A door opened, the portly and balding uniformed officer who had the job of handling bails and releases that night motioning me to follow him to an int...rview room. In contrast to my sister, sitting on a chair with her legs drawn up under her chin and scowling, this was my first time on the business end of law enforcement, and I looked around, curious. The cop shows have it all wrong, I thought, disappointed. There were no gleaming steel and glass cells, no room-wide mirror panels; just flaking. But the most notable conversational piece was the husband that took the cake. "All you men ever think about is yourself first, why is that? she asked out of frustration. I said " There are a few of us men that aren't like that" I said. "Oh really, you have the next 40 minutes to prove it otherwise!" she said. I stood there trying to convince her otherwise, but she rebutted everything I stated. Soon I just sat down on the floor of the cab, soon she followed and seated across from me. Small talk. I wanted to ensure you’re okay.”“I’m fine, aside from being ostracized by the entire community.” He continued walking. “I’m paying too much for this motel, but it’s the only way I can guarantee a little privacy. They won’t allow anyone up to my room without my prior consent.”“What about the police and the press?”“The cops can always get in, and reporters are renowned for skirting normal restrictions, but it works for the most part.”“How are your injuries? I never got a chance to ask.”“They’re. Sometimes we’d stand outside the car, my hands smoothing his ass through tight form fitting dress as we slowly, sensually kissed. I smiled when I let Cliff in and told him to go into the bedroom where a fresh pair of shimmery ivory tights and an electric blue bobbed wig would be waiting for him. As I lit a few candles and put on a CD of romantic music Cliff was hoisting the shiny tights over his thick hips and wriggling his fat arse into them. Once he got them on he wiggled to the music. He.