Rebecca was a twenty year old red-headed modern-day hippie. She grew up in a strict Catholic household in suburban St. Louis, but as the saying goes, Catholic school made her atheist. Rebecca kept many of the values she grew up with, but could not reconcile with the church's stances on birth control and homosexuality. Rebecca herself had a birth control implant she got when she was with her ex-boyfriend and she was openly bisexual. She was forced out of the closet at age eighteen when her soccer coach caught her going down on a teammate in the locker room after practice and called her parents.
Her parents tolerated her sexual orientation but were absolutely furious about the sexual activity. They grounded her for two months: the rest of high school. During this time of "senioritis" - the laziness present in high school seniors who already know if they're going to graduate or where they're going to college - with no social life to distract her, Rebecca poured her soul into reading queer and feminist literature. She fell in love with the works of the prison-abolitionist, communist, feminist, black lesbian Angela Davis.
This inspired Rebecca to double major in Gender Studies and Film. She hoped to make documentaries about feminism and social justice. Angela Davis also inspired her to become an activist on and off campus. When protests broke out in the nearby city of Ferguson following the shooting of unarmed eighteen year old Mike Brown by a cop, Rebecca headed out with a camcorder to document the protest.
The sexually-liberated young woman dressed for the hot summer weather. She was wearing a tight black t-shirt with a grayscale picture of Angela Davis screen-printed on. The shirt was cut to accentuate her ample 36C breasts. She wore a black pleated mini skirt which looked like a shortened version of her high school uniform. It showed off her long, smooth legs. Underneath, she wore red thong panties but no bra. Since she would be on her feet for hours, she wore comfortable white socks and sneakers.
When Rebecca arrived in Ferguson, the streets were already flooded with bodies and signs. "Hands up, don't shoot!" shouted members of the crowd while Rebecca stood on the sidewalk and began to film.
She pulled a tall dark-skinned man from the crowd to interview him. "Hi, my name is Rebecca Fraser. May I ask you a question for a university project I'm working on?"
"Nice to meet you, Rebecca. I'm Damian Woods." He extended a large hand to her, and they shook hands. "As long as you're not a cop or the mainstream media, I'll talk to you."
Rebecca giggled. "Trust me, I'm neither. I'd be marching right alongside you if I weren't a film student."
"Great," Damian smiled.
"How does your body feel right now?"
Damian looked surprised by the seemingly-irrelevant question. "Um, well, I guess... It feels good. You know, I was so angry watching the news. I like to practice boxing when I get angry, so I must've been at the punching bags for a good hour. And you know that feeling of relaxation you have about half an hour after working out? I got that in my arms. And my legs have been moving since I've been walkin' for a while. I'm energized."
"Thanks!"
"Hey, interesting question you asked. Can I have a copy of the final product?"
"Sure! You can just give me your email address." Rebecca pulled her cell phone out of her purse and handed it to Damian. Their fingers lingered just a second too long as Damian took the phone from Rebecca's hand.
Damian fiddled with the touch-screen phone for a minute, then said, "I gave you my phone number too.
A large ruckus drew their attention to the street. A gray-haired man of approximately fifty years had been standing in front of a police car and defied orders to move along.
Rebecca didn't have a very good shot from the sidewalk, but a crowd of people stood between her and the man. It didn't help that she was barely taller than five feet. "Damien, could you pick me up on your shoulders so I can catch this on camera?"
Damien blushed at the thought of the sexy girl sitting on his shoulders with her toned legs around him. "Sure." He bent down to let Rebecca climb on his shoulders.
From here Rebecca had an unobstructed view of the scene.
"This is your final warning," a police officer said. "Move along or I will arrest you."
The man stood his ground. "Why did you crush Mike Brown's memorial?"
The police officer reached for his handcuffs, and the man surrendered to law enforcement by holding up his hands.
His partner looked right at me. "Turn off that camera," he ordered.
"There is no law against filming the police in public," Rebecca responded, filming the first police officer roughly pull the man's hands behind his back and handcuffing him.
The crowd began to chant, "Let him go!" The partner, unable to be heard above the roaring crowd, approached Rebecca and attempted to block the scene from her camera with his hands.
When he was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Damian, the partner looked up at Rebecca and shouted loudly, "Turn off that camera now!" His eyes almost immediately drifted from the camera in front of Rebecca's face down to her round breasts, then further down to her thighs cradling Damian's neck, and finally back up to the camera.
"I have a first amendment right to film the police in public. Officer, may I have your name and badge number?"
Knowing he was required to offer the information upon request, he said, "I am Officer Matt Johnson, Ferguson PD. My badge number is 66."
Rebecca stifled a giggle at the Satanic coincidence.
"What, you laughing at me?"
Rebecca took a deep breath to relax her face, then said, "N... No, sir."
"What is your name? And turn off that camera!"
"Am I being detained?"
"No, you are not being detained." Rebecca didn't respond, so Officer Johnson asked again, "What is your name, miss?"
"If I am not being detained, I'm not required to identify myself."
"And you. Who are you?" Officer Johnson looked down at Damian's face and Rebecca's thighs.
Damian said, "If she doesn't have to identify herself, then I don't have to identify myself neither."
Frustrated, Officer Johnson turned to the arresting officer. "Move along. Keep marching or I'll have to arrest you too," he shouted to the protesters on the street.
One retorted, "Fuck the police!" and another yelled, "Let him go!" but the crowd moved on, clearing the space between the two officers.
