PHONE FIRST -or- THE BEST OF BOTH WORLDS by Joe Doe NICOLE (FROM "BUG IN THE SYSTEM") PHONES THE SHERIFF (FROM "ONE QUESTION TOO MANY"). "Hello, Sheriff," the perky voice on the phone said. "This is Nicole Blunderprone, with Blunderprone Computing Services. Now your new system has been in operation for a few weeks, I wanted to see how things were going." "The new system is fabulous, Nicole," the Sheriff enthused. "It's everything you promised and more. The integration of the squad cars, my office, the prison farm, and the businesses that use our prison labor is absolutely seamless. I can punch in a girl's inmate number and find out where she is, what she's working on, and where she's going. And the accounting software allows me to track profit and loss on each girl, right down to the penny." "From what I've seen, Sheriff, there is seldom any loss," Nicole said, brightly. "Well, we do run a pretty tight ship," he chuckled. "Of course, we have some pretty tight girls, as well." Nicole reciprocated with a nervous laugh. She knew that the customer was always right, but the reference to the type of "work" that the girls were doing made her shiver. The Sheriff loudly munched on a doughnut while pontificating on his new system. "I think my favorite part of the system is the automated identification feature. It’s a real snapper!" Nicole smiled. The automated system was hooked up to DMVs in all 50 states. Simply by typing in a driver's license number, a deputy could pull up the driver's license photograph of any female who owned the car or lived at the registered street address. Driver's license photographs seldom did a woman justice, of course. But, then again, neither did the Sheriff. The electronic photos did allow a deputy to quickly determine the likelihood of the car being driven by a woman whose appearance warranted "further investigation." (And the infrared scanners in each squad car would immediately tell the deputy whether the poor little lamb was traveling alone.) An arrest report and rap sheet were generated and the woman's photograph and license information downloaded often before the deputy had even turned on the radar gun. Of course, even if, by some miracle, an eagle-eyed driver did notice the brush-covered sign announcing the 25 MPH reduction in the speed limit and reacted soon enough, that didn't slow down the Sheriff: "There’s no problem, Miss, it's just that I noticed your left rear tire looked a little...funny. I've already called Sam at the filling station, and he's going to tow your car in for a free diagnostic. It shouldn't take more than a few minutes...." That was true enough. The auto diagnostic system that Nicole had supplied was a masterpiece of technology, and over 3000 diagnostics could be run in a matter of minutes. Of course, with the Sheriff’s dim view of unsafe vehicles, the tiniest malfunction meant a trip to the prison farm. "It seems that your CD changer is busted. I'm afraid I'm going to have to take you back to the station for processing until we can get this straightened out." That's where the system really kicked in. The diagnostic could be fed directly into the sentencing forms, with the sentencing itself being determined by the deputy's evaluation of the woman's attractiveness (on a scale of 1-10) and the town's demand for convict labor. The computer did all the work before the trial even began. On those days when the Sheriff bothered to use a judge, all the latter had to do was sit on the bench and look judicious while the prosecutor read out the computer-generated forms. And then the judge would just impose the computer-generated sentence and sign the print-out. Smooth, quick, easy. No fuss, no bother. Stripping away a woman's constitutional rights and transforming her into a prison farm bimbo was now just another Nintendo game. Naturally the prisoner would have to be searched before she was put in her chain gang uniform. For a small fee, the videos were available on the website that Nicole had set up for the Sheriff's office. At $3.95 for 10 downloads (with free previews available for each prisoner), it was really quite a bargain. Particularly since videos of the "difficult" prisoners' bare bottom strappings were included at no extra charge. Nicole had found the videos fascinating. The women's reactions were as varied as the women themselves -- some of whom were angry and defiant, others meek and submissive, and others simply dazed and confused. Not that it mattered; their reactions were merely an amusing diversion to the final outcome. College students, housewives, and professional women -- all ended up in exactly the same position: naked in the stirrups in front of an enthusiastic audience of male spectators. Nicole reminded the Sheriff that some of the obscene profits from the video sales should be used to buy a curtain "for those poor women." And the jolly lawman, as always, promised to get around to it "one of these days." "Besides," he said, "nothing takes a hoity-toity career gal down quicker'n a pat and poke in front of a bunch of whistling guys. They're a lot easier to control after you get 'em blushing like tomatoes. And the strip club ain't such a shock once they've shown their goodies to every guy in town." "In any case, I'm delighted to hear that you're satisfied with the system, Sheriff," she said. "Given your compliments, I'm surprised that you've refused to make the final payment or, for that matter, to consider us for the follow-on contract." "Well, frankly, I'm glad you called me about that, Nicole," he said. "Although I'm hooting happy with the system, the contract does say that I get to do a final walk-through with a company rep. And I'd like you to come down and see the system in person." "ME?" she squeaked. "In...in person? But, as you know, all of the site work has been done by my male employees, and I naturally thought...." "No, I really think it has to be YOU," he said. "I've been studying your annual report. Nice pictures. You look all crisp and polished in your three-piece suit. And the one that shows you playing in that charity softball game, wearing those cute little pink shorts.... Well, naturally I wouldn't want to miss a chance to see you in person." "But, as you may recall, Sheriff, the first and only female analyst I sent to your site was arrested for jaywalking. It took us three days before we even found out that she was on the prison farm." "That was just a little misunderstanding. I let her go as soon as you called, didn't I? Besides, if we'd had your fancy new system in place, we could have located her way sooner." "That being the case, I don't want my female staffers working your chain gang all day and the truck stop all night." "We ain't talking about your staff; we're talking about YOU," he countered. "I’ll wire the final payment into your account as soon as you show up -- and not until. Seems to me a short stay with me is worth 400 grand." "You'll wire the money as soon as I show up?" she asked in confusion. "We don’t even have to do the walk-through?" "Heck, yeah, we'll do the walk-through, okay. I'm just holding the money to make sure you show up. Once you're in my jurisdiction, it ain't like you're going anywhere." "Um...I see your point," she replied, nervously. "And how long do you think this process would take?" "I'd say about two weeks," he replied. "Of course, you'd spend a lot of that time out at the truck stop, researching our Phase 2 project. A system that would track the girls' specialties -- and rate them based on customer satisfaction -- would come in real handy. Like any 'human resource'-intensive organization, we value the skills of our female employees," he said, with a lewd chuckle. "And we'd like to track our customers' peccadilloes, so we can match them up with the right girls. For example, old man Wilson likes executive girls, lawyers and accountants, and stuff. We set up a room like it's their office, and he comes in with some blackmail pictures of them. The girls act real upset and tell him they'll do ANYTHING to keep the photos from being released. So Wilson makes them stand up on the desk and dance a little striptease for him. Nice and slow...right down to their scanties. I understand he likes white garter belts...." "Um...that's very interesting, Sheriff." Nicole's voice clearly betraying her discomfort with the Sheriff's lip-smacking portrayal of the old man’s perverted fantasies. "But, if we can get back to the point...." "That IS the point," the Sheriff countered. "That's the kind of stuff you'd capture in the new system -- white underwear and all. Let's say you were driving along the highway, and we scanned your license plate. Wouldn't it be great if the system could match the upcoming appointment with Wilson against your picture and résumé, and tell the deputy to pull you over? Kind of an 'AI' thing." "Um...yeah," Nicole said, unenthusiastically. "That would be...um...just super." "Who knows?" he continued, thoughtfully. "Maybe I could set up a meeting between you and Wilson, so you could see just how specific some of these fantasies get. He's really into what the woman should say when she’s crying -- and how long she should beg before she finally drops to her knees. I think he'd get a real kick out of meeting a big-time entrepreneur like you. I mean, you do look pretty snazzy in a business suit, little lady." He cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact, I'd probably schedule sessions between you and all our kinky clients, just so you'd understand the types of things the system had to track. There's bondage, for example, and anal, and oral, and roleplay, and enemas, and lesbo, and...." "Um...th-thank you, Sheriff. It's pretty clear what you have in mind for my two weeks. But what makes you think I’d be willing to do this?" "Three reasons, Nicole. The first is that you want that final payment. The second is that you want to get that other contract. And the third is that I've been reviewing our activity logs." "I'm not sure I understand, Sheriff." "We keep a log of all the activity on that web site you set up. Seems like you're one of our best customers, Nicole." He chuckled. "Well...I did have to check out the site, to make sure the functionality met the standards...." "Yeah, you watched every video we have, some of them 20 or 30 times. And it seems all of those questions that were posted by 'SearchMeGirl' just happened to use your account." "I don’t know what you're getting at," she mumbled. "So what if I posted a few questions? I need to understand the entire process to design a good system." "I just thought it was strange that you seemed so curious about what the women could hear the guys saying about them through the window during the examination. I mean, one of the girls answered, 'Yes, I could hear them,' but that wasn't enough for you, was it? You wanted to know WHAT the guys said -- and how that made her feel." The Sheriff had done his homework. "And then all those questions about 'Old Betsy.' About whether the strap oil made any difference, and how much it stung, and whether I always spanked bare. Of course, that last one's easy. It ain't a real spanking unless it's on the bare fanny." Nicole flinched, but was at a loss for words. "But it was all the questions about Rufus that really got me thinking. I mean, during our conference calls you practically called him a pimp. But later you kept questioning the girls about what it was like to be standing in the shower room, wearing nothing but a towel, while Rufus walked up and down the line, looking over the new 'fish.' I was really interested in the part where you speculated about what it must feel like...wondering if you might be good enough...hoping that you were as pretty as the other girls.... But dreading the thought of Rufus stopping and nodding to the warden, because then you'd have to open up your towel and show him your goodies." He was relentless. "You seemed real curious about what it felt like to be standing there with your towel open, while Rufus tried to figure out if he wanted to whore you out. I mean, what's a girl to do? You don't want to open up your towel and show the merchandise to some big nasty black pimp. But then, if you don't, you'll get the strap. The way you described it...the mixed feelings...the racing pulse.... It really captured the mood, Nicole." "I can explain that, Sheriff," she said, uncertainly. "You see...." "There's no need to try to explain, Nicole. You were just curious to know what the girls felt like, and so you imagined yourself in their position. But don't worry. When you're up here, I'm going to make sure you get your answers. Rufus in particular is really looking forward to meeting you...in person." "Um...did-did he mention me?" she asked, nervously, remembering their numerous clashes during those conference calls. "Actually, what he said was that you were so good at being bossy, it made him wonder what kind of employee you'd make," the Sheriff chuckled. "What he meant by that is anybody's guess. But I heard that he told the warden to be sure to call him, if you end up staying over at the prison." "S-staying...at-at the prison?" Nicole stammered. "Well, of course. I don't think you can really evaluate a system without seeing it in action. For example, that new mush you formulated for the prison has saved us a fortune, and it really keeps the girls looking fit and trim. But they all say it tastes like cat shit, and it makes them feel like they're starving to death. So I thought it might be interesting to have you try it for a few days." "You want ME to eat it? I tried it once, and it was pretty bad. I-I wouldn't have to eat it a-all the time, would I?" "Yup. Yum-yum-yum. The girls don't like it much, but after a day on the chain gang they wolf it down just the same. They need the calories so bad that they're licking that slop out of the bowl, even while they're holding their noses. Also, if I know Rufus, he just might make you swallow worse than that," the Sheriff added, enigmatically. "Wh-when did you want me to-to come down?" “Monday at 3 would be good. Seems like there's some sort of class at the community college that you've been teleconferencing with, bragging about our new system. I thought I would have the kids from the class come down and watch me walk you through the whole admissions process." "You mean they'd get to watch...everything?" "That's right. You gave me the idea, actually. I went to speak there a few weeks ago, and they repeated all of the jokes you told about me during your teleconferences. You DID say, 'The Sheriff's eyes are usually glazed over, but I think that's just from all the doughnuts'?" "I may have said that," she admitted, sheepishly. "And 'I was thinking of becoming a cop, but I decided to finish high school instead'?" The irritation was now obvious in his voice. "Um...it was j-just a j-joke." "Did you actually say, 'If you really want the Sheriff to catch crooks, you should cover them in chocolate frosting first'? Did you tell the students that I was primarily interested in exercising 'the short arm of the law'?" "Um...yesss," she admitted. "I heard you even offered the students free 'Chief Wiggum' t-shirts if they toilet-papered my mansion. You think vandalism is funny? I had to pull 6 girls off the chain gang to clean all the paper off my trees." "Well, it was just kind of a joke.... College kids like the Simpsons. I was just showing off a little, I guess." "Whether or not it was a joke is up to the judge, Nicole. But I should tell you the students are going to be testifying against you when you show up." "Maybe I should bring my attorney," she said. "Yeah, I saw her picture in your annual report," he replied. "I hope you do bring her along -- she's a real hottie, too. We could always use a fresh piece of tail out at the truck stop. And maybe you two could put on a little show together. It's always nice to have a friend to wash your back in that big old nasty prison shower room." "Now that you mention it, I think I'd rather just answer the charges myself," Nicole said, quickly. "Probably best. Waste of time having a lawyer, seeing as how the judge runs girls through so quick. Very efficient, but it seems a shame your students won't have much time to appreciate the process when they come in to testify. So, I figured I'd bring the class back to the station, and they could watch how I handle little smarty-pants college girls who don't respect my badge. All of the guys -- and even some of the girls -- are really looking forward to it, especially when I told them that they could come to a little party down at the truck stop, after we get you all settled in." "H-how many students, Sheriff?" "About 20 guys and 2 girls," he replied. "The girls are roommates, and they're on the tennis team together. They seemed as curious as the guys were about what you might look like without those fancy power suits. A couple of little tomboys, if you know what I mean." "W-without my c-clothes?" "Later on, we can discuss your attitude about law enforcement officials in a more 'informal' setting...just you, and me, and Old Betsy." "You know, Sheriff, if you try to extend my stay beyond two weeks, my staff will call my contacts again," she warned. "Two weeks it is. I've never lied to you. I'll have one of my men meet that fancy little jet of yours at the airport on Monday. And I'll tell the judge to have all the paperwork ready.... Unless, of course, you're having second thoughts." There was a long pause on the other end of the line, as Nicole considered her situation. "What's it going to be, little lady?" the Sheriff said. "Are you going to spend the rest of your life in front of your computer screen, or do you want to come down here and REALLY see how we do things?" The silence was deafening. "You know, I think it’s time we turned off that 'SearchMeGirl' ID," he said, thoughtfully. "The girls are answering all those questions only because they'll get the strap if they don't. I mean, it's pretty humiliating when you think about it -- having to tell some stranger on the Internet what it felt like when you had to hand over your panties or having to describe what your thoughts were when you put your feet up into the stirrups...." "B-but...." "And you're watching videos 3 or 4 hours a night now, right? I can only imagine what you're doing while you're watching. I wouldn't want a nice girl like you to turn into some sort of Internet pervert. No, I think we'd better just cut you off -- cold turkey." "I'll do it, Sheriff," Nicole said, quickly. "Don't turn off my account! Please!" "You just call the office and tell one of my men what time you'll be coming in." "Yes, sir. You won't turn off my account, will you, Sheriff?" "Of course not, Nicole. In fact, you'll be spending a lot of time on the computer during your stay with us. But you'll be answering the questions instead of asking them." Edited by C. Lakewood