This story was inspired by a story idea posted by another reader.  
In an effort to break new ground, I divided the narrative into a 
series of vignettes, told from various points of views around the 
stadium.  If you think this style works, I may use it again.

 

 
                        THE TATTOO 

                            by

                         Joe Doe
  

LOCAL POLICE STRIP WOMEN AT A ROCK CONCERT IN A VAIN EFFORT TO FIND 
A SUSPECT WITH A CERTAIN TATTOO. 



Part 1 

04/01/01 (AP): A ROCK CONCERT TURNED SOUR AS LOCAL POLICE AND 
PRIVATE SECURITY GUARDS INTERRUPTED THE SHOW SATURDAY NIGHT.  
AFTER USHERING ALL OF THE FANS UNDER 18 TO THE EXITS, THE POLICE 
ANNOUNCED THAT THEY WERE RESPONDING TO A TIP THAT A NOTORIOUS 
FEMALE CRIMINAL, CODE NAMED "THE FOX," WAS AT THE CONCERT.  

THE FOX IS KNOWN TO BE AN ATTRACTIVE BLONDE FEMALE BETWEEN 18 AND 
30 YEARS OF AGE, WITH A SMALL TATTOO OF A FOX SOMEWHERE ON HER 
BODY.  IN ORDER TO FACILITATE THE SEARCH, ALL WOMEN FITTING THE 
GENERAL DESCRIPTION WERE STRIPPED NAKED AND SEARCHED FOR BOTH THE 
TATTOO AND FOR ANY OTHER "EVIDENCE."  ALL BODY HAIR BELOW THE NECK 
WAS REMOVED TO FACILITATE THE SEARCH. 

NUMEROUS COMPLAINTS WERE FILED AFTER HUNDREDS OF WOMEN WERE 
STRIPPED NAKED IN FULL VIEW OF MALE CONCERT-GOERS.  OTHER 
COMPLAINTS CENTERED ON THE FACT THAT THE WOMEN WERE SEARCHED 
BY MALE POLICE OFFICERS OR POORLY TRAINED, MINIMUM WAGE 
"DEPUTIES" HIRED THROUGH A TEMPORARY SERVICE.   

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

THERE WERE HUNDREDS OF STORIES IN THE NAKED CITY THAT NIGHT.  HERE 
ARE JUST A FEW:    

George Hayes smiled as he sat in the stands watching the show.  The 
mass strip-search was poorly organized, but the show was fabulous. 

All males, brunette females, and female blondes over the age of 
thirty who could present ID were allowed to leave immediately, 
but, like George, most of the hornier guys and bitchier girls 
stayed behind to enjoy the show.  Most of them milled around 
the "stripping stations" located near the exits, but, with his 
binoculars and the zoom lens of his video camera, George's seat 
in the bleachers was the best in the house. 

Each "suspect" had to pass through 6 stations in order to achieve 
a hand stamp that allowed her to exit: 

Station 1: The women were required to strip absolutely naked, 
and their clothing, purses, and other possessions were placed 
in numbered boxes that would be returned to them later.  To 
avoid confusion later on, the "locker number" of each female 
was written on her bare backside using a red magic marker, much 
to the amusement of the crowd.  The delighted spectators made 
"MOO!" sounds as each woman was forced to bend over for her 
"branding" with the marker. 

Station 2: The stark naked women were then required to line up 
and wait for a turn at the "shaving station."  They were forced 
to mount a gynecological exam table where their pussies were 
first "trimmed' by helpful volunteers with scissors and then 
shaved bare with electric clippers or safety razors.   

The initial stripping proceeded very quickly, but the shaving took 
a long time, and the stadium was soon filled with naked women 
waiting their turn under the pitiless razor.  The women were 
forced to stand with their hands on top of their heads, and 
would have become hopelessly bored and exhausted if the taunts 
and hoots from their many admirers hadn't kept them alert. 

Station 3: After each of the women was shaved billiard ball 
bare, she was forced to march double-time to an open area for 
"exercises."  They were spaced evenly and forced to do jumping 
jacks, squats, and knee bends in order to "loosen any contraband."  
The climax of the exercise session was an aerobics dance routine, 
led by a lovely young aerobics instructor who put the women through 
their grueling paces.   

George admired the blonde aerobics instructor's ability to get 
the humiliated women to kick their legs in the air and wiggle 
their butts in front of the hooting crowd.  It was really too 
bad that the local police hadn't let her keep her leotard on. 

Station 4: Women nervously stiffened as they approached the dreaded 
"cavity search station."  Another group of exam tables, this time 
staffed by a large group of eager young men sharing the largest box 
of rubber gloves that George had ever seen.  Every now and then, a 
few naked women would be enlisted to go to the back of the 
auditorium and roll out a new vat of lard (which would, of 
course, soon be used to grease them up). 

It was bizarre (but strangely exciting) to watch the blushing, 
panting, naked women obediently trundle the huge vat across the 
lawn under the direction of their male captors.  George would 
have given a penny for their thoughts....   

Station 5: As if the cavity search weren't bad enough, the 
humiliated women were forced to stand spread-eagled while 
grinning lowlifes with flashlights and toothpicks searched 
every inch of their exposed flesh for the legendary fox tattoo.  
George couldn't tell if the guards ever found the tattoo, but, 
judging from their enormous smiles, it was clear that this 
station was a real crowd-pleaser. 

Station 6: At the final station, the women were herded together 
and forced to stand with their bodies pressed against each other 
until a hundred or so women were in the group.  Then each woman 
was given the box with her clothes and, with a sharp slap on her 
bare fanny, was ordered to dress.   

George wasn't sure why the women were required to press against one 
another before their clothes were returned, but the constant taunts 
of "lesbo" and "you love it, don't you?" made him suspect that the 
male guards had some motive other than law enforcement.  

George's equipment that night had allowed him to zoom in and film 
several of his neighbors, a score of girls who had refused to date 
him, and the entire cheerleading squad of the college he attended.    

He had gone to the stupid concert because his bitchy professor had 
told him that filming the concert was the only way for him to pass 
her film class.  He had initially suspected that the pompous 
professor was forcing him to create a free video of the concert.   

But now George had to admit that she was right; the look on the 
professor's face when the greasy finger was driven home during 
her cavity search was a moment that would live in cinematic 
history. 

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

Paula Evans was never one to let her sympathy for other people 
interfere with a good story.  Sent to cover the concert as part 
of a "fluff piece" for her local news station, Paula knew there 
was ratings gold in filming a bevy of beauties forced to strip 
to the buff.  

It was only a few minutes before airtime when her producer got 
a "brilliant idea" for making the story more "relevant and 
involving."  Paula thought it was a terrible idea, but the 
armed guards her producer summoned soon changed her mind. 

As the red light on top of the camera went on, Paula began to 
speak.  "This is Paula Evans, reporting live from the concert.  
As you can see, I have joined the small army of women who are 
being forced to strip for their tattoo examinations.  Like the 
other women, I have no choice in the manner, and no special 
consideration is being made for my modesty or dignity." 

Paula finished taking off her blouse and began to slowly unzip her 
skirt as the boneheaded anchorman back at the station asked his 
stupid questions.  "What does it feel like to have to strip in 
front of all those men, Paula?" 

"It's intensively humiliating, Ed," she replied truthfully.  
"Not only have I attracted a large crowd of spectators who 
have recognized me, but right now I'm stripping in front of 
my producer and camera crew.  These are men that I work with 
every day, and it's incredibly embarrassing to have to shuck 
down while being ogled by them." 

"I can see that, Paula," he replied, jovially.  "Don't adjust your 
sets, folks.  Paula's face is really that red." 

Paula tried to strip as slowly as possible, but, by the time she 
was ready to "turn it back to Ed" she was wearing nothing but her 
red bra and panties. 

"Your face is almost as red as your underwear, Paula," Ed chuckled. 
"But they're not going to let you keep those cute little undies on, 
are they?" 

"No they're not, Ed," she replied, trying not to lose her cool.  
"My producer has told me in no uncertain terms that I have to 
'strip to the skin, same as everyone else.'  But unfortunately 
we're out of time, and I'm going to have to turn it back to 
you...." 

"Good news, Paula!" Ed gushed, holding the earphone against his 
ear.  "The news director had just said that we can stay with you, 
and the security guards said that they will let you cut to the 
front of the line so that the folks at home can watch as you're 
shaved, exercised, and searched."   

Paula stared thunderstruck at the camera.  They couldn't make her 
strip naked on TV!  Her credibility would be ruined!  She started 
to protest, but, as two of the security guards moved closer to 
"assist her," she quickly turned her back to the camera.   

Paula had been angling for Ed's job for months, and he smiled as he 
saw his proud competitor reach behind her and undo the clasp on her 
bra.  As she shrugged off her bra and revealed her perfect bare 
back to the camera, Ed decided to postpone the other stories and 
spend the entire newscast with Paula.  After all, the news that 
the Hubble Space Telescope had discovered an alien attack fleet 
on the way from Mars could always be reported tomorrow. 

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

Shirley Wilson had the world by the tail, and she knew it.  At the 
age of 38 she was a millionaire and a successful business owner 
with the power and the money to do what she wanted, when she wanted. 

It was child's play for her to order her employees to fork over 
their hard-earned money to pay for tickets to a concert she wanted 
to attend.  She didn't have any friends, so why not order her 
employees to be her "friends," and pay for a "company outing" 
out of their own pockets? 

Of course she conveniently "forgot" her purse at home, which 
allowed her to beat the check that night.  But her cheapness 
meant she had no ID, and she reaped a bitter harvest.  Despite 
her noisy protests, she soon found herself naked with her hands 
on top of her head nervously awaiting her date with the clippers.    

The funny thing is that although none of the employees had wanted 
to go the concert, once she was in line none of them would leave.  
Shirley was horrified as her grinning employees watched the 
guards strip her of her garments, her pride, and her dignity.     

She closed her eyes and tried not to listen to her employees' 
crude, half-whispered appraisals of her naked body.  She had 
pleaded with them to go, but they insisted that they needed to 
lend her "moral support."  But their sniggering remarks and 
lewd appraisals were anything but supportive....   

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

Peter Willis smiled.  A few weeks ago he had been an unemployed 
high school drop out, endlessly making the rounds in a desperate 
effort to find a job. 

But the temporary service had hired him a few days ago, and now 
he was wearing a crisp new uniform and shiny gold badge. 

He almost choked with laughter when he ordered the snotty landlady 
who had been trying to evict him for the last three months to take 
off all her clothes.  The look on her face had truly been a Kodak 
moment. 

The female physician who had fired him from his job at the hospital 
didn't look so haughty when Peter ordered her to "spread 'em" and 
get on the exam table.  He took his time with her exam, remembering 
how he had been dinged for "carelessness" during his final 
performance review. 

Now he was watching the cute college coeds who had looked at him 
so disdainfully when was down and out lie on their backs and do 
bicycle kicks in the air.  He knew most of the girls by name, and, 
from the looks on their faces, he could tell that they recognized 
him, as well. 

Peter polished his badge with his handkerchief and prepared to make 
his way back to the exam table to shave the social worker who had 
cut off his welfare benefits last week.   

The temp guard job didn't pay much, but you had to love the benefits.  

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

Nicky Kelly, a curvy 20-something, loved torturing Tommy Dooley.  
Last year, Tommy had been a well-built (if somewhat bookish) 
18-year-old high school senior when she had moved in next door 
next to him, and she had immediately invited him over to her 
backyard pool to rub suntan oil on her back.   

She loved strutting around in front of Tommy in her bikini or in 
her short, sexy nurse's uniform.  She had Tommy over to her house 
almost every weekend performing degrading chores for meager wages, 
all the while using it as a chance to tease him into a frenzy.    

When she found the stash of "Playboy" magazines in Tommy's room, it 
was she who convinced his widowed mother that bare-bottom spankings 
and lots of corner time were best for dealing with Tommy's 
"perverted urges."  And, since Tommy's mother didn't want to 
do it, Nicky was happy to help "correct" the wayward boy herself. 

Tommy would regularly sneak into his old tree house to watch Nicky 
undress in her bedroom, and she would delight in walking out of 
view seconds before she removed her bra and panties.   

One day, as a joke, Nicky sawed a few of the support branches in 
half.  She had expected the tree house would collapse, of course, 
but she felt bad when Tommy broke both of his forearms.   

Now that he was forced to lie in his bed with his arms locked in 
traction above his head, he was totally at Nicky's mercy.  His arm 
casts prevented him from masturbating, but Nicky thoughtfully 
filled that void by straddling his chest and giving him a sponge 
bath every day, massaging his rigid member until he was begging 
for a release that she refused to grant.   

Nurse Nicky delighted in force-feeding him foods he hated, and 
taking his temperature rectally, and watching as the humiliated 
teenager urinated into the bottle she held for him.  At night, she 
would hook up the baby monitor and point Tommy's bed towards her 
house, so he could watch the shadows as she made love to his 
friends from college, while listening to their moans and groans. 

"Exercises" consisted of Tommy bringing his knees up to his chest 
and bicycle-peddling.  Of course, Nicky would use her thick leather 
belt across his bare bottom whenever he slowed the pace.  Just the 
sight of her unhooking her belt and teasingly pulling it through 
her belt loops was enough to cause him to break into a cold sweat.

Tommy was in excellent physical shape at the end of his three 
months of traction.  But his inability to climax and Nicky's 
cruel treatment had caused him to develop the most delightful 
stutter. 

The injury had forced him to drop out of school for a semester, and 
he had taken a guard service job until school started in the fall.  
He never imagined that the job would deliver the naked, humiliated 
Nicky right into his lap at the concert. 

"You always taught me the importance of using plenty of lube, 
Nicky," he teased, as the naked nurse squirmed under his touch.  
"Now, just relax your tight little bottom hole, and let Dr. Tommy 
do his job." 

Nicky winced as she felt the teenager's happy middle finger 
teasingly probe her most intimate recess.  The pictures Tommy 
had of her now could ruin her at the hospital, and she knew that 
the power games between them would be very different from then on.  

Later that night in Nicky's bedroom, Tommy lost both his virginity 
and his speech impediment.  For Nicky it was a night of firsts:  
her first strip-search, her first experience with anal sex, and 
her first spanking.  It was also the first time she had ever 
swallowed, but from the smile on Tommy's face she knew it wouldn't 
be her last.   

Nicky just hoped that the speech therapist at the hospital would be 
able to help her with her nervous lisp.... 

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

Part 2  

AN FBI AGENT ENDS UP ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GLOVE, THE "FOX" HUNT 
TRAPS TWO POLICE VICTIMS, AND A POP DIVA FACES THE MUSIC.  ALL THAT 
PLUS GUEST APPEARANCES BY NATALIE, HOLLY, AND ASHLEY.  

			**********

FBI agent Susan March was not a particularly large or powerful 
woman, and she relied on her personality and mannerisms to get 
the results she wanted.  She was the perfect person to train the 
nervous security guards who would be conducting the searches. 

Susan was an excellent trainer, and it took her only a few hours to 
show her students how to cow a woman with a sharp stare, a cutting 
remark, or a small but forceful gesture.  Her students became very 
adept at dominating any situation, and it wasn't long before they 
started teasing her about the fact that SHE fit the profile.   

At first she found the running joke amusing, and then strangely 
exciting.  She had always wondered what it would be like to be 
stripped of her badge, her gun, and her authority.  After those 
had been ripped away from her, it would be easy to remove her 
clothing.... 

Although she had been fantasizing about it all week, she was 
still stunned when her students surrounded her on the night 
of the concert.  

Stanley took the lead.  He had bombed out when he tried to get 
into the FBI and the police academy (and had been lucky to get 
a job working at the guard service).  Susan had spent a lot of 
extra time with him, teaching him how to assert himself, and 
he was about to put the training to good use.

"We think you'd better give us your badge, gun, and purse, Suzie," 
Stanley explained gently.  "We can't have a suspect running around 
with a gun, can we?" 

Susan said nothing, but swallowed hard and meekly surrendered the 
symbols of her authority.  "Now you'd better hurry up and join the 
other girls in line, Suzie," Stanley said, in a patronizing voice.  
"You don't want to lose your turn."   

She tried to ignore the snickers from her students as she laced her 
fingers together on top of her head and obediently marched to the 
end of the line.   

It didn't take long to strip her out of her crisp, no-nonsense FBI 
pantsuit, and the proud FBI agent was soon standing as naked as a 
jaybird, waiting submissively for her turn under the razor.   

It wasn't until she saw her former partner, Hank, that her panic 
attack began. 

Hank had been assigned just a few hours earlier as a last-minute 
replacement, and Susan would have never submitted to a search if 
she had known he was there.  He had made clumsy passes at her for 
years, until she finally brought him up on charges of sexual 
harassment.  His demotion had been a good lesson for him, but 
he was the last person that Susan wanted to see in her current 
situation. 

She tried to slip out of line and make her way back to her clothes. 
But she had gotten only a few feet when she felt a strong hand on 
her shoulder. 

"Where do you think YOU'RE going?" the authoritarian voice said. 

She turned around and saw it was Stanley.  For a moment, she was 
relieved.  She had kept Stanley from flunking out of the training 
program, and she knew that he owed her big time.  Certainly, as 
her star student, he would give her a break. 

"Please, Stanley, let me get my clothes.  One of my fellow agents 
is heading over here, and I can't let him see me like this." 

"I'll be happy to give you your clothes back, Suzie," Stanley 
replied in a reasonable voice.  He paused for a moment, and 
let Susan's hopes build.  Then he squeezed down on the scruff 
of her neck and turned her around so that she was facing the 
line again.  "But you are going to be shaved and searched first." 

"But Stanley, please.  I just can't let him see me like this.  
I-I'm...I'm NAKED!" she whined.

"Yes, I can see that," he chuckled.  "Anyone who walks by can see 
THAT.  And, when your friend walks by, he's going to see it, too." 

"But Stanley...." 

He cut her off by delivering a loud SPANK! across the cheeks of her 
shapely bare bottom.  "It's OFFICER to you, scum!"  SPANK! 

Susan winced, bending her knee and lifting her foot off the ground 
in a humiliating little spanking dance.  "At least let me cut to 
the front of the line and get it over with.  If I stand around all 
day, he's bound to see me." 

"What makes you so special?" Stanley said.  "You'll wait your turn 
in line, just like all the rest of them." 

"Ooooh...you can't do this to me." 

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, girlie," he replied, 
sharply.  "You FBI agents are always so smart.  You always 
have all the answers.  Well, I'm in charge now, and I have 
a few answers myself." 

"MARCH!"  He punctuated his command with another sharp spank on 
her behind.  "And put your hands on top of your head, just like 
the other girls.  I'm tired of your lip." 

Susan obediently put her hands on top of her head as he dragged her 
by the scruff of the neck back to the line.  She tried to return to 
her former place, but Stanley told her that her "insubordinate 
attitude" meant that she would have to go to the end of the line, 
behind the last girl.   

So she stood unhappily at the end of the line, desperately waiting 
for her turn.  She tried to ignore the smug, satisfied smiles of 
the other women in the line, who were delighted to see the haughty 
FBI agent (who had been barking commands at them a few minutes 
before) reduced to their level.  Watching Stanley spank her butt 
as he marched her to the end of line had been delicious.... 

In the distance she could see her nemesis, Hank, slowly perusing 
the rows of naked women, occasionally stopping to squeeze a 
particularly ripe bottom cheek or take a Polaroid of some blushing 
victim.  It would be at least an hour before Susan reached the 
front of the line now, thanks to Stanley.  But Hank would see her 
any minute....

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

Holly smiled as she watched her blushing cousin, Natalie, perform 
her jumping jacks.  In her head, Holly totaled the costs of the 
evening's festivities: 

Cost of finding out in advance about the strip-search: 6 months of 
dating Officer Gabby "Hands" Johnson. 

Cost of convincing Natalie that dying her hair blonde would allow 
Natalie to steal Holly's boyfriends: 6 beers at the bar. 

Cost of paying for Natalie's dye job as a birthday present: $50. 

Cost of tracking down the 10 most obnoxious 18-year-old seniors in 
the high school Natalie taught at and buying them tickets to the 
concert: 2 days and $1500. 

Cost of buying concert tickets for Natalie and her: $300. 

Cost of the videotape Holly was using to record the proceedings: $3. 

Value of watching the blushing Natalie forced to strip naked and 
exercise in the buff in front of her laughing, jeering, hooting 
students: PRICELESS! 

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

Sharon Lewis and Ashley Marsh had been playing "dare" since high 
school, but now the game had landed them in real trouble.  When 
Sharon's niece had gotten the flu and had been unable to attend 
the concert, Sharon and Ashley had decided to go as a lark, even 
going so far as to dress up like the college coeds they had been 
ten years before. 

When the searches were announced, they both headed toward the 
exits, since their IDs would prove that the two successful women 
were both over thirty.  It was only when a policeman leeringly 
suggested that the two "lovely young ladies might be in the wrong 
line" that Ashley got the bright idea of actually submitting to 
the search VOLUNTARILY. 

Sharon swallowed hard.  As a successful and wealthy investment 
banker, she was used to being in control, and the idea of 
surrendering every stitch of clothing to a bunch of loser 
security guards was deeply humiliating.  But somehow the 
degradation seemed strangely exciting, and, when Ashley upped 
the ante by "daring" her and making clucking sounds to signify 
that she was chicken, she quickly abandoned the exit and 
dutifully took her place in line.   

Now the lovely banker and the lady lawyer stood as naked as 
jaybirds with their hands on top of their heads, submissively 
waiting for their appointment with the razor.  Ashley realized 
almost immediately that she had made a mistake, but, when she 
explained to one of the leering guards what had happened and 
begged to be allowed to get her ID out of her purse, he just 
laughed and told her that it was "too late for that now."  A 
sharp SLAP across her bare bottom sent the blushing barrister 
scurrying back to the line. 

Ashley swallowed hard.  Just a few hours ago she had been a 
successful attorney, self-confident and in control.  The idea 
that some minimum wage rent-a-cop would laugh in her face when 
she asked for help was preposterous.  But now this absurd series 
of coincidences had transformed her into just another helpless, 
naked babe, ripe and ready for plucking. 

The two women didn't realize just how vulnerable they were until 
they got close enough to the shaving table to see that they would 
be sheared by the same group of Mexican workers who maintained the 
lawns in the fancy subdivision where they both lived.   

So they were forced to stand buck naked in front of the same men 
they had been ordering around their backyards just a few days 
before.  As Raul led Sharon to the table and spread her legs, she 
begged for the chance to get her purse and be released. 

Raul chuckled softly as he spread her legs and ran his fingers 
through the soft red curls covering her womanhood.  He pulled 
out a small plastic bag and laid it on her stomach.   

"When I eshave you, I will save your hair in the bag and eshow it 
to the rest of my crew.  That way they'll know that you are really 
a natural red head, Señorita."   

"Please, Raul!" Ashley put in.  "Don't do this to her.  You know 
this is a mistake.  You just have to help us." 

He smiled at Ashley.  "You wait your turn, my little legal lady.  
You'll have a chance to plead your case when I put your dainty 
American feet in the stirrups.  An' don' worry...Raul has a bag 
for you, too."  He winked.   

He picked up the scissors and held them up a few inches in front 
of Sharon's horrified face.  "Don't worry, my pretty gringa.  
First, Raul will use his scissors to trim your bush," he said, 
making a SNIP! SNIP! with the scissors.  "Then I will use my 
razor to mow your lawn!" 

Ashley winced as Raul burst into laughter.  

But she respected a man who enjoyed his work. 

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

The famous pop diva eyed the stage nervously.  She was used to 
stage fright, but this was different.   

The singer knew she shouldn't have thrown a tantrum backstage when 
the police interrupted her show.  She knew that she shouldn't have 
threatened to sue the police department and the FBI.  And she 
especially knew that she shouldn't have kicked that tubby FBI 
agent in the crotch when he had warned her that she should "watch 
her mouth" because SHE fit the profile… 

Now the star was dancing on stage, with the band thumping out the 
familiar rhythm to one of her lame songs.  The beautiful blonde 
star gyrated in front of the fans still left in the stadium to 
watch (and be watched!) during the strip searches.    

She had planned to dance a striptease to this song tonight, 
although she had always stopped when she got to her gold bra 
and panties.  But the FBI had given the band other orders, 
and the final fadeout quickly turned into a reprise.  The 
blushing diva looked at the huge monitors with her image on 
them as she nervously unhooked her bra. 

FBI Agent Sam Watson smiled and slipped on his rubber glove as 
he prepared to confront the blushing star at stage center.   
Giving this sassy little vixen a cavity search on center 
stage might cost him his job, but at least the Bureau wouldn't 
be sued for "ruining the show." 

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

The Fox slid her red sports car into gear and sped out of the empty 
parking lot.  The phony badge she had purchased over the Internet 
had allowed her to avoid the dragnet, and the dopey policemen were 
so busy staring at the naked women around them that no one had even 
noticed the tiny fox tattooed on her wrist. 

A few of the women had noticed and had tried to point it out to 
the police officers.  But the clever Fox could always create a 
diversion simply by ordering the blathering women to "Shut up, 
squat, and SPREAD!" 

The resulting visual feast always allowed the Fox to slip away. 

She parked across from the police station, and it wasn't long 
before she saw two pretty blonde policewomen exiting the building 
in their civilian clothes.  The Fox smiled, and flashed her 
"credentials" at the two young women, and asked them to accompany 
her to the stadium to help her with the searches.  The clever fox 
smiled as the two silly hens locked their purses, badges, and guns 
in the trunk of her car for "safe-keeping" and crammed themselves 
into the back seat of her tiny car....

THE END



Edited by C. Lakewood

