Blurb: Rebounding after a highly emotional divorce, 38-year-old Maggie Shea finds herself having no other financial or emotional option right now but to move both her and her son back into her parent’s home in the quiet town in the picturesque Spokane Valley.
After a day of shopping and a relaxing spa visit, she is among many drivers who are detoured through a quick stretch of construction on Highway 90. The same patch of roadway where a recent robbery has just occurred a few hours earlier that day.
Soon enough, her quiet relaxing evening drive home turns into a series of downward spirals as her vehicle is pulled over due to its visual similarity of the thieve’s car. Other bits of evidence are soon discovered during a quick search by two overly zealous state troopers and despite her claims and cries of innocence, Maggie now faces another form of legal calamity, with the side of the highway becoming the courtroom for her arraignment hearing and trial.
You can’t outrun the long arm of the law, but in the end, Maggie may not want to.
Excerpt from Frisked: Violated By Cops:
Later that night, Maggie finished her day with a hot shower and still feeling emotional, opted to take the entire box of tissues from the bathroom back to her room. She peeked in on Derick and smiled when she saw that he was completely dead to the world sacked out, sheets and blankets humped all around him. She crawled into her own bed and glanced at the ceiling. It still had those glow in the dark stars and planet stickers affixed to it. “Yeah,” she thought to herself, “time to let go of a lot of things.”
She plucked a kleenex free from that damned ugly handcrafted cozy, staunched her tears for the last time that day while thoughts of Jackie Hedges filled her mind. She shut her eyes and let her fingers fill her pussy as she vividly recalled being one of the few girls who indeed crushed on her and wondered what it would be like to fuck her under a star-filled sky beside the campfire. Within minutes she came in warm gushing spurts and fell into a deep and totally dream free sleep.
The next week flew by in a physical cacophony of unpacking, list-making, address changing, all pertinent court-ordered documents and lawyer’s settlements adjusted to make the release of full custody and financial restitutions complete. Justified after months of emotional abuse before the actual divorce, she booked herself a full half-day salt cave spa bath and massage session for the upcoming Saturday afternoon.
Her plan was to thrift shop some of the local Spokane artisans at the open-air marketplace and then enjoy the rest of the day being pampered before picking up a lobster roll dinner at the downtown fish market. That and a bottle Chopin vodka. That Saturday morning dawned with a hint of sunshine; a rarity for the region at that time of year and after a brief breakfast, she waved at her folks and Derick as they pulled out of the driveway bound for their waterpark hotel park adventure.
“Bye Mom! See you tomorrow night!”, Derick called out and Rita added “Remember Mags, no wild parties and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”, she laughed uproariously while Maggie just theatrically brought her forearm to her forehead in agonizingly teasing angst, and wondered how her father could tolerate those lame puns from the past. Much to her chagrin, her thought was answered as her father stuck his head out of the driver’s window and brayed out at the top of his lungs; “HEEE HAWWWWWWWWWW!”
She was still chuckling as she climbed into her brother’s Grand Cherokee and hit the road herself, eager to shop the markets before all the good bargains were snatched up. A couple of hours and two armloads of Kootenai representative knick-knacks, swaths of handmade tribal cloth and one superb horsehair blanket later, she hit the road again, swinging over to highway 90 to the day spa exit.
She checked herself in at the front desk where the concierge keyed up an electronic swipe card and slid a brand-new raw cotton bamboo robe and a set of towels for her own use across the polished marble reception table. The spa bath felt heavenly as she stepped down into the hot spring-fed waters; her tensions disappearing after a 30-minute soak and rubdown before her own private massage room was ready for her.
The masseuse waved her in and asked a few prelim questions about her overall health, where her tensions were felt most on her body and if she had any specific requests for the next 2 hours. She then finished by holding up a privacy sheet so that Maggie could disrobe and slide onto the table. The room’s silence was then adjusted to allow for an ethereal soundtrack of melodic instrumental hypnotic delight that teased Maggie to moan out with each release of pressure point knots as the lactic acid build up between muscle groups submitted to the experienced hands of the masseuse.
Apologizing softly for her vocalizing, the woman responded with a reassuring yet almost teasing reply. “Not to worry, Mrs. Shea. I’ve grown used to the sounds. They let me know that I am doing my job.” “Hmmmm. Indeed you are and it’s Ms. Shea,” Maggie gambled with a tiny bit of brashness and pressed her butt against the younger woman’s knuckling fingers, “I’m celebrating my divorce with my old new name.”, she gasped as the employee moved in closer and understandingly doubled down on the gamble herself and ran her thumb around Maggie’s quickly hardening clit.
The two women kept in constant silent eye contact for the remaining moments as Maggie allowed for each gentle orgasm to release from their confines. As sad as she was to come to the end of her spa visit, Maggie was also pleased to sign up for a monthly membership and chose Lyssa as her own personal attendant. Leaving a large tip, she felt absolutely no shame and thought it was a good payback to her ex for all the shit he put her through. Besides, it would be his money she’d be using.
Exiting the spa, she calculated she had just enough time to hit the seafood place for her takeout and then swing into the liquor store and still get home in time to curl up on the couch and veg in front of the tv for the night. Calling ahead, she placed her order and then once again, merged back onto route 90 just as the fog overtook the sun as the daylight gave way to the oncoming evening commute.
Feeling like a total wet noodle after her massage and hot tub soak, she found the roadside diner easily enough and added the liquor store address into the Jeep’s GPS. Following the green arrows, she was totally grateful when she pulled into a parking spot near the front of the store, not realizing just how sleepy she was beginning to feel.
Reaching for the door of the store, it suddenly swung open and she felt herself being shoved harshly out of the way and was jolted back to awareness at the sound of breaking glass as it hit both tile and pavement, the feel of cold splashes of mixed alcohols against her legs and feet and a mixed roar of expletives as the thief jumped into an SUV and sped like wild-fire out of the lot.
Maggie stepped inside and assured one of the employees who had rushed to the door in a futile attempt to stop the robbery that she was ok. After a few exchanged words of genuine empathy for the owners and staff, Maggie paid for her Chopin and slid back behind the wheel and began her final stage home just as the police cars pulled into the strip mall in response to the 9-1-1 call.
It wasn’t long after that the flashing amber lights ahead came into view, signaling a detour due to overnight construction ahead. Much to Maggie’s dismay, she sighed and tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel as all traffic around her began to jockey for position to exit onto the makeshift side road exit ramp.
“Just great.”, she wheedled, rolled down her window just a few inches to let in some fresh air to help keep her alert. Reaching into the center seat console, she fumbled for her pack of Marlboro’s; something she would soon be giving up now that the stress of her divorce had passed, lit one and enjoyed the bitter taste as the nicotine worked its magic. In truth, she wasn’t even a full cigarette at a time smoker, and she hid the stress habit from her son and parents.
The detour flow of traffic soon crossed over into the easternmost reach of the Kootenai County lines into a brief stretch of Coeur d’Alene, Idaho and by the look of it, Maggie discerned it would soon be diverted back into Washington as the pinpoint lights of the major cloverleaf exit circle loomed ahead. Her theory was proven correct as the flow began to pick up speed to a near rollicking 10 miles per hour and as she flicked the half-finished cigarette out the window, she felt much more awake as the sparks from the tossed cig bounced along the pavement behind her.
The blinding blaze of whirling blue lights along with an earsplitting wail of a siren almost immediately ran her off the road as the bumper of the State Trooper patrol car was soon on her tail. “What the fuck?”, Maggie muttered as she pulled over, put the Jeep in park and hit her emergency lights. She rolled her window down all the way and was about to reach for her driver’s license when she heard a commanding voice coming from the cruiser over a mic’d radio signal. “DRIVER! DO NOT MAKE ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS! RAISE BOTH HANDS OUT OF THE WINDOW! I REPEAT, DRIVER, RAISE BOTH HANDS OUT OF THE WINDOW!”
As confused as she was, Maggie couldn’t help but feel a scared nervousness creep into her belly as she did what the voice ordered. What happened next was a flurry of activity that played out far too quickly for her to grasp internally. She was pulled from the Jeep, spun around to be shoved against the door and as the cold steel metal of cuffs locked her hands into a painful restraint, she was on the verge of full-blown panic. The one Trooper who had her in his cuffs then shoved her to the rear of the patrol car and waited while his partner leaned into the Jeep and began ransacking and rummaging through its contents.
“Officer! Please can you tell me what’s going on?”, she pleaded and was replied to with a very curt “Just remain calm, driver. Right now, you are being detained upon investigation of theft. Your vehicle matches the description of one that seen exiting the scene of a crime across state lines.” “What????”, Maggie cried out. “I can assure you, Sir, that it wasn’t me. As for state lines, I was only following the detour signs.”
“Watch your tone, Missy!”, the Trooper nudged her harder against the trunk of his car. “Just behave yourself and if all turns out well, as you say it will, you’ll be free to go. In the meantime, I suggest you keep your pretty little mouth shut!” Maggie bit her lip as the pain of the shove made her wince but once more, fear took over her senses and all she could do was nod in assent.
“Well now, look at what we have here?” came the voice from the second officer as he slowly hitched his way back to the cruiser with a swagger that reminded Maggie of some good old boy toothpick chewing caricature. In his hand was a small baggie with a couple of rolled joints and a few traces of loose leaf weed. “Officer,”, she began, “that is not mine. This Jeep is my brothers. I am” “….Just borrowing it?”, finished the cop. “Lady, if I had a dollar for every person who said that to me, I would be a very rich man, do you understand that?” He leaned in closer to Maggie as well and totally shrouded her from plain view. “In fact,” he continued, I would be retired and relaxing on some beach somewhere instead of having to deal with little thieving petty assed bitches like you.” He sniffed arrogantly and then a couple more times as his eyes narrowed. “You been smoking?” he inquired.
“Just a cigarette…” Maggie mumbled out. “Hm. You sure about that? Smells like you’ve been drinking as well. Nice bottle of vodka in your car. A whole bunch of stuff in the back seat with price tags still on ‘em, and your eyes look like you’ve been smoking something. They’re all red and bloodshot! Care to explain that as well?”
Maggie stammered out a recount of her day, inferring her eyes would be bloodshot from the salt of the spa, she had half a cigarette and got splashed by a broken bottle of something or another while entering a liquor store to buy her own vodka. “That’s all well and good,” the first Trooper extolled “but the real issue here is the theft at that liquor store and the drug paraphernalia and controlled substance on your person. Idaho has a zero-tolerance law and all forms of marijuana are illegal.”
