Police Harrassment

I'd been at the library returning some books for my mother. Walking home there's this neat little lane I can cut through, halving the distance I need to walk. So here I was trotting down the lane when three men entered the lane from the other end. When I say men I suppose they were about my age, eighteen. Come to think of I knew they were as I recall we all had our birthdays in the same month.

Now I was white and a girl and they were black and men, but was I worried? Certainly not. The three of them were quite nice and I'd actually been in class with them at different times. I assumed that it would just be a case where we'd say hullo and walk past each other, continuing on our way. It wasn't to be.

Before we even reached each other this cop stepped into the lane behind the men. He slammed his baton hard against a fence and yelled at the boys.

"Alright you scumbags," he roared. "Up against the fence and take the position and don't even think of running. I'm armed and quite willing to shoot."

I saw the consternation on the men's faces and the irritation when they saw that if they did try to run they'd have to knock me over to do so. They were using most inappropriate language as they turned and leaned against the fence, their weight on their hands and their legs spread. There was a second cop there now, and the two cops were moving up on the men.

I was incensed. Truly incensed. The boys hadn't been doing anything, just walking along and minding their own business and the cops had jumped them for no reason.

"Why are you picking on them?" I demanded. "They weren't doing anything wrong. There's no laws saying you can't walk down a street. This is harassment."

The three men looked at me in surprise and then one of the grinned.

"Hey, Celia," he called. "How you going. You tell them, girl. We haven't done nothing and this is police harassment, it is."

"Please move along, Miss," growled one of the cops. "This is a police matter and I'll thank you not to interfere."

"Police matter my eye," I snapped. "It's harassment of honest citizens. Racial harassment, too."

"Miss, we do have a reason for stopping these men," said the cop. "Please let us go about our duties and move along."

"The reason, Celia, is because we're black," yelled the man who'd called out to me earlier. "You notice there are four people in this lane and they only grabbed the three black guys."

"He's right," I said, full of righteous anger. I can't abide racism and injustice and this certainly seemed like a classic example. "If you're so faithfully doing your duty why didn't you make me take up the position as you so quaintly call it."

The two cops looked at each other and seemed slightly exasperated. Then the cop who'd been doing all the talking shrugged.

"If that's what you want," he said. "Take up the position." He nodded towards the fence.

"What?" He was kidding, wasn't he?

"Take up the position. You have convinced me that to prove we're not acting out of a racial profiling position I need to do a check on you, too."

I'd said too much to try to back off now. I turned and put my hands against the fence.

"Not like that," snapped the cop. "Take a step back and lean into your hands. Also spread your legs further apart. The position is there so you can't turn on the officer. If you even try we can kick your feet out from under you before you can get into action."

Oh, so that's why they did it that way.

The other cop started frisking (is that the right word) the man on the end.

"Bingo," he said, holding something up. The next thing I knew he was cuffing the poor man.

"I'll just put him in the van and be back," he said.

He returned after a minute and started checking number two. "Bingo two," he said and another set of handcuffs were produced and the man was led away.

The first cop started check the last man while I was trying to twist around to see what he was doing. His hand came out of the man's pocket with what looked like some necklaces.

"I guess I have a bingo as well," he said with a grin, and number three was handcuffed.

"You can run them in," he told his partner. "I'll stay with the young lady until the policewoman arrives."

I was rather nervous now.

"What's going on?" I asked.

"Three men just robbed the jewellery store," the cop told me. "We had a pretty good description of them and that's why we stopped those three men. Guess what we found in their pockets."

I didn't need to guess. I'd seen what he'd pulled out of that man's pocket. The three of them were probably laughing themselves sick about how gullible I'd been.

"I didn't know. I'm sorry. I feel such a fool. Can I go now?"

"Ah, I'm sorry, but no. Now that we've started due process we have to go by the book. You need to be searched. Don't worry, it won't be by me. My partner will send a policewoman to attend to it."

Oh great, I was going to have some strange woman groping me.

"Oh. Um, how long before she gets here."

"No idea. You'll just be considered part of due process and not given a high priority. She'll turn up when she turns up but don't worry. She shouldn't be more than an hour or so."

An hour or so with me propped up against this fence for the entire time? He had to be kidding.

"Oh, come on," I wailed. "You can't expect me to remain here for a whole hour."

"Hey, don't blame me. I told you to move along. You're the one who insisted on interfering."

"But I didn't know."

"Did you think to ask or was it just a lot more fun to accuse the police of doing the wrong thing?"

I blushed at that. He was right. I'd enjoyed having an excuse to yell at them, knowing they wouldn't do anything. Taking the position was something I hadn't anticipated.

"Can't you do a quick search of my pockets or something?" I pleaded.

"Hullo. Me Tarzan, you Jane. What do you think?"

"What?"

"Police officers only search suspects of the same sex."

"What, with no exceptions?"

"Only if the suspect volunteers to let a member of the opposite sex search him or her. Men often volunteer, women hardly ever."

"But they can? You can do a quick search if I agree?"

"I could but I'd prefer not to. Women can always change their mind and complain later. Why should I risk it when I can take it easy for an hour or so?"

"Oh, come on. This is so not fair.

"OK, fine," grouched the cop. "Anything if it'll shut you up. Just don't go whining to me if it's a little uncomfortable."

He moved up behind me and he ran his hands up my sides and under my arms. Then his hands went around the front of me and started to brush against my breasts. I started to blush with embarrassment at that but my blush leapt into full bloom when he stopped and pressed a nipple with one finger.

"What's in your pocket?" he asked.

"I don't have pockets on my blouse," I said in a rather hoarse voice.

"Oh, right," he said, apparently catching on to what he'd been pressing. He was silently laughing, I just knew it.

He crouched down behind me and his hands closed over one of my ankles. He then rose up again, his hand running up both sides of my leg. I was blushing but I honestly expected him to stop once he reached my skirt, or possibly just inside the bottom of my skirt. His hands just kept going up and I gave a strangled gasp when his hand came up against the crotch of my panties, firmly pressing on what lay on the other side of that crotch.

Did he apologise? In your dreams. He just squatted back down and his hands started up my other leg. He won't have to go up so high this time, I kept telling myself, because he's already checked there. Did that stop him? The hand pressing against my pussy told me no.

"Nearly done," he said as his hands slid up over my hips, still under my skirt, mind you.

When his hands came down my panties came down with them. One hand pushed my panties further down while his other one started rubbing my pussy.

"What are you doing?" I half screamed.

"Just making sure the last part of the search goes smoothly for you," he said.

"What are you talking about?"

"You wouldn't believe where a woman had a switchblade concealed yesterday," he told me. "That's why we need to be very careful and very thorough in our searches. Don't worry. I can handle it."

Maybe he could, but could I? That was a very personal part of me he wanted to search.

"Ah, maybe we should wait for the policewoman," I said, and even to me my voice sounded a little rough.

"Don't be a wimp," he gently derided me. "I've nearly finished. Just relax and we'll be done."

I was still saying, "But," when he spread my lips and his baton started pushing into me. And I meant his own personal baton, and it felt thicker and harder and a lot hotter than his silly little police baton.

I was going, "You can't," and "You shouldn't," and "Someone might come," and his baton was pushing deeper and deeper. In hindsight I guess I should have been saying things like, "No," and "Stop." Those words are so much more meaningful than hints that maybe this wasn't a good idea.

He didn't even bother to slow down, just pushing firmly in until he was fully embedded inside me.

"Yeah," he breathed softly in my ear. "I can pretty much guarantee you haven't got anything else hiding up here."

"So that means you'll take it out now?" I asked hopefully.

I heard a low chuckle, his warm breath blowing against my ear.

"Now wouldn't taking it out be a waste of a fine start?" he asked. "Why don't we just let things continue as they are for a while?"

See. That's what happens when you ask questions instead of making statements. People answer the questions the wrong way. He started moving, sliding back and forth, stirring me up. To my surprise I found that even in the position I was in I was able to respond and move with him. Even more to my surprise I found I wanted to.

Slowly but surely he was driving in faster and faster. At the same time my excitement was building at the same rate. I was gasping, urgently pressing back against him, wanting that cock deep inside me, relishing the feel of it rubbing against me.

The only fear that I had now was the fear that he might stop before I wanted him to. I was pleading with him, urging him to go harder, begging him not to stop. Everything was building up inside me, stressing me out, and I was nearly screaming, only stopped by the knowledge that we were in the open. My earlier fear that someone else might come was forgotten but that didn't mean I wanted to attract them. I just didn't want him to stop.

He gave me one last push and I went off the deep-end, shuddering as my climax ripped into me, feeling him groaning and heaving and shaking as he climaxed himself.

He pulled away from me, both of us breathing hard.

"I have to admit that you're clear as far as I'm concerned," he said. "You're free to go."

"Thank you," I said, at the same time wondering what I was thanking him for.

"Just remember, we generally do have a reason to stop people, and racism isn't one of them. Picking someone up because of racism is likely to get us sued and we can't be on patrol if we're fighting cases in court."

Suitably chastised I continued on my way home. I decided that I didn't like taking the position, as the police describe it. It seemed to have left me with very wobbly legs.