Look for a random chick on the street

"Well, thanks for this," I say, putting the laminated card in my wallet. "Imma head out now, look for the perfect pussy to use this on."

The woman's mouth opens, but no sound comes out. I chuckle and stride towards the door, imbued with a confidence I've never felt once in all of my eighteen years.

Outside, the sun is shining in a cloudless sky, the birds are chirping at each other, and I feel like the most powerful man in the city. I hop on my e-bike and head in the direction of downtown, my eyes scanning the sidewalk for potential targets.

About six blocks later, I spot her--a college-aged girl with flowing reddish-brown hair strolling my way. She has a cute face--large eyes, button nose, narrow chin, smattering of freckles--but what really draws my attention are her curves. This girl's packing some major baggage, both fore and aft, and her sweatshirt and jeans aren't doing much to hide it. She's exactly the type I would never have dreamed of approaching in a million years, but now...

"Excuse me, miss," I say, bringing my bike to a stop in front of her. She looks at me with annoyance and just a hint of disgust--subtle, but clear enough to me. It only strengthens my resolve. "I have something to show you." I pull the card from my wallet and hold it out for her to read without relinquishing my control of it.

"'Writ of Free Use?'" Her cute little nose wrinkles. "'...present to any adult woman...obey...sexual favors...'" She looks up at my face. "What the fuck, dude? Are you trying to have sex with me? Just fuck off, creep!" She walks off, her head twisted around to watch me.

Normally, this is the point where I'd apologize incoherently and slink off in shame as fast as I could, but my newfound confidence is still coursing through my veins. I pedal after her. "You can't leave!" I insist. "Not until you've satisfied me!"

She whips out her phone. "I'm calling the fucking cops," she warns. "And if you come any closer, I'll scream my head off!"

"That's fine," I say. "Let them come. Then we can get this sorted out."

The girl places an emergency call, then waits on the edge of the sidewalk eying me warily. I watch her back, still mounted on my bike about five or so meters away. A passing pedestrian--a large man in his late twenties--senses the tension between us and turns to the girl. "Is this guy bothering you?" he asks.

"Yes!" she exclaims.

"Hey, buddy," he says to me. "I think you'd better leave."

I shake my head. "I'm not going to, not until she's satisfied me." When he approaches threateningly, I quickly add, "The cops are on their way. They'll be here in a minute." This causes the man to back up. After thinking for a moment, he takes a position equidistant from me and the girl and folds his arms.

A police car pulls up around this time, lights flashing but no siren. Two uniformed officers step out and interrogate all three of us. A small crowd begins to form, drawn in by the excitement of the tense scene. One of the cops goes back to the car to talk with somebody over the radio, then returns shaking his head.

"I'm afraid you'll need to follow whatever directions this boy gives until you have satisfied him sexually," he tells the girl. "Our hands are tied, unfortunately. This is a federal matter. If you refuse to comply, we'll have to arrest you."

"What the everlasting fuck?" she screeches. Her white knight picks that moment to blend into the gathering crowd. "This isn't right! This is so fucked up!" Her pleading eyes search the crowd, looking for a sympathetic face, but no one appears willing to risk prosecution to help.

"Hey," I say. "Before we start, what's your name?"

The girl turns to me, her eyes filled with tears. "Lilah," she manages to choke out.

I smile. "Well, Lilah..."