SEARCH SEARCH by Joe Doe AN UNDERCOVER JOURNALIST HOPES HER ERRATIC DRIVING WILL HELP UNCOVER THE TRUTH ABOUT POLICE STRIP SEARCHES. BUT A SIMPLE MISTAKE CAUSES HER TO FIND MORE THAN SHE WAS LOOKING FOR. Paula made another rolling stop, and then deliberately turned without using her turn signal. She was an excellent driver, but tonight she drove like a woman TRYING to get arrested. She was. Paula was a beautiful investigative TV journalist who had just transferred to the big city. Her first "undercover" assignment was a juicy one. The news director had discovered that the local police department had been strip-searching local women on trumped up charges. Paula's assignment was simple: get arrested and get strip-searched! In fact, her producers were following her in an unmarked news van, and, before the search could actually take place, they would rescue her. After all, she didn't want to take her quest for realism too far. Paula was looking forward to busting the corrupt cops. She knew that male suspects were NEVER searched, even when there was evidence of drug use. The routine strip-searches seemed to be limited to attractive young women who had been arrested for trivial misdemeanors. Her producers had picked her route carefully. This precinct had a notorious reputation for searching women on the slightest provocation. One woman had even been "accidentally" strip-searched when she had dropped by the station house to give them a check for the Police Benevolence Fund! An attractive female cyclist was searched when it was discovered that she hadn't registered for a bicycle license. Another woman was strip-searched because her dog didn't have his tags. A jogger was searched for a "curfew violation" when she couldn't produce any ID. The officers all agreed that she was "definitely over 18," but they argued lamely that she MIGHT be under 21, so it was "technically" a curfew violation. The 34-year-old tax attorney certainly blushed like a teenager when she was ordered to strip.... Typically the women were stopped for minor traffic offenses, and then taken down to the station house. They were fingerprinted, booked, and subjected to the most degrading searches imaginable. Paula had deliberately left her purse in her desk at work. Her producers were supposed to pick it up and bring it with them in the van. When the police stopped her, she would claim that she had forgotten her purse. Of course, that meant that the luscious, vulnerable young woman was driving without a license. A detailed investigation would be required.... Many precints were involved, but this was the worst. One woman had told Paula that the desk sergeant told her that she was a "fabulous babe," and that he was looking forward to watching her do her "squats." The woman expressed shock at the idea that she was going to be strip-searched for eating a bagel on a city bus, and that a smirking male police officer and the vengeful bus driver would be allowed to watch the search. The cop just laughed and told her that if "we put you in exam room #1, all of the guys will get to watch through the one-way mirror. Some days, we don't do anything but sit there, eat doughnuts, and watch the pussy parade!" The horrified woman stared at him in disbelief, but she remembered his words when she was led into exam room #1 for her search. The large one-way mirror and the sound of laughter from the next room left the naked, humiliated woman with few doubts about the desk sergeant's story. An hour before, she had been a smiling young executive enjoying her breakfast on the bus. But now she was just another unlucky contestant in today's "pussy parade." Paula changed lanes again without bothering to signal, and increased her speed to ten miles over the speed limit. Traffic was sparse, which made it easier for her to make dangerous maneuvers. It also made her erratic driving more conspicuous. But the police were nowhere to be found. "What does a woman have to do get arrested in this town?" Paula chuckled to herself. She started to review the research in her mind as she drove aimlessly around in circles. Searches at the precinct were usually conducted by Bertha, a fat, mean lesbian who clearly enjoyed humiliating the proud young women who were tossed to her like so much fresh meat. Bertha relished making the women bend and squat and bow and beg in front of the large picture window. Her searches were THOROUGH, and she always probed every little nook and cranny.... There was no one in the intersection, so Paula just decided to run the red light. Much to her dismay, no one seemed to care. Paula hated the police, but she also felt somewhat contemptuous of their sniveling female victims. Many of these victims said that, after their ordeal, they felt terrorized and helpless whenever they saw a police car. The cowed women found themselves obediently submitting to ALL authority figures, and passively obeying any man in uniform. A female surgeon reported that, after her milkman heard of the search, he began winking at her and slapping her on the bottom whenever she passed. A male janitor, who was supposedly studying to be a policeman, trapped one female strip-search victim in her corner office and forced her to "re-enact" the entire procedure as part of a "research project." A strict female school principal hired a number of 18-year-old jock students to work as uniformed hall monitors. But, after news of her search spread, the hall monitors began strip-searching the principal whenever they caught her in the hallways without a pass. The monitors soon required the signatures of at least two male teachers on her pass, which meant the flustered administrator was reduced to holding her crotch and squirming through "potty dances" in front of her smirking male employees. The "In" and "Out" times on the pass were always ridiculously brief, so the principal was forced to scurry around, while holding her crotch and trying to dodge the hall monitors. During one rigorous "pass inspection," the embarrassed principal actually had an "accident" in the hallway in front of the delighted hall monitors. Her malicious secretary gleefully dried the obviously stained garments on a clothesline outside her office, much to the amusement of all. When the principal frantically begged her secretary for some clean clothes, for the school board meeting that afternoon, the cruel old crone put her pretty boss's hair into pigtails and dressed the blushing principal in a scanty spare cheerleader uniform several sizes to small for her. Although the board ultimately rejected the principal's proposal to bring paddling back to the school, her brief costume inspired them to insist on a demonstration of the proposed paddle's effectiveness when applied sans panties.... In all cases, the humiliated women were too terrified to anything but meekly submit to their smiling, leering "superiors." Paula was used to being in control, and she sneered at the women's sense of helplessness. She was certain that the searches had been humiliating, but that was no reason to turn into a wimp. She thought the silly women were just being whiny. No matter what happened tonight, it would take a lot more than the blue light on a police car to frighten HER. But there was a darker side to Paula's imagination. Although the thought of the search was humiliating, it was also strangely exciting. She was totally in control of her life, both professionally and personally. But, somehow, that made the idea of having to submit to a group of cruel male authority figures all the more...stimulating. Sometimes she secretly fantasized about what would happen if her producers DIDN'T arrive in time.... ****************************** She imagined herself, stripped down stark naked and crouching on all fours on the degrading examination table. Her shapely bare backside was facing the one-way mirror, which gave the horny men on the other side of the glass a perfect and unobstructed view. She clenched her thighs together tightly in a desperate attempt to maintain what little modesty she had left. She just couldn't let the disgusting men on the other side of the glass see any more. Over her shoulder, Bertha playfully SNAPPED the rubber glove onto her hand and then teasingly and tauntingly unscrewed the lid to the jar of lubricant sitting on the table. She thrust two fingers into the thick goo and pulled them out covered with grease. She'd soon be probing Paula's most delicate, feminine secrets. Bertha smiled at the helpless Paula for several seconds, allowing the suspense to build to an almost unbearable level. Finally, she uttered the three little words that Paula feared more than any words in the entire world: "Spread your legs," Bertha said, coldly. Paula desperately wanted to disobey the order. She would have given ANYTHING just for the tiny privilege of keeping her thighs clenched tightly together. She reviewed the unfairness of her predicament. Why did it have to be a CAVITY SEARCH? Why did it have to be in exam room #1? And why, oh why, did she have to spread her legs in front of that horrible window, and expose her most intimate private treasures for their lewd entertainment? But, like the women she detested, Paula meekly obeyed and spread her legs. She flinched as she heard appreciative laughter and catcalls through the glass. But Bertha still wasn't satisfied with the view and decided to spice up the show. "Put your forehead on the table, stick your honey buns in the air, and spread your legs WIDE!" Bertha barked. Paula ground her teeth in helpless frustration. But she knew she had no choice. As she followed the humiliating command, she knew every inch of her femininity was coming into view. What was worse, she could feel the cheeks of her backside begin to lift and separate.... She winced as she heard the wolf whistles from the other room. "Well, well, well," Bertha sneered. "It looks like someone's PUSSY FUR is a little soggy!" Paula's face burned red with humiliation.... ****************************** Paula made an illegal left turn from the right hand lane. The driver she cut off honked his horn, but there was still no policeman in sight. She knew that the police had strip-searches down to a science. They even had a code they used over the police radio, to tell the other officers that a particularly luscious piece of tail was being hauled in for a search. The code broke down as 999-XX-Y-Z: 999 = Strip-Search XX = Rating of the woman on the infamous 1-10 scale Y = The room in which the search would be held. Exam room #1, which had the largest "viewing room" next door, was prime. Rooms 2 and 3 were reserved for less luscious catches. Z = The level of the search. A "1" was a simple frisk; "2" was a strip-search; "3" was a full cavity-search. So, for example, a 999-7-2-2 meant that a good-looking woman was being brought in to room 2 for a strip-search. She would be stripped bare naked, but she would not be cavity-searched. It was only when Paula drove past the doughnut shop that she saw why she wasn't getting any attention. She noted to her disgust that they were having a 2-for-1 special, and all of the squad cars were in the parking lot, while the cops gorged themselves. She pulled over onto the shoulder a few hundred yards away from the doughnut shop. It was pointless for her to drive in circles while the police pigged out. She pulled her file on the story from underneath the passenger seat. She knew that the car seat wasn't a brilliant hiding place, but she also knew that these particular cops wouldn't even bother to search her car. She knew that they wanted to probe other "secret compartments," and they would rather examine her seat than the car seat. She had been a little surprised that she hadn't seen a squad car all night, but that mystery had been solved. But the fact that she hadn't seen the news van either still confused her. She knew they were supposed to keep a discreet distance, but shouldn't she have seen them at least once? She picked up the folder and turned on the car's interior light. It was only when the light went on that she noticed the Post-it note stuck to the top of the folder: PAULA, TUESDAY NIGHT STING OPERATION CANCELLED; CAMERA CREW IS COVERING TIC-TAC-TOE CHAMPIONSHIP AT THE RETIREMENT HOME. LET'S DO IT WEDNESDAY. STAN Paula looked at the note in horror. She was driving around the most dangerous precinct in town with no backup. She swallowed hard as she envisioned her purse and driver's license resting comfortably in her desk drawer at the TV station. She felt a trickle of sweat start to roll down her back. She didn't know what to do. She needed to get home, but her hands were shaking so badly she knew she couldn't drive. Fortunately there was a pay phone on the corner. She would simply get out of the car, walk over to the pay phone, and call one of her co-worker friends. The friend would go to the station, pick up her purse, and meet her at her car. She quickly stuffed the folder back under the seat. But, as she reached for the car door handle, she saw the flashing blue lights in the rear view mirror. She felt her heart skip a beat. She had been bored for most of the evening, while smugly searching for a search. She had been the relaxed and confident hunter, contemptuous of both the piggish police and their squealing, feckless victims. Now she was the prey. The cop waddled up to Paula's cute little sports car and tapped on the window with his flashlight. She reluctantly pressed the button, and the window rolled down. "I just wanted to make sure you're okay, ma'am," the officer said, helpfully. Paula was breathing hard, but she felt a momentary twinge of relief. They hadn't stopped for a REASON, which meant that she might still talk her way out of this, if she could just keep her cool. After all, she was still an experienced professional woman, and she was used to talking herself out of tough situations. She knew she was much smarter than the feeble air heads that the police in this town normally victimized. She had been on countless undercover assignments, and she knew how to play her role. She was also used to grilling suspects for a living, and her sense of control authority had never abandoned her. Until tonight. "I'm fah..fah...fah...fine, Officer!" she squeaked. "Am I free to go? Can I du...duh...drive away...now? PLEASE?" "Of course you can go," the policeman replied, slowly. "Are you sure everything is okay?" "It would be, if you'd stop shining that flashlight in my eyes," Paula replied in frustration. "Can I just go?" She knew from the change in expression on the cop's face that her snotty answer had been a big mistake. The officer did stop shining the light in her eyes, and instead he moved the beam of light to her breasts. Paula normally dressed conservatively, but she had chosen her outfit to attract the worst sort of male attention. She was wearing a halter top with no bra. The thin material just covered her breasts, and left her flat tummy totally bare, much to the officer's obvious delight. The cop examined the front of her top closely, since the combination of her flop sweat and the chilly night air caused the garment to cling to her breasts in a most intriguing way.... She swallowed hard as the flashlight slowly moved down past her belly button to examine her excruciatingly short denim skirt in detail. The policeman stopped and moved back a few inches, and then directed the light directly between her legs. She tried to pull down her skirt, but the officer curtly ordered her to keep her hands on the wheel. She felt a chill. She knew that the horny police officer was using the flashlight to look up her skirt and examine the soaking wet crotch of her lacy white panties! When that part of the inspection was complete, the light went on to dance down her legs with agonizing slowness, only stopping when it got to the tops of her expensive brown suede cowboy boots. Then the grinning police officer brought the light up and shined it back into Paula's squinting eyes. "May I see your license and registration, Miss?" he said, coldly. She paused. There had to be a way out of this. "I...uh...left it at work, I think, sir!" she stammered. "If you can just let me make a phone call, my friend can bring it here, or meet us at the station....” The police officer wasn't biting. He scowled and opened Paula's car door. "Please step out of the car, Miss." Paula gingerly climbed out of the tiny sports car. She tried not to expose any more of her white panties to the cop's probing flashlight, but it was a losing battle. "May I call my friend, please, officer?" Paula pleaded. "The phone is RIGHT THERE!" "You can call your friend from the station, after we finish processing you, Miss," the officer replied, with a cruel smile. Paula obeyed the policeman's order to "assume the position" with her hands on the roof of her car and her legs spread. It was so unfair! If they would just let her use the damn phone, her friend could meet her at the station with the license, and none of this would be necessary. If only the cops hadn't stopped her just before the phone call. Why couldn't Stan have TOLD her about the change in plans? Was watching a bunch of old codgers play tic-tac-toe more important than rescuing her from the most degrading and shameful moment of her life? It was almost like fate was conspiring against her. The officer brusquely kicked Paula's legs apart and began to slowly, methodically frisk her. He was truly a man who loved his work, and he paid special attention to her jiggling breasts and the damp crotch of her delicate white panties. She winced and stared unhappily at the pay phone only a few feet away. It was her ticket out of this mess, and her last, desperate lifeline to the outside world. The phone was so close that she could almost touch it. She knew that a simple phone call could prove that she was an accomplished professional woman, not some flighty floozy who had vacuously left her purse at the office. But, as she helplessly felt the policeman fondle her, she began to doubt herself. Her trashy outfit had robbed her of professional identity, and, as she looked at her reflection, she realized that she was no different from the other bodacious babes she had sneered at only a few minutes before. "If I'm so bright," she wondered, "how come I didn't notice the note from Stan until it was too late?" When she looked deep into the policeman's smiling eyes, she realized the terrible truth. She was, in fact, nothing but a helpless, stupid little bimbo! After the cop tired of molesting her, he cuffed her hands tightly behind her back and threw her into the back of his squad car. "Dispatch, this is Squad 69 with a 999-10-1-3," he crowed into the radio. "Tell Bertha to get ready, and ask all available officers to report back to the station with their doughnuts. I think we'll have a chance to test out the new video camera in Room #1 tonight." "Roger that, Squad 69," the dispatcher squawked. "Hurry back!" The squad car pulled away from the curb, and Paula stared helplessly at the pay phone as it slowly receded into the distance. Like the rest of her plan, the phone was totally useless. She had been searching for a search. And now she had found one. Edited by C. Lakewood