Speakeasy Solidarity

“Now I’m not going to ask you again!” Sergeant Bright shouted. Four disobedient women stood in front of her and her male officers, dressed only in their underwear. But despite their undress, even in the more modest year of 1930, the women remained silent, with harsh and defiant looks on their faces. Even in their lacy, embarrassing unmentionables, these young ladies projected a sense of strength.

“Tell me where you’re getting this-” Bright paused to lift a half-empty bottle of beer over her head- “Or I’m gonna take the brassieres, slips, and camisoles off the lot of you!” That got a bit of a reaction, at least. The black-haired woman, an Armenian in black bra and panties, gave her companions a sidelong glance. But the shortest woman, in pastel pink lacy slip, met her gaze. She gave the black-haired woman a slight nod and a wry smile, and then all the women returned to defiantly staring at Sergeant Bright.

Bright was a redheaded Irish gal herself, and her pasty skin tended to turn bright pink when she got emotional. Sure enough, her anger boiled over, and she turned a deep ruddy rose color. “Fine, if you lot want to show off your tits, I’m happy to oblige!” she screeched. The stocky male officers smirked as Bright approached the lineup of flappers.

She ripped the lacy slip off the shortest woman, revealing the young woman had very little on underneath- only a loose-fitting corset and suspenders for her stockings. Her dark purplish-pink areolas rose above the top of the shabby white corset, and a small blonde patch of pubic hair stuck out from below. Sergeant Bright briefly averted her eyes before clearing her throat. “Where’s the speakeasy?” she asked. “Where did you get the beer?”

No answer awaited her, so she stepped up to the next woman, a tall blonde. Sergeant Bright snapped the thin straps of her white slip, which fell to the floor. This woman was a little more dressed, with white bra, panties, and suspenders underneath. She motioned for the flapper to turn around, which she did after a brief delay. Fuming, Bright quickly undid the woman’s bra and tossed it away. Pert, wide-set breasts wobbled free, but still no words spilled from the flapper’s lips.

Sergeant Bright marched to the third woman, a slight brunette who matched the ideal flapper figure perfectly- thin, boyish, and spritely. A hint of a wry smile clung to her stiffly buttoned lips. “I don’t suppose you’re any smarter than your friends here?” Bright growled. No answer came, of course. The policewoman swiftly tugged off her victim’s pink-and-white camisole, leaving her in only stark white panties with little silky ribbons on the legs. Her slight, modest breasts came into sight, her brownish-pink nipples standing erect in the chilly air.

“Really?” Sergeant Bright shouted. “You’re really gonna stand here naked and indecent just to keep some two-bit bar open? Ya must be stupider than I thought!” She stomped over to the Armenian woman and tore off her bra with two sharp tugs. The poor woman blushed- her sizable breasts jiggled at mid-chest, hardly the boyish figure that all the hip girls were looking to have. But topless though she was, she didn’t say a thing. Silently, the women all linked hands.

Bright’s face turned pink and red all over again. She opened her mouth for another tirade, but just then, the interrogation room door creaked open. Bright’s heart sank- it was Lieutenant Chambers. Chambers was the kind of woman who wouldn’t even touch a deck of cards because it “brought her too close to immoral gambling”. She wasn’t going to appreciate Bright’s creative interrogation methods, especially because this wasn’t the first time she had been caught in the act.

Cringing, Sergeant Bright slowly turned to face her commanding officer. Lieutenant Chambers stood with her hands on her hips, her face a picture of boiling, righteous anger. “You’re lucky I wouldn’t put you out on the streets in wintertime, Bright,” she said. “But you’ll suffer your just desserts, believe me.”

Defeated, Bright dropped the Armenian woman’s bra and lowered her head. “Parking detail, ma’am?”

“Oh no,” Chambers said. “I have something much more appropriate in mind.”

30 minutes later, Sergeant Bright stood in a briefing room, writing a single sentence over and over again on a chalkboard. Her hand was starting to cramp, and her red hair was filled with chalk dust. She attempted to brush some of the dust out, but only made a worse mess in her scraggly curls. Several giggles filled the room. Bright meekly turned to Lieutenant Chambers and asked, “Could you at least keep them from laughing, ma’am?”

“No,” Chambers sighed. “Hurry up and finish.” And so Bright continued to repeat in cursive scrawls, “Do to others what you want them to do to you,” as she stood stark naked in front of Lieutenant Chambers and the four flappers, who were fully dressed once more. They continued to laugh at Bright, whispering rude comments about her pasty white skin and her chubby butt that jiggled as she moved back and forth.

Whining, Bright looked down at her erect pink nipples and coppery thatch of pubic hair and felt a fresh surge of humiliation. This night couldn’t be over any sooner. “Looks like you could use a drink,” the Armenian woman giggled.

---

A throwback to the crime-filled 1930s. Originally posted on Deviantart in 2018.