A SPRING IN HIS STEP by Joe Doe IT'S SPRING, AND THE SHERIFF'S FANCY TURNS TO BASEBALL AND STRIP SEARCHES. Sheriff Bubba rolled down the car window and relished the warm spring breeze. In addition to picnics, baseball, and flowers, the coming of spring also meant the beginning of strip search season. It was possible to strip search women any time of the year, but the Sheriff had a policy of never searching women after Halloween or before the first day of spring. There were many reasons for this schedule. In the spring and summer, the young women of the area inevitably dressed in scantier clothes, and the Sheriff found himself far more inspired to trump up reasons for taking them into custody. He liked to search attractive babes, and, too often, a woman who looked good in a parka proved to be a disappointment on the exam table. So he didn't like to spend his valuable time searching a woman unless he was sure it would be worth his while. Finally, the Sheriff didn't have a shower in the jail, so he hosed the young women down in the alley behind the cells. In the winter, the freezing cold water from the hose would have forced him to rush through the procedure, but the warmer temperatures of spring allowed him to take his time and make sure that each young lady experienced a thorough and complete bathing experience. The Sheriff smiled as he rounded the corner. All winter he had seen Judge Cindy Johnson dressed in her expensive business suits or tent-like black robes. When she had asked him whether or not she would ever get to experience one of those strip searches that she had been hearing so much about, he had laughed and told her that "it would depend on what I see under that robe of yours this spring, Your Honor." Now that he saw Judge Johnson dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, he saw that she was indeed an excellent candidate for a search. Long, trim legs, a cute butt, and long blonde hair...just the way he liked 'em! Judge Johnson was sitting in the local greasy spoon chatting casually with Jethro, the manager. As soon as she saw the Sheriff's car round the corner, she immediately raced out of the diner and flagged him down. He pulled lazily up to the curb and rolled down the window. "Good morning, Sheriff," Cindy said breathlessly. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" "Yes, it is, Your Honor." "It's the first day of spring, isn't it?" "Why yes, Your Honor, I believe it is...." "Call me Cindy, Sheriff," Judge Johnson said. "I've always said that I don't expect any special treatment, and I don't want you to treat me any differently than anyone else. If I break the law, I want you to treat me like a common criminal." "I'm sure that will never be necessary, Your Honor." "Well, actually, now that you mention it, it may in fact BE necessary," she replied. "It seems I forgot my purse at home, which means that I can't pay for the glass of orange juice and piece of toast I just ate." "I'm sure the manager will spot you $5," the Sheriff replied, dismissively. "Actually, it was $1.89, Sheriff. Anyway, Jethro, the manager, did offer to lend me the money," Judge Cindy replied, her voice tinged with disappointment. "But then I explained that, if he pressed charges, you'd have to arrest me, and, if I was arrested, I'd be strip searched. Naturally, since Jethro was filing the complaint, he would be down at the station while I was being processed." She smiled, pleased that she had established a chain of evidence. "Now Jethro INSISTS on pressing charges." The Sheriff looked over at the Jethro, who was whistling to himself as he was searching for the "SORRY, WE'RE CLOSED" sign for the front door. The first day of spring always seemed to leave the men in this town in such a good mood. "You know, Your Honor, if I took you into custody I'd have to take you down to the station," Sheriff Bubba said, solemnly. "I know, sir," Cindy replied, her voice quaking with excitement. "And I'd have to fingerprint you, and take your mug shots, and treat you just like any other criminal suspect," he continued. "Yes, sir, I know," she replied. "I wouldn't expect any special treatment." Cindy's eyes were wide, and her breathing was starting to become rapid. Although it wasn't a hot day, the Sheriff noticed a bead of sweat running down her pretty neck.... "I would even have to...," the Sheriff paused, as if it were too painful to continue. "I hate to even say this, seeing as how you're a judge, and we're friends and all...." "Go on!" Cindy said impatiently. "Remember, I'm NOT a judge! I'm a common criminal! I'm a little thief who's trying to run out on her restaurant tab!" "Well, Your Honor, I hate to say it, but I would have to...strip search you!" Cindy exhaled slowly, relieved that the shoe had finally dropped. "Would you really...strip search me, Sheriff? I mean, would you REALLY strip me down NAKED?" "Absolutely naked, Cindy. I wouldn't have any choice. I would order you to take off your clothes, and you would strip for me, one garment at a time, until you were naked as a newborn babe." "I can't imagine what that would be like," Cindy replied dreamily as she stared off into space. "Would I really have to be NAKED?" she whined. "I'd have to strip you to the skin, Cindy," the Sheriff said, softly. "If I didn't strip you naked, I couldn't perform...the cavity search." For a moment the Sheriff thought Judge Cindy was going to fall over. "You mean you would actually put your fingers...INSIDE me?" she said, breathlessly. "A deep, thorough cavity search is a routine part of the booking procedure," the Sheriff said in his most authoritative tone. "Besides, I'm sure Jethro will enjoy the show!" Judge Cindy went white as a sheet, and nervously eyed the pudgy manager who was fumbling with the keys for the front door. "Please, Sheriff!" Cindy pleaded. "You can't let Jethro watch! I-I'll be...naked! He'll see everything!" "He'll do a lot more than SEE everything, Cindy," the Sheriff replied. "Jethro is practically like a deputy. I'll let him slip on a glove and help me with the cavity search." She sagged weakly against the car. The Sheriff was used to seeing the beautiful jurist behind her enormous bench in the courtroom. She always looked so firm, so in control. It was quite a contrast to see her leaning against the squad car, panting. "Jethro!" she gasped. "You'd actually let Jethro...touch me? Between my legs? In all my most...secret places?" "They wouldn't be secret anymore, Your Honor," the Sheriff chuckled. "Of course, I'd feel just terrible about it. Stripping you naked, sticking my fingers in you, letting that idiot Jethro feel you up...all because you couldn't pay a lousy $1.89!" "It would be so...HUMILIATING," she replied, staring into the distance. "So...degrading!" "Yes, it would. That's why I'll just give Jethro the money the next time I see him." The car was pulling away before Judge Cindy even fully realized what had happened. She shouted after him. "But I told you I forgot my purse!" she screeched. "That means I'm driving without a LICENSE!" The Sheriff smiled and pulled around the corner. Each year, the prettiest women in town always vied to become the first strip search victim. Of course, each year there was only one winner. But getting searched before April Fool's day was still like winning an Academy Award, and getting searched before Memorial Day was considered to be a badge of honor. But, if a woman was still unsearched by Labor Day, though, it meant that she was sub-standard -- or just not trying hard enough. Of course, there was always next year. But it was still the first strip search of the year that was most prestigious. The townspeople jokingly referred to it as "The Golden Glove Award." In addition to bragging rights, the women in this town had other motivations for breaking the law. Strip searched women inevitably ended up spending the night in jail. The Sheriff was fat, bald, and obnoxious, but he had a deserved reputation as a man who could really keep a woman in a jail cell satisfied. Every babe who had ever spent the night in his jail checked out with a case of what they referred to locally as "cell smile." The Sheriff drove down the street and admired the view. All of the townswomen, from the lowliest store clerk to the most prominent career woman, were vying for his attention that day. Each was wearing her sexiest spring outfit, and the street was a sea of bare legs, bare arms, and bare tummies. Several of the women tried to flag him down, doubtlessly trying to turn themselves in for some "crime," but he pressed ahead, determined to get to the office. He noticed several cars parked in the spots reserved for police vehicles and chuckled softly. "Nice try, ladies," he thought. "But you're going to have to do better than that." He was just about to walk into his office when he heard a large "WHOOPEE!" Turning his head, he saw what appeared to be a teenage girl roller-skating recklessly on the sidewalk in front of the barbershop. She was going way too fast and seemed to be deliberately trying to knock people down. At first he was confused, because the miscreant was roller-skating back and forth in front of a sign that said "NO SKATING, BY ORDER OF THE SHERIFF" It was only when he looked more closely that he realized what was going on. The "juvenile" offender was none other than 23-year-old Natalie, a graduate student and part time substitute history teacher who was visiting her cousin, Holly. Holly and Natalie vied to beat each other to the strip search table each year, and this year Natalie had been bold enough to ask the Sheriff what it would take to win. He had laughed and said that he would search "whoever acts the brattiest." Natalie had apparently taken him at his word. She was wearing a cute pair of denim shorts and a cropped, midriff-baring t-shirt with a picture of the latest teenybopper idol plastered across her chest. Her hair was in pigtails, she wasn't wearing any makeup or jewelry, and her "purse" was a lunch pail with flowers on it. The Sheriff smiled. It was a clever costume, and Natalie had drawn the attention of the loafers in the barber shop. They had known Natalie in her previous incarnation as a preppy substitute teacher, but it was clear from their approving stares that they preferred her current costume. The Sheriff walked into his office and was immediately bombarded by a gaggle of female voices. There must have been 100 women in the office, anxiously waiting to explain why they should be taken into custody. Several deputies held the women at bay while the screaming horde lunged at the fleeing Sheriff like he was a rock star. The Sheriff locked himself in his office, cranked on the radio to drown out the feminine chatter, and began carefully reviewing the arrest reports on his desk. The first report on his desk belonged to Natalie's cousin, Holly. She had camped out in front of the Sheriff's office all night in order to be the first suspect to turn herself in. The Sheriff smiled as he scanned the report. It seemed that Holly was the Zodiac Killer, the Hillside Strangler, and D.B. Cooper. He chuckled. At least Holly realized that she was too young to be Jack the Ripper or the gunman on the grassy knoll. A few of the reports piqued his interest. The town's lovely female mayor had thrown an empty beer can into a passing squad car. "Good shot, Your Honor!" he thought, dryly. When the deputy had pulled her over, she became righteously indignant and demanded a Breathalyzer test. Unfortunately she passed, but. after a few more beers, she was able to achieve the desired result. The letter from the minister's sister surprised the Sheriff. Sara Goodbody had contritely admitted that she had "never committed a crime," and he frankly doubted whether the kind, generous, and gentle young lady had ever even been tempted. Nonetheless, she insisted that she had committed "the sin of Pride," and that "being treated like a common harlot would be a vital lesson in humility," which would allow her to better identify with the other women in her flock. Stripping the prim and proper Miss Goodbody out of her chaste and modest clothes was an intriguing idea. The Sheriff chuckled as he envisioned Sara's trembling fingers slowly unbuttoning her starched cotton blouse. The look on her face when the Sheriff ordered her to "drop her drawers" would be priceless.... The Sheriff smiled and looked out the window. The balconies off the seedy apartment building that looked down on the alley were crowded with horny guys, anxious to see which of the fine ladies of the town would be the first to be exposed for their viewing pleasure. The Sheriff knew that the spectators would be shocked to see an upstanding citizen like Sara paraded out into the alley stark naked for a humiliating hose-down. And Sara, no doubt, would be surprised by the size and enthusiasm of her eager audience. Even the women who lost the contest would be delighted to see the proud and refined Sara taken down a notch. The Sheriff smiled and dropped Sara's file into his "Inbox." Her prayers would be answered soon. He also decided to give special consideration to Linda Dawson, who was the wife of the local Congressman. Linda had tried studiously to make the cut last year, but the Sheriff had found her a bit too tubby for his tastes. She had worked out assiduously all winter, and now she proudly claimed that she could "touch her toes and flex like nobody's business." So he put Linda's file into the Inbox, too. He would test out her boasts soon. His reverie was broken by a commotion in the street. Pushing through the crowd of women and out the front door, he surveyed the scene. Natalie, still wearing her skates, was sitting on her rump opposite Mrs. Crone, the bitchiest, nastiest woman in town. Mrs. Crone was also sitting on her backside, and the two of them were surrounded by groceries. "How dare you!" Mrs. Crone shouted at the stunned Natalie. "You ran right into me! You kids shouldn't be allowed to play out in the streets. I could have been killed." "I'm not a kid; I'm 23 years old," Natalie protested. "And you have no right to talk to me like that." "You smart aleck whippersnapper!" Mrs. Crone sceeched. "How dare you talk back to me? Don't you have any respect for your elders? I ought to take you over my knee. Who's going to pay for all my groceries?" "I can pay for your silly old groceries," Natalie said. "And I'm an adult too, for crying out loud." Under Mrs. Crone's cross-examination, Natalie admitted that she didn't have the money to pay for the groceries in her lunch pail, and in fact she didn't even have any ID that proved that she was an adult. When Mrs. Crone accused Natalie of being a "snotty-nosed little twerp," Natalie decided to play the part by sticking her tongue out at the infuriated woman. Mrs. Crone was 6 inches taller and maybe 25 pounds heavier than Natalie, and she had no trouble dragging the college coed over her knee. As Natalie complained again that she was an adult, Mrs. Crone fished a hairbrush out of her purse.... Natalie begged the loafers sitting a few feet away from her in front of the barber shop to vouch for her. All of the spectators knew Natalie was a college student. Surely they would intervene to save her! "You know, it isn't really a spanking unless it's given on the bare skin," Stan the barber said, winking at Natalie. "She won't even feel it over those blue jeans!" Nerdly added, leaning closer for a better look. Mrs. Crone needed no further encouragement. She easily undid Natalie's shorts and slid them down around the struggling coed's knees. The loafers in the front of the crowd giggled when they saw that Natalie was wearing a childish pair of underpants with pictures of little dinosaurs all over them. Natalie's face was crimson red, and she once again begged the men for help. She turned her pleas to Billy, an 18-year-old high school student who had been in the class she had taught just a few days before. Billy smiled and replied, "You know, Natalie, those little underpants you have on are cute, but they'd be even cuter down around your knees. Why don't you be a good little girl and ask Mrs. Crone to give you a spanking on your BARE bottom so that you learn your lesson?" "Please, Billy, don't!" Natalie wailed. "Not on the bare! Not out in the street!" Billy walked over, inserted his fingers in the waistband of Natalie's panties, and looked down at his teacher. "I want you to know, Natalie, that this is going to hurt me more than it's going to hurt you." But the smile on his face as he lowered her panties to half-mast suggested otherwise. Mrs. Crone quickly went to work with the hairbrush, and Natalie's wiggling bottom was soon as red as her face. Her tearful pleas and unladylike scissor kicks soon had everyone in the large crowd tittering. The Sheriff walked back into his office and began reviewing the forms. A female FBI agent who had visited his office last winter had returned to confess that she had "stolen" a doughnut. The college cheerleading squad felt responsible for the team's losses. And Mrs. Mousely, the Sheriff's lovely but meek neighbor, admitted that she had "thought about" playing her stereo "way too loud." The Sheriff dutifully read through the arrest reports, rating each woman on beauty, originality, and merit. Oddly enough, on the Sheriff's scale, the women who deserved it the least always seemed to score the most points. The Sheriff walked out of his office. The room fell into a hush as he surveyed the sea of eager female faces. He looked through the front window. Across the street Natalie was standing facing the corner of the barber shop, her blazing bare bottom still on display, while Mrs. Crone wagged her finger and lectured her. The Sheriff smiled. Seldom had a woman suffered so much for her art. "Someone go across the street and get Natalie," he said. "I'll do her first." Holly cursed under her breath. She had been delighted to watch her cousin get her fanny tanned, and she hadn't lifted a finger to help her. But now Natalie had actually won the "Golden Glove"! To hell with Chaucer. March was the cruelest month. "But the rest of you ladies hang around," the Sheriff added. "I'm just getting started, and there are a lot of women out here who need processing." The eager deputy smiled as he set out a huge box of latex gloves next to the exam table and then hustled across the street to get Natalie. There was no doubt about it. Spring had sprung. Edited by C. Lakewood