's true.  Take you for instance.  I don't have any money to
pay you, but I bet I can solve a problem that's worth your time
and effort."

She put her hand to her head and gave a heavy sigh.  Mel Blanc
could even learn a few things from this one.  Mr. Chuckles sprang
to attention.

"Right.  Believe me, there's nothing you could do from inside a
jail cell that could have any impact whatsoever on my life."

Hey, another challenge.  This was going to be more fun than I
thought.  "Hey, I've already helped out a few folks around here."
I gave a quick glance at Frank and he quickly poked his head back
around the corner and out of sight.  "Surely there's something
you need fixed in your life."

She rolled her eyes and looked like she was going to get up
again.  "This is silly.  I'm fine."

"I bet no one takes you seriously, and it drives you crazy,
right?"

That pretty much got a reaction, just not one I'd figured on. 
She snatched the file and stood up again.  "I don't need to be
discussing this in a jail cell with a rapist."

Mr. Chuckles and I took offense at that.  "Hey, I thought I was
presumed innocent."

Everyone once in a while, I hit upon just the right thing to say
at just the right time.  It's a talent, what can I say? 

She turned back around and looked terribly hurt and apologetic
all at the same time.  It would've been enough to make my heart
crack if she didn't look so damned much like a cartoon character
- and if I had a heart. "I'm sooo sorry.  I don't know what came
over me.  What an awful thing to say."

I put my arm around her and guided her back to my cot.  It was
kinda like hugging your daughter - if your daughter happened to
be a cartoonish kid lawyer in a bad Penny's pantsuit.  Never been
the paternal sort, so I just have to guess at these things.

"It's just that I... no one understands what it's like to be a
genius trapped in this...this body..." she began as she slowly
worked at her jacket buttons. 

"Ever since I was five, I've been teased and teased about it." 
She threw the jacket across the room.  Frank tried to catch it,
but missed.  What a fucking loser.

"Graduated high school before I even got boobies..."  She felt
herself though her blouse.  I thought about helping, but didn't
want to interrupt.  Like I said, I love honesty, and this girl
was pouring it on.

"Damned parents lived in a trailer and couldn't afford
college..."  Her hands were freeing the bottom of the blouse from
those cheap pants. "Had to dance at a strip club to help get
through law school..."  I knew there was something about this
girl I liked.

"Do you know how fucking degrading it is to have to wear little
girl outfits and shake your butt on stage just so a bunch of
losers can feel you up for 600 bucks a night?"  Couldn't say that
I did, but Mr. Chuckles was certainly sympathetic.

Frank actually managed to catch the blouse.  I snorted in
disgust.

"Had an affair with my law school professor and the bastard
dropped me because he didn't want to risk his marriage.  Only man
I ever loved and he'd rather live with a lesbian society whore
than with these."   She rubbed her little boobies up and down Mr.
Chuckles.  Oh, well, his loss, our gain.

"And every time I go up in front of a judge, all they see is
this...disgusting...ahhh...excuse...for..."  

"Hey, it tastes wonderful, Miss Barbara."

"You...you really...oooh...think so?"

I was working my fingers down her pants now, feeling her wetness.
 "Oh, I know so.  In fact, I know exactly what your problem is
and how you can solve it."

"You....do...aaaah?  Yeah."

I nibbled on her ear as I whispered.  "You're trying too hard." 

"Ahhh, wha...you...ahh?"   I managed to get two fingers in. 
Evidently Mr. Law Professor didn't teach her much in that
particular area. 

"As a lawyer, if everyone wants to treat you like a little kid,
maybe you should just go with it."  My fingers were really busy
now, working in and out and around.  "Just like you did on
stage..."

"I...I don't...understa....aaaahhhh...."

"You don't fight your body, you work with it."  My other hand
loosened her belt and her own fingers began working the zipper. I
imagine the entire block now had a smell to go with the voice...
I started hearing groans from all around. 

Hey, crazy people got sex lives too, you know.

"Wha...do? Yeah..."  Between the two of us, we finally managed to
get those awful pants down.  Guess what?

Yeah. Plain white panties.  Sigh.

Never one to let life's little disappointments get me down (too
much), I continued to explain my theory to the schoolgirl genius
lawyer as I guided her fingers down to replace mine. 

"It's simple, really."  I whispered as I continued to nibble on
her ear and maneuvered Mr. Chuckles around behind her....  "You
show up for court with your brain in gear, but let your body do
the talking."

"I...uhh...think I'm getting....it....ahhh"  One of her hands
continued tickling her rosebud while the other, to my delight
reached up between her legs and tickled Mr. Chuckles....

"Oh, yeah, you're getting it..." I said as we bent over together.
 "Let's see if my little schoolgirl can get in practice...."

"Oh, yeah, like, maybe....ahhh, I could show up....oooooh in
court with my little...white...stockings and...yeah...short red
skirt...and...oooohhh....maybe put my hair up...white
ribbons...uuuuhhhh...."

"Oh, girl, that's good.  But maybe the lawyer language..."  Mr.
Chuckles couldn't wait any longer and dove for home as she
started.

"AAAAAAAhhhhhh......Your...honor....I request
a....recess...while...I...and my client....ahhh....get a...few
things...well...one...ahhh...thing...straight....

"What's that....your honor....ahhhh....motion to suppress
.....ahhh....suppress this...objection, council
is....leading...ahhh fuckfuckfuck..."

God, I love it when lawyers talk dirty.  Well, OK, only when they
talk dirty and Mr. Chuckles is happy.

One thing was still bothering me, though and I couldn't be
entirely happy until I got it out of the way.

"Uh, this is all good and well....council, but I don't think
Barbara is an appropriate name for the new you."

"uhhh.....fuckfuck....well....ahhh...damn....one....of....aaaaaaa
...my....old boyfriends used to call me..."

"Yeah..."

"Bubbles....aaaaahh..."

"Odd."

"fuckfuck....shit....aaaaah....he got a kick I was a law
and...order...ahhh...type and said he was gonna....fuck...name a
cartoon character after...me."

Then it hit me.  And Mr. Chuckles.  And Bubbles (three times). 
Some times things just all come together at the right time.  Even
in jail.

While it wasn't quite the same as in the alleyway, I bet that
cell block hasn't heard any like it before or since.

As we melted together in the cot, I noticed the crazy guy in the
cell across the way was staring at us a bit too personal like. 
So I took off one of my hundred dollar sneaks and tossed it at
him.

"Get your own fucking lawyer!"


<1st attachment end>


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