Not much to know. The law of trespassing is misrepresented here. That is intentional. There is a very light reluctance theme.
***
Jean Klein was everything a man could want. She had these thin, long fingers, a thin waist, a gap between her legs, and perky breasts. I received a call from the local rich fucks. I couldn't stand them, but my job, as any half-awake person knows, is to do what rich fucks want. Whatever. Given the power that I am given, it is natural that I learned to abuse it.
Jean was resting on the lake shore in a black bikini. Her eyes were closed, and sum beams made her skin gleam due to her suntanning oil. I sauntered over slow like. From a distance, I knew that I liked what I saw. Her stomach had the perfect ratio of slim to baby fat. Her waist was small and delicate. I felt I could wrap my hands around it, and my fingers would touch. Her ribcage peaked out. In the center of her stomach, a diamond rhinestone shined about as bright as the rest of her. She would roll her shoulder, and it shimmered before dulling.
I cleared my throat. Her eyes opened. I stared down at her. She covered her face from the sun.
"Hello?"
"Hi," I replied. "I was called."
The sun's shine blocked her view. She turned to look at me. This move gave me a chance to admire her body--the way her muscles moved and how her skin shifted to accommodate her form. Her left hand came to rest on her stomach. I noticed her nails were pink with red tips.
"Who called?"
I gestured toward the houses in the distance.
She groaned. "Typical."
I crouched and focused on the very pores of her body: the gleam and grime--how my fingers would slide and make grooves in her skin.
"You are right--There isn't a thing either of us can do about it."
She was despondent. "Can't I stay?"
I gestured to the houses. "They want me to take you in for trespassing."
"This isn't trespassing."
"By their estimation, it is."
"I can go."
"Hold on." I put my hand out. "No, you can't. You're about to be under arrest for trespassing."
"No. Please. You can't."
"What gives you that impression?"
"I can leave!" She exclaimed while standing up and picking her towel off the ground. "I am sorry."
I moved to block her. "Now, what's your name dear?"
"Jean." She said it so cold. I did not care for that.
She was standing before me with her purse in one hand and towel in the other.
"Where is your ID?" She looked behind her at the lake, toward the houses, and groaned. "We can make this easy, or we can make it hard." She handed it over. It read, Jean Klein. Eighteen years old. She was 5'7''. Her eyes were brown. I looked at the ID and made sure it was real--it had to be. No fake ID declared the age of eighteen. Although, I had seen stranger things in my day. I returned it and looked at the sun. "We can figure this out... But I need you to come to my car. Did you come in one?"
"I walked."
"Come to my car. I could give you a ride home."
"Officer, I really do not want to do that."
"This isn't a conversation. Come."
She stomped her feet in the immature way children do. She was used to having her way. I was not to be as accommodating. I gestured for her to walk in front of me. Her ass swayed. She looked at me on occasion as if to make sure I was real. To her, I was a sort of nightmare.
I opened the car door. "We are only talking."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Not at all. Hell, I'll sit back there with you."
She didn't raise an eyebrow at this and stepped into the back of the cruiser. Her purse went in first. She slid in and moved her stuff aside. I closed the door.
"I came because of a trespassing issue."
"I was not--"
"That does not matter one bit to me. I was called, and you
were
trespassing.
She whispered, "No."
"You were. The law is complicated on these things, but I take the law seriously."