Disclaimer: The following commentary reads much like prose. The situation described may sound sensational, but the allusion is far from it.

She is a petite, beautiful woman and certainly not without substance. It is dark and late, and she is on the road alone. She stayed at work late. The speedometer on her car vacillates between 65 and 70 miles per hour. She is in a rush to get home. Firmly gripping the steering wheel, she keeps her eyes on the road ahead of her. Flashing red and blue lights behind her flicker with the scream of the siren. Inching over to the far right shoulder of the road, she curses herself under her breath as she pulls her car to a full stop and puts the gear in neutral. She cringes when she realizes the immediate area is not well lit.

He is a tall, football player type with a badge, a gun, and a mission. As he methodically approaches her car, he somewhat senses her fear. He hopes he is on target with detecting anxiety. Finally reaching her car, with a voice found more prevalent in the bedroom, he tells her to roll her window down. She obliges, but rolls the window down only half way. He shines his flashlight in her face, blinding her so that she cannot see his face that well. He then asks for her driver's license and a valid insurance card.

Being cooperative, she hands the officer her driver's license and her insurance card. He feels the need to delicately stroke her hand as she presents the requested information to him. His fingers linger over the back of her hand until she withdraws from his reach. As the officer stands next to her window and takes an exaggerated pause, her eyes spot something unnerving. The cop has enough wood in the crotch area of his pants to build a log cabin. He informs her to wait while he goes to his car.

Minutes pass and she waits for the officer to return. She has to get home, but he is slow. Is he intentionally slow? What is he doing? She keeps her composure and listens to her radio while the officer does his thing in his car behind her. When he finishes, he returns to her window packing enough lumber for a tailgate party bonfire. He feels the need to press his all against what part of the window that is still up. She is nervous as he touches himself before bending down and sticking his head slightly into her window. After licking his lips and releasing a low moan, he poses an option. He offers to disregard the ticket and her speeding if she "performs a certain task" for him.

Suppose this were you sitting on the side of the road with some cop suggesting that he will not give you a ticket if you "love him long time" or tell him how many licks it take to get the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop. As ugly and indecent as this scenario is, it is something that happens more often than not. What is even sadder is that men are not exempt from such inappropriate solicitations. Does the credo "to serve and to protect" mean anything to the boys in blue? Perhaps they have redefined the "to serve" part of the principle to apply the notion of "to receive." Why is it hard for some person on the open end of a gun barrel to get police protection because the officer only thirty paces down the road is busy writing up a measly parking ticket? How does a person exposed to a situation like the one detailed file a complaint with confidence that it is treated with a level of seriousness? If the woman files a grievance, is it brushed off as a woman who does not want to pay a ticket? Should she be in fear of her safety? After all, the cop does have her home address from her driver's license. That silver Toyota Corolla parked outside her house quite often may not be a visitor at one of the neighbor's house. Knock-knock. Guess who.