75% OFF
 
                               by 

                          Ashley Marsh 



Part 3: Everything Must Go

JUDGE ASHLEY USES ALL HER WILES TO SAVE HERSELF AND THE WOMEN OF 
THE TOWN FROM BEING FORCED TO EXHIBIT THEMSELVES AT THE NEW MALL.  
BUT WILL SHE SUCCEED?  THE STORY BUILDS TOWARD AN, ER, CLIMAX.



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

The law clerks and court personnel in the corridor smiled to see 
the elegant Judge Ashley trying to dash down the hall in her heels 
and tailored skirt.  "She'll run a lot better when she doesn't have 
all that restrictive clothing on," leered Judge Hawthorn's clerk, 
watching Ashley's shapely rear disappear into the senior judge's 
chambers. 

Ashley stopped to catch her breath.  Evelyn, Judge Hawthorn's 
middle-aged secretary, looked disapprovingly at the younger woman.  
Ever since Ashley's appointment to the bench, Evelyn had made it 
clear that she resented her presence.  Somehow the judge's 
secretary seemed to feel that Ashley's achievement lessened the 
status of an experienced secretary like herself, who practically 
ran Judge Hawthorn's chambers.  Ashley suddenly realized that, if 
she became Hawthorn's temporary typist, she would have Evelyn as 
her supervisor.  As Ashley shifted uncomfortably in front of the 
desk, the usually dour Evelyn smiled maliciously at the young 
jurist, almost as if she had read Ashley's mind in that moment.  
The whole courthouse was aware of Ashley's dilemma on the Mall 
Case, and Evelyn was going to enjoy every minute of it, Ashley 
was sure.  But she couldn't think about that now.  She had to 
see Judge Hawthorn before it was too late!

"If you've come to see Judge Hawthorn, he's gone for the day," 
Evelyn said, with a faint hint of amusement.  

Ashley looked down at the secretary and tried to suppress a gasp.  
Evelyn was toying with Hawthorn's infamous paddle.  Ashley could 
only imagine the humiliation she would feel as she had to bend over 
and expose her tight little behind for Evelyn to spank.  She closed 
her eyes for a moment and could almost feel the older woman's 
fingers expertly undoing the button on her gray skirt and slowly 
drawing the zipper down, before tugging the skirt over her hips.... 
Ashley blinked, trying to suppress the thought, and swallowed hard. 

"I have to see him right away," she said, attempting unsuccessfully 
to appear calm.  After all, even as a judge, she couldn't order 
around another judge's secretary.  "Order around...."   Ashley 
shook her ahead. She mustn't think about that!  Not now. 

"Well, you can't, dear," said Evelyn, deprecatingly.  "He's gone to 
a meeting with the Sheriff to coordinate the media coverage at the 
mall tomorrow."  Evelyn smiled again, maliciously.  "I understand 
you may be on hand for the festivities.  All the TV stations will 
be there.  I even hear that Court TV is sending a crew to cover the 
proceedings." 

Ashley almost stamped her little foot in rage and frustration.  He 
couldn't be gone!  Not now!  How was she going to sign a contract 
to be his "cute little honey" typist if he was off somewhere with 
that awful Sheriff?  Evelyn seemed to be enjoying this immensely.  
Though Ashley did try to be nice to her subordinates, everyone knew 
that her impatience was legendary.  Often, in her chambers, she 
even threw things to vent her temper.  But, on this occasion, she 
just couldn't afford to lose control.   

Ashley turned on her heel and prepared to go.  "But," said Evelyn, 
"His Honor did say that, if you came by, the papers for you to sign 
were on his desk.  You can go on in."

Ashley hurried into the spacious office occupied by the senior 
judge.  She immediately spotted the sheaf of papers that had been 
laid out for her signature.  Reading them over, however, she got 
increasingly angry.  First, there was an order for her to sign, 
recusing herself from the Mall Case.  Hawthorn had been so sure of 
himself that he had had the order typed and prepared, knowing she 
would come crawling to him, begging him to save her from being 
stripped in front of all the townspeople and those horrible 
television cameras.  The next document, though, was even worse.  
It was titled "Employment Contract," and it had her name already 
filled in.  "That cocky bastard," she thought, as she read over 
the humiliating provisions.  The temporary typist would have to 
work long hours for minimum wage ("worth it for the experience," 
the judge had written in the margin).  She would have to work under 
Evelyn's direction.  She also had to be prepared for evening hours 
of "close, personal work" with the crusty old judge, who would 
enjoy every minute of having the brilliant young feminist judge 
at his beck and call, polishing her "oral skills."  And she would 
be denied access to her own chambers while she was on leave.  

Worst of all was the box containing her new "uniform."  There was 
a red plaid jumper and a little white blouse that would make the 
distinguished 30-ish jurist look like a high school girl on her 
first summer job.  And the rest of the stuff was excruciating.  
Judge Hawthorn had even picked out her underwear!  Ashley held up 
a training bra, an ultra-short, white half-slip, and cute little 
white panties with the day of the week all over them, as if the Ivy 
League Phi Beta Kappa was too much of an airhead to know what day 
it was.  She hit the table with her fist and almost cried in 
frustration.  It wasn't fair!  But what choice did she have?  
She hesitated, and then scrawled her name on the bottom of the 
humiliating contract, as the realization hit her that Evelyn had 
to have typed the employment contract.  So Evelyn already knew 
that Ashley was going to go from a proud, independent, and 
respected judge to a bimbo intern overnight.  No wonder she 
had smiled when Ashley had walked into Hawthorn's chambers. 

She felt trapped.  She reached for the recusal order and started to 
sign it -- the order that would leave the fate of so many proud 
professional women in the hands of the misogynist Judge Hawthorn 
and his slimy friend, the Sheriff.  But suddenly she felt a new 
resolve.  She couldn't -- she wouldn't -- leave her sisters to the 
tender mercies of those good ol' boys.  She might not be able to 
preside over the trial, but, by God, she hadn't graduated first in 
her class and been the editor-in-chief of the law review because 
she was stupid.  A plan had begun to form in her mind, a plan that 
would deftly extricate her and the women of the town from the 
clutches of the leering mall manager and leave Ashley with even 
greater status in the community than she had previously enjoyed.  
She smiled at the empty chair where she had been expected to kneel 
to beg for Judge Hawthorn's favor.  She tore the recusal order into 
strips and threw them at the seat cushion.  "There's your order, 
Your Honor," she said, sarcastically, and went back out to Evelyn 
in the anteroom.

"Tell Judge Hawthorn, when he calls, that I've decided to keep the 
case," Ashley said, firmly.  "Oh, and let the Sheriff know I'll 
need a bailiff at the mall tomorrow.  I'm moving the injunction 
hearing to the mall -- 9:00 a.m., sharp."  She smiled beatifically 
at the astonished secretary.  "See you, Monday, dear," Ashley said, 
as she left the chambers. 

Barely able to suppress her excitement, she hurried back to her own 
offices.  She wrote out the order moving the hearing from the 
courthouse to the mall and telephoned the attorneys to notify them 
of the change.  In particular, she spent a good deal of time on the 
phone with Brittany Kelly.  As much as she would have loved to see 
her archrival stripped and paraded through the mall tomorrow, she 
knew she needed Brittany as much as Brittany needed a favorable 
ruling from her.  She explained her plan quickly.  Ms. Kelly was 
nothing if not a quick study and pledged her support.  That part 
of her plan in process, Ashley next called Paula Evans at the TV 
station. 

"Paula, we're moving the hearing to the mall tomorrow morning....  
No, I'm not recusing myself....  No, I don't care what Judge 
Hawthorn said, I'm conducting the hearing, and I'll be there at 
9 a.m.  Then we'll see about this...'Strip Mall!'  (Ashley laughed 
at her own joke.)  She finished up by promising the anchorwoman an 
"exclusive" interview right after the hearing ended. 

"Great!" said Paula, appreciative of the scoop.  "I can't wait for 
our viewers to have an up-close look at our town's first Supreme 
Court Justice!"  

Ashley felt herself blush.  Her ambition to take her place on the 
state's highest court was no secret, and it was one of the sources 
of tension with old Judge Hawthorn.  Hawthorn felt he had put in 
his time and was entitled to the spot, but Ashley had managed to 
captivate the members of the Governor's judicial screening 
committee....  And, well, if her legs were a little sexier than 
Hawthorn's, there wasn't anything she could do about that, was 
there?  She smiled as she recalled how easily the panel had been 
manipulated by a little flash of thigh with a bit of lace above. 

Ashley hummed to herself as she gathered her papers and the court 
file and put them into her expensive Louis Vuitton briefcase.  She 
giggled when she realized she had been humming "The Stripper."  If 
her plan worked as she hoped, at least that possibility would be 
gone.

As she went down in the judges' private elevator to her reserved 
parking place in the basement, she smiled to herself, imagining the 
look on the faces of the mall manager, the Sheriff, and old Judge 
Hawthorn when they realized that she had beaten them!  She could 
hardly wait to get home and see the evening news.  She drove her 
purring BMW out of the garage, waving graciously at the security 
guard at the entrance.  Life was good!

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

Ashley swung her car past the new mall.  There was a huge banner 
over the entrance proclaiming 

		75% OFF SALE CONTINUES TOMORROW!!

She shivered at how close she had come to being the star 
attraction.  She looked down at her Patek Philippe watch.  
Twenty minutes until the mall closed.  Just enough time to....

She flushed as she remembered her shopping errand: garter belt and 
stockings.  She shivered, remembering the words of the mall manager 
on TV, explaining how he would reduce the presumptuous judge to 
near-nakedness!  She didn't need to worry about that now, did she?  
So why was she parking her car and heading for the mall's lingerie 
boutique?  "Well," she thought to herself, "I do need to look my 
best.  And, anyway, I deserve a treat!" 

While she may have favored conservative, tailored suits and 
blouses, she loved to indulge herself in tasteful, expensive 
underthings.  She enjoyed the idea that she would be sitting up 
on the bench as phalanxes of male lawyers paraded in front of her, 
offering lame excuses for this delay or that failure to comply with 
one of her orders, knowing that they all wondered what stern Judge 
Ashley was wearing underneath that black robe.  And that was her 
secret!

The young sales clerk in the boutique greeted her deferentially.  
"Hello, Your Honor," she said.  "I've been expecting you."  Ashley 
felt a little shiver at the last remark.  She looked at the girl 
quizzically.  "I saw the manager on the news," the girl explained.  
Ashley's hand went to her gray skirt, as if to reassure herself 
that she was still clothed.  She looked up at the teenage clerk to 
see if she were smirking, but the young lady seemed entirely 
serious and businesslike, genuinely trying to be helpful.  Ashley 
felt a sudden loss of self-confidence as she followed the girl to 
the back of the shop.  Her plan was foolproof, she was sure.  So 
why was she here, letting this teenager lead her around, helping 
her select underwear for her to display to a crowd of panting male 
shoppers?  And, worse, why were Ashley's panties getting damp at 
the idea? 

The girl looked behind the counter and fetched up a bag.  "This 
is what you had in mind, isn't it?"  She held up a pair of black 
patent leather stiletto heels, much higher than Ashley's usual 
conservative, low-heeled pumps (which befitted an elegant, 
understated professional woman).  The girl then displayed a 
package of stockings in Ashley's size, and Ashley felt her cheeks 
burn.  But the worst was yet to come.  The clerk reached into the 
bag and produced a lace garter belt, festooned with cute little 
ribbons and bows all over it, the long straps dangling obscenely 
as she held it up, like a string of paper dolls, for Ashley's 
approval.  Ashley hesitantly reached out to feel one of the straps. 
She could almost hear the mall manager complimenting her on her 
good taste as....

"Good evening, Judge!  Doing a little last minute shopping, I see." 
She whirled around to see the mall manager standing behind her.  
Mortified, she tried to stuff the undergarment back into the bag, 
but the manager caught her wrist and gave her a knowing look.  
"Always best to be prepared, isn't it?  Well, SEE YOU tomorrow!"  
He went on his way laughing, leaving behind a thoroughly 
embarrassed circuit court judge quivering in arousal.  

"Guess he's just making the rounds before closing," said the sales 
girl, cheerfully.  "Cash or charge, Your Honor?" she asked.  "Or 
perhaps you'd like to try them on first?"  Ashley shook her head 
emphatically.  She couldn't let the sales clerk see her soaked 
panties.  She handed over her AmEx Gold Card, and the young lady 
processed the sale.  "Just as well," she said.  "It'll be a lot 
easier to check the fit tomorrow when you don't have so much on," 
she added, earnestly.  Ashley scribbled her name on the charge slip 
and fled to her car.  She was normally a careful driver, but it was 
hard to steer with only her left hand.

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

Author's Note:

Joe, this sequel is a tribute to the impact your writing has on me.  
I desperately hope you will find it pleasing.  If the rest of my 
public wants the remainder of the story, please let me know!

Love, ASHLEY

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

Editor's Note: 

This 3rd segment of the story originally appeared on 8 September 
2002.  Ashley received a lot of positive feedback and several times 
posted her intentions to write a follow-up.  It was supposed to be 
"nearing completion" on 30 November.  After Joe Doe did the 4th 
installment (leaving room for her sequel), she posted a long note 
on 7 January 2003, announcing, "I PROMISE the next installment 
soon."  But, in fact, that never appeared, and she soon stopped 
posting altogether.  More's the pity, for she's been missed.

C. Lakewood