Originally (early in 2004), I did not rate "75% Off" very highly.    

I was wrong.

While I still consider Part 1 as fairly mediocre (compared to the 
best of the canon), I drew that conclusion chiefly because of its 
utter implausibility and the lack of any really outstanding quality 
to counter-balance that big negative.  But I'm afraid I let that 
lead me to write off the rest -- to which I didn't pay enough 
attention at the time.  After editing the story (and therefore 
having had to give close attention to the later parts), I have 
belatedly come to appreciate them for their scope, complexity, 
richness of characterization, and skill at pushing all the right 
buttons.  Parts 2, 3, and 4 are just about as good as it gets.  

My own contribution, Part 5, you'll have to judge for yourselves.  
-- C. L.  

                          75% OFF


                          Joe Doe

                 INSPIRED BY AN AD FOR A SALE.

Part 1


Debbie Dalton had won a contest that entitled her to "a shopping 
spree with 75% off" during the mall's grand opening Saturday 

But, when she went to the mall's main office, she was stunned to 
learn that "75% off" didn't refer to the prices. 

"75% off" referred to Debbie's clothing!

The contest entry form was a legally binding contract, and there 
was no way out for her.  She would have to "shop" for four hours 
at the mall, helping the mall manager promote the mall's products, 
while 75% of her clothing remained locked in the manager's desk. 

She had pleaded with the manager to be allowed to keep her bra and 
panties.  But, under the rules, the manager got to decide which 
items of clothing would be removed.  And the dirty old man soon 
stripped her of everything but her gray wool socks and yellow 
hiking boots.

Four grinning security guards and the manager marched a very 
nervous Debbie from the mall office to her first stop: the 
athletic equipment section of the department store.

As she walked through the mall, Debbie quickly attracted a huge 
crowd of grinning men...mainly unhappy husbands who had been 
dumped at the mall while their wives were shopping. 

But, watching beautiful, blushing Debbie march butt-naked through 
the mall with her hands on top of her head, was even better than 
watching sports in the TV department!

She was grateful to have the army of men surrounding her.  At least 
they provided her with some protection from the hateful stares of 
the women shoppers.  "Slut," "whore," and "prick tease," were some 
of the gentler words that she heard her angry sisters use to 
describe her as she pranced naked through the crowded stores.

At the athletic department, she worked out on the rowing machine 
and jiggled delightfully when she ran on the treadmill.  She had 
problems with the pull-ups, but several of the male shoppers were 
happy to put their hands on her soft and supple bottom to help 
"give her a boost."

But, without a doubt, the most popular piece of equipment that she 
demonstrated was the trampoline.

It was almost Halloween, so the next stop was the local costume 
shop.  Debbie was grateful to be allowed to dress, but she found 
the costumes that the crowd selected for her were all sexist and 
demeaning.  She dressed as a cheerleader, a Playboy bunny, a belly 
dancer, a French maid, a schoolgirl, a sexy meter maid, a diapered 
baby, a mental patient, a Roman slave girl, and a pirate wench.

But when it was finally time to leave, everyone agreed that she 
should return to her original costume: "Lady Godiva in hiking 

It was the costume all the men liked best.

The next stop was the drugstore.  There was a special on "Lady 
Smooth Electric Razors," and the store manager was happy to 
demonstrate the product by shearing off Debbie's blonde bush 
while the crowd cheered.

Before, she had been naked.  Now, she was BARE!

Her lack of pubic hair made her next stop, the shoe store, even 
more rewarding for her army of fans.  The salesman, a dead ringer 
for Al Bundy in both looks and manners, did little to alleviate 
her distress.

She glanced unhappily at the clock on the wall, as she was matched 
past the cheering men at the food court yet again.  All of her 
humiliations so far had consumed less than two hours, which meant 
she still had another two hours to go.

The mall manager did tell her that she would, of course, be 
rewarded for her efforts.  (But she was not going to get a 
shopping spree.  And she would not get to purchase anything 
for 75% off.)  

As a result, she was miffed.  After all, she'd been marching around 
stark naked in front of a crowd of leering, cheering men for four 

Given the size of the crowd and the publicity she was attracting, 
shouldn't she get more than a $25 gift certificate?


That night, the mall manager happily reviewed the sales figures 
from the first day.  The results were fantastic.

The women shoppers had spent a lot, but that was expected.  Women 
loved discount malls.

But, for some mysterious reason, every adult male in town also 
visited the mall that day.  True, they didn't shop much during 
Debbie's "performance," but, afterwards, the inspired men eagerly 
purchased expensive perfume, lingerie, candy, cards, and flowers 
for their wives and girlfriends. 

Apparently Debbie's little romp had put the males in the mood for 
love, and the mall manager had the sales receipts to prove it.

The costume store immediately sold out of every costume she had 
modeled.  The drug store had sold out of both electric razors and 
condoms.  Photography departments throughout the mall had sold 
every camcorder, every camera, and every roll of film.  And it 
was standing room only at Hooters. 

And the athletic department had sold all their trampolines.

The manager scanned the photos on his desk.  He had taken Debbie to 
the mall's photographic studio for some "promotional photos."  The 
crowd loved watching the photographer put her through her paces. 

Most of the photos were too risqué for the Sunday newspaper.  But 
those could be downloaded on the mall's web site for a modest fee.

For the Sunday ad section, the manager selected a photo of Debbie 
sitting on her cute little tush looking up at a "75% off" sign.  
She was wearing nothing but her socks, shoes, and a big smile. 

The ad was subtle, but the manager knew that, when he promised 
another "75% off sale" next to a picture of Debbie, attendance 
would soar.

Of course Debbie, so prim and proper, wouldn't like the fact that 
she was appearing buck naked on the front of the color pull-out 
section in the Sunday newspaper.  But that was too bad, wasn't it?

Word of her humiliation had spread quickly, and the mall manager 
knew that no woman would be stupid enough to show up next Saturday 
to claim her "prize."  But a municipal judge had agreed that the 
contest entry form was a legally binding contract, and the mall 
manager had already arranged for the Sheriff to wake up next week's 
surprised winner and "escort" her to the mall.

The manager had an enormous stack of entry forms on his desk.  
Every woman in town had signed up for the contest.  He had so 
many gorgeous women to choose from that he had already decided 
to award "prizes" every Sunday, as well as every Saturday.  He 
might even parade three or four naked women through the mall at 
once, to alleviate the congestion problems that Debbie had caused.

Why not?  None of the women had bothered to read the fine print, 
and it was their laziness and greed that had gotten them into this 
mess.  It was deliciously ironic to use their desire for discount 
clothing to strip them naked.

Since every luscious babe in town had signed a contract to parade 
around the mall in her birthday suit to help him drum up sales, he 
intended to take full advantage of the situation. 

He chuckled as he toyed with the electric razor on his desk.  The 
women in this town were sheep....

And he planned to shear every one of them!


Part 2


Judge Ashley Marsh examined the paperwork in front of her 
carefully.  In one sense, it was an open and shut case.

A huge number of women had entered a contest that promised them 
"75% off" at a discount mall.  But, when the first winner arrived, 
she had been informed that "75% off" referred to her clothes, not 
to the prices.

The first "winner," a beautiful blonde named Debbie, had spent four 
hours marching around the mall wearing nothing but gray socks and 
yellow hiking boots.  Naturally the promotion had been a sensation, 
and the naked, blushing female had attracted a huge audience of 
eager male followers.

The mall manager was delighted with the sales receipts and the 
publicity, and he had promised to strip down four more women the 
following Saturday -- and another four on Sunday. 

The manager didn't reveal WHO would be stripping, and the 
advertising teased, "Hold onto your knickers, ladies.  It 
could be ANYONE!"  The element of surprise allowed every 
guy in town to fantasize about seeing a frosty co-worker, 
an untouchable neighbor, a local celebrity, or even a prissy 
wife or girlfriend forced to parade naked for all to see....

Meanwhile, the beautiful women of the town wrestled with a 
different vision.  They imagined themselves squirming helplessly, 
handcuffed in the back of a police cruiser, while a whistling 
cop drove them toward their fate. 

The terrified women of the town had gone to Judge Ashley to get an 
injunction against the contest.  Surely she would save them.

While it was true that the women had signed a binding contract, 
Ashley realized that there were sufficient grounds for voiding it.  
The public nudity made it illegal, and the fact that the draconian 
"personal services agreement" was disguised as a contest was 
clearly deceptive. 

But there was another side to the argument.  Although she was a 
respected jurist and civic leader, Judge Ashley herself had had 
fantasies of exposure and humiliation for years. 

In truth, Ashley found the details of the case thrilling.... 

She had agreed to schedule a hearing on Friday afternoon to 
consider the request for an injunction.  The women would have 
precious little time for an appeal if she ruled against them.  
And Ashley was secretly delighted at the thought of the beautiful 
and sophisticated women of the town stewing in their own juices 
as the dreaded weekend deadline approached.

She picked up Debbie's deposition and read it for the 10th time.  
As she read, her hand discreetly slipped underneath her skirt....





Ashley climaxed as she imagined herself naked in front of all of 
the men she knew.  As a judge and an ardent feminist, she had made 
a lot of enemies over the years, and no doubt her appearance at the 
mall would attract an eager, enthusiastic crowd.  The thought was 
humiliating to be sure, but also exciting....

Wiping her hands, Ashley tried to dismiss the thought.  After all, 
she was a powerful and respected judge, not some helpless little 
bimbo for a mall manager to parade around like a stripper on a 

But, as she scanned the names on the injunction, she began to have 
second thoughts.  The plaintiffs were not strippers or call girls.  
They were housewives and successful businesswomen.  The thrill of 
the contest was that it reduced respected and accomplished women 
to the status of helpless sex objects. 

It didn't matter if you were a doctor or a lawyer or the mayor's 
wife.  If you had filled out a contest form, then the mall manager 
asserted the legal right to strip you naked.  And then the show 
would begin....

Ashley swallowed hard.  If she herself filled out a contest form, 
she would be no different than the rest....

She picked up the small card that she had received in the mail that 
very day.  Although the "secret" of the contest was out, postcards 
from the huge mass mailing were still arriving every day.

She had nearly fainted when she saw the contest postcard arrive 
with HER name printed on the top of the form.  At first she had 
thought that she had somehow "won" the contest.  Had she filled 
out an entry form and forgotten?  Or had someone filled out the 
form for her? 

The thought chilled her to the bone.

But, as she reviewed the card, she realized it was just an entry 
form with her name and address pre-printed across the top. 

How thoughtful.  The entry form was completely filled out for her, 
and the postage was prepaid.  All she needed to do was sign her 
name, and the Sheriff and the mall manager would take care of the 

The small postcard had the words "SALE," "WIN," and "75% OFF" in 
caps all over it, and the actual contract rules were an illegible 
smudge at the bottom. 

It was chilling to see her pre-printed name on the postcard.  She 
closed her eyes and imagined herself standing in the mall manager's 
office, reluctantly undressing under his amused gaze.  With her 
eyes still closed, she placed her hands on top of her head and 
imagined what it would feel like when the mall's doors opened....

Feeling a small trickle of sweat run down her back, she opened her 
eyes and was relieved that she was still in the safety of her 
elegant judicial chambers.

Staring down at the form unhappily, she trembled.  Why did it 
frighten her so much? 

After all, she was prominent, a community leader.  Why was she 
terrified of a little piece of cardboard?  She was obviously 
being silly.  And she knew that the only way to overcome a fear 
was to confront it.

She put the tip of her elegant Cross pen against the signature 
block.  The card was pretty and attractive, and the large empty 
white block at the bottom of the card was practically begging for 
her signature.  Like the contest itself, the card had been 
carefully designed.

Ashley paused and tried to read the fine print at the bottom.  She 
wasn't just some silly, helpless little airhead who would sign a 
contract without reading it....

Was she?

She glared down at the menacing form and defiantly signed her 
name.  Complete!  Done!  Finished! 

Her hands began trembling again as she looked at the postcard with 
her name on it. 

Now she was ready to be...processed....

She shuffled the card in with her other outgoing mail and then put 
the stack back in her "out-box," the card happily disappearing into 
the pile.  A stranger would barely glance at that heap of outgoing 
mail.  No one would ever guess that it contained the humiliating 
document that would settle Judge Ashley's hash....

She glanced at the clock on the wall.  The mailroom guy wouldn't 
be by her office for at least another hour, so she could let the 
postcard stay buried for a few minutes.

After all, what was she afraid of?

Still, she felt herself growing more and more tense as the seconds 
ticked by.  She stared at the pile of mail on her desk.  She 
couldn't see the postcard, but she knew it was there, mocking her.

She reached for the remote on the TV, determined to distract 
herself from the ominous card nestled there, just within reach.

The voice of the pretty female news anchor blared from the TV.

"The community is still in an uproar over the Saturday strip of a 
local woman here in the new discount mall," the anchorwoman said.  
"We asked a number of people for their reactions...."

The camera cut away to show three lovely young professional women 
at the mall.  These women were obviously wealthy and well-educated, 
and it was clear that they had no sympathy for the victim.

"I was here on Saturday, and I think the little tramp got just what 
she deserved," said the first woman, in a huff.  "Imagine parading 
around NAKED like that in front of all of those salivating pigs.  
It was the most disgusting thing I've ever seen."

The three well-to-do females all agreed that the "frisky tease," 
the "sleazy slut," and the "disgusting bimbo" had been taught a 
lesson she so deserved.  It was only when the news reporter asked 
the women if they had filled out contest entry forms that their 
demeanor changed.

"Well, yes, we all filled out contest entry forms," the first woman 
said, nervously.  "But that's totally different.  I have an MBA 
from Stanford.  They wouldn't strip someone like ME!"

She paused, as if considering the matter for the first time.  
"Would they?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not!" her friend replied.  "Why, we're respected, 
professional women.  I own my own business, for goodness sakes," 
she added, her voice cracking a bit.

Ashley smiled as she watched the three women stammer, shuffle, 
squirm, and wriggle as they tried to explain why THEY were 
different.  The judge recognized the look of fear in the women's 
eyes as they suddenly realized that the sentence applied to THEM 
and that there would be no reprieve.

"Imagine stripping us naked," the third woman added defiantly.  
"It's preposterous!"

In the background, Ashley could see grinning male onlookers 
appraising the beautiful, squirming women knowingly.  The women 
protested that stripping them naked was "unthinkable," but the 
twinkling eyes of the men standing behind them told a different 

Ashley was startled to see her own picture flash on the screen, as 
the news anchor's voice announced, "Plaintiffs' attorneys were 
pleased that the injunction request will be reviewed by Judge 
Ashley Marsh and not by Judge Hawthorn, since the latter is known 
to be unsympathetic to issues involving women's rights.  But 
reaction in the law enforcement community has been mixed."

The camera cut away again to show the tubby Sheriff in his office, 
chewing tobacco and picking his nose.  Clearly annoyed, he lectured 
the camera gravely.  "I think it's an outrage the way liberal 
judges like Ashley interfere with law officers.  I already have 
the names of the contest winners for this weekend, and I was really 
looking forward to picking them up on Saturday and Sunday."  The 
pudgy Sheriff smiled.  "We have some hot babes on this list, let 
me tell you."

From off-camera, the voice of the female reporter asked, "What do 
you think of Judge Ashley Marsh, Sheriff?"

The Sheriff spit out an enormous wad of tobacco before leaning back 
into his chair to reply.  "She's been a pain in my backside for 
years," he said, angrily.  "I just wish I was picking HER up on 
Saturday.  I'd love to order Miss Goody Two-Shoes to put her hands 
on top of my squad car.  I'd make her spread those long legs of 
hers nice and wide, and then I'd take my time, and frisk 

The Sheriff leaned forward in his chair, obviously warming to the 
topic.  "Before I drove her to the mall I'd probably take her back 
to the station for a quick cavity search.  I'm sure all the guys in 
the cellblock would love to watch the judge who put them behind 
bars bend over and touch her toes!" 

Ashley felt her blood run cold as she imagined herself stripping 
out of her expensive charcoal gray suit in front of the hooting 
scum in the local jail.  She knew the Sheriff would make her strip 
slowly for the inmates and would relish every moment of her 

The camera cut away again and showed the craggy old face of her 
arch-rival, Judge Hawthorn.  She had often tangled with the 
conservative judge in the past, and their dislike for each other 
was palpable. 

"If I got the case instead of that liberal Ashley, there wouldn't 
be any injunction, let me assure you," Hawthorn thundered.  "I'd 
strip those little sluts down for everyone to see!  Do you see the 
way women dress today, with their belly buttons hanging out?  I 
think a dose of shame is just what those little doxies need."

From off-camera, the voice of the female anchor began questioning 
him.  "But, Your Honor, one woman claims that her husband submitted 
the form to fulfill his fantasies of exposing her in public.  And 
another woman swears that her neighbor forged her entry form after 
she resisted his advances.  A college dean says that some frat boys 
sent in her name as a prank.  What do you say to these women?"

The old judge scowled.  "I say, strip them down butt-naked and sort 
it out later.  I can't waste my time studying the signatures of 
every little vixen in the valley.  I keep a paddle in my drawer, 
and I reserve it for the bare backsides of lawyers and plaintiffs 
who waste my valuable time with rubbish.  If anyone shows up in MY 
court with a claim like that, there will be some red butts at the 
mall," he chuckled. 

Ashley swallowed.  The walls of Judge Hawthorn's chambers were 
thin, which meant that the CRACK! of the paddle and the women's 
pleas for mercy would be clearly audible in the courtroom.  It 
would be difficult for the contrite women to rub their bottoms 
after the Sheriff cuffed their hands behind their backs.  But it 
would be even more difficult for the tearful women to look into 
the smiling, knowing eyes of the spectators as they were led out 
of the courtroom to the waiting squad car.

Judge Hawthorn became stern again and continued his lecture.
"Personally, I think Judge Ashley should recuse herself.  She's a 
woman, and women always stick together.  You can rest assured that, 
if I were to take over the case, justice would be swift and sure!"

The camera cut away again and showed the fat mall manager, sitting 
in his office drinking a beer while the newswoman questioned him 
from off-camera.  "What do you think of the injunction request?" 
the reporter asked.

"I think it's a disgrace," he said, angrily.  "That little bitch of 
a lawyer, Brittany Kelly, sued us because she filled out a contest 
entry form, and she's afraid everyone's going to find out she's not 
a natural blonde." 

Ashley smiled as she recalled Brittany's desperate plea for an 
injunction.  Brittany was normally composed and confident in 
court, and Ashley had been surprised by her frantic arguments and 
disheveled appearance.  It was almost as if Brittany had been up 
all night....

Ashley's smile broadened as she thought of the proud attorney 
prancing through the mall with her hands on top of her head.  
Brittany had been Ashley's rival for the bench, and in fact 
they had been antagonists since law school.  The thought of 
her enemy being paraded naked in front of a cheering throng 
because of one of Ashley's judicial decisions was intoxicating.

Her fantasy was interrupted by the voice of the newswoman from 
off-camera.  "The Sheriff said that he wished that he could strip 
Judge Ashley.  Did she fill out a contest form?"

The mall manager shook his head sadly and replied, "Not that I know 
of.  But the women in this town are pretty greedy, and a lot of 
them filled out hundreds of contest forms.  There are still crates 
of cards down at the post office that haven't even been postmarked 
yet, and new names are arriving from all over the state every day."

He smiled.  "I check the printout every day to see if Judge 
Ashley's name is on it.  If her name does show up, that little 
bitch will be the first one out the door next Saturday!"

"But she's an outspoken feminist and a leader in the struggle for 
women's rights," the shocked newscaster said.  "You wouldn't 
actually parade her through the mall NAKED, would you?"

"Of course not," the manager said, innocently.  "The contest says 
'75% off.'  I would make sure that she was dressed appropriately 
for a woman of her status.  If it were up to me, she'd be sent out 
wearing a garter belt, stockings, high heels...."

The sleazy manager paused, and let the suspense build for a moment 
before completing his sentence.  "And nothing else!" he said, with 
an evil smile.

Ashley shuddered as she imagined the tubby manager forcing her out 
of the door with her hands on top of her head, dressed in nothing 
but heels and hose. 

Thank goodness she was too busy to fill out forms and enter 

The television showed the chirpy anchorwoman sitting in the studio 
next to her male counterpart.  "Please stay tuned for `Debbie at 
the Mall,' our five-hour special," she said.  "I should warn 
viewers that this complete video record of Debbie Dalton's 
adventures does contain extensive nudity, so viewer discretion 
is advised."

"That was a wonderful report, Paula," the male news anchor said.  
"If that injunction isn't granted, there are going to be some 
embarrassed women in this town."

"I'll say!" she agreed.  "Of course, most of the women I've talked 
to are in denial.  They all seem to think that it can't happen to 

"That's rather silly of them," the anchorman said, in a patronizing 
tone.  He paused and smiled.  "Tell me...did YOU fill out a form, 

The pretty reporter's face went white, and the script fell out of 
her hands.  With a look of panic in her eyes, she tried to explain. 

"Well...of-of c-course," she stammered.  "Everyone did.  But I'm a 
news anchor.  They couldn't strip me....  Could they?  I mean, I'm 
a celebrity!" she whined.

The male anchor said nothing, but smiled knowingly as his co-star 
squirmed in her chair.  From the lustful look in his eye, it was 
clear to Ashley that, when the Sheriff came for the pretty 
reporter, her male colleague would be eagerly standing by with 
a camera crew....

Ashley switched off the set and looked at the pile of mail in her 
out-box.  As she reached for the pile to locate and destroy the 
card, she glanced at the clock and realized that she still had 
forty-five minutes before the next mail pickup.

Deciding to get a breath of fresh air, she moved out onto the 
small balcony adjoining her office and looked down at the pretty 
women in their summer dresses walking past her temple of justice. 

Ashley felt a tremendous rush of power as she realized that she 
held the fate of every beautiful woman in town in her soft, 
delicate hands.

She weighed her options.  In her heart, she wanted to let things 
continue, at least for a while.  The humiliating news stories had 
thrilled her beyond belief, and the thought of a naked picture of 
Brittany Kelly in next Sunday's ad section was absolutely delicious.

But, if she turned down the injunction request, her reputation as a 
feminist judge would be compromised forever.  Her liberal friends 
would shun her, and she would be an outcast in her own party.  Her 
career would be ruined.

She could always recuse herself.  But Judge Hawthorn's suggestion 
that women were unfit to rule on cases involving women was sexist 
and demeaning.  If she was going to recuse herself, Ashley would 
need a better reason than that.

She thought about the postcard sitting in the out-box on her desk.  
If she entered herself in the contest, she would become a plaintiff 
in the class action suit, which was grounds for recusal.  Brittany 
Kelly would be stripped, and Ashley could maintain her impeccable 
feminist credentials.  Problem solved.

But she shuddered as she remembered the mall manager's threat that 
she would be the first one out the door if her name appeared on his 
dreadful list....

She thought about her relationship with old Hawthorn.  He did hate 
her.  But did he hate her THAT much?  Would he really strip his 
fellow jurist of her robes, her pride, and her dignity?

Ashley recalled hearing a story a few years ago about a female 
judge who had been caught taking a bribe and so found herself at 
Hawthorn's mercy.  The rumor was that he had made the proud jurist 
present "oral arguments" in his chambers, privately, and had then 
reneged on their deal and thrown the book at her anyway. 

Judge Hawthorn later arranged for the disbarred judge's parole 
after she reluctantly agreed to become his "personal assistant."  
He personally selected the sheer tops and skimpy skirts that the 
ex-judge was forced to wear.  Making coffee and fetching laundry 
were least degrading of the "personal services" Hawthorn demanded 
of her. 

Did Ashley really want to put herself at the mercy of a man like 

She cringed as she imagined herself bowing and scraping in front of 
a smiling Judge Hawthorn, as she desperately pleaded to be spared 
on Saturday.  The fantasy image ended as she sank to her knees in 
defeat and reluctantly unzipped his pants. 

She returned to her office determined to destroy the postcard 
before it was too late. 

But it was already too late.  The mail was gone.

The mailroom guy had made his pickup early.  Damn!  Desperately, 
she raced down the stairs just in time to catch the mailman as he 
was dragging the sack out the door.

"Excuse me, sir," Ashley said. "I need to get something out of the 
mail.  I'm a judge, and something on my desk was mailed by mistake."

"Hello, Judge Ashley," the mailman replied. "Don't you remember me? 
My name is Dave Uzkrewdme.  You gave my house and kids to my wife 
last week in my divorce case, and now I'm paying her 90% of my 
salary while she diddles my boss."

"That's nice," she said, not really hearing him.  Her eyes were 
riveted on the mail sack in the burly carrier's enormous fist.  
"I need to open the mail pouch and get something out."

"Are you looking for this?" the carrier said, taking her contest 
postcard out of his pocket.

He smiled and gave her a playful wink.  "Don't worry about it, Your 
Honor," he said, cheerfully.  "I'll deliver your postcard to the 
mall personally.  I certainly wouldn't want an important piece of 
mail like this to get lost in the shuffle." 

"But you don't understand," Ashley pleaded.  "I didn't mean to mail 
that.  It's just a terrible mistake."

"I'd like to help, but, once the mail is put in the box, it's a 
federal offense to interfere with it," he replied with a grin.  
"As a judge, you should know that."

She lunged for the card.  For a while, the grinning postman played 
a spirited game of "keep away" with her -- the judge jumping up and 
down, frustrated, as he dangled the card just out of her reach.  
"See you at the mall!" he finally said, putting the postcard back 
into his pocket. 

She weighed her options.  The mall manager would be delighted when 
her card arrived.  And the Sheriff would buy a new tub of lubricant 
when he heard that she was to be the next victim. 

Swallowing hard, she pressed the button on the elevator.  It was 
late in the day, but, if she filled out her recusal forms quickly 
and threw herself on the mercy of the court, Judge Hawthorn might 
be willing to make a deal.

Ashley had 3 months' leave scheduled.  She had planned to earn big 
bucks on the lecture circuit, but she had heard that Judge Hawthorn 
was looking for a "cute honey" to type up his new book on the 
Fourth Amendment, entitled "Strip the Bimbos Naked!"

She knew she would have to sign her employment agreement with 
Judge Hawthorn without discussing the case with him, in order 
to establish that there was no quid pro quo.  She hoped that 
the judge would take her servile attitude into consideration 
when he decided whether or not she should be stripped on Saturday, 
but she had her doubts.

Ashley blushed as she pictured herself dressed in an agonizingly 
short miniskirt, obediently typing away for hours as her nemesis 
spewed out his sexist rant.  As a lowly secretary she would be 
defenseless against his pinches, fanny pats, and demands for 
sexual favors.

Clerical mistakes, Ashley knew, would be corrected by means of the 
paddle in his desk.  She winced as she imagined the amused court 
reporters and secretaries listening from outside as she was put 
through her paces.

She hoped he would spare her the indignities of the mall.  Surely 
he wouldn't let them strip her naked, in front of everyone....

She shivered.  Tonight she would purchase a pair of stockings and a 
garter belt, just in case.  Despite her feelings of helplessness, 
fear, and dread, she did want to look her best.

She quickly scampered down the hall like the little bimbo she would 
soon become.  If she hurried, she might still have time to give the 
judge her "oral argument."

Edited by C. Lakewood