FIGURINES by Joe Doe HAVE YOU EVER SEEN THOSE SMALL STATUETTES OF POLICEMEN AND FIREMEN THEY SELL IN ARTS AND CRAFTS STORES? NATALIE FINDS A GROUP OF THEM IN WHICH THE POLICEMEN ARE DOING MORE THAN DIRECTING TRAFFIC. Part 1: Ye Olde Gift Shoppe Natalie had never been into ceramic figurines herself, but, since her friend's husband was a policeman, she thought it would be a nice housewarming gift. The ones in the window were routine: a ceramic fireman playing with a happy Dalmatian, a police officer handing a little boy an ice cream cone, and a smiling cop posed as if he were directing traffic. She went into the store to take a closer look. The shop did have quite a range of candles and bric-a-brac, and, despite herself, she began to browse through the assortment of dolls, figurines, and knickknacks. But, when she saw the pieces on a bottom shelf way in the back of the store, she did a double take. Was that woman naked? She held the ceramic up for closer inspection. The scene depicted a young woman being led away from a stream by a grinning police officer. The woman's hands were cuffed behind her back, and the policeman was grasping the obviously horrified woman by the scruff of the neck. And the obviously adult woman was absolutely, completely, buck naked! The small gold plate on the base of the statuette told the tale in two words: CAUGHT SKINNY-DIPPING! She examined the piece it more closely and blushed to discover that, despite its relatively small size, the figure of the woman was anatomically correct. Far from being raunchy, however, the figurine had a quaint, almost cutsie quality, rather like an X-rated Norman Rockwell painting. Gee whiz, one of those gosh darn kids got caught skinny-dipping down by the hollow.... Only in this case the "kid" was an adult woman! The woman's face was a mask of embarrassment and panic. Her skin was flushed, her eyes wide, and her mouth slightly open as if she was trying to speak. She was looking over her shoulder at something on the ground.... She was looking at her clothes. The clothes were neatly folded and lying across a tree stump -- a navy blue skirt and jacket, white blouse, and some dainty unmentionables. An elegant pair of high heels lay unoccupied on the ground. Natalie wondered why the woman had done it. It was obvious from her attire that she wasn't some flighty teenager. Perhaps she had decided to re-live the carefree days of her youth. Perhaps she had calculated that no one would ever see her so far out in the country. Perhaps she had read one Mark Twain story too many. Or, perhaps, like Natalie, the young professional woman had a tiny streak of exhibitionism that occasionally got her into trouble.... Of course it didn't really matter what the reason was. It was obvious from the look on the woman's face that she'd made a terrible mistake. The officer's face was in complete contrast. The middle-aged man wore a large, devilish grin. He didn't even attempt to disguise his delight in catching the young professional woman in such a compromising position. She was the "catch of the day," and he was going to milk this moment for all that it was worth. The body language said it all. The man's stride was smooth and relaxed. His grasp on the back of the woman's neck was firm. His eyes seemed radiate confidence. The woman, on the other hand, was trying to walk on tiptoes, look back over her shoulder, and plead for her clothes -- all at the same time. And none of these operations was successful. Her fingers appeared to be wiggling helplessly in her cuffs, and she was fighting the officer's grip on her neck in order to crane her head around to look longingly at her neatly folded clothes. So close, and yet so far! The woman had one foot in the air and the other on tiptoe. Obviously the rough gravel path didn't agree with her bare feet, but that was just too bad, wasn't it? Natalie considered the composition. The woman's clothes were BEHIND her, and she was pleading to go back. But the officer was looking forward, and it was obvious to Natalie that the clothing was evidence the officer had no intention of collecting. Natalie blushed as she imagined the butt-naked woman riding in the back of the squad car. Surely, the sheriff would give her some clothes before he took her out of the car and marched her through the station. Wouldn't he? He wouldn't parade her through the town in her birthday suit, would he? Maybe there would be some clothes for her at the station. Natalie took another look at the officer's smiling face and sighed. Then again, maybe not. She gently put down that sculpture and picked up the next item on the shelf. This one was slightly larger, but had a lot of tiny detail, and Natalie was pleased to find a large manifying glass nearby. Her eyes were drawn to a raised scroll with large Gothic letters that made it look like a medieval manuscript: WARDEN WENDY WICKER LOSES HER ID ON HER FIRST DAY AT WORK The scene showed 3 figures in what appeared to be a gray cinder-block room. The first figure, in the foreground, was a wizened old prison guard sitting at a small wooden desk. The smiling old man was methodically fingerprinting an obviously anxious young woman in a crisp and elegant charcoal gray business suit. The woman's expression was similar to the swimmer's: shocked and mortified. And, like the swimmer, she had her mouth open, as if she was protesting the terrible injustice of what was about to happen to her. But, like the cop at the swimming hole, the elderly guard was ignoring her protests and smiling broadly as he rolled her blackened digits onto her rap sheet. In one corner, the drab cinder-block wall had a shower nozzle sticking out of it, and there was a drain in the floor. A dispenser with sickly orange soap was mounted on the wall of the shower area. But there was no shower curtain. Natalie squinted to make out the words inscribed on a small green canister (with an attached hose) sitting on the floor nearby: DELOUSING SPRAY Natalie winced. The attention to detail in this sculpture was truly...disturbing. She pondered the artist's decision to include the delousing spray. It was obvious that the elegantly dressed woman didn't have lice. Clearly she had told the guards that she was really the new warden. Delousing her with noxious chemicals was gratuitously humiliating. Would they really do it? To the left of the shower area was a small wooden table, with a sign above it listing and still more rules: INMATES MUST SURRENDER AND CRATE ALL CLOTHING, MONEY, ID, AND JEWELRY PRIOR TO SHOWERING AND DELOUSING The sign ended Natalie's doubts about that spray. Obviously, delousing was standard procedure, and (gratuitous or not) Warden Wicker would have to grin and bare it. Rules were rules! No doubt the smiling old man would enjoy putting the lovely young warden through her paces. Natalie could almost see the evil grin on the old man's face as he directed the spray nozzle at the blushing young woman's most intimate places. "Lift your leg.... No, higher...HIGHER!" "Now turn around and spread your legs.... That's a good girl." "Now put your hands flat on the floor. Hold still. This spray will sting a little." Beneath the stark delousing sign was a cheap fold-up table with two items on it. The first was a cardboard box with the top inscribed: INMATE PROPERTY CRATE On one side of the crate, it looked like someone had used a black magic marker to carelessly scrawl the words: WICKER, WENDY INMATE # 7338-3838-4747 The box was empty now. But, according to the sign on the wall, it wouldn't stay empty for long. To the right of the warden and the grinning guard was another guard. His face was towards the wall, and his arms were slightly spread, as if he were carrying something. Natalie had to move the sculpture slightly to see what he was doing. Omigod! This guard was standing in front of a medical examination table.... Natalie swallowed. He was adjusting the stirrups. Foot stirrups! She blinked, unsure of what she was seeing. But there was really no doubt about it. Unlike the rest of the piece, which was hand-painted ceramic, the shiny silver stirrups appeared to be metallic. She touched her finger lightly against the metal, and was surprised to receive a tiny static shock. The stirrups glittered wickedly in the store's fluorescent light. But it was the guard's expression that shocked Natalie the most. It was obvious that he considered the warden's upcoming cavity search to be an enormous joke, an elaborate and entertaining prank. The lovely young professional woman's shame and embarrassment only made the search that much more amusing. She was about to put the sculpture down when she noticed a small black toggle switch mounted on the base. When she pressed the switch, the tiny figures came to life. The warden's hand rose slightly in the air and pointed at the phone sitting next to the guard who was fingerprinting her. The smiling guard in turn paused, looked at the phone, and then continued to roll the warden's other hand against the print paper. The warden lowered her arm while the guard fingerprinted her. But, a few seconds later, the cycle began again with the mortified warden begging to use the phone and the smiling guard ignoring her frantic pleas. Request denied! After all, if she were allowed to use the phone, she could prove that she was the new warden. There would be no need to strip her naked, no need to make her shower in front of the two grinning guards, and no need to delouse her. She wouldn't even have to put her feet up into the nice shiny stirrups. What fun would that be? The exam table guard was not idle. He would look over his shoulder at the warden, then look back at the table, and then slowly spread the evil stirrups wider. Natalie felt dizzy as she watched the warden point desperately at the phone, and the smiling guard slowly spread the stirrups wider...and wider...and wider.... Natalie turned the switch off and put the piece back on the shelf before she dropped it. She couldn't believe that these little figures were having such an impact on her. She felt nervous, tense, flushed. But she also felt an indescribable and very pleasant tingle.... ****************************** Part 2: Natalie finds yet another sculpture -- and gets a chance to meet the artist.... Natalie took a moment to recover before examining the next sculpture. Not surprisingly, it seemed to be set in a jail. The figure on the far left was a fat, smiling police officer who was lubing up one finger on his rubber glove, while trying not to drop his doughnut. Unlike the other sculptures, this one emphasized food. The porky policeman had jelly stains on his shirt and powdered sugar on his chin. The enormous box of doughnuts was about half empty, and it was obvious from the officer's girth that the question of the missing pastries was really no mystery at all. But, between bites, the hungry public servant had managed to slip in some official duties. There were four women lined up in front of the leering officer, and the first was undressing. This blushing young woman appeared to be a college student. She had just removed her university t-shirt, and the sculptor had perfectly captured the look of flushed embarrassment on her face as she slowly unzipped her jeans. Beside her was a hand-drawn poster board sign that read, CLEAN AIR FOR ALL! Natalie was a bit surprised to see that the woman was being strip searched for what seemed to her to be a rather innocuous protest. Was there anyone who wanted dirty air? Or clean air for a few? It would have been one thing if she had been protesting police brutality, or arguing for an increase in prices at the local doughnut shop. But was the grinning officer actually going to strip her naked for clean air? Natalie noticed the sign on the front desk: MALE VISITORS OR PRISONERS MUST BE FRISKED. FEMALES MUST STRIP COMPLETELY AND SUBMIT TO A FULL CAVITY SEARCH. Despite herself Natalie smiled at the blatant sexism of the sign. A male axe-murderer would be frisked. But his female attorney would be stripped naked as a jaybird! Natalie regarded the figure of the flushed coed unzipping her pants. The look in her eyes removed any doubt. No matter how peaceful the protest, no matter how tepid the message, this young lady's clothes were coming off. The fact that the anxious officer was already gloved and greased made it apparent that the search would leave no cavity unprobed. Natalie examined the sculpture more closely. The woman's panicked eyes were focused clearly on the enormous glob of grease on the overstuffed officer's middle finger. From the anxious look in her eyes, it was obvious that she fully understood where that finger was going. The pretty young girl was lithe and luscious. Although the officer apparently didn't have enough hours in the day to gorge himself, Natalie suspected that, when the cavity search began, he would take his own sweet time.... Natalie glanced at the next woman in line. She was dressed a bit more neatly than the college student and appeared to be in her mid-20s. Despite her rather harmless appearance, her hands were cuffed behind her back, and her legs were shackled together. Obviously the police in this town took the rising tide of female crime seriously. But what was her crime? Like the college student, the woman in the cuffs seemed flushed, flustered, and embarrassed. She was standing pigeon-toed and staring anxiously at the lovely coed's striptease, no doubt anticipating the moment when HER turn would come. The woman didn't look like she would steal a gumball, let alone commit a serious crime. But then Natalie noticed the small button on her lapel with the words, "Support Our Police." That was it! She was a protester...a pro-police protester! Despite herself, Natalie smiled. Clearly the town frowned on all forms of protest, at least by females. And the lecherous law officer had extended his mandate to include any form of female political expression whatsoever. Natalie wondered if the prim and proper conservative in the shackles would still support the police after they gave her the finger (in every sense of the word). Many conservatives feel strongly in favor of supporting the police, but Natalie was sure that this law-abiding young woman had never expected the police to feel her. The third woman in line was more comical. The figure was a tall, leggy cheerleader in a short yellow skirt and midriff-baring black jersey. Her figure was lush, her eyes blue, and her hair long and golden. She was also in handcuffs and shackles, and it was obvious from her baffled eyes and gaping mouth that she had no idea what was going on. On the floor next to her was a sign, GO TEAM! Natalie smiled. The skimpy little outfit was as cute as a button. But the sign had definitely been a mistake. But the fourth and final figure was a riddle wrapped in an enigma. The woman was wearing a crisp blue pinstriped suit. Her hair was pulled back in bun, and she was wearing glasses with black frames. A copy of "The New York Times" protruded from the side of the elegant leather bag at her feet. She was very pretty, and Natalie detected a lovely figure under her rather severe clothing. But she had no protest pins, and there were no signs at her feet. She looked more like a judge than a criminal. Why was she handcuffed and shackled with the others? It was then that Natalie noticed the small scroll with an explanatory text: DEAN CINDY LEARNS WHY IT IS A BAD IDEA TO GIVE PASSING GRADES TO A PROTESTER! Natalie was so entranced that she almost dropped the sculpture when she was startled by a voice behind her. "I see you've been admiring my cousin's sculptures," the shopkeeper said, happily. "Would you like to buy one?" Natalie smiled feebly as she put the piece back on the shelf. "I would love to, but they're a bit out of my price range. Your cousin has quite an eye for detail. Quite an imagination, too." "Actually, all of his sculptures are done from life and are based on his experiences on the police force. He works in Boobsville, a little town about 200 miles south of here. It's a small town, but it does have a little community college...and a lot of pretty women." Natalie blushed slightly as the shopkeeper laughed. "You know, if you really do like his sculptures, maybe you should go down and meet him," he suggested. "He's always looking for models, and I'm sure that he'd be happy to trade you a few of his sculptures if you'd model for him." "But I'm not a professional model," Natalie protested. "Besides, I wouldn't know what to do." "Nothing to do," the shopkeeper said pleasantly. "I'll just tell him that a pretty little coed is coming to his town this weekend and give him your license plate number, and the local police will take care of the rest." He winked at her. "There are a lot of laws in that town, and a young lady has to be pretty clever to avoid a run-in with the police." He touched the figure of the blushing coed unzipping her jeans and began to run his finger slowly down the sculpture's legs. "If a young lady isn't careful, she might just lose her drawers...." He looked back at Natalie appraisingly. "That's a college t-shirt," he said. "You a coed?" "Graduate student," Natalie said proudly. "I'm working on my PhD." "Hot damn!" he said. "My cousin really loves coeds. He never even graduated high school, but he says he just loves to put you little college smarty pants -- that's what he calls you -- through your paces. When I tell him you're a graduate student, he'll burst!" Natalie looked a bit green, so the man changed tactics. "Of course, I'm sure the town won't be a problem for a clever girl like you. I mean, a silly freshman might get ensnared on some bogus charge, but, after all, you're a graduate student, right?" She felt a small surge of pride. "Yes, that's right. I am." "I'll tell you what, Miss-Higher-Education. Give me your license number, and let me call my cousin. If you survive two days in his jurisdiction without being arrested, then I'll give you...TWO statues of your choice." Natalie looked at the sculptures. It was a tempting offer. But she was wise enough to consider the flip side. "But...what if I...DO get arrested?" "The standard modeling fee is four statuettes," the shopkeeper said. "Plus," he added, with a lascivious smile, "a free copy of the one you end up modeling for. So you see, it's truly a win-win proposition." Natalie's judgment often gave way to impulse. The dare had been made. Was she up to the challenge? "My license plate is OHIO NAK 6996," she said decisively. "How do you get to Boobsville?" ****************************** Holly had been shopping for a birthday present for her cousin Natalie for weeks. Every time she saw the perfect sweater, or the perfect bag, or the perfect shoes, she would check her mental inventory of Natalie's closet only to find that her cousin already had something better. Natalie was just impossible to shop for. Holly wasn't sure what had drawn her into the small craft shop and towards the bizarre figurines on the bottom shelf. But she was certain that she had found the perfect gift at last. The scene showed several people inside what appeared to be a small-town diner. The painted background was the front window of the diner, and, through the "glass," you could see a large crowd of pedestrians who had stopped to watch the show. And what a show it was. On one of the diner's tables, kneeling on all fours, was a lovely young woman with long brown hair. She was absolutely naked, and her t-shirt, shoes, underwear, and jeans were folded neatly over a chair. Behind the furiously blushing young woman, the Sheriff was carefully greasing his big middle finger, which appeared to be encased in some sort of pink "finger glove." The caption read: SHE DIDN'T EAT HER VEGETABLES! Sure enough, on the corner of the table next to the naked woman's hand was a plate, perfectly clean except for a single stalk of broccoli. The waitress, the Sheriff, and the spectators were all smiling. Only the furiously blushing young woman was missing the humor of the situation. It was the perfect gift! Natalie had hated broccoli ever since she was a child, and Holly had teased her about it for years. "I just can't believe how much this girl looks like Natalie," Holly chuckled as she brought her prize to the register. After weeks of shopping, Holly was relieved that she had finally hit gold. "And, after all," she giggled to herself, "it isn't like Natalie will already have one!" Holly frowned at the price tag on the bottom of the sculpture. Although the gift was perfect, the price was not. "Beautiful, isn't it?" the store clerk said. "The attention to detail is simply wonderful." "Yes, it is amazing," Holly agreed. "But it's a bit out of my price range." The man slowly ran his eyes up and down Holly's lovely frame. "I'm sure we can work something out.... Are you a college girl?" Edited by C. Lakewood