


                  UNINFORMED AND UNIFORMED 

                             by 

                        C. Lakewood 


JENNY AND BARBIE MEET THE SHERIFF AND ARE INTRODUCED TO PADDYWELL. 



Part 6

As he dialed the phone, Fred Dobbs whistled a brief, merry tune -- 
something he recalled hearing recently at the Mayfair Burlesque.  
But he didn't have long to wait.  

"Ah, yes....  This is Fred, over at the hotel.  Is the Sheriff 
around?  I've got a 'situation' here that'll interest him...."

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

Not long afterward, Jenny was roused from a "Project Runway" re-run 
by a peremptory knock on the door.  Her visitor turned out to be a 
tall, burly man with a complexion like rare roast beef, wearing a 
a uniform and a badge.

He touched the brim of his Stetson.  "Miz...Wilson?  I'm the 
Sheriff hereabouts.  Sorry to bother you at this time of evening, 
but I need to ask some questions, and the sooner the better.  
Alright if I come in?"

Jenny blinked.  This was rather ominous.  And, besides, she was 
wearing only the robe provided by the hotel and was nervous at 
being next to naked in this situation.  (The robe seemed 
considerably shorter than it had a moment before.)  

"Well...um...I suppose so...."

He entered, closing the room door behind him.  He moved lightly 
for a big man.

"You're Miz Jennifer Wilson?  Have some ID?"

Jenny handed over her driver's license and asked, "What's this 
about, Sheriff?"

He frowned.  "This'll go a lot smoother if you'll just let ME ask 
the questions."  Jenny nodded.  He glanced at her license and 
handed it back.  "Who else is here with you?"

"My...um...daughter, Barbie.  She's taking a shower at the moment."

The Sheriff banged on the bathroom door.  "This is the Sheriff!  
C'mon out here...right now!"

Two minutes later, clad only in a damp t-shirt of Jenny's, Barbie 
timidly shuffled out of the bathroom.

"This your daughter, Miz Wilson?"

"Um...yes, this is Barbie."

"ID?"

"Oh, well, sh-she's still too young...just an adolescent...."

"So it appears.  How old is she?"

"Um...um...th-thirteen...."

"Okay.  Then can you explain how an 18-year-old (which your 
license says you are) has a 13-year-old daughter?"

"Oh, well...she's adopted...."

"Uh-huh."

"But what difference does it make, Sheriff?"

"I thought we'd agreed that I would ask the questions."

"Um...."

"Well?"

"Y-yes, sir...."

"Fine.  You have documentation of this...adoption?"

"Well, n-not with me, of course, Sheriff."

"Uh-huh.  Alright, Miz Wilson, let's stop tap-dancing, whatsay?  
Maybe you're aware that because of the new security laws -- state 
and federal -- it's a crime to...'knowingly falsify personal data 
when so doing might impede an official investigation....'"  

He could recite from memory the best parts of these laws, but he 
chose to read the Miranda Warning off a card -- and he then 
proceeded to do exactly that.  
 
"Am-am I under arrest?" Jenny gasped.

"You're asking questions again...."  He looked at her sadly, with 
barely contained disappointment.  "I'm hoping I won't have to put 
you in jail, so you'd best be straight with me.  Now, is Barbie at 
least 18 years old?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"In that case, I hereby present you with these warrants, duly 
signed by his-honor-the-mayor, remanding you both to Paddywell 
Academy, pending further investigation.  The present charge is 
'33833.8 PC: Credit Card Fraud' -- but more can be added later."

Paddywell!

Though she had been teasing Barbie about Paddywell, she hadn't 
really fantasized about it in detail.  Now she began racking her 
memory to dredge up what various people had told her about the 
place.

It was a private reformatory for women aged 18 to 40, set up along 
boarding school lines....  The women ("girls") were often sent 
there for various petty offenses -- such as overdue library books, 
parking violations, jaywalking, and insolence -- though some were 
serving time for more serious things, such as trespassing, 
shoplifting, disorderly conduct, misdemeanor vagrancy, and lewd 
behavior (not to mention marital insubordination)....   And the 
girls were well-supervised by the staff -- the predominantly male 
staff....  Both the headmaster, Dr. Leamus, and the Provost, Prof. 
Lakewood, in particular had reputations as clever and accomplished 
disciplinarians and prided themselves on turning the rottenest 
delinquents into nice, polite little girls.  

Jenny shuddered, but was surprised and chagrined to find the 
beginnings of a tingling between her legs.

Doubly distracted, she was slow to react when the Sheriff turned 
her about and cuffed her hands behind her back.

"Do you have to...?" she blurted.

"Yep," he replied, laconically, and handcuffed Barbie, as well.

"But-but credit card fraud?" Jenny persisted.  "I don't know 
anything about any credit card fraud.  You're making a BIG 
mistake, Sheriff.  Who says fraud? 
   
He ignored her and herded them both toward the door.  

"Can't we get dressed?" Barbie whined.

"Nope."  And he ushered them out.

They went down two flights and into the lobby.  Padding barefooted 
and handcuffed across the parquet, to the amazement of several 
guests and the amusement of Fred Dobbs, Jenny became aware that 
she had something else to be concerned about -- the knot in her 
sash was beginning to slip.

"Holy Crap!" she thought.  "What else is going to happen?"

The knot, however, held (barely), and she slid into the back of 
the Sheriff's prowl car without a major incident.  But Barbie was 
not so lucky.  With her hands cuffed behind her, there was no way 
she preserve her modesty, and getting into the car rucked the 
bottom of her t-shirt up around her waist.  The Sheriff looked 
in at her and, with a perfectly straight face, said, "Now don't 
you be getting my upholstery messy, young lady...."  

		******************************
  
It took only 5 or 6 minutes to get from the hotel to Paddywell 
in the Sheriff's cruiser.  The Academy occupied a great, grim, 
Gothic building atop a low hill.  It was guarded first by a 
massive stone wall.  An ornate iron gate swung open, apparently 
automatically, as the Sheriff drove up to it.  Just inside the 
outer wall there was a manicured lawn, perhaps 100 yards deep, 
and, beyond that, another fence...a wire one, possibly 
electrified.  Jenny imagined that the guard dogs prowled 
this grassy area, though she didn't see any.  

When she exited the car, Jenny's sash just gave up, and her robe 
parted.  She crouched, with a pitiful little squeal, but she was 
summarily jerked to her feet and hustled up the broad limestone 
steps into the "school."

Of course, no one offered to close her robe and re-tie the sash.

As she was hurried along, she couldn't prevent the robe from 
streaming out behind her, revealing many of her choicest 
attributes.  Somewhere along their route, the sash dropped 
to the ground unnoticed and was left behind.

Inside, it was very quiet, except for the faint sounds of Jenny's 
and Barbie's bare feet on the terrazzo floor.  (The Sheriff moved 
silently.)  There was a heavy-lidded middle-aged man on duty at 
what must have been a reception desk; he nodded to the Sheriff in 
passing.  The only other people about were bored, slowly-moving 
cleaning crew.  

The Sheriff marched his prisoners down the broad main hallway to 
the end, into a quaint Edwardian-style elevator, and then, on the 
top floor, along a lushly carpeted corridor to a heavy mahogany 
door.  

"Headmaster's study," the Sheriff growled.  "Mind your manners."
He knocked on the door as a formality and opened it without waiting 
for a response.

The room was spacious, but at the same time seemed cozy.  Barbie 
was impressed; this was her kind of place.  Aside from the stereo 
(Tchaikovsky...5th Symphony, wasn't it?) and the PC in the far 
corner, the book-lined study might have been as it was a century 
or more ago.  Even the telephone and the electric lights appeared 
antique.  There were red Bokharas on the floor, three Toby jugs on 
the slate mantel, and a number of military and naval paintings on 
the walls. 
 
There were two men in the room.  One, wearing a dark sweater, was 
sitting behind the massive desk, looking over his steepled fingers, 
staring off into the middle distance, apparently rapt by the music. 
He had sharp features, and both his brown hair and thin moustache 
showed some touches of grey.  The other man, older and heavier, was 
sitting in a red leather wing chair near the fire, a glass in his 
hand and a square decanter and a soda-water syphon at his elbow.  
He was a study in various shades of grey -- short hair, bushy 
eyebrows, thick moustache, baggy tweed suit -- his only concession 
to color was a repp tie, dark red with blue stripes edged in gold.  
He lifted his glass to acknowledge the Sheriff, who nodded back 
amiably.

The man at the desk continued to listen to the music until the 
end of the movement, then turned it down a bit.  With a somewhat 
ambiguous expression, he gazed at Jenny and Barbie and said, "I 
am Dr. Leamus and this is my colleague, Prof. Lakewood.  You two 
are the Wilson girls, I presume...."

Barbie, who had been lost in her admiration for this room, was 
suddenly wrenched back to reality.

Jenny spoke up.  "There's been a huge mistake...."

He held up his hand.  "Hmmm.  Sheriff, I think the handcuffs are 
not needed."

The Sheriff nodded and removed both pairs of cuffs.

"Thank you, sir," Jenny said, rubbing her wrists.

Dr. Leamus continued speaking to the Sheriff.  "Now, let's have a 
look at them."

Without changing expression, the Sheriff reached out with his left 
hand, grasped the bottom of Barbie's t-shirt, and whisked it off 
over her head -- while, at the same time, he pulled off Jenny's 
robe with as much style and grace as Manolete handling a cape.
    
Barbie managed to take it stoically, but Jenny shrieked and fell 
into a crouch.

All three men looked at Jenny sadly.  "Tsk, tsk," said Lakewood.  
He sighed.  "I expected a LITTLE more discipline." 

"Oh, yes...disgraceful," Leamus agreed.  "But the little one is 
controlling herself well.  Already shaved, too."  He smiled at 
Barbie.  "And I'm informed that you already have your Academy 
uniform."

"Y-yes, sir...."

"Admirable.  We'll fetch it from the hotel.  Of course, you'll have 
to be processed tomorrow, just like your...well, whatever this 
other girl is....  But, after that, I imagine you'll be on your way 
to becoming an honor student."  He turned his attention then to 
Jenny, whom the Sheriff had pulled to her feet and re-cuffed.  As 
for you, young lady, I can see we'll have be stringent -- very 
stringent -- with you if we're to correct your deficiencies."  He 
shook his head.  "No, I'm afraid that filthy patch of hair between 
your legs just can't be allowed to remain even until morning.  
We'll have it off tonight."  He reached for a manila folder lying 
in his in-box.  "Now, who's on duty at this hour?"

Lakewood downed his drink.  "Doesn't matter.  I'll take of it."

The headmaster beamed.  "Excellent.  Most generous of you."  

"Not at all.  I like to keep my hand in...as it were."

Leamus glared at Jenny.  "And you should be thanking Prof. 
Lakewood, girl.  Ingratitude is not tolerated here." 

"Th-thank you, sir," Jenny managed.  "But...."

"'But' nothing," Leamus went on.  "And, since you don't have a 
proper uniform, you must do without for a while, until you can 
earn enough credits to pay for one....  But, for the present, 
you can continue to wear those cuffs, as your uniform."

"You-you can't do that...can't hold us just like that.  I'm 
expected back at school.  I'll be missed...."

He heaved a sigh.  "So many entering students insist that I can't 
do this or that, but I keep doing it anyway....  And it's all quite 
legal, isn't it Sheriff?"

"Quite legal."

"Incidentally, girl, what school do you attend?"           

"Doeville State."

"A fine institution.  We have very good connections there, so we 
needn't concern ourselves there.  Starting tomorrow, you will rise 
at 7:00, lunch at noon, dine at 5:00, and usually be in bed by 
8:00.  The rest of the day will be filled up with classes and 
work assignments.  Do well, and you'll earn credits -- which will 
result in priviledges -- do poorly, and you'll get demerits....  
Tomorrow, of course, will be slightly different, since much of 
the morning will be taken up by the processing procedures.  So...."

"Excuse me, Alec," Lakewood interjected.  "But how long has it been 
since you've processed a student personally?"

Leamus looked nostalgic.  "Personally?  Oh, quite some time...."

"The good old days, right?  So why don't we take a trip down memory 
lane and do these two tonight?  The Sheriff might even like to lend 
a hand."

"Sounds like a plan," the Sheriff replied.

"You've talked me into it," the headmaster said.  He rose from 
behind his desk with a smile twitching at his moustache.  "Let's 
go."

Barbie, the potential honor student, suspected things were going 
to get worse before they got better.    

