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A different type of Pretty Woman story

by D-Donohoe 2 months ago in fact or fiction
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Sometimes being nice has unintended consequences

Now, I am a realist when it comes to my physical appearance. I have never considered myself a visually attractive individual. I’ve got a lot more confidence over the last few years but even now I’d probably rate myself a 6/10. I haven’t got the best physique and I don’t think my face has that classical level of attractiveness.

What I do have is a good sense of humor, I’m smart and when I’m around people, particularly people that I care about I make sure that they know I’m listening to them and treat them well. The people I choose to have in my life are all very special to me, and I like to make sure that they feel that way.

That is what I have attributed to being in relationships with women I would otherwise rate as well and truly out of my league.

As a drug squad detective, I met a lot of women. I also worked with one of the best-looking detectives in the state, and in the looks department, you were regularly overshadowed by him. Unfortunately, he is also a nice bloke, so you can’t even hate him for it.

The approach I used to the people in my life, was like how I would get my informants. I’d treat them with respect and make sure they felt listened to. Sometimes, the unforeseen consequence of this was that they would mistake my kindness for something more.

Tammy was a heroin addict that had moved to town to escape her drug problems. Unfortunately, these sorts of issues were not easy to leave behind and she quickly began using again. She went back to prostitution to fund her habit and a motel owner alerted us to her comings and goings. When we executed a search warrant on her hotel room, she was only wearing a towel, her latest client only leaving 20 minutes before our arrival. We located drugs and associated paraphernalia in the room, she was terrified.

My partner and I worked to calm her down and treat her with dignity. We got a female officer to be with her while she got dressed so that she didn’t feel any more vulnerable than she already was. I started to run a few checks on her and found she had previous drug convictions interstate. She was the same age as me, but the years of drug use meant she looked much older. It was obvious that she was a very attractive woman before drugs began ravaging her body. Because of her history, she was facing a harsher penalty, she was terrified of going to jail.

I offered her a cigarette and we talked. I mentioned the ability to get letters of comfort that wouldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t go to jail but it could at least lessen the penalty. She seemed genuine about wanting to get out of the cycle of drugs and sex work.

At one point she made the comment, “I’m so sick of guys coming here, just fucking me, and then leaving”.

I didn’t know whether I should point out the position description for being a sex worker. But it was a moment that resonated with me, how someone in this position still craved a level of intimacy from a partner.

Tammy trusted me and gave me some useful intelligence that we could act upon. I gave her my phone number in case she needed to talk to me about anything else. Some good informants would often keep in touch to turn on people that had ripped them off, or to remove competition. I would register each informant, including Tammy, and log any contact from her moving forward as an integrity measure.

A few weeks later, I got a message from Tammy which read, “Can u come see me, I’m staying at the Exchange Hotel”.

I was on the day shift and arranged to attend at about 11 am. I took my drug squad partner with me. When we got to her room, she answered wearing only a towel again. When she saw my partner there, she seemed a little irritated and asked if we could talk alone. I explained that it was standard practice for two officers to be present, but she persisted and asked if she could talk to me for five minutes alone. My partner agreed to wait outside the room for five minutes.

Tammy sat on the bed, and it was soon obvious from the way she moved her legs that she was not wearing anything under her towel (think ‘Basic Instinct’). She began talking about how she felt safe with me and how she appreciated the way I treated her. I created an excuse to talk to my partner outside, and we said that an urgent job had come in, so we’d have to leave.

The next day I introduced Tammy to a female detective and advised her that she would be acting as her contact from now on. Tammy appeared to be let down, but she acknowledged the change in arrangements. She attempted to text me for a few weeks after that, but I would message her new handler, and get them to make contact.

A few weeks later Tammy left town. I never found out what happened to her. I sure hope that she found the love and intimacy she had been craving for so long.

fact or fiction

About the author


Amateur storyteller, LEGO fanatic, leader, ex-Detective and human. All sorts of stories: some funny, some sad, some a little risqué all of them told from the heart.

Thank you all for your support.

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