JUST LIKE OLD TIMES by Joe Doe THE WIFE OF A UNITED STATES SENATOR RECEIVES AN UNWELCOME REMINDER OF A BOGUS "POSTURE STUDY" SHE PARTICIPATED IN YEARS AGO. Susan was not having a good day. Her husband, Tom, was running for re-election to the Senate on a platform of "morale responsibility, morale management, and just plain old morals!" It was an excruciatingly close race, but his relentless attacks on his opponent's character had finally narrowed the gap. It was definitely a bad time for Susan to be receiving nude photographs of herself in the mail. "THESE PICTURES WILL MAKE FABULOUS POSTERS, DON'T YOU THINK? EVERY FRAT HOUSE IN THE STATE WILL HAVE ONE." The note wasn't signed, but she immediately jumped into her Porsche and drove back to her Alma Mater. Susan's Ivy League scholarship had enabled her to escape crushing poverty and become the first member of her family to attend college. It was only after she arrived that she found out that the terms of her scholarship required her to participate in a bogus "posture study" conducted by Coach Karl Letch. She blushed as she remembered the way the grinning instructor had slowly stripped her out of the clothes her parents had scrimped and saved to pay for. At 18, she had been shy and awkward, but undeniably beautiful. The coach had stripped her methodically, relishing his power and her tearful pleas as garment after garment fell casually to the floor. She had stupidly admitted to the coach that she had never had a pelvic exam, which gave him a free hand in every sense of the word. Her hour-long exam had been detailed, intimate, and pornographic. And then Coach Letch had produced his camera.... The photo session started out with "mug shots" of Susan facing front, side, and back. But then she was ordered to squat, to bend over and put her palms flat on the floor, to get up on the coach's desk on all fours.... After all these years, she still trembled slightly when flashbulbs went off. The press assumed she was camera shy, but the real reason for her skittishness would make a far juicier story. The photo session had been long and degrading, and he had photographed her from every angle. By the time the leering coach had finally unzipped his pants and ordered the flustered coed to her knees, she was too dazed to resist.... **************************** Susan straightened her crisp blue jacket and checked her reflection in a window near the coach's office. The frightened student was long gone, and a successful and self-confident woman had taken her place. Her entire life had been a struggle up the ladder, and she had finally arrived. She had put herself through college and law school, eventually meeting and marrying a man whom many thought would be President one day. She had, meanwhile, shed the awkwardness of her youth through sheer force of will and had used intelligence and hard work to transform herself into an entirely new person. As always, Susan's appearance was immaculate. The confident and well-educated woman who stared back at her could handle any situation, and seeing her reflection restored her confidence. Her intelligence and experience allowed her to defuse any crisis, and this situation would be no different. She knocked confidently on the door and, without waiting for an answer, strode defiantly into the coach's office. The coach didn't bother to look up from the papers he was reading, or acknowledge her presence in any way. It wasn't until she pulled up a chair that Coach Letch spoke. "I didn't give you permission to sit down, young lady," he said, curtly. "You'll stay on your feet until I say otherwise." Susan felt her confidence ebb momentarily as she heard the coach's voice for the first time in years. For a brief moment she was once again an awkward teenager, nervously standing in front of the man who controlled her scholarship. But her resolve returned as she remembered the way that this disgusting pervert had exploited her innocence for his twisted amusement. Susan's temper flared as she recalled the coach complimenting her on her "perky titties" and "snappy snatch." How could anyone be so cruel to a sweet, innocent girl? "He's pretty good at batting around helpless, frightened teenagers," she thought. "Let's see how he does when they come a little bit older." She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't bothered to sit down, and she was still standing when the coach finally put aside his papers and began to speak. "It's nice to see you again, Susan," he said, cordially. "You have grown into a prosperous and successful young lady, haven't you? You have a successful law practice, a husband in the Senate, and a limitless future." He smiled. "Pity about the pictures, isn't it?" It will be a shame to watch your life go down the toilet." "It's a pity that you're going to be gang-banged in jail FOREVER," Susan replied, sarcastically. "I don't think so, he replied, calmly. "You're 33 now, which means I took these pictures 15 years ago. The statute of limitations has expired, and, if you read the note carefully, legal eagle, you'll notice that I'm not blackmailing you. Since there are no legal repercussions, and, since I'm tired of listening to your sanctimonious husband's blather about family values, I've decided to publish my research." Smiling, he spread the pictures out on his desk as she looked on in horror. "You were so young and sweet-looking all those years ago," he said. She felt a chill as he ran his pudgy fingers lightly over her naked photos. "Your skin was so soft and smooth," the grinning coach continued. "And the look on your face as you slowly stripped for me was simply adorable. Of all the girls I photographed, Susan, you were my favorite. You were so innocent!" He stopped and pointed at one of the pictures. "Of course, you don't look so innocent in THIS picture, do you, Susan? You look like a "Hustler" pictorial, spread out that way. It really is quite shameful and indecent, especially considering how moral and proper your hubby is. I can't believe he married a little whore like you," he said, shaking his head sadly. Susan, a good lawyer, bit her tongue and weighed her options. She could still go to the police, but she knew that it would cost her husband his re-election. Tom's moral diatribes would become a joke when the pictures of her scrumptious naked body began appearing everywhere. Everyone would be too busy laughing or leering to hear her side of the story. Her image, accomplishments, and achievements would be instantly washed away. She cringed as she imagined her male colleagues, interns, and neighbors secretly downloading the disgusting photos from the Internet. She would become the punch line for a national dirty joke. Although the note hadn't mentioned money, she had put $25,000 in her purse, just in case. She was wise and wealthy enough not to sabotage a million dollar Senate campaign over a few thousand dollars. She reached into her purse and contemptuously threw the money on the desk. "There's $25,000 now, and $25,000 more when I get the photos and negatives, creep. And I will draw up a purchase contract that will mean jail time if you try to pull a fast one, you sleaze ball," she said, contemptuously. "My, you HAVE changed!" he said, in a patronizing tone. "So brisk, so self-assured, so smart.... I'm really quite impressed." His voice dripped sarcasm. Coach Letch picked up the money and tossed it into the wastebasket next to his desk. "But I don't want your money, Susan. I just want to see the look on your pretty face when the story breaks on Fox, CNN and MSNBC. I'll use my VCR to record all 24 hours of the epic coverage," he sneered. "But, why?" she wailed in frustration. "I'll be RUINED! You have to listen to reason...." "I'm sorry, Susan, but my hands are tied," he said, sadly. "After all, my research is finished." He paused as if considering the matter. "I was thinking of continuing my studies with a series of before and after photographs that would show how one of my students evolved from adolescence to full maturity. If the study was ongoing, then I couldn't publish," he said, with a lewd smile. "Of course, that isn't very likely. The women I photographed all those years ago are successful bankers, lawyers, and businesswomen. How could I make women like THAT strip down like frightened little bunny rabbits? "Take you for instance. You're the wife of a United States Senator. It's absurd to expect you to strip down BUTT naked, right here in my office, and spread your legs for the camera. You're professional, successful woman at the peak of her career. I can't expect you to cavort around naked like some feckless bimbo." "I would have to pose you the same way as last time, which means that dignity and modesty would be impossible. You would have to bend, and spread, and caper around while I relentlessly put you through your paces." The coach smiled as Susan nervously clutched her elegant jacket tightly closed. "You know, I do still have my old camera and plenty of flashbulbs." Susan shuddered as she imagined the flashbulbs illuminating her naked form. This couldn't be happening to her! "But the photos would only be half the story," the coach continued. "I have detailed notes from your old pelvic exam, and I would need to examine you the EXACT same way for purposes of comparison. Imagine...the wife of a United States Senator spread out on my desk like a two-bit whore while I slid on my rubber glove. Can you imagine anything more absurd?" he asked, rhetorically. "I know you didn't like the enema bag 15 years ago, Susan, and I don't expect that you'd like it any better now, although I promise that I'll warm up the rectal thermometer this time," he chuckled. "But the water will still be chilly...oh, so dreadfully chilly. Poor Susan! I'm afraid you're going to have to hold it for a full thirty minutes, despite the cramps. But don't worry, Susan. I'll stay here the whole time, and hold your hand, and mop your furrowed brow. And, after half an hour, you can trot down the hall like a good little girl and use the potty." He paused and toyed with the pen on his desk. "Of course, I would need you to use your awesome legal skills to draw up an affidavit that explained that you were doing this of your own free will and that you weren't coerced in any way. I wouldn't want you strutting in here with the police shouting about 'blackmail' again, like Perry Mason with PMS." Coach Letch looked approvingly at the nervous woman who was awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot in front of his desk. Susan was biting her lower lip and looking at the floor. Her hands were behind her back, and her fingers twisted nervously while he looked her up and down. He smiled as she awkwardly fidgeted like a naughty girl standing in front of the principal's desk. In her frightened, doe-like eyes, he saw the tears of a young girl petrified that she would disappoint. Susan couldn't lose her scholarship! Susan had to get straight-As! Susan couldn't cost her husband his re-election! After all these years, she would still do anything to maintain the image of perfection she had worked so relentlessly to build. Susan was, after all, the perfect student and the perfect wife. Coach Letch smiled. Susan was also the perfect victim. "Why don't you let down your hair, Susie...shake it loose for me? You used to wear your hair loose in the old days, and I think it was much softer that way." Susan hated being called "Susie," but she knew better than to argue. With agonizing slowness, Susie unpinned her hair. Coach Letch let out a small whistle as she shook her head, and her long blonde locks cascaded down her back. She swallowed hard as he took out his old camera and an ancient box of flashbulbs and set them on the desk. It was hard for her to believe that the object of her nightmares was once again sitting, with his camera, just a few feet in front of her. "You know what comes next, don't you Susie? Now, don't be shy." He smiled as the frightened and awkward girl in front of him nervously began to remove her expensive jacket. She was blushing furiously now, and her quivering fingers could barely undo the elegant buttons. After she finally managed to remove the jacket, she began carefully folding the expensive garment. "No, Susie, don't bother with that," he chided. "Just drop your things on the floor -- the same way you did LAST time...." She reluctantly dropped the expensive jacket onto the dirty floor and began to awkwardly take off her shoes. The chair was just a few inches away, and it would have been easier if she had been able to sit down, but she knew better than to ask permission. She hadn't been allowed to sit down when she took off her sneakers all those years ago. Why should she be allowed to sit down to take off her Guccis now? "That certainly is a lovely silk blouse you have on, Susie," he said, admiringly. "It's a pity you're going to have to take it off." She said nothing, but, once again with trembling fingers, struggled with her buttons. He smiled as she removed the blouse, revealing the lacy pink slip underneath. She was wearing more clothes than she had in the past, but he knew it would be worth the wait. "Now the skirt, I think, Susie. It's time to show me those pretty legs of yours once again." Susan reached behind her, unzipped her skirt, and let it drop in a pool around her ankles. She awkwardly stepped out of it and moved slightly to one side to avoid standing directly on the small pile of luxurious clothing that was quickly forming at her feet. She decided not to wait for the next command. Grabbing the hem of her slip, she pulled the delicate garment over her head and stood in only her bra, panties, garter belt, and stockings. Coach Letch let out a small whistle. "That sure is some getup, Susie. Maybe later I'll let you slip on some of those fancy frillies, and we can do some Victoria's Secret shots, too. Won't that be fun, Susie?" he snickered. She remained silent, but awkwardly crossed her hands in front of her crotch. "I'm NOT a bimbo!" she desperately said to herself. "No matter what this man makes me do, I'm still the same person. I'm still an intelligent, successful, independent career woman -- NOT a bimbo." "Why don't you slide those expensive stockings down those long, pretty legs, Susie? You can sit in the chair, if that makes it easier. But I want you to put your feet in the air like a model, so I can watch you roll the stockings down those beautiful stems of yours." Susan awkwardly obeyed, putting her foot on the edge of his desk as she rolled first one and then the other stocking down her shapely legs. She casually tossed the carefully rolled stockings into the heap of discarded clothes on the floor, stood up, and removed her garter belt. She once again nervously crossed her hands in front of her as she stood before her tormenter in just her lacy pink bra and panties. He said nothing, but leaned back in his chair and smiled, relishing his absolute authority over his squirming victim. "Could I keep my bra and panties on, sir? You can still s-see my...posture if I keep my underwear on. Please, sir!" she whined. Please don't strip me bare naked!" The coach smiled indulgently. "We went all through this last time, Susie. The pictures I'm going to take of you require you to remove ALL of your clothes. And that means 'top AND bottom,' young lady!" His tone was wonderfully patronizing. "I'm surprised that you seriously thought I might let you keep your cute little undies, Susie. They're much fancier than they were last time, and I'm sure that they are much more expensive. But you had to hand them over THEN, and you have to hand them over NOW. "You were never the brightest bulb on the tree, Susie, and I can see THAT hasn't changed," he chuckled. "Now, quit stalling, and show nice Coach Letch those pretty little country girl jugs of yours." "I'm not a bimbo...I'm not a bimbo!" she repeated to herself, trying desperately to use the positive reaffirmations she had employed for years. She reluctantly turned her back and unclasped her bra. "Still modest after all these years, Susie? I would think you wouldn't have any modesty left after those pictures I took. Remember, I've seen every square inch of you." Silent, she shrugged her bra off and dropped it onto the floor, her face crimson with shame. "And I'm going to see every square inch of you again," he added. Even though her back was turned, Susan stood hunched over in humiliation, with her arms across her bare chest. Coach Letch smiled as he recalled seeing the frightened, tearful teenager in exactly the same pose years ago. "Now comes the moment of truth, Susie. I know girls hate having to drop their underpants in front of the doctor, but this is for your own good. Pull down your undies and throw them on the pile." She nervously brushed away a tear as she inserted her fingers into the waistband of her expensive pink panties. Down, down, down they went, until at last they lay in a discarded heap at her feet. She swallowed and then reluctantly stepped out of her last shred of clothing. "I'm NAKED!" she told herself. "I'm absolutely, stark NAKED! I'm one of the most successful lawyers in the country, and the wife of a United States Senator.... And I'm standing stark NAKED in some flunky gym coach's office." Naked as the day she was born! Coach Letch took a moment to admire what he laughingly referred to as the "Congressional Moon" before issuing his next command. "You know what comes next, don't you, Susie?" he taunted. "Don't make me say it. Just be a good girl, and do what you're supposed to." Swallowing hard, she closed her eyes, stretched her arms out in a "T," and slowly turned around.... He whistled as her nakedness came fully into view. "You keep yourself in excellent shape, young lady. Your hips are a tad fuller, and your face is a bit wiser-looking. And it seems that you've trimmed your pubic hair a bit. But, otherwise, you are as hot as you were 15 years ago." The humiliated woman closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as he issued his humiliating appraisal. She was proud of her figure, but he was grading her like a slab of well-aged beef. Her education, experience, and sophistication had been stripped away. In just a few brief minutes in front of his desk, she had been transformed into the epitome of everything she hated. After all of these years, Susie was once again nothing but a hot, helpless little bimbo. He circled the naked, blushing woman in a slow circle and looked her over critically. "Very nice...very nice indeed," he said, as she blushed helplessly in front of him. He carefully adjusted her hair on her shoulders. Then he teasingly ran his hand down her back and over her shapely bottom. She gasped as she felt his fingers work their way into the wetness between her legs. "My, you are all hot and sticky down there, aren't you, Susie? After all these years, stripping for me still makes you frisky, doesn't it?" He leaned in close and whispered into her ear as he continued to work his fingers in and out of her. "I have lots of women I could have called back, Susan. One of my former students is a network news anchor, a couple of others models or movie actresses. I will get to them eventually, but you're the first one I called." He paused and smiled. "You were always my favorite, Susie." Then he pushed her a few feet forward and unceremoniously bent her over the desk. She gasped as she felt him roughly kick her feet apart. And she flinched when she saw him unzip his pants.... "Please, Coach, please use a condom! Tom had a vasectomy three years ago! I'm not on birth control, and, with his political views, there's just no way I can go to an abortion clinic." "Then I guess you'll just have to carry the little bastard to term, Susie," he sneered, as he teased her moistness with the head of his prick. Her hands formed helpless fists of frustration as her nemesis entered her from behind. "I'm not a bimbo; I'm not a bimbo," she said softly to herself, as her orgasm began to wash over her. "Oh, but you ARE a bimbo, Susie," he said, correcting her. "Forget about your fancy degrees and expensive house; you're nothing but a helpless little bimbo for me to enjoy, Susie. And enjoy you I shall." He pushed himself deep inside her. Susie looked back over her shoulder at Coach Letch with an expression that told him she knew it was true. In her large, frightened eyes, he saw a lifetime of confusion, helplessness, desperation, and humiliation. Susie WAS just another bimbo.... Coach smiled. The French were correct, in this at least: the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.... Edited by C. Lakewood