Book 1 The Romance

"Sir, I have a warrant for your arrest."

"I plead the defense of Moses, Officer.  Moses saw a crime ongoing, and he stopped it, cold in its tracks, just like you would have done," David said this rhetorically, but out loud, as he stood up and put his wrists together for the handcuffs the officer had taken from his waist.

In a tired voice, the officer replied, "Tell it to the judge."

                                                                         *       *       *

Twenty-four hours later, David did just that.  Paddle-slapping into the court room from his cell in the adjoining jail complex, dressed in slippers and an orange jumpsuit, he stood short, flat-footed figure on the polished floor dressed in bright orange.  When he had finished his lame, monotone defense, the judge just blinked sleepily, holding up the legal page before his bespectacled face on which was written his sentence and judgment. He looked at David above his reading glasses and asked, "How old are you, young man?"

"Twenty-four, sir, I mean Your Honor."

“Second time around, I see. Similar offense.  We take that into consideration, you know.  Maybe you will learn this time,” said this gray-haired circuit court judge, as if to defend his forthcoming sentence.  “I sen ..."

A bold woman, provocatively dressed, stormed into the echoing courtroom. "Your Honor!" she called out, her clogs whacking the floor loudly, hips moving convincingly under a stretchy red dress.

David's eyes widened.  "Wow!" he said impulsively and a little too loudly.  He was mildly shocked but still more, captivated, his eyes drinking in the delicious feminine cocktail that -- his eyes suddenly dropped to the floor -- he was unlikely to imbibe during the long, lonely years in the slammer.

With a final whack! she made her stand fifteen feet before the judge, who, taken aback, seemed to helplessly acknowledge her provocative presence in his courtroom. Speaking boldly, she said, "Your Honor!" for more than loud enough for the magistrate to hear.  As David stared, he finally recognized the woman as Angela! the damsel in distress he had recently entertained fond hopes of making time with in his romantically captivated masculine heart. Angela continued, "I am the victim of a crime, and it was not committed by the accused.”  David was impressed! “Three ruffians attacked me, one with his filthy, lying mouth, which hurt me deeply, because it was my honor that he attempted to destroy. Many can attest to the fact that I am a virgin, and I am proud of it."  Her large, brown eyes flashed around the room, challenging, actually threatening anyone who even dared to smirk.

David could only goggle, awestruck, helpless as a puppy up for grabs. All thoughts of crime and punishment fled his preoccupied mental faculties.  This was a woman, not a girl!  He duly noted her ample breasts, on bold display.  Was this "statement," meant to have a deleterious effect on his honor?  Could his peers help wondering if this black-robe was ruling ‘under the influence’, legally or illegally?  David looked at the man on the bench again.  Probably in his late 60’s; yes, he definitely appeared to be under the effect of ‘shock and awe’. “This man," Angela continued, pointing her finger at David, "a fellow student whom I had just met, defended my honor.”  She then raised her voice. “Does that mean anything to this court?!  If someone vilely attacks Your Honor, they are sent to jail for contempt of court.  Is that, not right?"

The judge just stared at her like a harried house cat in a fight with a TOM cat.  David felt pity for him … until he finally spoke with shaking voice calmly but very firmly:  "Young lady, I am truly sorry about the unjust offense to your dignity, but this court is trying the actions of the accused, not the actions of those who trespassed your honor."

Without changing expression, she twisted her body to the left, holding every jiggly ounce of it perfectly still, and it appeared, with her dark, flashing eyes she silently commanded someone standing near the entrance doors to the court room.  Soon walking slowly, stumbling at times, appeared Thomas, like one condemned but seeking mercy a suppliant if ever there was one, slowing to a shuffle as he finally approached the bench, his head hanging like a pumpkin ready for snipping, decapitation a welcome end to its misery.

"Do you wish to address the court, young man?" came the judge's stern interrogative demand.

Barely audible, eyes downcast, Thomas stated his name, then whined a squeaky plea: "I wish to withdraw charges, Your Honor.” 

Bang! went the hardwood gavel. "Case dismissed!" propounded the judge.