Originally (early in 2004), I did not rate "75% Off" very highly. I was wrong. While I still consider Part 1 as fairly mediocre (compared to the best of the canon), I drew that conclusion chiefly because of its utter implausibility and the lack of any really outstanding quality to counter-balance that big negative. But I'm afraid I let that lead me to write off the rest -- to which I didn't pay enough attention at the time. After editing the story (and therefore having had to give close attention to the later parts), I have belatedly come to appreciate them for their scope, complexity, richness of characterization, and skill at pushing all the right buttons. Parts 2, 3, and 4 are just about as good as it gets. My own contribution, Part 5, you'll have to judge for yourselves. -- C. L. 75% OFF by Joe Doe INSPIRED BY AN AD FOR A SALE. Part 1 WINNING THE CONTEST HAD SEEMED TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE.... AND IT WAS! Debbie Dalton had won a contest that entitled her to "a shopping spree with 75% off" during the mall's grand opening Saturday morning. But, when she went to the mall's main office, she was stunned to learn that "75% off" didn't refer to the prices. "75% off" referred to Debbie's clothing! The contest entry form was a legally binding contract, and there was no way out for her. She would have to "shop" for four hours at the mall, helping the mall manager promote the mall's products, while 75% of her clothing remained locked in the manager's desk. She had pleaded with the manager to be allowed to keep her bra and panties. But, under the rules, the manager got to decide which items of clothing would be removed. And the dirty old man soon stripped her of everything but her gray wool socks and yellow hiking boots. Four grinning security guards and the manager marched a very nervous Debbie from the mall office to her first stop: the athletic equipment section of the department store. As she walked through the mall, Debbie quickly attracted a huge crowd of grinning men...mainly unhappy husbands who had been dumped at the mall while their wives were shopping. But, watching beautiful, blushing Debbie march butt-naked through the mall with her hands on top of her head, was even better than watching sports in the TV department! She was grateful to have the army of men surrounding her. At least they provided her with some protection from the hateful stares of the women shoppers. "Slut," "whore," and "prick tease," were some of the gentler words that she heard her angry sisters use to describe her as she pranced naked through the crowded stores. At the athletic department, she worked out on the rowing machine and jiggled delightfully when she ran on the treadmill. She had problems with the pull-ups, but several of the male shoppers were happy to put their hands on her soft and supple bottom to help "give her a boost." But, without a doubt, the most popular piece of equipment that she demonstrated was the trampoline. It was almost Halloween, so the next stop was the local costume shop. Debbie was grateful to be allowed to dress, but she found the costumes that the crowd selected for her were all sexist and demeaning. She dressed as a cheerleader, a Playboy bunny, a belly dancer, a French maid, a schoolgirl, a sexy meter maid, a diapered baby, a mental patient, a Roman slave girl, and a pirate wench. But when it was finally time to leave, everyone agreed that she should return to her original costume: "Lady Godiva in hiking boots!" It was the costume all the men liked best. The next stop was the drugstore. There was a special on "Lady Smooth Electric Razors," and the store manager was happy to demonstrate the product by shearing off Debbie's blonde bush while the crowd cheered. Before, she had been naked. Now, she was BARE! Her lack of pubic hair made her next stop, the shoe store, even more rewarding for her army of fans. The salesman, a dead ringer for Al Bundy in both looks and manners, did little to alleviate her distress. She glanced unhappily at the clock on the wall, as she was matched past the cheering men at the food court yet again. All of her humiliations so far had consumed less than two hours, which meant she still had another two hours to go. The mall manager did tell her that she would, of course, be rewarded for her efforts. (But she was not going to get a shopping spree. And she would not get to purchase anything for 75% off.) As a result, she was miffed. After all, she'd been marching around stark naked in front of a crowd of leering, cheering men for four hours! Given the size of the crowd and the publicity she was attracting, shouldn't she get more than a $25 gift certificate? ****************************** That night, the mall manager happily reviewed the sales figures from the first day. The results were fantastic. The women shoppers had spent a lot, but that was expected. Women loved discount malls. But, for some mysterious reason, every adult male in town also visited the mall that day. True, they didn't shop much during Debbie's "performance," but, afterwards, the inspired men eagerly purchased expensive perfume, lingerie, candy, cards, and flowers for their wives and girlfriends. Apparently Debbie's little romp had put the males in the mood for love, and the mall manager had the sales receipts to prove it. The costume store immediately sold out of every costume she had modeled. The drug store had sold out of both electric razors and condoms. Photography departments throughout the mall had sold every camcorder, every camera, and every roll of film. And it was standing room only at Hooters. And the athletic department had sold all their trampolines. The manager scanned the photos on his desk. He had taken Debbie to the mall's photographic studio for some "promotional photos." The crowd loved watching the photographer put her through her paces. Most of the photos were too risqué for the Sunday newspaper. But those could be downloaded on the mall's web site for a modest fee. For the Sunday ad section, the manager selected a photo of Debbie sitting on her cute little tush looking up at a "75% off" sign. She was wearing nothing but her socks, shoes, and a big smile. The ad was subtle, but the manager knew that, when he promised another "75% off sale" next to a picture of Debbie, attendance would soar. Of course Debbie, so prim and proper, wouldn't like the fact that she was appearing buck naked on the front of the color pull-out section in the Sunday newspaper. But that was too bad, wasn't it? Word of her humiliation had spread quickly, and the mall manager knew that no woman would be stupid enough to show up next Saturday to claim her "prize." But a municipal judge had agreed that the contest entry form was a legally binding contract, and the mall manager had already arranged for the Sheriff to wake up next week's surprised winner and "escort" her to the mall. The manager had an enormous stack of entry forms on his desk. Every woman in town had signed up for the contest. He had so many gorgeous women to choose from that he had already decided to award "prizes" every Sunday, as well as every Saturday. He might even parade three or four naked women through the mall at once, to alleviate the congestion problems that Debbie had caused. Why not? None of the women had bothered to read the fine print, and it was their laziness and greed that had gotten them into this mess. It was deliciously ironic to use their desire for discount clothing to strip them naked. Since every luscious babe in town had signed a contract to parade around the mall in her birthday suit to help him drum up sales, he intended to take full advantage of the situation. He chuckled as he toyed with the electric razor on his desk. The women in this town were sheep.... And he planned to shear every one of them! ****************************** Part 2 JUDGE ASHLEY CONSIDERS AN INJUNCTION TO BLOCK FURTHER STRIPPING AT THE MALL IN THIS SEQUEL TO "75% OFF." (I DID NOT PLAN ON DOING A SEQUEL, BUT THE NICE REACTION TO THE ORIGINAL STORY BY NATALIE AND OTHERS CHANGED MY MIND.) Judge Ashley Marsh examined the paperwork in front of her carefully. In one sense, it was an open and shut case. A huge number of women had entered a contest that promised them "75% off" at a discount mall. But, when the first winner arrived, she had been informed that "75% off" referred to her clothes, not to the prices. The first "winner," a beautiful blonde named Debbie, had spent four hours marching around the mall wearing nothing but gray socks and yellow hiking boots. Naturally the promotion had been a sensation, and the naked, blushing female had attracted a huge audience of eager male followers. The mall manager was delighted with the sales receipts and the publicity, and he had promised to strip down four more women the following Saturday -- and another four on Sunday. The manager didn't reveal WHO would be stripping, and the advertising teased, "Hold onto your knickers, ladies. It could be ANYONE!" The element of surprise allowed every guy in town to fantasize about seeing a frosty co-worker, an untouchable neighbor, a local celebrity, or even a prissy wife or girlfriend forced to parade naked for all to see.... Meanwhile, the beautiful women of the town wrestled with a different vision. They imagined themselves squirming helplessly, handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, while a whistling cop drove them toward their fate. The terrified women of the town had gone to Judge Ashley to get an injunction against the contest. Surely she would save them. While it was true that the women had signed a binding contract, Ashley realized that there were sufficient grounds for voiding it. The public nudity made it illegal, and the fact that the draconian "personal services agreement" was disguised as a contest was clearly deceptive. But there was another side to the argument. Although she was a respected jurist and civic leader, Judge Ashley herself had had fantasies of exposure and humiliation for years. In truth, Ashley found the details of the case thrilling.... She had agreed to schedule a hearing on Friday afternoon to consider the request for an injunction. The women would have precious little time for an appeal if she ruled against them. And Ashley was secretly delighted at the thought of the beautiful and sophisticated women of the town stewing in their own juices as the dreaded weekend deadline approached. She picked up Debbie's deposition and read it for the 10th time. As she read, her hand discreetly slipped underneath her skirt.... WHEN THE MALL MANAGER SAID THAT 75% OFF REFERRED TO MY CLOTHING, I PLEADED WITH HIM TO LET ME KEEP MY BRA AND PANTIES. THEY WERE VERY SKIMPY AND NEARLY TRANSPARENT, AND THEY WOULDN'T PROVIDE ME WITH MUCH PROTECTION. BUT HE JUST LAUGHED AND SAID THAT A GREEDY LITTLE BIMBO LIKE ME DIDN'T DESERVE ANY PROTECTION AT ALL. I HAD FILLED OUT THE CONTEST FORM, HE SAID, AND THAT MEANT HE HAD EVERY RIGHT TO PARADE ME BARE NAKED THROUGH THE MALL. I BEGGED AND PLEADED FOR SOMETHING TO COVER MYSELF WITH...ANYTHING THAT WOULD ALLOW ME TO MAINTAIN A SHRED OF DIGNITY! BUT HE JUST SLAPPED MY BARE BOTTOM AND PUSHED ME OUT INTO THE HALLWAY WEARING NOTHING BUT MY GREY KNEE SOCKS AND YELLOW HIKING BOOTS. I TRIED TO COVER MYSELF, BUT HE ORDERED ME TO PUT MY HANDS ON TOP OF MY HEAD AND WALK "STRAIGHT AND TALL." AS SOON AS I CAME THROUGH THE DOOR, THE MEN OUTSIDE STARTED WHISTLING AND CHEERING. IT WAS THE MOST HUMILIATING MOMENT OF MY LIFE.... IT SEEMED THAT EVERY MAN I HAD EVER KNOWN WAS HOOTING AT ME! Ashley climaxed as she imagined herself naked in front of all of the men she knew. As a judge and an ardent feminist, she had made a lot of enemies over the years, and no doubt her appearance at the mall would attract an eager, enthusiastic crowd. The thought was humiliating to be sure, but also exciting.... Wiping her hands, Ashley tried to dismiss the thought. After all, she was a powerful and respected judge, not some helpless little bimbo for a mall manager to parade around like a stripper on a catwalk. But, as she scanned the names on the injunction, she began to have second thoughts. The plaintiffs were not strippers or call girls. They were housewives and successful businesswomen. The thrill of the contest was that it reduced respected and accomplished women to the status of helpless sex objects. It didn't matter if you were a doctor or a lawyer or the mayor's wife. If you had filled out a contest form, then the mall manager asserted the legal right to strip you naked. And then the show would begin.... Ashley swallowed hard. If she herself filled out a contest form, she would be no different than the rest.... She picked up the small card that she had received in the mail that very day. Although the "secret" of the contest was out, postcards from the huge mass mailing were still arriving every day. She had nearly fainted when she saw the contest postcard arrive with HER name printed on the top of the form. At first she had thought that she had somehow "won" the contest. Had she filled out an entry form and forgotten? Or had someone filled out the form for her? The thought chilled her to the bone. But, as she reviewed the card, she realized it was just an entry form with her name and address pre-printed across the top. How thoughtful. The entry form was completely filled out for her, and the postage was prepaid. All she needed to do was sign her name, and the Sheriff and the mall manager would take care of the rest. The small postcard had the words "SALE," "WIN," and "75% OFF" in caps all over it, and the actual contract rules were an illegible smudge at the bottom. It was chilling to see her pre-printed name on the postcard. She closed her eyes and imagined herself standing in the mall manager's office, reluctantly undressing under his amused gaze. With her eyes still closed, she placed her hands on top of her head and imagined what it would feel like when the mall's doors opened.... Feeling a small trickle of sweat run down her back, she opened her eyes and was relieved that she was still in the safety of her elegant judicial chambers. Staring down at the form unhappily, she trembled. Why did it frighten her so much? After all, she was prominent, a community leader. Why was she terrified of a little piece of cardboard? She was obviously being silly. And she knew that the only way to overcome a fear was to confront it. She put the tip of her elegant Cross pen against the signature block. The card was pretty and attractive, and the large empty white block at the bottom of the card was practically begging for her signature. Like the contest itself, the card had been carefully designed. Ashley paused and tried to read the fine print at the bottom. She wasn't just some silly, helpless little airhead who would sign a contract without reading it.... Was she? She glared down at the menacing form and defiantly signed her name. Complete! Done! Finished! Her hands began trembling again as she looked at the postcard with her name on it. Now she was ready to be...processed.... She shuffled the card in with her other outgoing mail and then put the stack back in her "out-box," the card happily disappearing into the pile. A stranger would barely glance at that heap of outgoing mail. No one would ever guess that it contained the humiliating document that would settle Judge Ashley's hash.... She glanced at the clock on the wall. The mailroom guy wouldn't be by her office for at least another hour, so she could let the postcard stay buried for a few minutes. After all, what was she afraid of? Still, she felt herself growing more and more tense as the seconds ticked by. She stared at the pile of mail on her desk. She couldn't see the postcard, but she knew it was there, mocking her. She reached for the remote on the TV, determined to distract herself from the ominous card nestled there, just within reach. The voice of the pretty female news anchor blared from the TV. "The community is still in an uproar over the Saturday strip of a local woman here in the new discount mall," the anchorwoman said. "We asked a number of people for their reactions...." The camera cut away to show three lovely young professional women at the mall. These women were obviously wealthy and well-educated, and it was clear that they had no sympathy for the victim. "I was here on Saturday, and I think the little tramp got just what she deserved," said the first woman, in a huff. "Imagine parading around NAKED like that in front of all of those salivating pigs. It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen." The three well-to-do females all agreed that the "frisky tease," the "sleazy slut," and the "disgusting bimbo" had been taught a lesson she so deserved. It was only when the news reporter asked the women if they had filled out contest entry forms that their demeanor changed. "Well, yes, we all filled out contest entry forms," the first woman said, nervously. "But that's totally different. I have an MBA from Stanford. They wouldn't strip someone like ME!" She paused, as if considering the matter for the first time. "Would they?" she asked quietly. "Of course not!" her friend replied. "Why, we're respected, professional women. I own my own business, for goodness sakes," she added, her voice cracking a bit. Ashley smiled as she watched the three women stammer, shuffle, squirm, and wriggle as they tried to explain why THEY were different. The judge recognized the look of fear in the women's eyes as they suddenly realized that the sentence applied to THEM and that there would be no reprieve. "Imagine stripping us naked," the third woman added defiantly. "It's preposterous!" In the background, Ashley could see grinning male onlookers appraising the beautiful, squirming women knowingly. The women protested that stripping them naked was "unthinkable," but the twinkling eyes of the men standing behind them told a different story. Ashley was startled to see her own picture flash on the screen, as the news anchor's voice announced, "Plaintiffs' attorneys were pleased that the injunction request will be reviewed by Judge Ashley Marsh and not by Judge Hawthorn, since the latter is known to be unsympathetic to issues involving women's rights. But reaction in the law enforcement community has been mixed." The camera cut away again to show the tubby Sheriff in his office, chewing tobacco and picking his nose. Clearly annoyed, he lectured the camera gravely. "I think it's an outrage the way liberal judges like Ashley interfere with law officers. I already have the names of the contest winners for this weekend, and I was really looking forward to picking them up on Saturday and Sunday." The pudgy Sheriff smiled. "We have some hot babes on this list, let me tell you." From off-camera, the voice of the female reporter asked, "What do you think of Judge Ashley Marsh, Sheriff?" The Sheriff spit out an enormous wad of tobacco before leaning back into his chair to reply. "She's been a pain in my backside for years," he said, angrily. "I just wish I was picking HER up on Saturday. I'd love to order Miss Goody Two-Shoes to put her hands on top of my squad car. I'd make her spread those long legs of hers nice and wide, and then I'd take my time, and frisk her...good...and...slow...." The Sheriff leaned forward in his chair, obviously warming to the topic. "Before I drove her to the mall I'd probably take her back to the station for a quick cavity search. I'm sure all the guys in the cellblock would love to watch the judge who put them behind bars bend over and touch her toes!" Ashley felt her blood run cold as she imagined herself stripping out of her expensive charcoal gray suit in front of the hooting scum in the local jail. She knew the Sheriff would make her strip slowly for the inmates and would relish every moment of her humiliation. The camera cut away again and showed the craggy old face of her arch-rival, Judge Hawthorn. She had often tangled with the conservative judge in the past, and their dislike for each other was palpable. "If I got the case instead of that liberal Ashley, there wouldn't be any injunction, let me assure you," Hawthorn thundered. "I'd strip those little sluts down for everyone to see! Do you see the way women dress today, with their belly buttons hanging out? I think a dose of shame is just what those little doxies need." From off-camera, the voice of the female anchor began questioning him. "But, Your Honor, one woman claims that her husband submitted the form to fulfill his fantasies of exposing her in public. And another woman swears that her neighbor forged her entry form after she resisted his advances. A college dean says that some frat boys sent in her name as a prank. What do you say to these women?" The old judge scowled. "I say, strip them down butt-naked and sort it out later. I can't waste my time studying the signatures of every little vixen in the valley. I keep a paddle in my drawer, and I reserve it for the bare backsides of lawyers and plaintiffs who waste my valuable time with rubbish. If anyone shows up in MY court with a claim like that, there will be some red butts at the mall," he chuckled. Ashley swallowed. The walls of Judge Hawthorn's chambers were thin, which meant that the CRACK! of the paddle and the women's pleas for mercy would be clearly audible in the courtroom. It would be difficult for the contrite women to rub their bottoms after the Sheriff cuffed their hands behind their backs. But it would be even more difficult for the tearful women to look into the smiling, knowing eyes of the spectators as they were led out of the courtroom to the waiting squad car. Judge Hawthorn became stern again and continued his lecture. "Personally, I think Judge Ashley should recuse herself. She's a woman, and women always stick together. You can rest assured that, if I were to take over the case, justice would be swift and sure!" The camera cut away again and showed the fat mall manager, sitting in his office drinking a beer while the newswoman questioned him from off-camera. "What do you think of the injunction request?" the reporter asked. "I think it's a disgrace," he said, angrily. "That little bitch of a lawyer, Brittany Kelly, sued us because she filled out a contest entry form, and she's afraid everyone's going to find out she's not a natural blonde." Ashley smiled as she recalled Brittany's desperate plea for an injunction. Brittany was normally composed and confident in court, and Ashley had been surprised by her frantic arguments and disheveled appearance. It was almost as if Brittany had been up all night.... Ashley's smile broadened as she thought of the proud attorney prancing through the mall with her hands on top of her head. Brittany had been Ashley's rival for the bench, and in fact they had been antagonists since law school. The thought of her enemy being paraded naked in front of a cheering throng because of one of Ashley's judicial decisions was intoxicating. Her fantasy was interrupted by the voice of the newswoman from off-camera. "The Sheriff said that he wished that he could strip Judge Ashley. Did she fill out a contest form?" The mall manager shook his head sadly and replied, "Not that I know of. But the women in this town are pretty greedy, and a lot of them filled out hundreds of contest forms. There are still crates of cards down at the post office that haven't even been postmarked yet, and new names are arriving from all over the state every day." He smiled. "I check the printout every day to see if Judge Ashley's name is on it. If her name does show up, that little bitch will be the first one out the door next Saturday!" "But she's an outspoken feminist and a leader in the struggle for women's rights," the shocked newscaster said. "You wouldn't actually parade her through the mall NAKED, would you?" "Of course not," the manager said, innocently. "The contest says '75% off.' I would make sure that she was dressed appropriately for a woman of her status. If it were up to me, she'd be sent out wearing a garter belt, stockings, high heels...." The sleazy manager paused, and let the suspense build for a moment before completing his sentence. "And nothing else!" he said, with an evil smile. Ashley shuddered as she imagined the tubby manager forcing her out of the door with her hands on top of her head, dressed in nothing but heels and hose. Thank goodness she was too busy to fill out forms and enter contests. The television showed the chirpy anchorwoman sitting in the studio next to her male counterpart. "Please stay tuned for `Debbie at the Mall,' our five-hour special," she said. "I should warn viewers that this complete video record of Debbie Dalton's adventures does contain extensive nudity, so viewer discretion is advised." "That was a wonderful report, Paula," the male news anchor said. "If that injunction isn't granted, there are going to be some embarrassed women in this town." "I'll say!" she agreed. "Of course, most of the women I've talked to are in denial. They all seem to think that it can't happen to them." "That's rather silly of them," the anchorman said, in a patronizing tone. He paused and smiled. "Tell me...did YOU fill out a form, Paula?" The pretty reporter's face went white, and the script fell out of her hands. With a look of panic in her eyes, she tried to explain. "Well...of-of c-course," she stammered. "Everyone did. But I'm a news anchor. They couldn't strip me.... Could they? I mean, I'm a celebrity!" she whined. The male anchor said nothing, but smiled knowingly as his co-star squirmed in her chair. From the lustful look in his eye, it was clear to Ashley that, when the Sheriff came for the pretty reporter, her male colleague would be eagerly standing by with a camera crew.... Ashley switched off the set and looked at the pile of mail in her out-box. As she reached for the pile to locate and destroy the card, she glanced at the clock and realized that she still had forty-five minutes before the next mail pickup. Deciding to get a breath of fresh air, she moved out onto the small balcony adjoining her office and looked down at the pretty women in their summer dresses walking past her temple of justice. Ashley felt a tremendous rush of power as she realized that she held the fate of every beautiful woman in town in her soft, delicate hands. She weighed her options. In her heart, she wanted to let things continue, at least for a while. The humiliating news stories had thrilled her beyond belief, and the thought of a naked picture of Brittany Kelly in next Sunday's ad section was absolutely delicious. But, if she turned down the injunction request, her reputation as a feminist judge would be compromised forever. Her liberal friends would shun her, and she would be an outcast in her own party. Her career would be ruined. She could always recuse herself. But Judge Hawthorn's suggestion that women were unfit to rule on cases involving women was sexist and demeaning. If she was going to recuse herself, Ashley would need a better reason than that. She thought about the postcard sitting in the out-box on her desk. If she entered herself in the contest, she would become a plaintiff in the class action suit, which was grounds for recusal. Brittany Kelly would be stripped, and Ashley could maintain her impeccable feminist credentials. Problem solved. But she shuddered as she remembered the mall manager's threat that she would be the first one out the door if her name appeared on his dreadful list.... She thought about her relationship with old Hawthorn. He did hate her. But did he hate her THAT much? Would he really strip his fellow jurist of her robes, her pride, and her dignity? Ashley recalled hearing a story a few years ago about a female judge who had been caught taking a bribe and so found herself at Hawthorn's mercy. The rumor was that he had made the proud jurist present "oral arguments" in his chambers, privately, and had then reneged on their deal and thrown the book at her anyway. Judge Hawthorn later arranged for the disbarred judge's parole after she reluctantly agreed to become his "personal assistant." He personally selected the sheer tops and skimpy skirts that the ex-judge was forced to wear. Making coffee and fetching laundry were least degrading of the "personal services" Hawthorn demanded of her. Did Ashley really want to put herself at the mercy of a man like that? She cringed as she imagined herself bowing and scraping in front of a smiling Judge Hawthorn, as she desperately pleaded to be spared on Saturday. The fantasy image ended as she sank to her knees in defeat and reluctantly unzipped his pants. She returned to her office determined to destroy the postcard before it was too late. But it was already too late. The mail was gone. The mailroom guy had made his pickup early. Damn! Desperately, she raced down the stairs just in time to catch the mailman as he was dragging the sack out the door. "Excuse me, sir," Ashley said. "I need to get something out of the mail. I'm a judge, and something on my desk was mailed by mistake." "Hello, Judge Ashley," the mailman replied. "Don't you remember me? My name is Dave Uzkrewdme. You gave my house and kids to my wife last week in my divorce case, and now I'm paying her 90% of my salary while she diddles my boss." "That's nice," she said, not really hearing him. Her eyes were riveted on the mail sack in the burly carrier's enormous fist. "I need to open the mail pouch and get something out." "Are you looking for this?" the carrier said, taking her contest postcard out of his pocket. He smiled and gave her a playful wink. "Don't worry about it, Your Honor," he said, cheerfully. "I'll deliver your postcard to the mall personally. I certainly wouldn't want an important piece of mail like this to get lost in the shuffle." "But you don't understand," Ashley pleaded. "I didn't mean to mail that. It's just a terrible mistake." "I'd like to help, but, once the mail is put in the box, it's a federal offense to interfere with it," he replied with a grin. "As a judge, you should know that." She lunged for the card. For a while, the grinning postman played a spirited game of "keep away" with her -- the judge jumping up and down, frustrated, as he dangled the card just out of her reach. "See you at the mall!" he finally said, putting the postcard back into his pocket. She weighed her options. The mall manager would be delighted when her card arrived. And the Sheriff would buy a new tub of lubricant when he heard that she was to be the next victim. Swallowing hard, she pressed the button on the elevator. It was late in the day, but, if she filled out her recusal forms quickly and threw herself on the mercy of the court, Judge Hawthorn might be willing to make a deal. Ashley had 3 months' leave scheduled. She had planned to earn big bucks on the lecture circuit, but she had heard that Judge Hawthorn was looking for a "cute honey" to type up his new book on the Fourth Amendment, entitled "Strip the Bimbos Naked!" She knew she would have to sign her employment agreement with Judge Hawthorn without discussing the case with him, in order to establish that there was no quid pro quo. She hoped that the judge would take her servile attitude into consideration when he decided whether or not she should be stripped on Saturday, but she had her doubts. Ashley blushed as she pictured herself dressed in an agonizingly short miniskirt, obediently typing away for hours as her nemesis spewed out his sexist rant. As a lowly secretary she would be defenseless against his pinches, fanny pats, and demands for sexual favors. Clerical mistakes, Ashley knew, would be corrected by means of the paddle in his desk. She winced as she imagined the amused court reporters and secretaries listening from outside as she was put through her paces. She hoped he would spare her the indignities of the mall. Surely he wouldn't let them strip her naked, in front of everyone.... She shivered. Tonight she would purchase a pair of stockings and a garter belt, just in case. Despite her feelings of helplessness, fear, and dread, she did want to look her best. She quickly scampered down the hall like the little bimbo she would soon become. If she hurried, she might still have time to give the judge her "oral argument." Edited by C. Lakewood