Illegal Search And Teaser

I wanted my first time to be special. Dimmed lights, soft music, maybe even a pecan scented candle or two. But sometimes things don't work out the way you plan them.

And so I just stood there, watching helplessly as his rough, rugged hands fumbled with my zipper, his deep, reassuring voice asking if I minded showing him more, right there in front of everyone, in the cold, damp entrance to the 57th Street Subway Station.

I'll never forget the first time the NYPD randomly searched my napsack -- mostly coz it just happened like an hour ago, but also because it reminded me of the first time I had sex, that is, over-before-I-knew-it and followed by uncontrolled critical laughter.

The good news was I got Sergeant Studly for my first inspection, a beautiful, 6-foot-plus, skinny, young Italian with wavy blond hair and forest green eyes. I was a tad nervous to show him mine, especially without the promise he'd show me his in return. Reluctantly, I opened my bag and dumped out the stack of CDs I was carrying with me at the time: Jason Mraz, John Mayer, some Annie Lennox and an old copy of Lisa Loeb's Firecracker.

I coyly joked he could do a full cavity search but I had nothing illegal or dangerous on my person. He zipped up my bag and slid it back across the table with what I swear was a genuine wink.

"Except your choice in music."

Too bad being cute isn't a crime. I'd have him under citizen's arrest before he could even say, "Only in New York..."