Brief Encounters. Suzanne Forster

going to clear this up and we’re going to clear it up now.”

      Gaines turned her around and scrutinized her from head to toe. It was obvious from his perplexed expression that he had no idea how a woman could have been strait-jacketed by her own clothing in mere moments. And with no help from anyone else.

      “You did this to yourself?” he asked.

      Swan glanced down and let out a little moan of despair. A skirt that would normally have covered her legs to mid-calf now exposed her from her belly button downward. The link-sausage undies were an awful sight, but at least she wasn’t dealing with full-frontal nudity. She was too mortified to even consider what her backside must look like. From the way it felt, she was going to have to keep her rear to the wall at all times.

      Swan wasn’t sure it was possible to be more humiliated.

      Rob Gaines proved her wrong.

      “I have to search you,” he said.

      Swan shook her head so hard she nearly lost her balance. “I want a female officer to search me!”

      His shrug said, Sure, whatever you want, lady. “Let’s go then.”

      He pointed to the door, but she didn’t move. “Go where? I can’t even walk.”

      “Headquarters. If you want a female, that’s where we’re going.”

      If angry glares could burn, he would have been charcoal briquettes. “All right,” she sighed. “Get it over with then.”

      “I should call in my partner,” he said.

      “No! Search me, dammit. Frisk me, pat me down, probe my body cavities, whatever the hell you have to do, just do it and get it over with.”

      “Thanks for all the options,” he said dryly. He placed his palms on her waist and began to frisk her in a way that was totally professional but not at all reassuring. He was thorough and patient as he slid his hands along the curves and swells of her body. He never touched her inappropriately. He never even spoke, but there was something about the feathery pressure of his fingers, or maybe it was his smoky aftershave or the heat of his breathing, that elicited what Swan could only call unwelcome sensations. Whew. He was everywhere with his velvet-soft hands, even inside her thighs.

      Swan’s stomach took an express ride down, and her heart went the opposite direction. A weird tremble crept into her breathing, and she very nearly emitted an audible sigh of relief when he stopped. If her panties weren’t damp before, they certainly were now.

      “Thanks,” she said, willing strength back into her legs.

      Apparently satisfied that she was unarmed, he stepped back and studied her hopelessly snarled clothing. “Want me to fix that?”

      It was either him or the bomb squad. “Sure.”

      “Okay, but it may take surgical intervention.”

      “Meaning you’re going to cut off my underwear?”

      “Meaning I’ll try to untangle it, but if I can’t, this is Plan B.” He pulled a penknife from an inner pocket of his jacket and set it on the vanity table. “Either way, I’ll have to go in.”

      “Go in where? Hey!” Swan gasped as he stretched her panty hose out like a slingshot and delved into her drawers. “Hey, stop that!”

      His hand was much too large not to touch things it shouldn’t. So much for professionalism. Something brushed her pubic hair and she let out a squeal.

      “What is this?” she cried, “some kind of macho payback for pulling your pants down?”

      To his credit, he didn’t respond. He went about his business, feeling around some more, working the knots like a safecracker. He plucked and toggled and tugged, but nothing seemed to give way. When he went to pull his hand out, it didn’t give, either. He was stuck.

      Swan let out a horrified gasp. This could not be happening.

      “We seem to have a problem,” he said.

      “No, we don’t,” she informed him in barely audible tones. “Just amputate your hand at the wrist and we’ll be fine.”

      His expression told her he didn’t think much of her suggestion. In fact, if she’d been a zoo animal, and he’d had a tranquilizer gun, she would have been headed for a very long nap.

      “I was thinking of something a little less drastic,” he intoned.

      “Like what?” She didn’t trust any part of this. He wasn’t moving his hand, but she couldn’t help thinking that his eyes were unnaturally bright, and his breathing had deepened. It mortified her to think that he might have discovered the damp spot. Fiend. He was enjoying this.

      “Like this wad of nylon must be ballistic,” he told her. “It could stop a bullet. I recommend Plan B.”

      “These are my best black panties! And my last pair of Tanga panty hose!”

      “Would you like us to be buried in them?” he inquired politely. “Because that’s how long it will take to get the damn things unsnarled.”

      “Oh, use the scissors in the drawer,” she said crossly, gesturing to the vanity where he’d set the penknife.

      Just moments later Swan’s panty hose were in shreds and so were her nerves. She told herself that going commando was preferable to having an FBI agent in her pants, but as Gaines snipped away at her underwear, she wondered how this entry would look in her journal. “Tonight I was handcuffed in my bathroom while an FBI agent surgically removed his hand from my panty hose, after which he hauled me to jail and threw me in a holding cell with hookers and drug addicts.”

      A shudder started at the base of her heels and slithered up her spine.

      “Hold still,” he said. “I’m almost there.”

      She didn’t ask where. She just closed her eyes and held her breath until she felt the wad begin to give way. A moment later his fingers were no longer nestled against her private parts and the garrote that was strangling her stomach was gone! With a few more snips of the scissors, he had the lingerie free and he was gingerly peeling it off her. He even made sure her lower extremities were covered with her skirt. What a prince.

      What was that he was humming? “Natural Woman?”

      She opened her eyes and was surprised to find him standing there, studying her intently, his hands planted on his hips. She could hardly believe this was the same man who’d nearly achieved lift-off in her design center. He could have had the decency to look a little flustered, couldn’t he? Especially when she was breathing like a distance runner. All she could think about at that moment was the satisfaction of breaking through his reserve and making him squirm, too.

      “I’m going to take the cuffs off,” he said, leveling a firm gaze at her. “But I don’t want any problems. Understand?”

      He even waited for her to nod.

      The moment her hands were free, Swan adjusted her blouse and skirt, as if that could restore her respectability. “This is outrageous,” she said in a trembling voice. “How dare you come in here and accuse me of— What am I accused of anyway?”

      “You’re under arrest for several counts of bank fraud, embezzlement, conspiracy and forgery. Serious stuff.”

      Swan gaped at him as he took a card from his coat pocket and began to Mirandize her. He was as nonchalant as if he’d never been messing around in her pants, as if he hadn’t made her tremble and gasp.

      She heard the words about her rights, heard what he said about lawyers and about how anything she said could and would be used against her in a court of law. She heard every bit of it, but none of it truly registered. It felt as if she were not in her own skin anymore. Was she going into shock?

      “Do you understand your rights as I’ve explained