By Andrew Lines
I sat on the bus minding my own business, wondering whether I’d be a victim of sexual harassment. It’s never happened to me before, but I live in hope.
It was a hot day, and I dozed off to sleep. I felt someone’s leg rubbing against mine and realised that my fantasy was becoming a reality, so I pretended to be out cold. I sneaked a glance at the woman’s leg by lifting my eyelid just a millimetre or two, and I must admit, it looked quite sexy. Preventing an erection on the bus is difficult enough at the best of times, but this made it harder! Luckily, the woman was sitting on the aisle side of the seat, so I wouldn’t have to stand up to let her out. I tried to calm down by telling myself there was a perfectly innocent reason for her leg rubbing against mine: maybe she thought the seat was too narrow.
It seemed to be working, and my erection started to fade … until she placed her hand between my legs.
My eyes opened wide, and I found myself looking at a transvestite. “Hello, I’m Stephen … I mean Stephanie,” she said … he said.
My shocked expression must have worried her because she jumped up and ran to the front of the bus, just as the doors were opening. The last I saw of her, she was running down a side-road and from the rear, she looked just as lovely as Lilly Savage. I felt something touch my leg again and realised it was her purse. I thought the disgusting pervert must have left it there deliberately, hoping I’d contact her, so I opened it immediately.
I found fifty pounds and some change, an old photo of a child and a plastic bag with ‘WEED’ printed on it. I’m no expert, but it looked more like drugs to me.
I decided to go to the police station to hand the purse in, just in case the child was in any danger. I hid the weed in my underpants because I didn’t want to get Stephanie into any trouble.
I handed the purse to the desk sergeant and told him it belonged to a lady called Stephanie, and she’d left it on a bus. He told me to take a seat until someone was available to interview me. Then he disappeared and must have been gone for thirty minutes or more.
When he returned, he told me the Chief Constable wanted to speak to me. He took me along a corridor and told me to enter ‘soundproof cell number four’.
I sat opposite the Chief Constable, who glared at me until I felt threatened.
He told me his son had been missing for three years and demanded to know how I obtained a photo of his grandson.
©Andrew Lines 2016