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