This is a true story. The woman at the line was my mother and the Police Chief was a real wolf in sheep's clothing, who had a known appetite for afternoon delights. In our old neighbourhood the empty cruiser was found parked next to the Legion often. Mom used to peek through the curtains at Mrs. So-In-So's house, whose husband made a lot of trips out of town. Back then, I remember overhearing my dad say the Chief was screwing the taxpayers, but I don't know if it was a figurative or literal comment...although in this case, it could have been both.....
The Chief of Police was a man of size
triple chinned and bold as brass
who sought entrance to the boudoirs of stay-at-home wives
using his badge as leverage
to prey on loneliness with wolfish charm.
One day he glimpsed a woman hanging laundry
her dress whipped by summer breezes, wrapped tight against her form
a rarer beauty had never been seen
with raven hair like flowing silk
and lips of ruby, full and sensuous.
His hungry eyes devoured her
thirsting her essence through parched desire,
he entered her driveway with more on his mind than a social call
to be greeted with a neighbourly smile
from lips that could set a lover’s heart ablaze.
Possessing her made him eager and brash
but this woman was not to be fooled
and the twinkle in her eye turned to merriment as he canted his proposition
“If you ever get lonely, hang three pairs of panties on the line,
a sign the coast is clear.”
Amused, the woman's smile transformed to gales of laughter
slashing away at his arrogant pride
turning his face fifty shades of red
he quickly drove off with his tail between his legs
licking the wound of rejection.
Occasionally, the woman would notice other wash lines about town
with a trio of panties strung along the wire
silky invitations to private liaisons
and a black and white cruiser never far away
parked in conspicuous places.