Officer Bucksome pondered Jim's commode for a few more seconds, while Jim pondered Officer Bucksome's generous cleavage. Finally, Vera reached into one of the myriad little leather pouches on her belt, between the handcuffs and the mace, and pulled out a tape measure.
"We'll have to determine the volume of the tank, Sir." Her shirt cuffs were already bloused up almost to elbows, as they were several inches too short for her arms, so without further ado, Vera lifted the lid off the tank and dunked the free end of the measuring tape inside.
The chilly water elicited a small response from Vera's nipples, which poked a little further out through the very tight fabric of her uniform shirt. Jim noted that the location of Vera's headlights meant her areolae were barely inside the gaping neckline of the shirt. He watched Vera's slim midriff, exposed by a three or four inch gap between the unfastened waistband of her skirt and the tails of her shirt, as she worked around the toilet, taking the dimensions of the tank. Fewer than half of the buttons on her shirt were buttoned, and Jim could see that she wore no bra under it. The skirt was barely mid-thigh length, and stretched tight across her ass and thighs whenever she moved.
"There, now to calculate... Oh, hell. Do you know the formula for the volume of a three-dimensional trapezoid?"
Jim was still staring at Officer Bucksome's body.
"Sir? Sir, do you know the formula for the-"
"Huh? Uh- No; I think it involves calculus."
Vera huffed. "Well, we'll just have to estimate it." She began making scribbles on her notepad.
"Um... Why is your uniform two sizes too small?"
Vera started almost violently at Jim's question. "I- As a matter of fact, it's three sizes too small... I think. Now, if you don't mind."
"But why are you wearing it?"
"Please, Sir, this is Police business." Vera muttered something about carrying the three, then finished with a perfunctory circling of the result.
"There. That puts you at... And let's see, you live here alone, Sir?"
"Uh, yes. What happened to your bra?"
"So... one person... seven hundred fifty square feet... that makes..."
"That shirt can't hold much longer."
"Yes, Sir, I'm aware of that. Now, my estimate puts you at zero point six GPF over the limit for a household of one with your square footage, Sir. If you'll sign here..."
Officer Bucksome presented Jim with a small carbon-copy pad containing what looked like a citation. Jim's eyes focused past it to Vera's F-cup bosom straining the seams of her shirt, and the swatch of pale flesh at her left hip where her skirt was unfastened.
"Sir? If you'll sign this... at the bottom, yes."
Jim absentmindedly accepted the citation, still looking at Vera's cleavage.
"Is this the only toilet on the premises, Sir?"
Sat Sep 02 15:38:28 2006