Hard Time for Rashanta
by Neal


Chapter 1 - Busted


The noise of the propellers had been a constant drone.  Rashanta
Wallace looked out the window of the commuter airplane as it taxied up
to the terminal of the small airport.  This was the last leg of her
journey and it had been a long day.  Two connecting flights each with
an hour lay over.  The tall slender black woman was getting tired and
brushed her long braided hair out of her face as she stood to get her
bag from the overhead compartment.

She dis-embarked down a stairway and walked with the other passengers
across the tarmac into the terminal.  She was already overly warm in
her business suit, gray jacket and skirt, white blouse, stockings, and
black leather flats.  Ordinarily she'd wear heels with this outfit,
but preferred the flats for travel.  The late afternoon sun was still
hot and further aggravated her.  This was nothing like the big city
airport she'd left this morning.

Rashanta had just claimed her other luggage when her cell phone rang.

"Wallace here," she answered, always the busy professional.

"Hi, baby!" said the voice on the other end.  "It's Tyrone."

She sighed heavily.  "Ty, why are you calling me?  I thought I'd made
things pretty clear to you."

"Don't be that way, baby!" Tyrone pleaded.  "I figured you jus' needed
some time to think things through.  Then you'd see it my way."

"Don't 'baby' me!" Rashanta scolded.  "I told you this isn't going to
work.  I'm only thirty one and I'm not ready to settle down.  I have a
career!  I have a good job.  I worked hard to be one of the senior
buyers for the biggest chain on the coast.  I'm not going to throw it
all away so I can cook your meals and have your babies!"

"I'm sorry, Shanta," he responded.  "I didn't mean for it to sound
that way.  You gotta give me a chance to explain."

"Look," she said, "I've had a long trip.  I've only been on the ground
for a few minutes.  I'm tired.  I just don't feel like dealing with
you now.  I'm going on vacation right after this trip.  Maybe I'll
call you when I get back."

"Don't make me wait that long!" he begged.

"That's the way it has to be," she said with finality.  "I gotta go."

She clicked the 'end' button before he had a chance to go on.  What a
pest, she thought.

Rashanta made her way across the terminal to the car rental desk.  A
young white woman turned to wait on her.

"May I help you?" she asked.

"Yes," replied Rashanta, "I've got a reservation for a car.  A Lexus.
The name is Wallace.  R. Wallace."

The white girl clicked on her keyboard and peered into the monitor
that was on the desk.

"Ok, I see your name here," she informed her.  "But we don't have no
Lexus.  I have two Fords.  An Escort or a Taurus."

"That can't be right, miss," the black woman replied, peeved.  "I made
a reservation.  I've got a long drive still and I don't want to do it
in one of those shit boxes!"

"Sorry," the clerk replied, not sorry.  "That's what we got.  Take it
or leave it."

"Well, I don't have much choice then," sighed Rashanta.  "I'll take
the big one."

"Ok, hang on," said the clerk.

The white girl picked up the phone on the desk and punched two
numbers.

"Ray?" she said into the phone while looking right at the black woman.
"Bring the Taurus up.  There's a 'lady' here who'll be taking it."

The clerk pushed some papers across the desk to her.

"Fill these out and we'll have you set to go," she said.

Rashanta didn't like the girl's tone at all.  She fumed as she filled
out the rental agreement.  She was just finishing as Ray arrived and
put the car keys on the counter.

"If there's nothing else, I'll just get going now," said the black
woman.

She scooped up the keys and headed for the glass door Ray had just
entered through.  She could see the car outside.

"We're not through here, lady!" called the clerk.

Rashanta ignored her, put her bags in the trunk, and climbed in.  She
wasn't about to take any more disrespect from these menial clerks.
The black woman started the motor and drove off towards the exit from
the airport.

A few miles down the interstate she started to calm down and realized
she hadn't picked up a map in her rush to get out of the airport.  A
light went on on the dash board.  Low fuel.  Damn! she thought.
Didn't those fools fill up the tank?  The next exit sign showed food,
gas, and lodging available.  She pointed the car down the ramp which
ended in a T at a state highway.  The sign for gas had an arrow
pointing to the right.  She turned right and proceeded on.

The sign hadn't indicated how far to the gas station and after several
miles she began to wonder if there was one at all.  Finally it
appeared up ahead.  She pulled up to the pump, shut off the engine,
and waited.

After a few minutes a young white man in greasy overalls emerged from
the station.

"It's self serve," he called out to her.

Rashanta rolled down the window.

"Self serve!" she exclaimed.  "The sign says full service!  I'm not
dressed to pump gas!"

The white man shrugged and went back inside.

Asshole! she thought.  Rashanta got out of the car and went to the
pump and slid her credit card though the slot and opened the gas cap
on the car.  She could see the white man, kid really, watching her
from inside the station with a smirk on his face while she topped off
the tank and put the hose back on the pump.

It was almost dark now.  Rashanta realized she'd wasted alot of time
already on this side trip and pressed the accelerator down.  It would
take at least ten minutes just to get back to the interstate.

The black woman was surprised when the flashing blue lights suddenly
came on behind her.  She knew she'd been speeding and pulled over.
The police car pulled in behind her.  She'd gotten out of tickets
before, she thought.  She undid a couple more buttons on her blouse to
show off plenty of skin for the cop.  Worked every time.

Rashanta waited nervously as the uniformed man approached the car and
shone a flash light in at her.  She blinked and squinted at the
brightness of it.  But she smiled suggestively and turned slightly
towards the window to make sure he got a good eyeful.  She rolled the
window down.

The cop looked to be no more than twenty years old.  Tall and athletic
looking he didn't look too intelligent.  He wore a badge that
indicated he was a deputy sheriff and a name tag that said Lewis.

"License and registration," he said and stood waiting as he looked at
the black woman.  "This is a forty five mile per hour zone.  You were
doing sixty six."

"I'm so sorry, officer," she said, smiling, her blouse open
sufficiently to show off her bra.  "I must have lost track how fast I
was going.  I hope you'll forgive me."

This act had worked in the past, she thought.  Horny white cop wasn't
going to give a pretty black girl a ticket.  Not when she showed him
so much flesh.  She got her license out of her purse and handed it
over.  Suddenly she remembered storming away from the rental desk
without the papers.

"I, uh, don't have the registration," she stammered.  "It's a rental
car and they forgot to give me the papers."

She smiled sweetly again and reached down to hike her skirt up a
little to show the deputy some leg.

"Step out of the car, miss," he ordered.

"But, officer!" she protested.  "This is just a silly
misunderstanding!  Surely there's no need for this."

"I said get out of the car, girl," he repeated forcefully.

Rashanta opened the door and climbed out, placing her hands on her
hips.

"Excuse me?" she asked incredulously.  "Girl?  Are you talking to me
that way?  You need to learn how to treat people with more respect or
you'll end up in trouble!"

"Turn around, hands on the car," ordered the deputy sternly.

"What?" Rashanta said, surprised.

"Turn around, girl," he repeated.  "I'm not asking.  I'm telling you.
Now do it."

The black woman started go get scared now.  She was alone, a thousand
miles from home, on a dark two lane highway.  She turned around and
placed her hands on the roof of the car.  She felt his hands frisk her
down, lingering over he breasts and ass.  She felt her face hot with
shame at this indignity.  Then he slapped the first cuff on one wrist.

"What are you doing?" she cried out, turning towards him.  "Don't you
dare handcuff me!  Do you realize how much trouble you're getting
yourself in for?  I'll sue the shit out of you and your two bit
country ass town!"

"Shut up," he ordered her.  "We can do this easy or we can do this
hard.  It's up to you.  I'm bringing you in so we can get to the
bottom of all this.  It's standard procedure in cases like this.
Don't make me hurt you."

"You're going to regret this," she warned him, her voice shaking.

Rashanta stopped struggling, though.  She stood passively while he
finished cuffing her hands behind her back.  The deputy forcefully
walked her to the patrol car, placing her in the back seat, and
closing the door.  He climbed in the front and got on the radio.

"Base, this is twelve," he said into the microphone.

"Go ahead, Lewis," came the voice on the radio.

"I've got a negro female in custody," said the deputy.  "Speeding and
driving without a registration.  I'm bringing her in now.  Send the
truck to mile-post one oh seven and bring in the white Ford Taurus
there."

"Roger that," crackled the radio.  "Base out."

"This is all a mistake, officer," Rashanta said in a small voice.
"I'll cooperate.  Please take these cuffs off.  They're hurting me."

"It's procedure, girl," he stated.

Deputy Lewis started the patrol car and made a u turn, heading back
the way she had come.  Rashanta was both scared and angry, but sat
quietly the rest of the way to the sheriff's office.

They arrived shortly at the sheriff's office, a non-descript one story
brick building.  The deputy parked the car next to where several other
patrol cars were parked in the lot and climbed out.  He opened the
back door and roughly pulled Rashanta out, causing her blouse to
stretch and pop another button.  She blushed with embarrassment at the
exposure.

"Can you let me loose from these now?" she asked.

"No," he replied.  "No talking."

The deputy opened the door to the building and pushed Rashanta in
ahead of him.  The room was large and filled with a maze of desks.  He
led her through them and sat her on a long wooden bench on the
opposite side of the room from the door.

"Don't move, girl," he warned her.  "I've got to start the paper
work."

Rashanta sat quietly on the bench, the handcuffs growing more
uncomfortable by the minute.  Other deputies and people with business
at the sheriff's office passed by her and looked her over.  Her
unbuttoned blouse certainly drew alot of attention.  She was
humiliated by being put on display this way.

Deputy Lewis returned and took her to a small room.  There was a table
with a telephone and tape recorder on it.  A few straight back wooden
chairs were around the table.  A big mirror was on one wall.  There
were no windows.  He put her in one of the chairs and sat in one on
the opposite side of the table from her.

"The rental agency says you took the car before they could run your
credit card," he stated, sounding official.  "They're pressing
charges.  I'm placing you under arrest on a charge of grand theft,
auto.  You have the right to remain silent.  Anything you say can and
will be used against you in a court of law..."

Rashanta sat stunned as the deputy recited her rights to her.  She
couldn't believe this was happening to her.  She was really scared
now.

"Do you understand these rights?" he asked perfunctorily.

"Yes," she said in a small voice, her bravado completely gone.  "This
is all a terrible mistake.  I was just in a hurry!  That's all."

"You get one phone call," the deputy continued.  "After that you'll be
processed and placed in the holding cell.  What number do you want to
call?"

Rashanta gave him Tyrone's number to dial.  He'd help her, even if
only to get her to change her mind about moving in with him.  She
listened to it ring.

"Hello?" answered Tyrone.

"Hi, Ty," she said.  "It's Shanta.  I need your help.  There was a
mixup with the car rental and I've been arrested!  They think I stole
the rental car!"

"Damn, Shanta, that sucks," said the voice on the phone.  "But, why
are you callin' me?  I thought you didn't want to have anythin' more
to do with me."

"I'm in a jam here," Rashanta replied.  "I need you to find me a
lawyer.  Find a way to get me out of here."

"Sorry," he said.  "I don't think it's a good idea for me to get
involved.  Call somebody else.  I gotta go.  Bye."

Click.

"He hung up," the black woman said sadly.  "I got another number to
call."

"Sorry," said the deputy.  "One phone call.  That was it.  Time to
process you.  On your feet.  Let's go."

"But..." she started.

"Shut up, girl," he stopped her.  "Don't start up with me.  Don't make
this more unpleasant than it has to be."

Deputy Lewis walked Rashanta to another room.  This one had a camera
pointed at a white wall with black demarcations indicating the height
from the floor.  A fingerprint kit was on a table near the door.
Pictures and prints, thought the black woman.  She couldn't believe
the chain of events that had lead her to this humiliation.

Finally, the deputy removed her handcuffs.  Her shoulders ached and
her wrists were sore.  She rubbed them to get the circulation going
again.  He gave her a placard to hold and took a full face mug shot of
her.  She was so overwhelmed by events that she'd forgotten that her
blouse was open far enough to show off her bra and much of her
breasts.

"Turn to the side," he ordered her.  "Hold the placard so it's
visible."

Rashanta turned as instructed.  The strobe light on the camera
flashed.

"Turn back to the front now, girl," the deputy commanded.  "Hands at
your sides."

Numb, the black girl complied.  The light flashed again.  Only then
did she notice the grin on the young white deputy's face.  She was
suddenly aware of her state of undress.  She knew that this last
picture wasn't part of the official record.  Her face burned with
shame and rising anger.  But she felt powerless to do say anything.

The finger printing was less embarrassing but Rashanta had to endure
Deputy Lewis standing too close to her as he rolled her fingers on the
ink pad and then the fingerprint card.

"Let's go," he commanded once the procedure was completed.

The deputy walked the black woman back out into the main room of the
sheriff's office and around the perimeter to a desk situated in front
of a barred cell, empty except for a wooden bench.

"Remove your belt and shoes," he said, producing a paper bag from a
box on the floor.  "Place them in the bag.  They'll be returned to you
when you leave."

A tear rolled down her cheek as she stepped out of the shoes.

"My skirt won't stay up without the belt," she objected.  "Do I have
to take it off?"

"Standard policy," he replied.  "Are you going to give me trouble now,
girl?"

"No," she said softly.

Rashanta removed the belt and placed it in the bag.  She bent over,
picked up her shoes, and put them in it, too.  She could feel her
skirt sliding down from her waist and tugged it back up.  The deputy
unlocked the barred door to the cell and slid it to one side.

"Get in," he ordered, indicating she was to enter cell.

The black woman stepped the door and into the cell.  The deputy slid
the door shut and turned the key.  It locked with a loud clank.

"They'll be making another run over to the jail in a few hours,"
Deputy Lewis told her.  "You'll be staying there until you're
arraigned tomorrow."

He turned and walked back to his desk.  Rashanta could see the goings
on in the office and anyone there could see her in the cell, like an
animal in a cage at the zoo.

The time crawled by for Rashanta.  She used it to button her blouse
back up and to think of how she was going to get out of this.
Certainly she'd be provided with an attorney who'd be able to let
people she knew know where she was and what happened.  Until then she
felt completely lost and alone.

The hours ticked by and activity in the office gradually lessened.
Rashanta had needed to relieve herself for some time and her bladder
was positively bursting.  At last she got the attention of the deputy
as he passed nearby on other business.

"Excuse me, officer," said Rashanta, her face hot with embarrassment.
"I need to use the ladies room."

"Can't you wait?" Deputy Lewis replied, irritated.  "The van will be
here soon enough to take you to the jail.  You can go there.  Hold
your water, girl."

"I can't wait any longer," she protested, humiliated at having to
plead with this white man to be allowed to use the bathroom.

"Shit," he spat.  "Alright.  You can't go in there unescorted and
there's no female personnel here.  I'll have to take you to the
toilet.  Standard policy."

He unlocked the door and slid it open.  Rashanta walked out in her
stockinged feet and followed him.  Her skirt kept slipping down with
no belt on so she had to keep hiking it back up.  He led her to a door
marked "Men".  She looked up at him questioningly.

"I ain't goin' in the women's room, girl," he said.  "You'll have to
do your business in here.  Nobody's in there now anyways.  You want to
go or not?"

Rashanta blushed and nodded.  Deputy Lewis pushed the door open and
they both walked into the men's room.  He pushed open a stall door and
the black woman entered it and turned to face him.

"I'll just be a minute," she said, reaching to close the stall door.

"No you don't," he stopped her.  "Door stays open.  Standard policy."

"What!" she exclaimed.  "You expect me to pee with you watching!  This
is too much.  I have rights.  I have a right to some privacy.  I have
a right to at least pee without some pervert watching me!"

"The hell you do, bitch!" the deputy said angrily.  "I'm not breaking
policy.  Prisoners will not be left unwatched.  Period.  You don't
like it?  Back to the cell you go.  Let's go."

"I have to go now!" the black woman protested.

"Then go," he said.  "Hurry it up.  I've got other things to do than
play games with some dumb nigger."

Rashanta couldn't believe what she'd just heard.  This white man, no,
white boy, called her a nigger!  A nigger!  Her hackles were up now
but she had to go badly and was afraid of pissing herself if she
argued.  She couldn't remember being so humiliated before.

The black woman's face was hot as she pulled down her panties and
stockings and lifted her skirt, revealing a thick patch of curly black
pubic hair.  She glared at the grinning white deputy as she sat on the
toilet and urinated under his leering gaze.

"When my lawyers get through with you, you'll be lucky to have a job
cleaning this toilet," she threatened.

"Dumb nigger," the deputy laughed.  "Don't forget to wipe."

Rashanta finished and stood up.  She pulled up her panties and
stockings and flushed.  Deputy Lewis stood in the way of the stall
entrance for a few seconds too long, blocking her way out, menacing
her with his mere presence.  Then he stood aside.

The black woman led the way out of the men's room, hiking her unbelted
skirt up every few steps.  All eyes in the room followed her and the
deputy back to the holding cell.  She could hear chuckles and
whispered comments from the other deputies in the office the whole
way.  The shame she felt had her close to tears.  She stepped into the
cell and he locked her back in.  The door slid shut with a resounding
clank as she sat back on the wooden bench.

It had been quite a long day for Rashanta.  She had been up before
dawn to go to the airport to catch the first of three flights.  Though
she struggled to keep her eyes open, she felt herself nodding off.
The sound of the cell door sliding open woke her up.  A large black
woman, no more than twenty years old, her hair pulled back in a tight
pony-tail, was being pushed into the cell by a deputy Rashanta hadn't
seen before.

"Sit tight, girl," said the deputy.  "Van'll be along anytime to take
you and your friend to the slammer."

The big girl was dressed in magenta shorts and a dark blue tee shirt.
She eyed Rashanta for a long while before sitting on the bench next to
her.

"Ain't seen you round here," she said.

"I'm not from around here," replied Rashanta.  "And I don't belong in
here."

"'Course not," said the big black girl.  "'S all a mistake, ain't it?"

"Yes!" Rashanta answered.  "It's bullshit!"

"Me, too," sighed the big girl.  "Name's Desiree.  My friends call me
Dee Dee."

"Rashanta," the older woman replied.  "Shanta.  I've never even been
here before.  Never had any plans to come here.  And I hope to never
see this place again."

"Damn, girl!" said Desiree.  "What you doin' here then?"

"I got off the interstate to get gas," Rashanta began.  "I got stopped
for speeding.  There was a mixup on the paperwork for my rental car.
They think I stole it.  Now I'm here."

"That's some fucked up shit, girl," Desiree observed.  "Way fucked up.
Damn sheriff's boy's why I's here.  Him an' his damn friends cornered
me in a alley.  Wanted me to blow 'em all if'n you kin believes that!
I tol' 'em 'fuck no.'  Bastard said if I didn't they'd swear I tried
to make 'em pay for some poontang.  'Course it's the sheriff's boy so
who they gonna believes?  Fuck."

"Hey!" called the deputy.  "Shut up in there.  No talking.  You'll
have plenty of time for that later."

The two black women sat in silence for another half an hour until
another deputy, previously unseen, slid the cell door open.  Late
twenties, heavy set, with black hair and mustache, his name tag read
"Faldo".  He held chains and cuffs in his hand.  He gestured for them
to get up.

"Ok, ladies," he said.  "Your ride's here.  Time to get ready to
travel.  You first, skinny.  Stand up and hold out your hands."

Deputy Faldo squatted and quickly slapped a cuff on each of Rashanta's
ankles.  Standing, he repeated the procedure on her wrists.  The black
woman's wrists were now cuffed together.  A chain ran from from
between the cuffs and was attached to the short chain between the
ankle cuffs.  It wasn't long enough for her to stand completely
upright and forced her to stoop.

"Is this really necessary?" Rashanta asked indignantly.  "I'm not
going to try to escape or anything.  This whole thing is ridiculous!"

"You better learn when to shut up, bitch," said Deputy Faldo, looking
down at the stooped black woman.  "This is standard procedure for
prisoner transport."

He turned to Desiree.

"Your turn," he said to her.  "You know the drill."

Desiree stood and offered her hands to be cuffed.  Deputry Faldo made
quick work of it.  Both negresses now stood chained and stooped over.
He stepped out of the cell and retrieved the bags from the desk
containing their shoes, which he then dropped on the floor in front of
the two women.

"Get your shoes on, ladies," he grinned.  "We're leavin' now."

Under Deputy Faldo's leering eye and with much difficulty due to their
restraints, Rashanta and Desiree managed to get their shoes on and
stand up.  Rashanta found the task to be more than a little degrading,
putting her shoes on with her chains jangling.  But she felt helpless
to do otherwise or even complain.

"Move out," ordered the deputy.  "Out the side door.  Your limo is
waiting."

The two black women shuffled out of the holding cell towards the side
door, Deputy Faldo right behind them, pushing them along.  The sounds
of the jangling chains caught the attention of everyone in the room.
Rashanta could feel a dozen sets of eyes on her, drinking in her
humiliation.  Her face burned with shame.

They reached the door and exited.  A dark colored van with "Sheriff's
Department" painted on the door was parked just outside.  The deputy
easily walked around the hobbled negresses and opened the rear door.

"In you go," he said cheerfully.

There were benches on either side of the van.  Rashanta sat on one,
Desiree the other.  Deputy Faldo shut the door with a hollow slam.
The only windows were in the doors and they were covered with a heavy
metal mesh.  They heard the engine start and felt the van start to
move.

"You gotta watch yo' se'f in this town, girl," Desiree explained.
"The sheriff here, he got this place by the nuts.  This ain't the
first time I gots trouble wit' him.  That jail o' his...  Well, you'll
see soon enough, girl."

"What do you mean, Dee Dee?", Rashanta inquired with some anxiety.

"Well, they gots special treatment for sistas," the big girl answered.
"It ain't right, but it's how it is.  The sheriff an' his boys, those
deputies, they do what they like wit' us.  Ain't nothin' we can do
'bout it, neither.  Best to just go along to get along if'n you knows
what I means."

Rashanta had more questions, but Desiree didn't seem interested in
elaborating more than she had already.  Ominous images of what might
await her at the jail filled the black woman's head.  The van stopped
and the engine was shut off.  The rear door opened and Deputy Faldo's
heavy visage greeted them, leering in much the same way as before.

"We're home, ladies," he grinned.  "Watch your step!"

The fat deputy chuckled as he watched the two colored women awkwardly
climb out of the van, their chains jangling.  He pushed them ahead of
him, stooped and shuffling, through the door marked "Prisoners" that
was set into the wall of a grey cut stone building.  They went across
the empty outer room to a door with a barred window.

The deputy pushed a button and a few seconds later a buzz was heard
along with a loud click.  He pulled the door open and pushed his
prisoners through and then followed right after them.  The door shut
automatically with a thud followed by the sound of the lock.

"Sit," he ordered indicating a long wooden bench along the wall just
inside the door.

The room was windowless and the institutional green walls were
brightly lit by an overhead fluorescent fixture.  The floor was tiled.
Another door with bars for a window was on the opposite wall.  A
windowless door was off to the side.  Deputy Faldo opened that door
and stepped inside.

"I've got two prisoners for processing tonight, Eddie," he said.

"Get 'em stripped and ready, Wally", another voice answered.  "Then
bring 'em on in."

Deputy Faldo bent over and unlocked the cuffs from each of his charges
and removed them.  He dropped them on the wooden bench with a
resounding clanking sound.  There were some metal baskets on the floor
and he used his foot to slide two of them over to the seated
negresses.

"Alright, ladies," said the deputy.  "Get those duds off and put 'em
in the baskets.  You'll get 'em back when you check out.  Standard
policy.  Prisoners must be thoroughly searched prior to admittance.
Sheriff don't want no contraband in his jail house."

Desiree leaned forward, took her shoes off, and stood up.  She pulled
her tee shirt off revealing a large black bra restraining two massive
breasts.  The big girl pulled down her shorts, showing off a pair of
blue panties covering her fat black ass.

Rashanta was aghast.  Both at the demand the white man was making as
well as the big black girls passive obedience.

"Now just a minute!" the slim black woman objected.  "I am *not*
taking my clothing off!  I have rights!  I am not some animal to be
treated this way!  I can understand your policy, but surely you must
have female personnel to perform this procedure when there's ladies
involved!"

"Ladies!" chortled Deputy Faldo.  "Hey, Eddie!  This dumb nigger
thinks she's a lady and needs female personnel to wait on her!"

A short brown haired white man in his early forties, dressed in a
white smock stepped out of the door.  He surveyed the scene and shook
his head slowly, unable to suppress a smile.  Desiree looked on, still
in her underwear.

"Listen, bitch," snarled the deputy.  "You ain't no fuckin' lady.  You
a nigger, plain and simple.  In this jail you do like you told and no
bullshit about it, if you know what's good for you.  Nobody here gives
a shit about seeing some naked monkey, so get over yourself and get
those duds off."

Rashanta stood and slapped the deputy across the face.  His jaw
dropped from the shock of it.

"How dare you talk to me that way!" the black woman said angrily.

Whap!  The deputy slapped Rashanta across the face so hard it knocked
her off her feet.  He stood over her and looked down at her prone
form.  Tears formed in her eyes as she rubbed her cheek with one hand.

"I'm gonna let that slide, nigger," he said evenly, restraining his
anger.  "Seein' as how you ain't from around here and don't know no
better.  You do anything like that again and you'll be sorry you was
born, I promise you.  You think you too fine now?  Well you won't be
so fine when I get through with you if you pull any shit like that
again.  Now get those fuckin' clothes off and get with the program.  I
ain't bullshittin' around.  Now do it."

He turned to Desiree.

"What's your major malfunction, girl?" he asked her.  "Get naked so we
can get this done and put y'all away for the night."

The big girl reached around her back and unclasped her bra, letting it
slide down her arms and off onto the floor.  She blushed as her saggy
breasts hung against her chest.  She pulled her blue panties off and
gathered her clothing into her basket.

Rashanta sat up on the floor and took off her shoes.  She looked up at
Deputy Faldo with the anger still in her eyes.  The black woman stood
and unbuttoned her blouse.  She unzipped her skirt, let it fall to the
floor, and stepped out of it.  Shrugging off her blouse she unclasped
her bra and shrugged it off, too.  Her firm breasts were now displayed
for all in the room to see.  Her dark chocolate nipples stood erect.
Her face was hot with shame, anger, and embarrassment.

"Get those drawers off, too, now," the deputy encouraged her.  "The
nice man here's gotta take a look in those holes to make sure you
ain't got no weapons or drugs or nothin'."

He looked over at Eddie and winked at him.  The older white man just
smiled and shook his head.

Rashanta pulled her panties down to her knees and let them slide the
rest of the way down her legs, stepping out of them when they reached
the floor.  She looked back up defiantly in an attempt to show them
she was unbroken by this treatment.  Nevertheless, she was completely
naked in front of the two white men and knew she would be submitting
to a thoroughly humiliating search of her intimate parts.

"Pick that shit up, girl," ordered Deputy Faldo.  "Put it in the
basket like a good nigger.  Leave it on the floor and it'll get shit
canned."

The slender nude black woman leaned over and picked up her clothes,
placing them in the wire basket.  The white men looked on, clearly
enjoying the site of the naked negress's firm round ass with her bent
over in front of them.

"Ok, bring the niggers in, Wally," said Eddie to Deputy Faldo with a
smile.  I know this is your favorite part."

"Let's go inside and get you checked out and checked in," instructed
the deputy.

Rashanta noticed the bulge in the big man's pants as she passed him
and entered the room.  Desiree was right behind her.  This room was
the same size as the outer one.  A stainless steel examination table,
complete with stirrups on either side at one end was in the middle of
the room.

"Alright, enough standing around," said Eddie.  "Get on up there,
you."

Since he was looking at Desiree as he spoke, the big black girl
climbed up on the table, placing her feet in the stirrups.  Her hairy
pussy gaped open with her legs spread so far.  Eddie snapped on a
rubber glove and probed her vagina with a finger.  She looked away
from the faces of the onlookers, shamed.

"Hmmm," the older white man said.  "Nothin' here.  Sloppy wet, though.
Horny fuckin' nigger.  I know you love this.  Get on back down now."

Desiree blushed as she dismounted the exam table.

"Your turn," Eddie said to Rashanta.  "Get your ass up here.  You know
what to do."

The slender black woman felt a lump in her throat and in the pit of
her stomach.  She lifted herself up onto the table and lay down on it.
The steel surface was cold and made her shiver.  She was thoroughly
embarrassed spreading her legs wide to put her feet in the stirrups.
She felt a cool draft waft over her cunt.  Eddie roughly shoved a
gloved finger inside her opening.  Her pussy was dry and he used no
lube.

"Owww!" she yelped.  "Be careful!"

"Be quiet," muttered Eddie as felt around inside Rashanta's vagina.
"I'm through anyways."

"All right, you've had your fun," announced the deputy.  Get down from
there.  Open those mouths, got to check there, too."

Eddie pulled a small flashlight out of the pocket on his smock and
using a tongue depressor poked and peeked inside Desiree's mouth.  The
big girl stood passively and endured it, her mouth open wide.
Rashanta also offered no protest as he repeated the procedure on her.

The sound of the outer door buzzing open could be heard followed by
the door closing.  Rashanta could see Deputy Lewis, the man who'd
arrested her earlier standing in the doorway with a twenty something
white girl who appeared drunk and disheveled.

"Charlene was tearing up the Dew Drop again tonight," Deputy Lewis
told his colleagues.  "Busted old Fred over the head with a bottle."

"Damn!" laughed Wally.  "That's the second time already this week!"

"What're you laughin' at?" slurred the white woman.

"Calm down, ma'am," said Deputy Lewis.  "I'm just checking you in."

"You know where the key's at, Ben," said Eddie to Deputy Lewis.  "Put
her up in nine."

"Ok," replied the young deputy.  "Let's go, ma'am.  I think you just
need to sleep it off."

Ben and Charlene left the doorway.  Another buzz was heard followed by
the door closing.

"I thought this bullshit here was 'standard procedure'," complained
Rashanta.  "How come that white bitch didn't get this treatment?"

"Shut your hole, nigger!" Wally ordered.  "You don't think we'd treat
a white lady like this do you?  Sheesh!  You're lucky I don't slap the
shit out you for that.  Now, I don't wanna hear another sound comin'
out of your mouth."

"One more hole to go," Eddie announced.  "Bend over and spread 'em.
Grab your ankles."

Burning with anger and humiliated with helplessness, Rashanta bent
over, her legs apart, and grabbed her ankles.  Next to her, Desiree
did the same.  She felt the white man's finger probe her asshole
unconcerned about the pain the rough treatment caused her.  Never had
she felt so degraded.  When it was over she stood and glared at Eddie
as he pulled off the rubber glove.

"Was it good for you, too?" he asked mockingly as he dropped the glove
in the wastebasket.

"Enough dilly dallying," said Wally.  "Time to go get you two put away
for the night.  Move out."

The heavy set deputy pushed the naked negro women out of the
examination room to the door that led further into the jail building.
He pushed a button and the door buzzed.  He opened the door and pushed
his charges through and down the hall ahead of him.

Rashanta was exhausted, but scared and humiliated as well.  She was
naked, being marched through the corridors of a stone jail house in a
town she'd never heard of until she had the misfortune to enter it.

The tiled floor was smooth and cold.  The air was cool, too, giving
the nude black woman goose flesh.  They arrived at a large window with
a counter.  Deputy Ben Lewis was leaning on the counter talking with a
rough looking white woman in her late thirties on the other side.  She
had dyed blonde hair and was wearing a bright orange gown with "COUNTY
JAIL" stenciled on it.

"Well," said Ben, turning his head to take in the view of the naked
negresses, "here's the girl who teased me with a little flesh to keep
from getting a ticket!  Looks like I'm seeing all the nigger flesh I
like now!"

Rashanta looked at the floor and blushed.  She'd felt so in control
then during the traffic stop.  She'd used her charms successfully
before.  She thought the white deputy would succumb to them as so many
others had in the past.  Instead she was now helpless and exposed
before him.

"Turn around," he ordered.  "Let's see the back side."

The slender black woman looked up into his leering face.  She knew she
was powerless to say no and turned around as instructed.

"Not too bad, girlie," observed Ben, "not too bad at all.  Nice tight
ass.  Goes good with those boobs of yours.  Niggers are just built
right.  That's for sure."

Rashanta's face burned at being talked to this way.  What little
professional decorum Deputy Lewis had displayed earlier was completely
gone now.  Apparently he felt a lot bolder here in the jail with his
charges completely vulnerable and under his power.  Never had she had
to endure such humiliation.

The white woman behind the counter looked annoyed and clearly didn't
appreciate the admiring looks the two deputies were giving the black
woman.  Ben turned to Desiree.

"But you, Dee Dee," he went on, "are a fat nigger cow.  Big fat
hangin' cow udders, that's what you've got.  But I know you've a got a
sweet pussy in there somewhere to go with your big fat black ass,
ain't that right?"

Desiree blushed and looked down at her feet.  The big girl shifted her
weight back and forth.  He winked at the other deputy.

"'Course, that's how Wally here likes 'em," continued Ben.  "Fat,
black, and dumb."

"I sure do," agreed Wally.

He turned to the white woman at the counter.

"Stuff for two, Annie," said the heavy set deputy.

Annie eyed the two colored women with a look that disturbed Rashanta.
The white woman turned and took two blankets, two sets of sheets, and
two orange gowns like the one she was wearing and place them on the
counter.

"Here you go, meat," the white woman said and slowly looked back and
forth between the two negroes.

"Pick it up," urged Wally.  "We ain't got all night."

Rashanta picked up the gown and started to put it on.

"What the fuck do you think you're doin', you dumb nigger?"  asked the
white man.  "I'm in a rush to get out of here.  I ain't waitin' on you
to get all gussied up!  Do that in your cell."

"She's got a lot to learn!" Ben laughed.  "I gotta get goin' now,
Wally.  The little woman will have my hide if I keep showin' up late
from work."

"You are so whipped, Ben," chuckled Wally, shaking his head slowly.
"No wonder you like comin' down here an' takin' it out on the the
darkies."

"Hey, she's got the sweet pink pussy I like," replied Ben.  "So I'll
put up with bein' whipped by it!  Then I can come down here where
pussy whippin' takes on a whole new meanin'!"

"You got that right, bro," agreed Wally.  "It sure do."

Ben walked back the way they'd come in.  Wally turned to his charges.

"Well?" he started, "Let's move it!"

The slender black woman picked up the bedding and gown and the deputy
led them past a row of cells.  The cells were totally open consisting
of barred walls.  The first four cells each had two black women in
them who all looked at the new comers with mild interest.  Desiree was
looking into each cell to see if she knew anyone.  Rashanta kept
looking straight ahead but could feel their eyes upon her.

"You two'll be bunking together tonight," said Wally, opening the cell
door.

Inside was a steel framed bunk bed with two bunks, each with a stained
mattress on it.  The cell was just deep enough for the length of the
bed and maybe twice as far across as the width of the bunks.  The two
naked colored women entered and the white deputy closed the door and
locked it behind them.

"I can't climb into the top bunk so I'll take the bottom one," said
Desiree.

The big girl put the bedding down on the lower bunk and slipped the
gown on.  It was tight on her.  She made her bed and lay down on it.
Rashanta put her gown on as well.  She she put the sheets and blanket
on the top bunk and climbed up and got in.

"All right," came a male voice.  "Lights out.  Keep it quiet back
there."

It had been quite an eventful day.  She'd started the day off flying a
thousand miles to make million dollar decisions for her employers
large chain of stores.  Now the black woman was in jail and no one
knew where she was.  She felt alone and vulnerable.  Tired as she was,
it was hard to sleep, wondering what lay in store for her.  If the
events she'd experienced so far were any indication, it wasn't going
to be pleasant.

The lights went out, plunging the cell into darkness.  Rashanta
gradually drifted off to sleep.


  
Rashanta-01