There was consternation in the county when the news about the accident got round. Old Joe Higgins had driven through the red light and hit Missus Willums fair and square. Neither was badly hurt but they'd both be laid up in hospital for the next week.
As far as the fair committee was concerned this was a tragedy of the highest order. The fair was on in a couple of days and they'd just lost both judges for the pie contest. Who could they get to replace them in this short a time?
The replacement for Missus Willums was easy, they decided. Harriet Bunkley had won every pie contest for the last five years. Making her judge would show how much they appreciated her efforts and would also take her out of the running. That decision would be popular with everyone.
The replacement male was a harder choice. Finally Judge Knally made a suggestion. Agreement was made with one proviso. The name of the male judge would have to be kept secret or some of the woman might try to persuade him to vote for them by unfair methods. Old Joe was past anything a woman might try and did love his pie judging job, so couldn't be enticed, but the new man? He was a lot younger and some of these girls....
Judge Knally smirked and made another suggestion. Amid general laughter the second suggestion was agreed upon. The committee sighed with relief. Judges had been selected and the crisis was averted.
As happens in small towns, the names of the new judges started to get passed around. Everyone agreed with Harriet Bunkley being a judge. That woman knew her pies and besides, it would take her out of the running.
The second name that was being whispered raised a few eyebrows. A bit young for it, isn't he, was the main objection. Maybe, but that man do love his pie, was the standard rebuttal.
- - -
Peter was a little surprised when Betsy-Sue came knocking on his door that evening.
"Hi, Peter," she said, brushing past him. "Can I come in?"
"Why certainly, Betsy-Sue," said Peter, watching her vanish into the kitchen. "You don't need an invitation. Walk right in."
"And what the hell does she want?" he wondered.
"I was making some pecan pies, Peter," Betsy-Sue said happily. "I have too many and I know how you love pie and I thought you might like one."
"Well, that's very thoughtful of you, Betsy-Sue," murmured Peter. "Thank you very much. I must admit that I'm a little surprised."
"I don't know why you should be," said Betsy-Sue, pouting a little. "We've been friends for ages. We even went to school together."
"Yes, and you treated me like dirt at school and haven't stopped since," thought Peter.
"Maybe," he replied, "but it seems to me that we hardly even know each other. Why, you're a married woman now and me, still single. Wouldn't Joe like to have ate this fine pie?"
"Don't worry about Joe. He gets lots of pies from me. I've been practicing for the pie contest and Joe's been tasting all my attempts. I'm getting real good and expect to win this year."
"Well, I thank you again. I'll be able to sample this and see what sort of entry you'll be submitting."
"I'm sure you'll just love it. I've even brought over some whipped cream to go with it. Once you taste it you'll know you can vote for me without any worries about me deserving the prize."
"Vote for you?" asked Peter, looking puzzled. "I'm not quite sure I understand."
"Oh, don't be silly, Peter," said Betsy-Sue with a little laugh. "Everyone knows that you're one of the new judges."
"Who told you that?" demanded Peter. "Judge Knally assured me that no-one would know who the male judge was. Not that I'm saying it is me, because it isn't."
"Come on, Peter," protested Betsy-Sue. "You know how these things always get out. You couldn't keep a secret in this town for more than thirty minutes, tops. Your name was being passed around almost before the committee meeting ended."
"Well, I'm not admitting to anything," said Peter firmly. "But if I was a judge it would take a lot more than an extra pie to get me to vote. I'd get as much pie as I could eat at the contest now wouldn't I?"
"Oh, really," purred Betsy-Sue. "And what would persuade you?"
Peter glanced at Betsy-Sue. She had on a short skirt and a short top, midriff showing. Long delectable legs and a very nice bosom. He let his eyes ravel down the length of her and then back to her face, saying nothing.
Betsy-Sue flushed.
"If you think I'm going to let you kiss me, you're crazy," she snapped.
"Wasn't thinking of kissing you," said Peter, smiling a nasty little smile, one that he knew would irritate her. "Feel free to toddle back home anytime now."
"I am going to win that competition," snapped Betsy-Sue, "no matter what it takes. What do you want? Me to show you my boobs?"
"Forget it," said Peter. "I already said I'm not a judge so you don't have to strip to please me. Better run along little girl."
Betsy-Lou's eyes were hot with anger. Lying swine. And he expected her to get naked? She'd call his bluff.
Peter battled hard to keep a straight face as Betsy-Sue reached down and unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall. Her top promptly joined it. She flicked a glance at Peter, seeing him just looking at her with mild interest. Biting her lip, she let her bra and panties join the rest of her clothes and then stood their proudly. She felt a niggle deep inside her. She was being stared at and she was naked. The niggle started burning, warming her.
"Very nice," said Peter. "If I was a judge I'd almost be tempted to vote for you, seeing you like that. Good thing I'm not."
"Almost?" Betsy-Sue hissed. "What do you mean almost? What's a girl got to do to get your attention?"
Her eyes opened wide as she watched him lower his zip.
"You've got to be kidding me," she whispered. "You're not serious?"
"Now Betsy-Sue," said Peter. "You know you've always been sort of mean to me, and after this contest I expect you'll go right back to being mean. Now I'm going to have a little fun and afterwards, why I absolutely guarantee I will not vote for anyone else."
Betsy-Sue's eyes widened even further as Peter calmly pulled his erection clear of his pants. She stared at it, feeling the heat burning deep inside her step up a notch.
"Make up your mind, Betsy-Sue. Either get dressed or turn around and lean over the table."