I think this story is one of Joe's all-time best.  Unlike "Sucker 
Bet," it didn't actually NEED a continuation, but I just felt the 
urge.  I've kept pretty well to the outline of Parts 1 and 2, but 
of course the details differ.





                   THE FULL EMPLOYMENT ACT 

                             by  

                        C. Lakewood




Part 3

Jill consulted her PDA, then picked up the phone and called the 
private number of the senior partner of the law firm of Burkhalter, 
Hochstetter, and Hogan.  "Hello, A.B., this is Jill Abbot.  How are 
things at BH&H?"

"So-so.  What the Recession gives with one hand, it takes away with 
the other.  What can I do for you?"

"What's the latest concerning Ashley?"

"Which Ashley?"

"Marsh."

"Ah, she has been appointed to the bench...."

"Oh, well....  But...there's another Ashley?"

"Ah, ya.  There is Ashley Johnson.  Her job here is hanging by a 
thread.  Serious clients have been avoiding her like the plague 
ever since that fiasco...er...incident...at the college."

[See "The Worst Part is the Waiting," by Joe Doe.]

"Oh, really?"  ("Hmmm...Cameron mentioned her," Jill thought.  "And 
she must be attractive -- I can practically hear the old bastard 
leer.)  "Well, A.B., I think maybe we can do each other a favor...."

		******************************

In due course, therefore, Ashley Johnson, Attorney at Law, arrived 
at the office of Blue Moon Entertainment, clutching a file of 
ominous papers -- a termination letter from BH&H, a notice from 
the bank freezing her accounts, ditto from her broker, a 
foreclosure notice from the mortgage company, a cancellation 
notice from her credit card company, repossession papers on her 
car, and the standard threatening letter from the government.   

Prior to this, however, Jill had done her homework and had learned 
a great deal about Ashley Johnson from a variety of sources, but 
especially from the dossier BH&H had provided.

The interview with Ashley proceeded along much the same lines as 
the meeting with Cameron Bay...except, instead of all the pathetic 
hope-and-change blather that Cameron had spouted, Ashley tried to 
cloud the issue with legalistic mumbo-jumbo.  And that didn't work, 
either.  

Ashley was also rather less naive than Cameron and actually read 
the "standard" waiver before signing it.  (Unfortunately for her, 
"Contract Law" was never her strong suit.)     

		******************************

After stripping the merchandise and looking it over, Jill pressed 
a button, and, a moment later, an Oriental -- probably Japanese -- 
hooker type entered the office.  Barely 5' tall, she was wearing a 
dark green tank-top, grey jeans, and sandals.  A leather strap hung 
from her right wrist.  Scowling, she looked at Ashley the way a 
Doberman might regard a pork chop.  "Angel, this is Ashley, a 
shyster," Jill said.  Angel sneered.  Jill handed over a clipboard. 
"Here's all the particulars.  Get her registered and processed.  
And there's a V.I.P. waiting for you in the Green Room.  You know 
him.  He wants to...observe."

Angel nodded and opened the office door.  "Go!" she said to Ashley.

"But...I'm-I'm....  Aaaa!"

A woman of few words, Angel responded by giving Ashley a hard swat 
across her plump bottom with the strap.  For such a small woman, 
she was surprisingly strong. 

Jill laughed.  "Do yourself a favor and obey orders first time, 
every time, Sugar."  Ashley didn't need further coaching.

At the end of a short hallway, just short of the reception area, 
they came to the "Green Room" -- which turned out not to be green, 
but rather nicely paneled in old mahogany, and furnished with 
Victorian and Edwardian antiques.  As they entered, Ashley was 
stunned to see a balding, elderly man sitting comfortably in a wing 
chair, sipping tea, smoking a cigar, and casually leafing through 
an issue of "Leg Show" magazine.  He looked up as Ashley and Angel 
arrived.  "Ah, Ashley," he said jovially.  "How very nice to see 
you again after all these years."  Ashley blushed furiously and 
attempted to cover herself...and then yelped as Angel slapped her 
bottom again with the strap.

"No false modesty, whore.  You say hello to Mr. Chambers....  And 
do it nice." 

"H-hello, sir.  I-I'm ha-happy to see you again, too, sir."

"Come closer, dear.  Within reach."

Ashley shuffled forward, and Angel turned away, saying, "I'll be 
back."

Chambers chuckled.  "The accent isn't Austrian, but still...."

Ashley, not being much of a fan of action movies, had no idea what 
he was talking about, but quickly forgot the remark when he began 
caressing her ass.  

"Mmmm," he said.  "You obviously take good care of your skin, girl. 
Have your lovers commented on it?"

"Um...um...yes, sir...once in a while....  But...but...this is all 
a terrible mistake.  I shouldn't be here.  I'm not a...a...."

"A whore?  Well, it is what it is, as they say.  I'd advise you to 
adapt to your situation.  You were always good at that.  I remember 
you were such a tease in school, promising much, but delivering 
almost nothing at all.  I don't imagine you're still a virgin now, 
though."

"N-no, sir."

"No.  After all, it's been almost 15 years.  I suspect that, during 
the intervening time, your cunt has been well-used by men -- even 
some women -- usually people who could give you a better grade or 
a favorable verdict, or otherwise advance your career."

Ashley cringed.  How transparent she must be.

"Yes, your cunt's probably had quite a work-out.  And your mouth 
(though I imagine you'll have to learn to swallow)....  But what 
about your asshole?"    

"My...my...?  Oh, I've NEVER done...."

"Ha!  Well, you will.  And often.  Matter of fact, I'm looking 
forward to butt-fucking you myself."  He tickled her asshole 
with his pinky.  "I like to use a girl's cunt-juice for lube.  
Are you wet, Ashley?"

"N-no, sir...."

"Tsk, tsk.  You SHOULD be, you know.  They want you to be wet and 
ready to fuck at all times.  If you're not, they'll start feeding 
you aphrodisiacs -- LOTS of 'em....  And they won't let you play 
with yourself, so it won't be like high school." 

From the outset, Angel had seen that Chambers -- the V.I.P. -- was 
enjoying himself, and so, after filling out the stack of government 
forms required to register Ashley as a sex worker, she took time 
for a smoke, a snack, and a chat with a couple of "colleagues" 
before returning to the Green Room.

By the time she rejoined them, Ashley and Chambers had been left 
to get re-acquainted for more than half an hour.  

He hadn't minded a bit.  But Ashley looked rather sweaty and a bit 
distraught.   

		******************************

"Physical next," Angel grunted.  She herded Ashley out the door and 
across the reception area.  To Ashley's chagrin, Chambers drank the 
last of his tea, rose, and followed them.

It was a fair-sized room.  Most of one wall was taken up by a 
mirror, and white cabinets were ranged along another wall. 
There were various pieces of medical equipment here and there, 
and, in the center of the room, an exam table, complete with 
stirrups. 

An older man in a white lab coat stood beside the table.  His 
face was blotchy, there were tiers of dark bags under his 
rheumy eyes, his wispy grey hair was uncombed, and he hadn't 
shaved in days.  Yet, when he saw Ashley, he straightened up 
and smiled thinly.  

"Remember me, Ashley?"  His voice was hoarse.

"N-no...I don't think so...."

"I'm not really surprised; I've come down in the world since you 
crucified me for malpractice, got my insurance cancelled, drove 
me into bankruptcy, and had my medical license revoked."

"D-doctor Martens?"

"Ah, Martens is still the name, but the title "Doctor" is not 
allowed these days.  I'm a veterinarian's assistant now.  But 
I'm here pro bono, shall we say, and I have retained enough 
medical know-how to do THIS job."  He patted the table.  "Sit 
here."  

His gaze shifted to Chambers, and he raised his eyebrows 
quizzically.  

"V.I.P.," Angel explained.

"And Ashley's former high school principal," Chambers added. 

Martens nodded, and his smile broadened.  "Welcome."

He took Ashley's blood pressure in a professional manner, then 
ordered her to get up on all fours.  "Bow your back and push 
your buttocks as high as you can.  Yes.  Now hold it just like 
that." 

He dipped a rectal thermometer into a jar of some pink goo, winked 
at Chambers, and sloooowly snaked it deep into Ashley's ass.  She 
gasped.  Martens observed for a moment, then picked up a clipboard 
and said, nonchalantly, "Now pay attention, Ashley.  Answer these 
questions as accurately as possible....  Do you now have or have 
you ever had genital herpes?"

"No."

He dehydrated her with a look.  "Let me remind you that you are 
now a whore.  I may have sunk low -- but not THAT low.  You will 
address me respectfully.  As a matter of fact, you should consider 
just about everybody as your betters and treat them accordingly.  
Try again.  Genital herpes?" 

"N-no, s-s-sir."  (Her tone was much more submissive, though she 
didn't sound completely accepting of her new status.  Yet.)

"Syphilis or gonorrhea?"

"No, sir."

"HIV?"

"No, sir."

"Scabies?"

"No, sir."

"Any other STD?"

"No, sir."

"Crab lice?"

"No, sir."

"You a virgin?"

"No, sir."

"Except for...?" Chambers interjected.

"Except f-for my...a-a-asshole, sir."

"And that's already been spoken for," Chambers added.

Grinning now, Martens finished the questionnaire.  "Any allergies?" 

"No, sir."

"You like to suck dick and swallow cum?"

"Um...um...um...."

WHAP!  Angel's strap landed, hard, just below the protruding 
thermometer.

"Aaaa!  Yes!  Yes, sir.  I LOVE sucking dick...and-and-and I want 
to learn to swallow cum, sir."

Martens twirled the imbedded thermometer, pulled it out, and 
scrutinized it.  "Good enough."  He slapped Ashley's ass 
sharply.  "Now, over on your back and put your feet in the 
stirrups."  She obeyed, but slowly.  "Shy, Ashley?  You'll 
get over that.  You'll get an exam like this at least every 
week -- the feds require it.  But, get off the table and bend 
over.  Only six this time I think, Angel Food, but put your 
back into it.  And, Ashley, don't break position, or there'll 
be extras."

WHAP!
WHAP!
WHAP!  
WHAP!
WHAP!
WHAP! 

"Now get back in the stirrups, and don't dawdle."

"Yes, sir," she sniffed.  (The attitude adjustment was successful.)

He snapped on a pair of latex exam gloves, greased up the fingers 
of his right hand with the pink goo, and went to work.

		******************************

The digital examination was lengthy and ultra-thorough, a tour de 
force.  Ashley was left twitching and softly moaning, having cum 
-- against her will -- three times.  Chambers felt like applauding. 
Even Angel (who had seen dozens of these exams) was blinking in 
admiration.

Martens turned from Ashley's crotch and stripped off his gloves.  
"Everything's okay.  The cunt's nicely toned, and the asshole's 
exceptionally tight.  Get rid of the beaver, and she'll be ready 
for the photographer."

Angel regarded Ashley a moment, but then backed up a step and 
looked at the V.I.P.  "The beaver's my job...but maybe you'd 
like to help, sir."

"Delighted," Chambers said.

Angel clipped Ashley's pubic hair down to stubble, shaved her 
close, and then had Chambers put on exam gloves and take over.  
Under her guidance, he smeared a viscous green gel over Ashley's 
pubic area.  "Massage it in real good, sir.  It'll itch bad -- 
'specially since she's just cum -- but it'll kill the follicles, 
and the hair'll never grow back.  It takes a few treatments, 
though, 9 or 10."  

"No matter how many, I'd be happy to help out," Chambers said.

He took his time massaging the gel into Ashley's crotch, making 
sure to treat the whole area, from clit to asshole, incidentally 
causing her to cum yet again.  By the time he was satisfied, she 
was whimpering unintelligibly and squirming weakly.

Angel and Chambers helped Ashley off the table and down the hall 
to a shower room to rinse off.  He was already envisioning how 
he'd put Ashley and Cameron through their paces, separately...and 
together.  Despite his cool demeanor, he was salivating.

"Hurry up and dry off," Angel growled at Ashley.  "And get ready 
for the camera."

"Will the pictures be for sale?" Chambers inquired.

"Maybe.  You'll have to ask Miss Abbot.  Some are like mug shots 
-- for the gov'ment -- some are like really soft-core for the 
ads, and some are like XXX pics for our files."  She was becoming 
more loquacious.  "Some of those are really good, hot but artistic, 
too.  And then, after the boss reviews the pics, she'll decide 
where the princess gets her bar code tattoo...."   

		******************************

Jill clicked off the spy-cam, figuratively licking her chops.  
"Satisfactory," she murmured.  And, having decided to place 
Ashley's bar code like a 'tramp stamp,' she went to lunch.

Three hours later, back in her office, she smoothly arranged the 
last details of the foreclosure and sale of Ashley's condo and 
personal property.  And then she looked over the draft advertising 
flyer on her desk.  Art and Editorial had done a good, fast job.  
The ad had two pictures of Ashley.  The first showed her in the wig 
and black robe of a British barrister, a solemn expression on her 
face.  The second featured her naked, in shackles, head bowed, 
reddened butt showing, in a generic courtroom, kneeling in front 
of the bench of an unseen judge.  

The headline on the leaflet read, as usual, "REMEMBER ME?"

	My name is Ashley Johnson, and I was a hot-shot lawyer 
	once.  I represented greedy bimbos in divorce proceedings 
	against their hard-working husbands; got illegal aliens 
	amnesty and generous government hand-outs; took advantage 
	of every slimy technicality to subvert justice and obtain 
	freedom for persistent DUIs, vandals, crooked politicians, 
	thieves, drugees, and other low-lifes.  And I always 
	represented militant feminists practically pro bono.

	But now I want to start making amends.  This is a change 
	that you can REALLY believe in.

	You may remember me from back in the day, when I was 
	the coolest girl in school -- honor roll, athletic 
	championships, prom queen -- unapproachable by 90% 
	of the students (and 75% of the faculty).... 
  	 
	More recently, you may have seen me on television 
	or in the newspapers and started fantasizing about 
	me...again. 
	
	Well, I'm now available....
 
	Call me at the number below and set up an appointment.  
	LIVE YOUR FANTASY!

				555-3883

Jill approved the copy without change.  

No doubt the court clerks, paralegals, office boys, would-be 
romeos, and frustrated colleagues -- who used to have to jump 
to Ashley's whims -- would enjoy some serious pay-back.  

Jill leaned back comfortably and spent some time in considering how 
best to merchandise her latest acquisition.  She then segued into 
contemplating with satisfaction all the miscellaneous legal work 
she could dump off onto her new in-house attorney....

Life was good.