(by Det. Starsky, found by Matsir in a stack of old police reports marked Must Be Rewritten)
Look, I’m not a sex fiend, despite Hutch’s claims. I don’t get erections at the drop of a hat. (Well, except that time he greeted me at his door wearing nothing but his stetson and it wasn’t on his scalp) It’s just that sometimes things, well, come up when you don’t want them to, so here’s a few of my tricks to hiding a hard-on at work:
File folders – Every man knows the old junior high trick of hiding behind your books. Guys that’d never picked up a book in their life, hell, guys that probably couldn’t even read were walking the halls sporting Algebra or Civics crotch shields. Same problem, different hallway. Just make sure it’s not the file that Minnie’s been looking for and label side out.
Desk/Table – I know. Another junior high trick, but it works. Somebody sees me fidgeting, they just think a man of action like myself is tired of being behind a typewriter doing reports and can’t wait to be out on the streets. Or that I need to go to the bathroom again, which brings me to
Frequent bathroom breaks – The mens on this floor has some kind of AC glitch. I think it’s colder than the morgue in there. Once that arctic breeze hits my hard on disappears like a terrified turtle. Too chilly for my willy. (hah! I’ll have to remember that one for our next song lyric contest.)
Distract the witness – Either visual, like leaving the top 3 or 4 buttons on my shirt undone. Keeps them looking above the waist. Or really tight pants. Not being one of those pain whippos, this can prevent the problem from, you know, arising. Hutch goes the opposite with those boxy shirts and loose pants. (Like I believed that “anti-fashion” lecture of his) Some of his gawdawful shirts are bad enough to distract me from what’s underneath, though, so I guess it helps both of us.
Or verbal distraction. Engage them in a conversation with an interesting topic, like Bigfoot’s music tastes or the best baseball teams to play the first moon game.
Self Distraction – That’s how I know I’m not sex crazed. When I’m involved in a heavy case, I don’t let other things distract me. Once during the Brock case, I accidentally walked into the ladies room. (The lack of frost on the seat clued me in) So if I haven’t got a case to keep my brain busy, I focus on something else. Like thinking up a no fail money making plan or the next Dobey prank. Or I wonder about the ‘what ifs’ of life, with bonus points if the questions get Hutch to roll his eyes.
Food – Blintz’s wisecracks aside, I don’t have an food kink. Orally fixated – maybe, but jeez, one time with a wild cherry Lifesaver does not a kink make. A nice spicy nosh will get my taste buds all excited, which calms other parts down. Or squad room coffee. Did you know that if your gut thinks its being poisoned your hard on goes away? Of course too much and I gotta go again, so I have the toilet-freezer solution as my back up.
Desperate measures – Let Minnie see it. Damn, she could perform the world’s first verbal bris! Those cracks like “microscopic evidence”, and “petty offense” could turn the Washington Monument into a paperweight.
The best (but sadly rarely used) way is the janitor’s closet – Sometimes what starts out as a silly tease just takes over. Like that time I sucked all’a the color out of a Popsicle or this one time Hutch, he was going undercover as… uh, but that’s a whole different list, ain’t it? Where was I? Oh, then we meet up in the janitor’s closet. That’s when both of us get to hide our hard ons somewhere snug and warm. Except we got to be careful. Hutch can get noisy even with his mouth full, but it’s kinda exciting that we could get caught, that the door could open and anyone could see us, Hutch against the wall like a perp and ohman that moan he gives out when I… er……
Uh, I gotta, uh, get some more coffee. Say, did you hear about how the Russians are cloning woolly mammoths for army use? Think our side will develop woolly mice to scare them away? Damn. Ahh ‘scuse me, but I need to hit the can aaannd I’ll just take these files along to – umm…
Hey, if you see Hutch, tell him he’s gotta meet me. He’ll know where.