LAKEWOOD'S COSTUME SHOP IV: LITTLE ANDY LOSES HER SUIT by Joe Doe Andrea knew they hated her. She just didn't care. Maybe it was because she was only 25, and a Japanese-American, and an MBA. Maybe it was because it was her job as a consultant to make efficiency improvements and recommend staff cuts. Maybe it was because she busted their chops every chance she got. It didn't matter. She was in charge, and they weren't. Too bad, tough luck, get over it! Andrea had spent a long time thinking about her costume for the party. She had toyed with the idea of a samurai warrior. A sword would be an excellent visual metaphor for what she planned to do to the many people who had crossed her. In the end she had settled for a Japanese princess costume -– imperious, untouchable, and in charge. She was stunned when she got to the changing room and found that, through some screw-up at the costume shop, her costume was a childish "Legend of Mulan" swimsuit. Andrea was just over five feet tall, petite, flat as a board, and weighed just over 100 pounds. She giggled at her image in the mirror as she held the costume up in front of herself. Although she hated to admit it, the costume would fit her like a glove. Andrea's vision blurred as purple lightning flashed around her.... ****************************** "Okay, Andrea, it's time for your swim lesson." Andrea turned. Susan Rogers, the pudgy secretary she had fired last week for insubordination, looked down at her, beaming. "This is Miss Spencer, your new teacher, and she's going to teach you how to swim," Susan said, brightly. Turning, Andrea turned and found herself standing face-to-bosom with Pamela Spencer, the gorgeous blonde whom Andrea had just that morning demoted back into the secretarial pool. "Doesn't she look DARLING!" Pamela gushed. "Her little suit is soooo precious!" Andrea glimpsed her reflection in the glass sliding door leading into the pool area. She was WEARING the childish Mulan swimsuit -– and it fit her perfectly. Andrea was barefoot, and the leggy blonde Pamela in her red Baywatch suit and the porky Susan Rogers in her casual clothes looked like giants alongside her. She looked around. She recognized the young men playing volleyball as being the six jerks from the mail room whose salaries she had recently cut. The two women sitting on the patio were executives she had summarily fired. Indeed, everyone at the pool was someone whom she had fired, screamed at, humiliated, or demoted. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice her. But that didn't answer the question. What was happening? And why? "Her mother asked me to take her for her first lesson today," Susan explained. "The poor little dear can't swim a lick, and her mother's afraid that if she falls in, she'll go straight to the bottom." "Oh, you poor thing!" Pamela patronized. "Before we enroll you in the guppies swim group, let's get you started with some exercises outside the water, to get you used to being around the pool. Would you like to do some jumping jacks, honey?" "No," Andrea said. "I want to get out of this ridiculous costume and go home." Her answer sounded more like a pout than she had intended. Her childish outburst was met by a sharp SLAP across the seat of her suit. "Listen here, young lady! You're here for a lesson, and a lesson is what you're going to get," Susan scolded. "Now do as Pamela says, before I take you over my knee!" Andrea noticed the young men had stopped playing volleyball, and all eyes were now on her. Whatever was happening to her, resisting was only making it worse! So she gritted her teeth and began doing the jumping jacks. "That's it! That's a good girl!" Pamela said, her voice oozing condescension. "Oh, that's such a darling suit! I wish I had a suit like that..to keep me from bouncing around," she chuckled, holding up her enormous bust. "Well, little Andy doesn't have much to bounce," Susan chortled. "But it IS a nice suit! She looks like such a cutie pie in it!" "Do you know where I can get one for my little niece?" Pamela wondered. "And what's it made of?" Susan smiled down at Andy. "No idea, but there's one way to find out. Hold still, dear." Andrea froze as she felt Susan's beefy hands pull her swimsuit down over her arms. In a flash the suit was off. Andrea didn't even realize she was naked until she felt Susan lift her left foot and slide the suit off. She instinctively tried to run, but the action raised her right foot off the ground, and that allowed Susan to complete the strip. "EEEK! I'm NAKED!" Andrea screamed. "Gimme back my suit!" Pamela bent down until she was looking Andrea right in the eye. "Don't be silly, dear. Swimming naked will save your mom lots of washing. Besides, it's not like you have anything to hide." Andrea reached for the suit, but Pamela held it up high. "Gimme back my suit!" she repeated, her voice growing more plaintive and childlike. Andrea jumped, trying to catch it, but Pamela held it just out of reach. She jumped again. Almost. One more time. Andrea stopped dead as she realized she was jumping up and down, butt naked, in front of everyone! She flushed crimson as the adults around her chuckled. "Now be good while I talk with Miss Rogers," Susan admonished. Andrea covered her tiny chest and hairless crotch with her hands. She felt every eye in the pool area was on her as the two women casually discussed the fabric, stitching, and lining of her suit. Although she was covering her privates, she could see that all of her former victims were relishing the fact that she was now helpless, humiliated, and butt naked. The mail room frat boys leered. The two female executives winked and tittered. And, just when Andrea thought it couldn't get any worse, it did! "Is that a spot?" Pamela asked, examining the material. "We'd better get this out, before it stains." Andrea watched as her suit sailed across the pool area to the towel hamper, which was being unloaded by Jefferson, an old black man whom Andrea had recently replaced with an illegal immigrant janitor. "Jeff, could you get that suit washed up?" Pamela called. "It has a spot on it." "Shure 'nuff. Might take some time, though." "No problem!" Pamela laughed. "Little Andy still has an hour of exercises ahead of her." Pamela turned and looked down at Andrea with an evil grin. "You were doing jumping jacks, I believe?" "Give me back my suit, you...you...bitch!" Andrea gasped as Susan spun her around and threw her over her knee. SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "How dare you, you brat!" SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "Here Pamela is trying to teach you!" SPANK! SPANK! SPANK! "And you curse at her!" SPANK! SPANK! "I should wash out your potty mouth with soap, young lady!" Through her tears, Andrea could see Pamela smiling down at her. Everyone was watching, delighted with her predicament. Andrea knew there was no rescue in sight. As the fire in her bottom grew, she first mumbled, then yelled her promises to "be good." The smiling, vengeful audience watched the well-spanked, butt-naked Andy do her jumping jacks. Then her leg lifts. And her bicycle kicks. And her squats. Under Pamela's direction, Andrea bent, and spread, and danced, and wiggled through the most humiliating aerobics session imaginable, all the while blushing crimson as her audience casually chatted about her figure...or lack thereof. She was just completing the last of her "high kicks" when a long-faced Susan delivered the sad news. "It looks like the washer shredded your cute little suit, dear," she said, sadly. "But don't worry. It's a short walk home." HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Edited by C. Lakewood