

 
                 THE WORST PART IS THE WAITING

                             by 

                           Joe Doe 


ASHLEY JOHNSON THOUGHT IT WAS BRILLIANT TO GET A RESTRAINING ORDER 
TO STOP THE STRIP SEARCH.  BUT THE TEN WOMEN LEFT KNEELING STARK 
NAKED WITH THEIR LEGS SPREAD WHILE THE JUDGE PONDERED THEIR FATE 
ARE NOT SO SURE.



Ashley Johnson glanced nervously at the clock.  Why didn't the 
judge call back?

Ashley knew the wait was even worse for her clients.  Ashley's ten 
clients were kneeling over a lunch table hastily set up in the 
university's auditorium.  It was basically an indoor version of a 
picnic table.  The women knelt on the bench seats and rested their 
stomachs on the table top.  Their bottoms were raised high in the 
air, and their legs were spread.

All ten women were absolutely stark naked.

They were all respected community leaders.  Sharon Lewis, for 
example, was the president of the local bank.  Jane Jonas owned a 
chain of aerobics studios.  Shirley Wilson was the CEO of a large 
software company that supplied many of the jobs in the area.  Tonya 
Watson was the head of surgery at the local hospital.

Indeed, the women were in this predicament because of their success.
All of them had been invited to the campus to speak as part of a 
seminar entitled "Career Women in the 21st century."  But, when 
drugs were found hidden in the ladies' restroom, Judge Searchem 
had issued a "Jane Doe" search warrant, authorizing the Sheriff to 
search any woman on campus who was not a student or faculty member.

The ten young professional women speaking on campus that day were 
all good looking, with trim, athletic figures.  It didn't take the 
Sheriff long to decide who he wanted to strip-search.

One of the women had managed to call her friend Ashley, a leading
local attorney.  By the time Ashley arrived with the restraining
order, the Sheriff had already made each woman strip absolutely
naked and put her clothes into a small black milk crate.

When Ashley arrived, the women were kneeling over the lunch table,
ass over appetite, awaiting their cavity searches. 

Ashley argued that the women should be allowed to dress, but a
careful reading of the court order revealed that the appellate 
judge had merely ordered the Sheriff to stop the proceedings until 
Judge Searchem could be consulted and the original warrant reviewed. 
The Sheriff had refused to let the embarrassed women dress and had 
just left them kneeling on the bench, butts high and legs widely 
parted, until the appellate judge issued his final ruling.

In addition to the Sheriff and Ashley, two female deputies sat on 
the wooden bleachers that faced the lunch table.  The deputies 
chatted about the news, their health club, and their plans for the 
weekend.  The fact that the ten most powerful women in the area 
were kneeling stark naked on a picnic table just a few feet away 
hardly seemed to matter to them at all.

To the ten, the strip-search was the most mortifying thing that 
had ever happened to them.  To the two policewomen, it was just 
another day at the office.

The Sheriff explained to Ashley that he always brought two female 
deputies to strip-searches, so that both could conduct separate 
cavity searches.  His "double check" policy ensured that there 
would be no mistakes. 

(Of course, on the bench, the naked women greeted the news of the 
"double check policy" with what can only be described as "flop 
sweat.")

Ashley looked at the huge clock on the wall impatiently.  Why 
didn't the judge call?

The women on the bench had more pressing issues in mind.  Their 
position was not at all comfortable, and occasionally one of them 
would try to rest her round buttocks on her heels.

When this happened the Sheriff would reward the slacker with a 
sharp slap on her bare, unprotected fanny, and order her to "get 
back into position."

Similarly, any women who tried to close her shamefully splayed 
thighs would soon feel the Sheriff's baton tapping her between 
the legs and receive an order to "keep 'em spread...nice and wide!"

Ashley objected to the Sheriff's tactics, but, until the judge 
called, there wasn't much she could do.  The Sheriff was within 
his rights to hold the women until the two judges conferred and 
a final ruling was made. 

Of course, each of the ten women knew that, with each passing 
second, it became more likely that someone would wander into the 
gym and see them in their humbling position. 

Each of the women felt a lump in her throat when she heard the gym
door open....

One of the female deputies quickly intercepted the intruder before 
he could enter. 

"The student janitor wants to know if he can clean up in here," the 
deputy said.  "Is that all right with you, Sheriff?"

"Not a problem," the Sheriff replied.  "We're just sitting in here 
doing nothing, thanks to our smarty pants lady lawyer." 

The naked women looked over their shoulders in horror as Stanley
Johanson, the 19-year-old student janitor pushed his pail and mop 
into the room. 

Stanley was smiling like a fox entering the hen house.  

And Stanley knew each one of the hens.  Sally Stone had been his 
science teacher when he was a sophomore in high school and later 
became the principal.  His summer internship had been at Shirley 
Wilson's software company.  And, of course, everyone knew Cindy 
Jamison, the local TV news anchor.

Stanley was just a nerdy college student, and these women were, for
him, untouchable.  He knew he didn't have a snowball's chance in 
hell of seeing any of these foxy ladies in a bikini, much less 
naked.

But now it was definitely time to buy Satan a pair of snow boots.  
All ten of these luscious, fabulously successful professional babes 
were stark naked.  And not only that, but they were forced to kneel 
in front of Stanley with their legs spread and their asses high in 
the air. 

Ashley objected to Stanley's presence, of course, but the Sheriff
pointedly reminded her that the restraining order didn't say 
anything about the search locale...or the waiting conditions.  
Until Ashley was elected Sheriff, Stanley was free to "clean up 
as he saw fit."

And clean up Stanley did.  The area immediately around and under 
the table was soon spit-polished until it glowed.  Around and 
around the naked women, Stanley went, mopping...and mopping...and 
mopping....

The women blushed crimson as the 19-year-old openly ogled them, 
gawking at them as he softly sang one inane tune after another. 

"Lady Godiva" was one of his favorites:

	HER LONG BLONDE HAIR
	HANGING DOWN AROUND HER KNEES,
	ALL THE CATS WHO DIG STRIPTEASE
	PRAYING FOR A LITTLE BREEZE....

Stanley was a psychology major, and he was currently writing a 
paper on the use of humiliation on political prisoners.  At one 
time he had thought his "Psychology and Warfare" class was bunk, 
and he had picked the paper topic in order to stimulate his 
creative juices.

He had never dreamed that his job as a janitor would give him a 
chance to test out the theories he had learned in class. 

Who said a psych degree wasn't practical?

He appreciated the humiliating pose the Sheriff had left each of 
the women in.  Leaving their clothes in a black milk crate just 
a few feet in front of them was also a nice touch.  Every time a 
woman looked up, she could see her purse and expensive clothes 
placed tantalizingly just out of her reach. 

So near...and yet so far.

Stanley knew immediately that the Sheriff was a kindred spirit.

Stanley's second chorus was interrupted when one of the female 
deputies stood up.  "Sheriff, Brenda and I are due to go off duty 
in 5 minutes," she explained.  "We could stay until the judge 
calls, but we'd have to put in for overtime."

"That won't be necessary," the Sheriff responded.  "I can perform 
the searches myself, if the judge doesn't call before you go off 
duty."

The bench the women were kneeling on almost tipped over as each 
of them started to squirm in anxiety.  To be searched by a female 
police officer was bad enough, but now they were going to be 
fingered by the Sheriff himself.

"But who will do the double check?" the female deputy asked.

"I'll just deputize Stanley here," the Sheriff said, casually.  
"What do you say, Stanley?  Are you willing to help me give these 
fine 'ladies' a little pat and poke?"

Stanley tried to act casual, but his voice betrayed his eagerness.  
"I'm always happy to lend a hand, Sheriff!" he replied.

Cindy Jamison, the local news reporter, spoke up first.  "Sheriff, 
I think I'd rather have the female deputy perform my search now 
and not wait for the judge to release me." 

"Me, too," said Sharon Lewis, the bank president.

"And me," added Shirley Wilson.  Shirley had a lot of employees 
at her software company, but she remembered Stanley from his days 
as an intern.  The thought of him touching her made her shudder.  
"I don't want to take the chance that Stanley would get to...I 
mean, I think I'd just rather have a female deputy search me now, 
and get it over with," she said, desperately.

Soon all ten of the women on the bench had joined the chorus, 
begging for their cavity search to be done right away, before 
the female deputies left.

The Sheriff tried to hush them.  "Ladies, please," he said, 
soothingly.  "If it were up to me, your searches would be finished 
and you'd be home by now.  But our little 'legal eagle' over here 
decided to get her restraining order, so you'll just have to wait," 
he said, with mock regret.

"Ashley's an idiot for getting that stupid restraining order," 
Sharon Lewis said.  "I don't care what Ashley says...I'm willing 
to accept my cavity search without complaint."  Sharon was 
nervously eyeing the smiling janitor.

"Me, too," Cindy echoed.  "I just want my cavity search NOW."

The Sheriff shook his head sadly.  "I know how you feel, ladies."  
His voice was tinged with phony sadness.  "I don't want to hang 
around here all day, either.  But our local Marsha Clark decided 
to run whining to one her liberal judges, and now we're all stuck." 

The Sheriff brightened his tone.  "But don't worry, ladies.  If our 
liberal lady lawyer here is as smart as she thinks she is, I'm sure 
you'll all be free as soon as we hear from the judge." 

"But what if the judge rules against us?" Shirley asked. 

"Then Stanley and I are going to get to know each of you a lot 
better," the Sheriff said, with a lewd chuckle. 

Stanley smiled.  "Don't worry, girls.  You still have at least 
five minutes before the matrons leave." 

The ten naked women immediately fixed their eyes on the clock, 
their faces masks of pure desperation.  They watched the second 
hand sweep round and round.  They watched and trembled as each 
minute ticked off, one by one.

Stanley smiled as small rivulets of sweat began to run down the 
ten lovely bare backs in front of him.  "Watch the clock" was an 
old gambit in psych warfare, and he was gratified to see that it 
worked as well as the textbooks said it did.  Each woman had her 
eyes fastened to the clock, and each was helplessly watching the 
seconds tick away.

Stanley decided to have some fun with the situation.  He leaned 
down next to Cindy, the news anchor, who was at the far left end 
of the bench.  "Tick...tick...tick...." he whispered into her ear. 

He got up and started mopping again, playfully whistling "As Time 
Goes By," while the seconds ran out on the women's rescue.

About two minutes before the deadline, the cell phone in Ashley's 
pocket went off.  All of the ten women craned their necks to look 
expectantly at Ashley, praying that their ordeal was over. 

A few sharp slaps from Stanley and the Sheriff soon got their 
perfect asses back into a perfect line.

Ashley held the phone up to her ear.  She knew that all ten hated 
her furiously at this point, and they were among the most powerful 
women around.  If this phone call went the wrong way, she'd be 
practicing law in Brazil.

Everyone waited.  The only sound in the room was the ticking clock 
on the wall.

"No, I don't want to change long distance companies!" Ashley 
shouted, angrily slamming her cell phone shut.

Stanley almost laughed out loud as he scanned the row of naked 
women.  The look of utter defeat on the ten faces was simply 
delightful.  Their "rescue" had turned into a cheesy telephone 
commercial.  He couldn't have set up a more perfect disappointment 
for them if he'd tried.

And, what was worse, time was up, and the matrons were now getting 
ready to leave.  The ten naked babes were now totally at Stanley's 
mercy, and he walked up and down the line slowly, just to let them 
know who was in charge.

Ashley knew that she was accomplishing nothing, and the waves of 
hatred from everyone were starting to make her uncomfortable.  She 
decided to go the administration building, remembering that the 
appellate judge had said that he might fax his decision there.

The women stared daggers at Ashley as she left.  The well-dressed, 
snotty lawyer was sauntering out of the mess dressed in her stylish 
power suit, while her ten victims were left naked as jaybirds.

Stanley went over to the Sheriff and asked him if there was 
anything he could do to get ready.  The two conferred, and 
Stanley briefly left the room.  He returned with a brown paper 
bag. 

Stanley knew that one of the most exquisite forms of torture was 
anticipation.  Stanley loved old Westerns, where the condemned 
prisoners looked through the cell house bars while the gallows 
were built and tested. 

He decided that the ten proud and independent women needed a little 
taste of what was in store for them.

He stood in front of the ten naked women and took out a small 
container that looked like a box of tissues.  He smiled down at 
the women as he slowly ripped off the top of the box.  When he 
pulled out the top "tissue," the ladies saw to their horror that 
it was not a box of tissues at all.... 

It was a box of latex surgical gloves. 

He started at the far end of the line. Cindy, the news anchor, 
was kneeling there with her bare ass high in the air. 

Stanley teasingly took out two gloves, explaining to the horrified 
Cindy that one glove was for him, and one was for the Sheriff.  He 
then laid them directly in front of her, a few inches from her nose. 

She stared at the two gloves in disbelief, her eyes wide with shame 
and humiliation.  She was staring directly at the gloves that were 
going to be used to probe and explore her most intimate and secret 
areas.  The blood rushed to her pretty face, and the normally 
unshakable anchor blushed crimson.

"Which glove was Stanley going to use?" she wondered, inanely.

What would it feel like? 

How long would it take?

Would it hurt?

The gloves looked thinner than those at the doctor's office...would 
they feel like a bare hand?

How deep inside her would Stanley's fingers go? 

Would Stanley do all of the girls first and then let the Sheriff 
search them, or would they strip search each girl in tandem?

Would they search her anus too?  She certainly hoped they wouldn't. 

These and many other thoughts raced through Cindy's mind as she 
knelt there, hyperventilating, staring helplessly at the evil 
gloves. 

Stanley used his handkerchief to wipe away the beads of sweat that 
were forming on Cindy's forehead, and she looked up at him with 
pleading eyes.

He winked at the hot TV news babe and moved on to his next victim. 

He was pleased that the gloves managed to get a rise out of each 
of the women, with the reaction varying from deep humiliation to 
almost total panic as he laid out the gloves. 

Indeed, he took the time to come up with a custom humiliation for 
each woman.  He told Jane Jonas, the head of the aerobics studio, 
that she was the most beautiful woman in town, and that he was 
really looking forward to fingering her "tight little butt hole."

Jane clenched her buttocks and blushed six shades of red. 

He then asked a nervous Shirley Wilson what all the geeks at her 
software company would say when they heard that she had been 
stripped butt-naked and cavity-searched by one of her interns. 

Shirley winced at the thought.

Stanley told Mary Jane Wilkes, the woman who ran a local chain of 
bakeries, that she had "really nice cookies," and he was looking 
forward to seeing what she had between her "hot cross buns."

He made similar remarks to each woman, always taking the time to 
brush away a tear, mop a brow, or brush stray hair out their eyes. 

Stanley was such a gentleman.

When he was done, he was pleased to see ten trembling women staring 
at the ten pairs of gloves like ten hypnotized chickens. 

What fun being a psych major!

But he was just getting started.  He reached into his bag and 
pulled out a large tin can, dropping it onto the dead center of 
the table with a THUD!

Each woman strained to see what the container was for.  It was a 
large steel drum, with no label other than a small one that said 
"KITCHEN."  Whatever it was, it was obviously a generic version 
of something, too cheap to be properly labeled. 

Stanley took a screwdriver from the bag, and slowly pried the 
lid off the industrial-sized can.  The suspense created was 
almost unbearable, much to Stanley's delight. 

Even with the lid off, the can was too tall for the women to see 
inside.  Stanley reluctantly decided to end the mystery. 

"They didn't have any regular lubricant in the supply cabinet, 
Sheriff," Stanley reported.  "But the cook said I could use this 
lard.  Is that okay?"

Stanley put on a glove and stuck two of his fingers into the can.  
He pulled out a thick gob of white goo and held it up for the 
Sheriff's inspection. 

"That'll do fine, Stanley," the Sheriff replied, jovially. "That 
fat will grease their tight little honey pots up real good -- not 
that some of them will need much."

Several of the woman felt their throats go dry as they realized 
that the Sheriff's assessment applied to them.  Although all of 
the women were humiliated beyond words, the prolonged exposure and 
Stanley's lewd remarks and gestures had left several of them highly 
stimulated.  Under normal circumstances, no one would have noticed, 
but, under the bright lights of the gym, with their legs spread, 
their glistening pussy juices were on display for all to see. 

But the real focus of each woman's attention was Stanley's hand.  
He turned his fingers slowly, letting his greasy fingers gleam 
under the hot lights. 

Every woman on the table wondered what it would feel like when 
those fingers were pushed inside of her.

Stanley smiled as he looked down at the helpless women.  Every pair 
of eyes was riveted on his greasy digits.  What was even better, 
he could see each woman was tensing and then releasing her butt 
cheeks, flexing her thighs, and generally squirming in place as he 
moved his fingers to and fro, almost as if they were trying to fend 
off the unwelcome fingers from their final destination. 

Stanley knew that he had totally gotten inside the women's heads.

There was another knock on the door.  This time, it was Duffy, the 
football coach.  The Sheriff welcomed him like an old friend, and 
quickly explained the ten naked women to the obviously pleased 
coach.

"Well, I wanted to congratulate the team on winning their last 
game, and I was going to give them a little pep talk here in 
about 15 minutes," the coach said.  "How much longer are you 
going to need the gym, Sheriff?"

The Sheriff explained that he wasn't sure; it depended on when the 
judge called.

"Well, you don't mind if I let the team in here while you're 
waiting, do you?" the coach asked.  "I was going to give them  
some sort of treat for winning their last game, but somehow I 
think that letting them watch these babes stick their heinies 
up in the air is even better than, say, ice cream."

"Oh, no!" Dr. Tonya Watson shrieked.  "Billy Jefferson is on 
the team, and he delivers my groceries every week.  You can't 
let him see me like this!"

"Jimmy Walton has been cutting my grass since he was in high 
school," Jane Jonas said, plaintively.

"Peter Jacoby worked in the bank last summer as an intern," Sharon 
Lewis said.

"Well, it sounds like you fine ladies will have some familiar faces 
to keep you company while you wait," the Sheriff said, chuckling.  
"Remember, no matter how long you've known these boys, they are 
all nineteen or twenty now, and you're all adults, too." 

The Sheriff once again assumed his familiar tone of phony regret.  
"I don't want to let those horny college boys in here anymore than 
you do, but that blasted court order doesn't leave me with any 
choice.  I can't very well shut down the educational system while 
you ladies laze around all day with your bare asses in the air."

"How much longer until the team gets here, Coach?" Stanley asked.  
The sly janitor didn't want to miss an opportunity to subject 
the humiliated women to another exciting session of "watch the 
clock."

"About 15 minutes...at 3:00 PM sharp," the coach replied.  Stanley 
smiled as he saw 10 pairs of eyes immediately turn to the clock on 
the wall.

The Sheriff was tired of slapping the women's bottoms when they 
tried to rest them on their heels, and he asked the coach if he 
could stay and administer the spankings.  The coach didn't need to 
be asked twice, but quickly took up a position behind the women, 
who were anxiously watching the seconds tick away. 

If there was anything worse than being probed by Stanley and the 
Sheriff, it was being probed while the horny jocks from the 
football team watched.  Stanley was pleased to see that, once 
again, every female eye in the room was riveted on the clock, and 
the little beads of sweat were starting to form again.

After a couple of minutes, Shirley Wilson spoke up cautiously.  
"Excuse me, Sheriff.  I need to go to the bathroom, sir.  I've 
been h-holding it...but I don't want to have an...'accident' 
when the boys from the team arrive."

Stanley smiled to himself.  Back at the software company, Shirley 
had lorded it over him like a Queen Bee.  Now she sounded like a 
little kid begging to be excused from class before she wet her 
pants.

"I need to go, too, Sheriff," Sally Stone said, reluctantly.  The 
school principal tried to look away from the grinning former 
student, furious at herself for being unable to control her 
bladder in front of him.

The Sheriff looked at the clock and reluctantly said, "I guess we 
have time for a pit stop." 

Six of the women immediately started to rise from the bench, 
before Stanley's voice interrupted them. 

"They can't leave the room, Sheriff," he said.  "They might use the 
trip to the bathroom to dispose of drugs.  If they need to pee, 
they can do it in this."  He held up a metal coffee can that he 
used to hold old rags. 

He dumped out the rags and positioned himself behind his old school 
principal, Sally Stone.  He put the can right under her exposed 
crotch and said in the most patronizing voice imaginable, "Take a 
whiz in the can like a good little girl, Sally." 

Sally strained.  She needed to go desperately, but it was hard to 
relax under these conditions. 

"Hurry up, little Sally," Stanley teased.  "I can't wait around all 
day for you to take a leak.  I have other girls who are anxious to 
use the can too.  Now go ahead and water the lawn like a good little 
doggie." 

Sally strained as hard as she could, and the first few drops 
trickled out.

"That's a good little girl, Sally.  And what a musical little 
tune."  He chuckled.  "Tinkle, tinkle...."

Sally soon released her pee.  And Stanley once again teased her 
about the humiliating sound it made as it bounced off the sides 
of the tin can.

Stanley repeated the procedure with the other women.  His proud 
former boss, Shirley Wilson, was the most inhibited, and it was 
only after he threatened to lead her around outside on a dog leash 
until they found a fire hydrant that the haughty CEO was finally 
able to relieve herself.

When he was done with the humiliating "potty break," Stanley 
decided to ratchet up their humiliation to the next level.

He formed his left hand into a fist, and turned it so that the 
side of his curled hand faced the women.  Then he used the gloved, 
greasy fingers of his right hand to start slowly tracing around 
the outer rim of the "O" he had formed with his left, as if he 
were massaging the lips of a vagina...or.... 

As he moved his greasy fingers around in ever smaller circles, he 
was pleased to see that some of the women were actually opening 
and closing their thighs in time with the rhythm of his movements, 
while others were gently rocking their hips back and forth.  The 
women, who had been watching the clock, were now watching Stanley's 
simulated cavity search, each one trying to imagine what those 
fingers would feel like inside of her.

When the women were almost in a trance, Stanley roughly shoved two 
fingers into the small hole he had formed with his hand.  All of 
the women gasped, and several actually winced, much to Stanley's 
amusement.  He began pushing and pulling his fingers, in and out, 
in and out, enjoying the look of distress on each woman's face as 
she was subjected to the imaginary finger-fucking.

The doors of the gym suddenly opened.  It was Ashley.  She was 
shocked to see ten glistening pussies waving in the air -- and 
even more surprised to see Stanley fingering his own hand.  But 
her news was too important to wait for an explanation.

"I have news from the judges," she announced.  "The appellate judge 
and Judge Searchem have just faxed a new court order."  The women 
craned their necks over their shoulders, ignoring the hard bottom 
smacks from the coach and orders to "get back into position."  From 
the smile on Ashley's face, they knew it had to be good news.

"For goodness sakes, hurry," Sharon Lewis pleaded.  "The football 
team is going to be here any minute, and the Sheriff says they can 
watch Stanley search us."

"Are we free to go?" Dr. Tonya asked, hopefully.

"I'm not sure," Ashley said.  "The secretary wouldn't show me 
the verdict when it was faxed in.  She just sealed it up in an 
envelope and told me to give it to the Sheriff.  But she had an 
enormous grin on her face when she handed me the envelope, so 
I'm sure that the verdict is good news." 

The Sheriff took the envelope and opened it.  There were two 
sheets of paper inside.  He read the first, smiled, and handed 
it to Stanley.  Stanley laughed, gave the sheet of paper back 
to the Sheriff, and headed off to the supply closet to get 
another black crate....

The Sheriff quickly reviewed the second sheet of paper, nodded, 
and handed it to Ashley. 

Ashley stared at the paper in disbelief.  The appellate judge 
had sided with Judge Searchem!  The restraining order had been 
rescinded, and the cavity searches were commanded to begin at 
once.  But there was more....

"Good news, ladies," the Sheriff said, sarcastically.  "Since Ms. 
Perry Mason here told the judge I was conducting an improper search, 
Judge Searchem has asked a few of the frat boys to come over and 
videotape the whole procedure.  They'll be here any moment."

"NO WAY!" Shirley Wilson screamed.  "Ashley's not MY attorney!  I 
don't want anyone to videotape me like...like THIS!"

"Have mercy, Sheriff," Cindy wailed.  "Those videos will be all 
over the Internet in a week.  I'm a TV reporter!  My career will 
be ruined!"

"We'll ALL be ruined!" Principal Sally howled.

"I know how you feel, ladies," the Sheriff said, sympathetically.  
"But, if you want to blame anyone, blame Ashley."

Ashley swallowed nervously as she felt 10 pairs of eyes glaring at 
her.

Stanley decided to serenade the mortified women with an appropriate 
verse from "Lady Godiva,"

	A BIG DIRECTOR CAME TO TOWN,
	SAID "HOW'D YOU LIKE TO BE A STAR?
	YOU'RE A GIRL WHO COULD GO FAR...
	'SPECIALLY DRESSED THE WAY YOU ARE!"

None of the women said a word.  Some of them glared angrily at the 
smiling, singing janitor, obviously frustrated by their utter and 
complete helplessness.  A few of the women hid their faces, others 
stared silently ahead, steeling themselves for the ordeal to come.  
A few glanced nervously at the relentlessly ticking clock....

The Sheriff gleefully handed Ashley the second piece of paper.  It 
was a second court order for a strip-search.  But it wasn't a "Jane 
Doe" warrant; it had Ashley's name at the top.  It specified that, 
since Ashley was on campus, she was now a suspect, too, and would 
be searched with the other women.

Ashley handed the warrant back to the Sheriff in utter disbelief.  
He smiled at her in triumph and gave her a playful swat on the 
bottom to propel her over to her place at the table. 

Stanley had already made a space for her.  On the floor in front 
of the place where Ashley was going to kneel was an ominously 
empty black milk crate.  She shuddered when she saw it. 

It was the crate for her clothes. 

Ashley walked over to it and dropped her purse in.  And Stanley 
was right there, tapping his foot impatiently as she started to 
unbutton her expensive silk blouse. 

She glanced nervously at the spot at the table reserved for her, 
and then back at the grinning Stanley.  She knew he was going to 
enjoy "putting her in her place"...literally.

He smiled at the blushing Ashley and then walked away, returning 
a few seconds later with two rubber gloves, which he purposefully 
laid down in front of the place where she would be kneeling.  Then 
he winked at her.

Ashley turned white when she saw the two gloves lying there.  
Stanley chuckled.  The gloves never failed to get a reaction.

The other women on the bench squirmed nervously.  It was almost 
3 PM, and there was no escape.  Stanley and the Sheriff were both 
going to feel up each and every one of them, and there wasn't a 
damn thing that they could do about it.

They didn't even want to think about the football team...or the 
video cameras.

But at least the women had the satisfaction of watching Ashley 
slowly strip herself out of her expensive clothes to join them 
for her turn at the table.  Seeing Ashley with her bare ass in 
the air would be some consolation. 

Ashley was just about to remove her last garment, her lacy pink 
panties, when the door of the gym burst open, and the first 
football players started streaming into the gym.  To her horror, 
Ashley saw that the first boy through the door was Matt Mathews.  
Matt worked part time at her law office as a gopher, and Ashley 
always enjoyed ordering the twenty-year-old stud to fetch coffee 
for her. 

When Matt saw Ashley, he immediately walked over to her with a 
huge grin on his face.  No words were spoken.  Ashley's beet red 
blush and Matt's leering gaze said it all.

Ashley swallowed hard and then quickly whisked her panties down 
to her ankles and dropped them into the box.

She stood buck-naked in front of her underling and tried to cover 
herself with her hands.  Matt looked her up and down slowly, 
relishing her distress and embarrassment.

She suddenly felt a sharp stinging SLAP! on her bare fanny. 

"Quit dawdling, girl," Stanley snapped at her.  "Get those cute 
little buns of yours up in the air with the rest of the girls."

Ashley obediently scampered into her spot on the bench and 
submissively hoisted her luscious cheeks into the air and 
dutifully spread her legs as wide as she could. 

As she did so, Matt let out a long, slow wolf slow whistle.  She 
knew that he could see everything she had to offer...and that he 
approved of the view. 

She looked longingly at the milk crate with all her clothes just a 
few feet in front of her.  She desperately wished that she could 
put on something...anything...even just her skimpy panties.

But her empty panties lay uselessly on top of her clothes in that 
damn crate, mocking her, just inches beyond her reach.

Ashley knew that if she could just put on the stylish power suit, 
she would once again be a successful, self-confident career woman. 

"But now I'm just the cute piece of ass at the end of table," she 
thought, bitterly.

Her eyes naturally returned to the gloves, so near she could smell them.  
She sighed.

She hoped that the fraternity boys would arrive soon with their 
video cameras.  She also hoped that Stanley and the Sheriff 
would start at her end of the table.

Ashley knew that waiting was the worst part.


_______________________________________

Editor's Note:

Joe Doe is often terrible with names.  When he isn't indulging 
in metaphorical and often corny names (Mr. Codger, Ms. Dyke, 
Coach Leer, Capt. Gropem, etc.), he is promoting questionable 
demographics (half of Doeville seems to be named "Johnson," for 
example).  Nowhere is this latter characteristic more pronounced 
than in this story.  

In the original, characters were named Ashley Johnston, Jane 
Johnston; Stanley Johnson, Cindy Johnson, Billy Johnson, Peter 
Johnson; Mary Jane Wilson, Jimmy Wilson, Shirley Wilson (later 
Shirley Johnson); Matt Winston, Sally Winston; Tonya Watson.

There's absolutely no indication whether any of these people 
were related.  (Doeville must be a nightmare for census-takers 
and geneologists.) 

I have taken the liberty of slightly modifying most of these names.          

The names I have used/and the originals, if different:

1.  Ashley Johnson (as she was called in "Teasing Terri")   
2.  Sharon Lewis (banker)
3.  Jane Jonas (aerobics studio)/Jane Johnston
4.  Shirley Wilson (software co.)/Shirley Wilson & Shirley Johnson
5.  Tonya Watson (surgeon)
6.  Stanley Johanson (student "deputy")/Stanley Johnson
7.  Sally Stone (H.S. principal)/Sally Winston
8.  Cindy Jamison (TV anchor)/Cindy Johnson
9.  Mary Jane Wilkes (bakery chain)/Mary Jane Wilson 
10. Billy Jefferson (delivers groceries)/Billy Johnson
11. Jimmy Walton (cuts grass)/Jimmy Wilson 
12. Peter Jacoby (intern at the bank)/Peter Johnson
13. Matt Mathews (gofer in law office)/Matt Winston      


C. Lakewood                  

