The billionaire above the law took a call on one of his phones.
“Greg, hang on a couple of minutes,” he said. “I’ve got a policewoman on the line.”
“That’s not important, George, is it?” Greg objected.
“It is when you’re fishing with one for Great Whites!”
Meeta was patrolling alongside a piece of waste ground when she heard a cry of “HELP! RAPE!” So she shinned over the high fence and raced towards sounds of a struggle.
Behind some bushes, there they were. A young woman, most of her clothes torn or missing, was rolling about locked in a desperate struggle with a young man who had already lowered his trousers.
Meeta acted swiftly and decisively. She grabbed the man, hauled him clear of the woman and cuffed him. The moment she had done that, she was felled by a cruel, cunning kick to her cunt from the woman.
The woman kicked her a few times more, contemptuously tugged her trousers off, lovingly slid her panties down and patted her plump arse.
“Oh dear, sweetie,” she said, fixing her strap-on. “Got it the wrong way round, didn’t you?”
PCs Susan and Damien were called to a pub brawl. Susan was young, but Damien was younger and still in his probationary period. As a graduate and a veteran of dealing with an armed robbery, Susan didn’t have full confidence in his intelligence or skill and didn’t want him cruelly shown up. So she viewed the melee and said,
“I’m going in. Watch my back.” He was very happy to watch her back, but when the big guy with the beer belly started fucking it, he couldn’t see it any more.
First man in a pub: “Darren and me played darts with a policewoman yesterday. She was pretty good.”
Second man in a pub: “Did she beat you?”
“First man: “No, we beat her. Then we raped her. Then we used her arse as a darts-board.”
|