Emily fidgeted with the top of her dress as she pushed through the crowd. She was supposed to meet her sister for dinner but was caught in a large protest. She was visiting her sister from out of town, so she didn't know a protest was scheduled.
Emily was in the city for a university visit the next day. She arrived the night before and was staying with her older sister. Her sister had to work today, so Emily busied herself sightseeing.
Finding herself in a protest had her frazzled. She was more of a sign-a-petition or write-a-letter-to-her-member-of-parliament type of girl than a take-to-the-streets type of girl.
She was pushing through a pack of university students when she tripped. She fell into a boy with a picket sign. The boy stumbled, and his sign contacted two police officers' riot helmets.
That was all the pretext the police needed. A captain ordered the group of students to be rounded up. They encircled the university students and Emily. At 18 years old, she was about the same age as the students, so the police naturally assumed she was with them.
"Officer, there's been a mistake. I'm not a protester. I'm just trying to meet my sister for dinner," she pleaded desperately. The only thing she hated more than confrontation was getting in trouble with an authority figure. She had once broken into tears when a bus driver directed a frustrated sigh at her for asking about the exact change. Getting arrested was way out of her league.
The officer didn't acknowledge her pleas as the other protesters yelled at him. He zip-tied her hands behind her back and pushed her towards another officer who led her away.
She repeated her plea to the second officer. He replied, "We will take your statement at the detainment center. This way to the prisoner transport."
The words "detainment center" and "prisoner transport" shook her to the core. She had never even had detention at high school. Detainment centers and prisoner transports weren't for people like her. Her most serious brush with authority was a stern talking-to by her drama teacher for kissing with tongue during rehearsal for "Guys and Dolls."
She was in tears as she sat on the prisoner transport. The students filled the other seats. A hippie girl sat next to Emily.
"Hey, it's ok. You're going to be fine," the girl consoled her.
"I wasn't even part of the protest. I was just walking by," sobbed Emily.
"They're not going to do anything to you. They'll take your name and fingerprints. As long as you don't have a record, they'll process you and release you in a few hours. I've been through it a bunch of times before."
Emily sobbed even harder. She knew the girl was trying to comfort her, but that all sounded horrible: fingerprinting, processing, and being in a jail cell for hours. Plus, she was being lumped in with this girl who evidently got arrested all the time.
She was also supposed to visit a university tomorrow. She fretted that they would never consider an applicant with an arrest record.
"Hey, not to pile on, but your dress is riding a little low," the girl whispered to her discreetly.
Emily looked down and saw that part of her areola peeking out of the top of her ruched strapless boho maxi dress. Technically, it was her sister's dress, but the airline lost her luggage, so she borrowed clothes from her sister. She and her sister were close to the same size but not close enough to keep the top of her dress from slipping without regular adjustment. With her hands zip-tied behind her back, there wasn't anything she could do.
"Let me see if I can...," the girl next to her said as she tried to stand up and use her bound hands to grab the top of her dress, but the police officer in front of the van yelled at her to sit down before she could.
"Maybe I can..." She bent over and bit the top of her dress between Emily's breasts and tried to pull it up with her teeth. She made a centimeter of progress before the officer yelled something about no hanky-panky. The progress was enough to conceal her areola for now, but just barely.
"Thank you so much," Emily said with genuine gratitude. Maybe she misjudged the career criminal next to her.
"No problem. Solidarity among sisters," she said with a warm smile and affectionate shoulder bump.
The girl's kind act lifted Emily's spirit slightly and broke her out of her vicious cycle of anxious thoughts, but she was still terrified about what awaited her at the detainment center. Her tears had stopped, though she started fretting about how she could contact her sister. She was supposed to meet her for dinner in about an hour and a half.
"They have to give me one phone call like in the movies, right? But those are American movies. Did Corner Gas ever have an episode where they are arrested? " she thought to herself.
She cursed herself for not paying attention in her Civics & Citizenship class, but how could she be expected to pay attention when they sat her behind three hot hockey players? She had spent the entire semester imagining the hockey boys taking turns, passing her around, fucking her with their fit bodies. Her grades in high school were inversely correlated with the number and fuckability of the boys in her line of sight.
That isn't to suggest she was promiscuous. She had only had sex twice. Once, with a boyfriend she met in Drama Club who realized he was gay the week after they had sex. The other was with a basketball player at a party, who only lasted 84 seconds. Between her clique in high school (drama nerds) and her taste in boys (tall, fit athletes), she didn't make many matches despite being very hot.
She was a 5'3'' brunette with porcelain skin. The highlight of her cute figure was her pert ass which made the boys drool the few times she wore yoga pants. Her breasts were perky handfuls that sat high on her chest, even without a bra as she was dressed on this day. Her killer feature was her dimples that could melt hearts and harden cocks in moments. The main issues working against her were her modest fashion sense and her shy personality.
When the prisoner transport arrived, Emily saw that the "detainment center" was one of the city's large police stations. The officers ordered them out and separated the eight men from the four women, including Emily. The officers frisked the men and sent them through to a holding cell. The women had to wait for a female police officer to frisk them.
While they waited in the lobby of the police station, Emily fixated on her dress and its slow descent down her chest. She regretted picking a strapless dress, but the pattern was just too cute to turn down as she raided her sister's closet. She tried to slow and shallow her breathing as that seemed to be the main culprit of the dress's movement.
She sensed a hint of areola emerging and cringed. She noticed one of the officers elbow his colleague to get his attention and nod towards her. The second officer's eyes bulged as he noticed her breasts trying to escape. Emily was humiliated. In general, she was starved for male attention, but not like this.
Her seatmate from the transport noticed and stepped in front of her. The officer in charge yelled at her to get back in line. She begrudgingly complied. Emily turned away from the gawking officers, but she realized that meant facing the busy lobby of the police station that was full of people coming and going. She reluctantly turned back towards the officers. Better to flash two cops than the whole world.
Unfortunately, all her turning sent the dress further down. She looked down and could see the hem of the dress just barely concealing her nipples. One false move, and she'd be full-on flashing them. The two officers' eyes were glued to Emily's chest. They watched with rapt attention. Emily stood anxiously with her hands bound behind her back, inadvertently sticking out her chest. The suspense was killing all three of them.
