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At fifty, I decided that it was time to retire from my part-time law enforcement career. My biggest concern was keeping my certification from going to inactive status. Fortunately I had made friends with the director of the local police academy, who clued me in to the fact that instructors at the academy were granted active status on their certification from the state. While I wasn?t able to instruct at the regular academy due to my day job, I had my nights and weekends free so took a position as*an instructor at the part-time academy. Unlike the full-time day academy, the part-time trainees went at night for four hours Monday through Friday, and every other Saturday; for a total of twenty weeks. Similar to the full-time academy was the fact that the trainees were almost all still full of the young idealism that rookies possess. Thus, while the instructors tried to bring a sense of levity to the classes and encouraged after-class fraternization at the local cop bar, most of the trainees were way too serious to reciprocate. I say most, because the sixth session that I was involved in contained a trainee who was quite different: Sandy. Sandy was a an attractive twenty-seven year old woman who from the start seemed to be have a more realistic view of the job than her younger classmates. She seemed to also appreciate the cop humor we tried to interject, and was always up for an after-hours mission with the staff at the bar. It was during those soirees that I got to know Sandy better, and learned that she was coming to the academy for a different reason than most. Unlike her fellow trainees, Sandy had actually worked in law enforcement, and was certified in another state. But, because Florida didn?t ?recognize? her home state?s certification process, and unable to get a department to sponsor her, she was using her own money to put herself through the part-time academy hoping that she would be a better candidate for a full-time job already certified. She soon became a favorite of Escort Başakşehir the instructors. Of course, while her attitude and knowledge were obvious plusses, her 36B breasts, tight waist, and perfectly shaped ass were certainly considerations; at least as far as the men were concerned. We all hit on her; we all went down in flames. ?It?s not you, it?s me? was the common reply, and something told me that it was true. Well, one late Friday night, when there would be no class the next morning, she and I ?closed down? the bar. As I walked her to her car, she stumbled several times, but was able to recover on her own. Then she stumbled once more, and I had to catch her. We were suddenly arm in arm and face to face. I leaned in for a kiss, and our lips met. But as I attempted to part her lips to insert my tongue, she suddenly pushed me back, violently. We both fell on our asses. I got up quickly, but Sandy just sat there, sobbing. Concerned that she was hurt, I got down next to her and tried to see what was wrong. Holding me at arm?s length, she insisted that she was okay. Still crying, she apologized for her reaction. I tried to take the blame, but she insisted that it was all her fault; but explained that she had a good reason. ?Oh god,? I said, ?Are you married?? ?Oh no, that?s not it. It?s just that the last guy who tried to kiss me tried to assault me. I guess I still haven?t gotten over it.? ?Well, do you want to talk about it?? ?What?? she replied. ?Here? Now?? ?Sure. We?re too drunk to drive, anyway; and I?ve got nowhere to go. Maybe talking about what happened here tonight might help.? So we sat in the cab of my pick-up and talked. I learned that before Sandy had moved to Florida the department she was working at was all-male, except her. From the very beginning, most of the men considered her nothing more than a sex object. Their antics were mostly juvenile, but one night her own partner handcuffed her to the bars of a cell Bayrampaşa escort and tried to assault her. Fortunately, the Chief walked in. Her partner insisted that it was consensual; she swore otherwise. It was finally ?agreed? that both would ?resign for personal reasons?, and the City paid her enough severance that she was able to relocate here and support herself until she could find work. And the worst part, she said, was that*she might have gone to bed with him had they been on a date. But being forced was so wrong. ?Did you think I was trying to force you into anything tonight?? ?No, that?s no it. My shrink tells me that it is a reaction to a perceived situational loss of control. I?m good if I initiate things, and better if I have total control. But my mind melts down when someone else initiates. And it?s not just sex; it?s major parts of my life. I?m getting better. I need to in order to pass any pre-employment psych test.? ?So if you don?t mind me asking, when was the last time you had ?control sex??? ?I haven?t had any kind of sex with someone else since before the attack. That was two years ago. Please, don?t tell anyone else about this. Okay?? ?Absolutely,? I said. After that night, I tried to be more conscious of Sandy?s predicament. We became a lot closer; I guess unburdening helped a lot. Once*over drinks she told me that she was making real progress with her treatment, and kidded that I would be her ?first? when she was cured. I joked back that I was honored, but that after two years, might she consider someone younger with more stamina due to all of her pent-up desire. She laughed and said that even ?old farts? have their uses. Then one night we were demonstrating the pat-down search that an officer conducts on a suspect. After discussing the proper method for a pat-down, the lead instructor then displayed a collection of weapons that had been hidden by suspects. ?Who can tell me what all of these weapons have in common?? Beşiktaş escort bayan I asked. ?Anyone??*Sandy*raised her hand. ?They went undiscovered despite the pat-down,? she stated with confidence, and*a n officer got hurt."*"Correct. That is why this is so important. Now, our instructors have hidden on their persons various weapons. I want each of you to search each instructor and without letting on what you find, mark in your notebook what you think you have found and where. Each trainee will pat down ecah instructor, regardless of the sex of the recruit or the instructor. Keep in mind, however, that there is a fine line between a legal pat-down and getting to third base.? This last line elicited some chuckles. ?Oh, some of the instructors may not be concealing any weapons at all. Others may have hidden more than one weapon. Okay, let?s begin.? With that the instructors (including me) took ?the position? against the wall and were patted down for the next twenty minutes. When it was Sandy?s turn to pat me down, I noted that she obviously had some hands-on experience from her prior job. While she was good at hiding her reactions, I could tell that she found two of the three weapons I had secreted on myself. I smiled; no one in all of the classes I had taught ever found my ?pubic gun?, a small derringer in an underwear holster that sat right at the top of the base of my penis. When the pat-downs were over, each trainee had to announce how many weapons they thought they detected on each instructor. No one found everything on the others except Sandy. And, as I said, not even Sandy found my third weapon, and I did not reveal where it was hidden. I could tell that Sandy was a little miffed. The class ended soon thereafter. As everyone else filed out, Sandy hung back, looking like she wanted to talk. I gave the high sign to the lead instructor, and when everyone was gone and we were alone, I asked Sandy what was on her mind. With a wicked grin, she asked, ?Where is the third gun?? ?I?m not telling.? ?C?mon, where is it?? ?Nope, can?t tell you.? ?Can I search you again?? ?Sure, but you won?t find it,? I teased. Facing the wall, I leaned forward and assumed the position. ?Wanna bet?? Suddenly, I felt Sandy pull my right arm back behind me and slap on one half of a pair of handcuffs.