Abacus

nudged by Hobbs. “Check this out, boss.” Randall turned and stared into the small Perspex holding cell. Before them stood a six feet tall, thickset, hairy man, who apart from his makeup and attire, would not have looked out of place behind the wheel of an interstate truck. He had a thick dark mane of black hair which went down to the middle of his back (obviously a wig), thick bright red lipstick and heavy mascara that was running down his rosy red cheeks as he wept. His ears were adorned with heavy, gold hooped earrings, and around his neck a matching necklace. Randall hesitantly looked downwards and saw he had a huge lacy red bra on. On closer inspection, inside each cup he could see the top of a large ripe yellow mango. Daring to look even lower, he saw the prisoner was also sporting a pair of matching red lace panties, framed by a mass of dark pubic hair. The panties themselves appeared to be straining at the seams to accommodate his package.
    Randall turned to the c onstable and asked deadpan, “Well, well, what is the story with the little princess here, Bruce.”
    The c onstable looked over towards the prisoner. “Sarge… Marty here was caught up in the prostitution operation last night.”
    Both Randall and Hobbs smiled, trying to contain their amusement.
    “Fuck me,” Randall said, shaking his head. “There truly are some really sick and desperate bastards in this world, aren’t there, Detective?”
    “Sure are,” Hobbs agreed , shaking his head.
    Randall crossed his arms and brushed his moustache thoughtf ully with his fingers. “Big fella, I consider you to be a straight up and down sort of guy, and a happy clapping church goer at that. Not saying that you would be so inclined, but hypothetically, if you were, how much would you expect to pay for a session with this little piece here?”
    Hobbs held his chin , and deliberated. “I don’t know. Tough to say… If you’re throwing in the juicy mangoes as part of the deal, I suppose thirty to forty dollars would pull you up.” The prisoner now looked agitated.
    Randall stepped a little closer to the cell. “Anyway, darling, is he very close to the money. If not, what is your going rate?”
    Through tears, the prisoner yelled in a deep voice, “Go and fuck yourself , you assholes, you wouldn’t understand and you couldn’t afford me anyway.”
    “Now, now, come on , love,” Randall said condescendingly. “We all have our little vices. I’m sure that there are others out there who share your passion for all things womanly… and your passion for lovely fresh produce. It’s just not every day you see the two combined, that’s all, love.” With that, the prisoner pulled a mango from his left bra cup and hurled it towards Randall. The mango hit the Perspex screen, and being quite a ripened fruit, splattered, leaving the prisoner showered in thick yellowy pulp. Quick as a flash, he reached into his right cup and hurled the second one at Hobbs. This one, being a firmer fruit, bounced back from the Perspex, hitting him directly in the groin. The prisoner moaned, as he fell forward onto the floor into a foetal position.
    The room erupted into uncontrollable laughter . Randall laughed so hard, he felt himself falling and leant on Hobbs’s large frame to steady himself. As Hobbs helped him from the cell area, Randall turned to the injured prisoner and said with a wink, “Sweetie, before I go can I grab a business card off you, I’ve got a thing for buxom brunettes.”
    Hobbs laughed out loud again as they helped each other out from the cell area. Continuing down the hall towards the main station area, their laughter slowly subsided. Randall felt a pain in his ribs from laughing so hard. They both stopped in the hall and faced each other, leaning on opposing walls to catch their breath.
    “Shit , can you believe what just happened?” Hobbs said looking up at the ceiling, obviously trying to control his intermittent chuckling.
    “Well , it’s too bloody early in the morning to see something so confronting, we may never get over this, you know,” Randall said, gathering up his bag and jacket from the floor. “Anyway, we better get back to it, big fella, we can’t get much work done here.”
    Walking down the hall side by side, they passed the front inquiry counter where Randall saw a very frail, elderly lady making a report to the station constable. “I’ll see you in the office,” he said, wiping the small tears from the corners