Free Short Stories
The Bargain: A Sapphic Short Story
Alison Naomi HoltShare
Why are they looking at me like that? Officer Stacy Coltrain glanced at her dark blue uniform shirt, checking for stains or tears she might have missed after picking herself up off the ground. She adjusted her gun belt, slid her Glock an inch to the right until it sat in the groove on her right hip, and swiped at the back of her pants to get the last bits of dirt off her butt.
Small and stocky, with short brown hair and, from what several ex-girlfriends told her, a not-too-pretty face, she didn’t present an imposing figure. One thing she did know for certain, though, was that people tended to underestimate her abilities when it came time to make an arrest. That’s precisely what had happened a few minutes earlier when the numb nuts lying at her feet had laughed at her order to turn around.
Stacy had been distracted by a beautiful woman standing among the crowd, which rarely happened, if the truth be told. The arrestee had taken advantage of her inattention and shoved her hard enough to send her flying. It had been a long time since anyone had laid a hand on her, and Stacy chuckled at herself as she continued to swipe the dust from her uniform. The crowd had cheered when she’d gone down, and once up, she grinned good-naturedly and held her hands out to the side. “Yeah, yeah, he got in a lucky shove.”
Egged on by the crowd, the guy made the mistake of trying a clumsy, beer-befuddled grab for her head.
This time, she was ready for him. Brushing aside his hand with her forearm, she neatly punched the brachial plexus on the side of his neck. Once. Hard.
The six-foot-three hulk dropped without a sound.
Heaving his meaty left arm behind his back, she slapped on the cuff, hauled his other hand around, and ratcheted the second cuff next to the first.
The once raucous crowd stood in absolute silence. Three of the guy’s friends gaped at the sight of their loudmouthed pal lying unconscious with his overly muscled arms cuffed behind his back.
None of them made a move to help the poor sod, which suited Stacy just fine. Her father had held the karate rank of Roku Dan and had trained her until his early death on her twenty-third birthday. By then, she’d attained Yon Dan, still two ranks below her dad. In the ensuing years, she’d surpassed him by earning the Shito-Ryu Dan, one of only a few women to have done so. Not only that, she’d met her goal of obtaining the rank two months before reaching her thirty-fifth birthday.
She was well-versed in fighting multiple opponents simultaneously but wasn’t one to go out of her way to prove her skills. She again held her hands out to her sides and asked the staring crowd, “What?”
No one said anything until the woman who’d initially caught her eye stepped forward. The lady wore her dark hair in a short pixie cut with chopped bangs, a look that focused attention away from the rounded face and onto her slightly slanted eyes. “Is he dead?”
Stacy rolled her eyes. “No. Why would I kill a drunken idiot just because he shoved me?”
“He looks dead, and he just... dropped. Do you know who that is?” She squinched up her nose, giving her an impish look Stacy found kind of cute.
Pulling the man’s driver’s license from her shirt pocket, she read aloud, “Jeffrey M. Moorehouse.” She shrugged. “Is that supposed to mean something?”
The young coed’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “He’s only the best collegiate center fielder in baseball today. If you arrest him, you’re going to cause all kinds of hurt for the game this weekend."
Stacy glanced down at the unconscious Jeffrey and then shrugged again. “Too late. I guess he shouldn’t have punched the waiter and then shoved me when I told him to turn around. You his girlfriend?”
The woman poked her thumb against her chest and squeaked, “Me?” Several of the women in the crowd chuckled, and the lady’s grin stretched from one side of her face to the other, revealing a set of straight white teeth that would make any orthodontist proud. “He’s got the wrong equipment for me,” the same sparkle danced in her eyes, “if you know what I mean.”
She raised her brows and cocked her head in a come-hither look, causing the drunken crowd to hoot and holler their encouragement.
Stacy knew exactly what she meant and was suddenly regretting the long drive she’d have to make to get this guy booked into jail. If that hadn’t been an opening line for a date, she didn’t know what was. She glanced down at the unconscious baseball player lying at her feet. It could take up to a minute for a brachial stun to wear off, so while she waited for him to come around, she pulled her notebook out of her back pocket and stepped over to the woman. “Did you see what happened?”
“To him? Heck yeah. What a punch.” The woman’s admiring gaze flowed up from Stacy's boots, paused briefly on her shapely breasts before slowly returning to look her directly in the eyes. “You’re not really going to arrest him, are you?”
“Yes, I am. And I meant, did you see what happened when he punched the waiter?”
“Oh, that.” She turned and waved a dismissive hand at the hapless waiter who was sitting at one of the little round tables in front of the Greek Pitarita Place. “Yes, as usual, Jeffrey was getting too loud and obnoxious. He ordered another beer with a whiskey chaser, and Alfie, that’s the waiter, told him he’d had enough.” She shook her head sadly, “Not a good idea to tell the star outfielder he can’t have whatever his little heart desires.” She turned back to Stacy with a comical look on her face.
“And?”
“And what?”
Smiling slightly, Stacy tapped her pen on the notepad and waited.
The woman’s impish grin returned. “You know ‘what.’ Apparently, you arrested him for ‘what.’”
Stacy’s bullshit antennae tingled. Not a lot, but enough to get her attention. This lady was deliberately avoiding giving a direct answer. “Why don’t you tell me what you saw? I know what other people said happened, and I’d like to get your observations.”
“What did the other people say?”
Stacy’s eyes narrowed as she studied the woman. It was apparent what game she was playing, and Stacy decided to slow things down a bit. “Well, since you’re a witness, can I get your name?”
“Amanda.”
“Amanda what?”
“Abramson.”
As Stacy wrote ‘Amanda Abramson’ in her notebook, Jeffrey moaned and wriggled around, trying to sit up. The combination of alcohol and cuffed hands slowed the process enough that she had time to get more information. “Address and phone number?”
A mischievous grin spread across Amanda's lips, her expression full of playful charm like she wanted to take Stacy’s face in her hands and give her a passionate kiss. “Is that the cop asking?”
Wishing she could say no, Stacy smiled, felt a slight blush rise into her cheeks, and said, “Yes.” She mentally added, unfortunately, before repeating, “Address and phone number?” When Amanda gave it, she said, “Date of birth?” She held her pen poised over the notebook, expecting a date that indicated Ms. Abramson was in her early twenties.
The year she gave had Stacy taking a closer look. Here was a thirty-three-year-old woman with a twenty-year-old face. Now that Stacy knew what to look for, she noticed the small laugh lines radiating from the corners of her eyes. And what incredible green eyes they were. She stared into them for longer than necessary, feeling herself falling into their depths until Jeffrey heaved himself to his knees and then to his feet.
“Hey. What the fuck? Get these off me.” It seemed the brachial stun had a slightly sobering effect because he was able to pronounce the entire sentence without the exaggerated slur he’d had before his fall.
A patrol car pulled up and parked behind Stacy’s unit. Two officers from her squad got out and sauntered her way. One man, a baseball fanatic who’d played college ball himself, stared at Jeffrey and then turned incredulous eyes on the patrolwoman who’d just arrested the man who was going to win them the game on Saturday. He glanced at his partner and then noticed Amanda standing next to Stacy. He politely acknowledged her with a nod. “Ms. Abramson.”
Stacy studied the woman again, wondering how Marty knew her. Granted, he was a fifteen-year veteran of the police department who knew plenty of people associated with collegiate sports. But why would he know Amanda Abramson? That funny feeling she’d had when Amanda danced her way around answering questions rose to the fore. She stared into her eyes again, this time with suspicion replacing the nascent lust.
The smile was still in Amanda’s eyes, maybe even more so now that Marty had arrived. The woman’s gaze drifted from Stacy to Marty. She held out her hand. “Officer Morgan. Good to see you again.”
Marty shook her hand. “I guess you’ve met Officer Coltrain here, and this is my partner, Michael Dugan. Mike and Stacy, this is Amanda Abramson, lead counsel for the University sports department.”
Stacy rolled her eyes at Amanda’s duplicity just as Jeffrey belched a loud and long refrain that practically echoed off the surrounding buildings. Everyone stepped back from the alcohol fumes, and Mike and Stacy both waved their hands in front of their faces to clear the air. Stacy grabbed Jeffrey’s arm to lead him to the patrol car.
He didn’t move.
She waited for Marty and Mike to help propel him along, but they didn’t move, either. Instead, after a few beats, Marty took Stacy’s elbow and walked her to the patrol car while Mike waited with Amanda and Jeffrey.
Stacy crossed her arms and leaned against the hood, waiting.
“Look, Stace, you can’t arrest him.”
“He belted that waiter hard enough to break his nose and then shoved me to the ground. I think I can.”
Marty’s head jerked back. He stared at her with twin emotions of doubt and disbelief splashed across his craggy face. “You ended up on the ground? I don’t believe it.” Everyone knew her expertise in karate, and she knew for a fact Marty had never seen her bested by anyone, ever.
“I was distracted, and he got in a lucky shove.”
A sly grin appeared as he glanced back at Amanda. “I’ll bet. She’s a looker, ain’t she? I asked her out once, and that’s when I learned she bats for the other side. Just your type, too.”
Stacy shook her head. “My type doesn’t include lawyers.”
He barked out a laugh. “Don’t hold that against her. She’s nice. Did you get her number?”
“As a witness, yes.”
He raised his brows and puffed out a quick breath. “Ha. Yeah right. Look, did you ask the waiter if he wants to press charges?” He glanced over his shoulder at Alfie, who was standing now and laughing with some patrons who’d gathered around to pat him on the back and probably cajole him into taking one for the team.
“Marty, he broke the guy’s nose.”
“How do ya know? Didja call meds?”
She shook her head, “No. Alfie said he didn’t need them, but I know a broken nose when I see one.” Stacy was still watching the waiter when a young man stepped up and placed both hands on either side of Alfie’s nose. With a quick jerk, he expertly snapped the cartilage back into place.
The crowd cheered, and Alfie gingerly reached up to feel his realigned beak. After a moment, he slowly grinned at the crowd and nodded, earning himself an even louder cheer than before.
Stacy sighed when Alfie looked around, spotted her standing with Marty, and came trotting over. She looked over at Amanda, whose smile broadened as Alfie stopped in front of her. “Hey, Officer Coltrain. I decided not to press charges. Jeff’s in my fraternity, and he’s actually a really cool guy. I don’t want to see him go to jail.”
Growling slightly, Stacy nodded at him. “Fine.”
When he jogged back to the crowd, Marty said, “Maybe you could chalk up him shoving you to a lesson learned. Focus on work and not on the pretty women when you’re going to arrest somebody.” When she hesitated, he tried again. “C’mon, Stace. He really is a good guy when he’s sober.”
“I knocked him out, Marty. How’s that gonna look if I end up not arresting him?”
Marty turned and pointed at Amanda, then swung his arm in an arc, asking her to join them. When she did, he said, “If Officer Coltrain agrees to drop the charges against Mr. Moorehouse, will he sign something that says there’ll be no repercussions as far as the arrest?”
Looking more than slightly amused, Amanda pointed to a nearby building on the University campus. “I can draw up the paperwork right now.” She winked at Stacy. “But only if you agree to have a drink with me when you get off shift tonight.”
Blushing furiously at Marty’s ‘I told you so’ look, Stacy held up her hands in surrender. “Fine. But—” She held up a finger, “—you have to write into the agreement that if he assaults another member of the public, the charges for shoving me get reinstated, and he pleads guilty to those charges.”
Her brows rose. “Playing hardball, huh? Let’s take Jeffrey and go to my office so we can work out the details.” She slipped her arm through Stacy’s and led her back to the waiting crowd. She let go of her arm and took Jeffrey aside, presumably to explain his options. When he nodded, Amanda motioned for Marty to come over, and when he unlocked the cuffs, the inevitable backslapping began among the coeds gathered around to watch the show.
In the end, Jeffrey signed the agreement with good cheer, and since Stacy’s shift was almost done, she arranged to meet Amanda at her local watering hole. She drove back to the station and, with great anticipation of having a wonderful evening, clocked out. The rest of the baseball-loving guys in her squad patted her on the back for a job well done.
When Stacy walked into the pub, she spotted Amanda’s laughing green eyes watching for her to saunter through the door. This time, Amanda placed her palms on either side of Stacy’s blushing cheeks, pulled her close, and delivered a warm, heartfelt kiss that both women knew was going to lead to a very pleasurable evening and, hopefully, much, much more to come.
©Alison Naomi Holt 2025
3 comments
Glad your daughter and her husband are safe. That being said, I really like the way you write, I’m a huge fan, and this wee story was funny, light and finishes with loads of promise. Going to read the next one you sent a link to in your newsletter. And thanks for selling your books not only on the Amazon website. I’d rather encourage authors directly than putting money in a billionaire’s pocket.
Interesting. This should be awesome once it is fleshed out in a book.
I love the flirty heat between Stacy and Amanda.