Officer Escobedo opened the door of the adult movie theatre and stepped from the hundred-degree heat into blessed air conditioning. There had been a series of confused calls to the station house about lewd behavior, and Carlos had drawn the assignment. He looked around the lobby, which was empty save for the plump older brunette at the ticket and snack counter who was talking on a cell phone. He walked over and flashed his badge, explaining that he needed to go inside to check out some complaints. The woman shrugged and waved him toward the curtained entrance, still busy with her phone call.

The theatre inside was nondescript - if you’ve seen one X-rated movie house, you’ve seen them all. The place was fairly full, more men than women, plenty of hands in laps but nothing that looked like an obvious violation. The film was some low-quality flick, with wobbly sound, jerky camera work and poor lighting. There didn’t seem to be much of a plot, just lots of T&A and unrealistic money shots.

The officer checked his watch - 45 minutes already? It didn’t seem like that was possible. There was some kind of balcony upstairs; he was going to have to check that out as well. He turned back toward the curtains, his black dress shoes coming loose reluctantly from the sticky floor. Out in the lobby, he crossed to the grilled gate labeled “Couples Only”. It was locked, so he went to talk with the brunette at the ticket counter. She wouldn’t let him up unescorted even after he threatened her with a citation. “Badges are badges, but I’m just the manager - the owner makes the rules,” she explained.

Fortunately, the woman’s assistant arrived at that time, so the brunette, who identified herself as Bridget, handed off the counter duties and announced she would accompany the officer as (you could see her mentally rejecting one word after another) his “chaperone”.

“Doesn’t that locked door violate the fire code?” he asked.

“No, there’s a quick-release on the inside. I’ll show it to you.”

She demonstrated the emergency release on the grilled door, and the two of them climbed the wide stairs to the balcony. Carlos watched Bridget’s ass appreciatively as it swiveled just ahead of him under her loose skirt.

The acoustics upstairs were much worse than downstairs. The movie sound echoed on itself turning the feeble dialogue into confusing goose-gabble; it hurt Carlos’s head trying to make sense of it. The balcony rows had much more leg room than the downstairs seats, and the audience here was lit both from the noisy projector behind them and the light reflected off the movie screen.