75% OFF by Ashley Marsh Part 3: Everything Must Go JUDGE ASHLEY USES ALL HER WILES TO SAVE HERSELF AND THE WOMEN OF THE TOWN FROM BEING FORCED TO EXHIBIT THEMSELVES AT THE NEW MALL. BUT WILL SHE SUCCEED? THE STORY BUILDS TOWARD AN, ER, CLIMAX. Ashley scampered down the hall like the little bimbo she would soon become. If she hurried, she might still have time to give Judge Hawthorn her "oral argument...." The law clerks and court personnel in the corridor smiled to see the elegant Judge Ashley trying to dash down the hall in her heels and tailored skirt. "She'll run a lot better when she doesn't have all that restrictive clothing on," leered Judge Hawthorn's clerk, watching Ashley's shapely rear disappear into the senior judge's chambers. Ashley stopped to catch her breath. Evelyn, Judge Hawthorn's middle-aged secretary, looked disapprovingly at the younger woman. Ever since Ashley's appointment to the bench, Evelyn had made it clear that she resented her presence. Somehow the judge's secretary seemed to feel that Ashley's achievement lessened the status of an experienced secretary like herself, who practically ran Judge Hawthorn's chambers. Ashley suddenly realized that, if she became Hawthorn's temporary typist, she would have Evelyn as her supervisor. As Ashley shifted uncomfortably in front of the desk, the usually dour Evelyn smiled maliciously at the young jurist, almost as if she had read Ashley's mind in that moment. The whole courthouse was aware of Ashley's dilemma on the Mall Case, and Evelyn was going to enjoy every minute of it, Ashley was sure. But she couldn't think about that now. She had to see Judge Hawthorn before it was too late! "If you've come to see Judge Hawthorn, he's gone for the day," Evelyn said, with a faint hint of amusement. Ashley looked down at the secretary and tried to suppress a gasp. Evelyn was toying with Hawthorn's infamous paddle. Ashley could only imagine the humiliation she would feel as she had to bend over and expose her tight little behind for Evelyn to spank. She closed her eyes for a moment and could almost feel the older woman's fingers expertly undoing the button on her gray skirt and slowly drawing the zipper down, before tugging the skirt over her hips.... Ashley blinked, trying to suppress the thought, and swallowed hard. "I have to see him right away," she said, attempting unsuccessfully to appear calm. After all, even as a judge, she couldn't order around another judge's secretary. "Order around...." Ashley shook her ahead. She mustn't think about that! Not now. "Well, you can't, dear," said Evelyn, deprecatingly. "He's gone to a meeting with the Sheriff to coordinate the media coverage at the mall tomorrow." Evelyn smiled again, maliciously. "I understand you may be on hand for the festivities. All the TV stations will be there. I even hear that Court TV is sending a crew to cover the proceedings." Ashley almost stamped her little foot in rage and frustration. He couldn't be gone! Not now! How was she going to sign a contract to be his "cute little honey" typist if he was off somewhere with that awful Sheriff? Evelyn seemed to be enjoying this immensely. Though Ashley did try to be nice to her subordinates, everyone knew that her impatience was legendary. Often, in her chambers, she even threw things to vent her temper. But, on this occasion, she just couldn't afford to lose control. Ashley turned on her heel and prepared to go. "But," said Evelyn, "His Honor did say that, if you came by, the papers for you to sign were on his desk. You can go on in." Ashley hurried into the spacious office occupied by the senior judge. She immediately spotted the sheaf of papers that had been laid out for her signature. Reading them over, however, she got increasingly angry. First, there was an order for her to sign, recusing herself from the Mall Case. Hawthorn had been so sure of himself that he had had the order typed and prepared, knowing she would come crawling to him, begging him to save her from being stripped in front of all the townspeople and those horrible television cameras. The next document, though, was even worse. It was titled "Employment Contract," and it had her name already filled in. "That cocky bastard," she thought, as she read over the humiliating provisions. The temporary typist would have to work long hours for minimum wage ("worth it for the experience," the judge had written in the margin). She would have to work under Evelyn's direction. She also had to be prepared for evening hours of "close, personal work" with the crusty old judge, who would enjoy every minute of having the brilliant young feminist judge at his beck and call, polishing her "oral skills." And she would be denied access to her own chambers while she was on leave. Worst of all was the box containing her new "uniform." There was a red plaid jumper and a little white blouse that would make the distinguished 30-ish jurist look like a high school girl on her first summer job. And the rest of the stuff was excruciating. Judge Hawthorn had even picked out her underwear! Ashley held up a training bra, an ultra-short, white half-slip, and cute little white panties with the day of the week all over them, as if the Ivy League Phi Beta Kappa was too much of an airhead to know what day it was. She hit the table with her fist and almost cried in frustration. It wasn't fair! But what choice did she have? She hesitated, and then scrawled her name on the bottom of the humiliating contract, as the realization hit her that Evelyn had to have typed the employment contract. So Evelyn already knew that Ashley was going to go from a proud, independent, and respected judge to a bimbo intern overnight. No wonder she had smiled when Ashley had walked into Hawthorn's chambers. She felt trapped. She reached for the recusal order and started to sign it -- the order that would leave the fate of so many proud professional women in the hands of the misogynist Judge Hawthorn and his slimy friend, the Sheriff. But suddenly she felt a new resolve. She couldn't -- she wouldn't -- leave her sisters to the tender mercies of those good ol' boys. She might not be able to preside over the trial, but, by God, she hadn't graduated first in her class and been the editor-in-chief of the law review because she was stupid. A plan had begun to form in her mind, a plan that would deftly extricate her and the women of the town from the clutches of the leering mall manager and leave Ashley with even greater status in the community than she had previously enjoyed. She smiled at the empty chair where she had been expected to kneel to beg for Judge Hawthorn's favor. She tore the recusal order into strips and threw them at the seat cushion. "There's your order, Your Honor," she said, sarcastically, and went back out to Evelyn in the anteroom. "Tell Judge Hawthorn, when he calls, that I've decided to keep the case," Ashley said, firmly. "Oh, and let the Sheriff know I'll need a bailiff at the mall tomorrow. I'm moving the injunction hearing to the mall -- 9:00 a.m., sharp." She smiled beatifically at the astonished secretary. "See you, Monday, dear," Ashley said, as she left the chambers. Barely able to suppress her excitement, she hurried back to her own offices. She wrote out the order moving the hearing from the courthouse to the mall and telephoned the attorneys to notify them of the change. In particular, she spent a good deal of time on the phone with Brittany Kelly. As much as she would have loved to see her archrival stripped and paraded through the mall tomorrow, she knew she needed Brittany as much as Brittany needed a favorable ruling from her. She explained her plan quickly. Ms. Kelly was nothing if not a quick study and pledged her support. That part of her plan in process, Ashley next called Paula Evans at the TV station. "Paula, we're moving the hearing to the mall tomorrow morning.... No, I'm not recusing myself.... No, I don't care what Judge Hawthorn said, I'm conducting the hearing, and I'll be there at 9 a.m. Then we'll see about this...'Strip Mall!' (Ashley laughed at her own joke.) She finished up by promising the anchorwoman an "exclusive" interview right after the hearing ended. "Great!" said Paula, appreciative of the scoop. "I can't wait for our viewers to have an up-close look at our town's first Supreme Court Justice!" Ashley felt herself blush. Her ambition to take her place on the state's highest court was no secret, and it was one of the sources of tension with old Judge Hawthorn. Hawthorn felt he had put in his time and was entitled to the spot, but Ashley had managed to captivate the members of the Governor's judicial screening committee.... And, well, if her legs were a little sexier than Hawthorn's, there wasn't anything she could do about that, was there? She smiled as she recalled how easily the panel had been manipulated by a little flash of thigh with a bit of lace above. Ashley hummed to herself as she gathered her papers and the court file and put them into her expensive Louis Vuitton briefcase. She giggled when she realized she had been humming "The Stripper." If her plan worked as she hoped, at least that possibility would be gone. As she went down in the judges' private elevator to her reserved parking place in the basement, she smiled to herself, imagining the look on the faces of the mall manager, the Sheriff, and old Judge Hawthorn when they realized that she had beaten them! She could hardly wait to get home and see the evening news. She drove her purring BMW out of the garage, waving graciously at the security guard at the entrance. Life was good! ****************************** Ashley swung her car past the new mall. There was a huge banner over the entrance proclaiming 75% OFF SALE CONTINUES TOMORROW!! She shivered at how close she had come to being the star attraction. She looked down at her Patek Philippe watch. Twenty minutes until the mall closed. Just enough time to.... She flushed as she remembered her shopping errand: garter belt and stockings. She shivered, remembering the words of the mall manager on TV, explaining how he would reduce the presumptuous judge to near-nakedness! She didn't need to worry about that now, did she? So why was she parking her car and heading for the mall's lingerie boutique? "Well," she thought to herself, "I do need to look my best. And, anyway, I deserve a treat!" While she may have favored conservative, tailored suits and blouses, she loved to indulge herself in tasteful, expensive underthings. She enjoyed the idea that she would be sitting up on the bench as phalanxes of male lawyers paraded in front of her, offering lame excuses for this delay or that failure to comply with one of her orders, knowing that they all wondered what stern Judge Ashley was wearing underneath that black robe. And that was her secret! The young sales clerk in the boutique greeted her deferentially. "Hello, Your Honor," she said. "I've been expecting you." Ashley felt a little shiver at the last remark. She looked at the girl quizzically. "I saw the manager on the news," the girl explained. Ashley's hand went to her gray skirt, as if to reassure herself that she was still clothed. She looked up at the teenage clerk to see if she were smirking, but the young lady seemed entirely serious and businesslike, genuinely trying to be helpful. Ashley felt a sudden loss of self-confidence as she followed the girl to the back of the shop. Her plan was foolproof, she was sure. So why was she here, letting this teenager lead her around, helping her select underwear for her to display to a crowd of panting male shoppers? And, worse, why were Ashley's panties getting damp at the idea? The girl looked behind the counter and fetched up a bag. "This is what you had in mind, isn't it?" She held up a pair of black patent leather stiletto heels, much higher than Ashley's usual conservative, low-heeled pumps (which befitted an elegant, understated professional woman). The girl then displayed a package of stockings in Ashley's size, and Ashley felt her cheeks burn. But the worst was yet to come. The clerk reached into the bag and produced a lace garter belt, festooned with cute little ribbons and bows all over it, the long straps dangling obscenely as she held it up, like a string of paper dolls, for Ashley's approval. Ashley hesitantly reached out to feel one of the straps. She could almost hear the mall manager complimenting her on her good taste as.... "Good evening, Judge! Doing a little last minute shopping, I see." She whirled around to see the mall manager standing behind her. Mortified, she tried to stuff the undergarment back into the bag, but the manager caught her wrist and gave her a knowing look. "Always best to be prepared, isn't it? Well, SEE YOU tomorrow!" He went on his way laughing, leaving behind a thoroughly embarrassed circuit court judge quivering in arousal. "Guess he's just making the rounds before closing," said the sales girl, cheerfully. "Cash or charge, Your Honor?" she asked. "Or perhaps you'd like to try them on first?" Ashley shook her head emphatically. She couldn't let the sales clerk see her soaked panties. She handed over her AmEx Gold Card, and the young lady processed the sale. "Just as well," she said. "It'll be a lot easier to check the fit tomorrow when you don't have so much on," she added, earnestly. Ashley scribbled her name on the charge slip and fled to her car. She was normally a careful driver, but it was hard to steer with only her left hand. ****************************** Author's Note: Joe, this sequel is a tribute to the impact your writing has on me. I desperately hope you will find it pleasing. If the rest of my public wants the remainder of the story, please let me know! Love, ASHLEY ****************************** Editor's Note: This 3rd segment of the story originally appeared on 8 September 2002. Ashley received a lot of positive feedback and several times posted her intentions to write a follow-up. It was supposed to be "nearing completion" on 30 November. After Joe Doe did the 4th installment (leaving room for her sequel), she posted a long note on 7 January 2003, announcing, "I PROMISE the next installment soon." But, in fact, that never appeared, and she soon stopped posting altogether. More's the pity, for she's been missed. C. Lakewood