Love in the Drunk Tank

I sit on a concrete bench that protrudes from the concrete wall. The room is no larger than three feet by five feet. I can't be sure because I am just drunk enough that can tell my bearings are off. I am just drunk enough that I don't care that I am being booked for a DUI.
I've been sitting in this holding cell for about a half an hour now. The cop locked me in here so she could concentrate on my paperwork. She is clearly a rookie and has no idea what she is doing. This is bad news for me on a couple of levels. First, I am annoyed because she is excruciatingly slow and I have nothing to do but sit and watch her get flustered every time she has to put pen to paper. Second, since she is a rookie she is doing everything by the book and it appears I am not going to get any leniency tonight. Third, for some reason the combination of her authoritative demeanor and her poorly hidden ineptitude is really turning me on.
While I sit and ponder the situation I decide to bury my shame for getting arrested. No sense in beating myself up. What is done is done. I've been arrested and I will have to deal with the consequences soon enough. I might as well try to enjoy myself while I'm stuck here. After all, I am just drunk enough to have a good time in just about any environment. That might as well include a make-shift drunk tank in a make-shift police station with a make-shift police officer. When it comes right down to it, it is just a man and a woman alone in a room. It is only natural that we might develop a rapport. I think she sort of likes me, too. She has been trying to emasculate me since we met. I think it is her way of teasing me and I like it.
When my sugar pie police officer lets me out of my cage, she points toward a chair next to her desk and grunts something inaudible that is her way of saying, "come hither". I sit down at her desk and we go over my paperwork together. When we finish she tells me that since I have been cooperative she isn't going to put me in the real drunk tank that I am supposed to spend the night in and pay my way out tomorrow. I tell her that she is sweet. She does not blush.
She informs me that I have to find a friend to come and pick me up because she is not allowed to let me walk out alone or call a cab. I must have someone I know sign me out. I attempt to call all of my friends, but it is five in the morning and no one will pick up their phone. When I end my last phone call I gaze over at my sugar pie police officer and ask her if I have any other options. She looks deep into my eyes and sizes me up one last time and I can feel her trying to penetrate me and I like it because I want to do the same to her. She can sense how much I need her right now. I really need her to give me a ride home.
We hop back into her cruiser shortly after 5a.m. This time she does not put the handcuffs on me. She respects me. She trusts me. I love her.
Before we arrive at my home I ask her if she would like to have breakfast with me and watch the sun rise. She declines. I ask her to stay the night with me.
Without a word she stops the cruiser. I unbutton the top button of my shirt. She unbuttons the protective cover of her standard issue 9mm revolver. She tells me that I must stop. She is forceful but I can tell she is filled with doubt. She doesn't want to make love to me, but she also doesn't want to shoot me in the leg.
I tell her that I will stop, but only for her sake. She should not throw her career away on me. And I don't want her to shoot me in the leg.
I get out of the car and she speeds away. I reach my hand out towards the fleeing cruiser and my fleeing love. I love lost her, but we will always have this night.