Sarah's eyes flicked up from paperwork spread over the conference table as Paul brought a man into the office. The man was average in height and looks, mid-40s, and refused to wear the usual hang-dog look of people who interacted with Sarah. Paul's hand was locked around the man's upper arm, propelling him into the small conference area. Sarah refused to refer to it as an interrogation room.
"Jesus, we're only mall security," she had said a year earlier during her orientation, "Not some elite police squad."
That had gotten laughs, a good start. Her work over the past year had gotten respect from the other security officers. Flash forward to today.
"We caught this perv flashing women at Lorraine's. He was in the changing room, leaving the door open. The sick bastard is all yours," Paul said, releasing the man's arm.
"No, I wasn't," the man said, rubbing his arm and assuming the pose of a man unjustly insulted, "I was simply trying on pants."
"Whatever, shithead," Paul said, handing Sarah a clipboard. He closed the door on his way out, snarling something about fucking nasty people.
Sarah looked at the clipboard of information.
"So... Larry..." she said, "Did you flash women by leaving the changing room door wide open?"
"Dear lord, no!" he said, "I may have bumped the door accidentally since those locks don't work too well and the changing rooms are tight quarters, and let me tell you..."
He launched into five minutes of denials, reasons for, and examples of his innocence. A simple explanation may have worked just fine but the excuses piling up stank to high heaven. Sarah let him talk. She heard it before and it seemed to be the same story over and over. She was convinced of his guilt by the end of his monologue.
Me thinks he doth protest too much
she thought to herself.
"You know," Sarah said, cutting him off midsentence, "It's too bad you weren't doing it."
"What? Why?" he asked.
"Between you and me," she said, eyes casting about the room, voice lowered, "I'm into it."
"Into what? I don't know what you're talking about," Larry said.
"You know, CFNM. Clothed-female, Nude-male. I like it," she leaned forward, a look of conspiracy covering her face.
Larry leaned back in his chair, no words coming out. His eyes went narrow with confusion and distrust.
"You know why I got this job?" Sarah asked after a minute of silence. Larry shook his head.
"I thought they had cameras in the dressing rooms," she said, voice low, "I was thinking Macy's and Nordstrom's would have their men's sections covered in cameras and I could come in here, get trained real quick, and get paid to watch men strip down to try on clothes."
Larry frowned, his mouth pinched, uncertain.
"But I got better than that," she said, leaning the chair back on legs, mimicking Larry's posture, "Once every so often, we get these show-offs, these exhibitionists, and they go crazy recording themselves flashing. We had a bust a month ago, an old man with a huge dick standing almost nude in the men's bathroom room over by Banana Republic. And he was getting it all on his iPhone. They brought him in here and I talked him into showing me the video."
She waited, a Cheshire cat grin settling on her face.
"And...?" Larry finally asked.
"Well, I can't masturbate right here in the office, not with people around," she said, "But as soon as I got home, I rubbed out an orgasm that make my legs shaky for a half-hour. It was so hot. I love it. I even thought about letting the old man get a quick peek of me too but... I like this job too much. I couldn't risk it."
She rocked forward, her chair back on the ground.
"He did, though, give me his profile name and his favorite website. I went online to go watch him in action. He flashed bus riders from his car. That was his thing. It was sexy that he was old and had a big fat dick that got hard. If I weren't married, I probably would have fucked him or at least jerked him off. I like to think about that, jerking off a man in his car in the parking deck downstairs. Especially when people are walking around. I'd make him strip nude first, of course."
Larry calculated.
"So, say I actually did the alleged thing. Would you want to see?" he asked.
"Fuck yeah," Sarah breathed, "Would you turn down titties texted from a woman? Just don't expect a handjob."
"And then what happens?" Larry asked, hope creeping into his voice.
"Paul, the security officer who got you? He's already out on the floor again. He doesn't concern himself with this part and he expects I'll have you arrested by PD and clean you off the streets. But, in reality, you head out to the parking lot through Macy's and you won't run into him. I'd suggest not playing here again, though. He can get... aggressive... And do you post videos online? I'd love to see what else you have. Just jot down the site and your name. I'll hit you up later."
Larry shook his head, amazed at his luck.
"Here," he said, pulling out his phone. He tapped the screen a few times and there it was, him filming his erect penis through the sizeable gap in the open door of the dressing room. Women walked by, either not seeing or glancing down looking shocked.
"I was also in Nordstrom's earlier. If you actually had cameras in there, I would have given you a show," he said, puffing up with pride. The same point of view played on a second video, Larry exposing his genitals to women.
"That's perfect," Sarah said as Larry put his phone away. He wrote down a website and user name and pushed the slip of paper toward her.
"Here's the rest of my work, too," he said, "Please let me know what you think."
"I'm sure it's great stuff," Sarah said as she pushed a button under the desk. Two uniformed police officers moved into the office and hauled Larry up out of his chair. He sputtered a protest. One held him facedown on the desk while the other yanked his arms behind his back. Handcuffs clicked into place.
