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‘But ...’ I began to cry.
‘I’m here to offer you an alternative solution. One that’ll keep you out of jail.’
I was crying properly now. It was hard to concentrate on what he was saying.
‘Are you listening to me? I said I’m offering you a deal that’ll keep you out of jail.’
He came closer to me and undid my hair from its plastic clip so that it fell around my shoulders. He ran his fingers through my hair. I was suddenly aware of my very short denim skirt, my tight white vest top that showed a good bit of boob. I took a deep breath and straightened up, and stopped crying. ‘You understand, I don’t make this type of offer to just anyone, do I, Barclay?’
‘No, sir.’ The younger cop answered.
‘What it comes down to is, you be nice to us, and we’ll be nice to you.’ He fingered the strap of my top, slipping it casually down so that the lace of my bra was visible on one side. He stroked the lacy edge of my bra, and then stepped back, suddenly serious. ‘I’m a man of my word. If you cooperate, you’ll walk out of here scot-free, Princess, and that’s a promise.’ He stroked my cheek, which was wet with tears. ‘By all means, speak to a solicitor. But the chances of him keeping you out of jail are less than zero. So, what do you say?’
I nodded, hiccoughing with tears.
He took out a pair of scissors from somewhere on his belt. I shook with fear.
‘Hold still, Princess.’
He cut off my clothes, right down the middle of my bra. Everything fell in a heap at my feet. I was naked. He wolf-whistled. He put the scissors away and reached around behind me and undid the handcuffs.
And although my knees knocked together and I felt as vulnerable and as afraid as I’ve ever felt in my life, inside my belly was full of fire, and sent a message shooting down between my legs. Somewhere, deep in my brain, a fantasy was being fulfilled, and it was turning me on.