The Police Stop Them

Ass and pussy stuffed, Lois Lane marched through the streets of Suicide Scum. The escort that surrounded her kept away any more idle interest in a woman walking alone—now she was just a slut out with her gang. The reporter tried to put a brave face on it, ignoring the pain in her ass and pussy, trying not to think about the marijuana hash stuffed inside her booty...and wondering the the weird optimism that seemed to pervade her was the stuff starting to work on her, soaking through the membrane of her colon.

It'll be okay, Lane, she told herself. They won't leave the slum. Just keep walking. Keep walking...

She felt the crew stiffen a moment before she registered the car that pulled up along side them. A black-and-white patrol car, the golden crest of the Metropolis PD emblazoned on its side, red-and-blue lights on top. Lois felt her heart catch in her chest...the cops rarely patrolled Suicide Slum, and the reporter had nothing to fear...

...except that she had a mass of illegal **** stuffed up her ass, a bottle of unknown substance in her pussy, was in the company of known criminals, and had been working as a prostitute just ten or fifteen minutes ago. Lois shuddered and froze, realizing that this could go very bad, very quickly.

The passenger-side window rolled down.

"J-dawg," the female cop said, an older face, tough as nails.

"Officer Joan Stanley," the gang leader said. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Your boys just got out on parole?" She asked, voice calm.

"They did," he answered, keeping his hands by his sides where the cop could see them...in fact, Lois noticed, all the "boys" were tense but trying to seem relaxed, non-threatening.

"Been keeping in touch with their parole officers?" Officer Stanley pressed.

"Phone booth, end of this street. We're just about to call." J-dawg confirmed.

The cop turned her head a fraction of an inch. Caught Lois Lane's eye.

"Who's she?"

The reporter's heart sank.

"Just a...friend," J-dawg answered for her.

"Working girl?" Officer Stanley asked. Lois could feel the thugs slowly drift away, making her feel exposed.

"She's an entertainer," J-dawg lied, and for the first time that night Lois saw a hint of perspiration on his face. "Might be dancin' at my club."

"Uh-huh," the cop said. "You got some ID, honey?"

Lois dug her wallet out of her pocket...glad that she had her fake ID with her, but knowing that it wouldn't hold up if they actually decided to run it through the system...and from the look of things, J-dawg and his boys wouldn't do anything if the cops decided to run her in.

Ex-cons on parole? Hell, they'd probably gift-wrap me and shove me in the patrol car. Lois realized as she handed the ID card to the cop. All she could do now was pray that Officer Stanley wasn't feeling conscientious.