Justice Will Be Served
The dePoet women are nearing the end of their adventures. Hope you enjoy this next-to-last installment!
We three rode crowded together in the backseat of a large and old police cruiser. The bus provided for us several days ago when our bus broke down had reeked of sweat. This police car smelled faintly of beer and vomit.
"Sorry about the smell, ladies. We had a drunk fella in here last night and he couldn't hold his beer," called out Mr. Red Beard from the driver's seat. The fact that he addressed only Betsy and Sydney was not lost on me.
We rode on in silence. Betsy seemed quite shaken. I suppose she had more to lose in all of this than either Sydney or me. She was after all, head of the English Department while I had only worked there a week or two and Sydney was only a student. I could feel her warm body jittering with fright against mine.
In less than two minutes we rolled into the parking lot of a low, rather shabby-looking building. The sign in front said, 'Municipal Offices.' Try as I might in looking all around us, I couldn't find anything nearby that would earn any of this area the title of municipality. There wasn't even a chicken coop or doghouse in the vicinity. There were, however, a few offices at one end of the building with lights burning brightly.
"You're all lucky Justice of the Peace Oxman is holding court sessions tonight. Otherwise, you'd be cooling your heels in our holding cell until Monday," observed Deputy Red Beard.
We had learned in our brief drive to these 'Municipal Offices' that Mr. Red Beard was a Deputy, and the other man was the Sheriff of the county. Sheriff Docker was following us in his own squad car. Vera's plans still weren't entirely clear to me, but the fact that the deputy had been in plainclothes in the bar and both he and the Sheriff had been in uniform and waiting outside for us told me there had been a plan laid out for all of this. Still, I had to hope Vera hadn't gotten us into anything with serious legal consequences. I began to feel slightly better about my arrest - but not by much. After all, this all appeared to be quite real, though having a night court in session in such an out-of-the-way place seemed too good to believe.
Once the Sheriff had rejoined our happy little group we were marched straight into the building, down the hall and into a room labeled 'Courtroom A.' The officers made sure Betsy and Sydney brought their shopping bags along. It looked and felt like a courtroom to me, though it was smaller, and it was every bit as dingy as the rest of the building.
"I'll go get Justice of the Peace Oxman," the Sheriff announced and strode briskly to a door at the far corner of the courtroom behind the bench. I have no idea what the difference between a Justice of the Peace and a judge is, but this all looked legitimate. Before he knocked on the door he turned and cautioned us, "You be sure and call him Justice Oxman or Your Honor! He don't like to be disrespected."
The sheriff knocked before entering the Justice's chamber, then disappeared inside. We could hear the mumble of their voices but could not make out their words from this distance. He reappeared a minute later, smiling happily, as if still laughing at some joke. "You will all rise! The Honorable Justice of the Peace, Orville Oxman is now presiding."
Justice of the Peace Oxman entered the courtroom in grand fashion, all things considered. He was tall, so tall in fact that he almost had to stoop in order to clear the doorway. He was slender and a rather handsome man of perhaps fifty. He was dressed in a real judge's robe, though, and like the courtroom and the municipal building itself, it was a bit worn and dull looking.
Upon entering the courtroom, he climbed a single step to the bench, turned to face us and grinned a huge smile. I couldn't tell if his grin was a natural part of his disposition or whether the sight of two beautiful, half-dressed women in his courtroom simply made him giddy.
"This court will come to order. I want the defendants to remain standing! Office Sillen, what are the charges against these . . . these
lovely
ladies!" Justice Oxman sounded quite serious in spite of his smile.
The smile on his face appeared to be almost permanent. He was simply too damn happy for a judge hearing a public indecency case at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. The fact that no one had taken down our names also seemed suspicious.
Deputy Sillen cleared his throat as he produced two folded sheets of paper from his back pocket and began to read, "The two female suspects did dance during this Saturday night in the nude or in a suggestive manner that violated the local ordinances. They permitted and encouraged the male customers of the bar called Dancers to touch and fondle their breasts and -er- their vaginal regions repeatedly. Many of those customers were encouraged to place money in their -er- vaginas as tips as well. The younger blonde suspect performed a lewd and more than suggestive act not once, but twice involving swallowing a
whole
banana." I noticed however, that he did not mention he had purchased one of those bananas.
I glanced at Sydney and discovered she did not appear to be shaken by the deputy's charges. In fact, she was smiling proudly as he read this particular charge.
I tuned out for a moment as the deputy droned on about the charges being leveled at them. I noticed no penal codes were cited and aside from the handwritten notes in the deputy's hands, there appeared to be nothing permanent or legally damaging being recorded. This whole thing appeared to be a sham. As I listened to the deputy drone on about the seriousness of the charges against them, it slowly dawned on me that Vera might benefit greatly from this 'trial' and any justice which might be handed down to us. There was a certain elegance and twisted irony in Vera's little scheme. The Sheriff, his deputy and the Justice of the Peace were about to serve a whole heap of small-town justice on Betsy and Sydney. If I was right, and all of this succeeded, the law in this one-horse 'municipality' just might find it in their hearts to look the other way for a while when it came to any questionable goings-on in Vera's bar. I wasn't sure how this kangaroo court would deal with the women's transgressions, but I suspected my cock wouldn't be the first cock flogging them for their slutty behavior tonight.
"Your honor,
please!
" Betsy screeched. She sounded panic-stricken. "You don't understand! I didn't mean to do anything wrong! I-I just wanted to be a little
naughty
! That's all. You can't hold that against me, can you?" she pleaded.
Justice Oxman frowned down at Betsy from the bench, looked carefully at her from head to toe and replied, "Miss, you are standing before this court wearing a sheer, see-through dress, panties that are almost invisible, no bra and wearing extremely high heels and stockings! I must say, you look quite striking in this outfit-
but
- do you think this is an appropriate way to dress? Would you wear this outfit to work or to church?"
Betsy shrank back at his words as if the prim and proper part of her character accepted this. Much as I enjoyed the sight of her shapely backside and her long, slim legs encased in smooth, smoky nylons, I had tried to warn her she might be taking the term
naughty
much too far. Frightened or not, she still looked gorgeous.
"Deputy, the prisoners in this case must be sworn in before we can proceed. Bring the first of them forward. As we have no bailiff tonight, I will swear them in," Justice Oxman barked. He rose from the bench and stepped down for the oath to be given.
The deputy snapped into action, nudging Betsy forward to the Justice's side. Justice Oxman turned his back to the courtroom and Betsy turned to face us.
"You will place your hand on the truth and repeat after me," he began.
I noticed him grasp Betsy's hand and lift it in front of him out of my view. Betsy's expression changed instantly.
"Your Honor!" she squealed. Her eyes flew open wide, and she shot a shocked glance up at the man beside her. "I never-!"
Justice Oxman cut her short, saying, "There will be time for you to give your testimony. First, you must understand the importance of telling the truth and you must promise to respect the truth. Now, what is your name?"
"Betsy, Betsy dePoet," she answered in a small, soft, almost childlike voice. There seemed to be a mysterious change gradually coming over her.
"Betsy, please state your name and repeat after me."
Betsy's hand, the one in front of the justice of the peace was beginning to move slowly, absentmindedly in an up and down motion.
"I -
state your name
- promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth," he intoned slowly.
Betsy hesitated a moment. She seemed to be distracted, but shortly she began reciting the words almost as instructed, "I, Betsy dePoet, promise to tell the whole truth - al-l-l of it - and nothing but the truth." And then, when she finished, I swear, she groaned out softly, as if she were tremendously aroused.
It wasn't until she moaned that I realized there was much more going on here. Betsy was indeed aroused! There was a dreamy, vacant smile on her face now. I watched her hand slowly rising and falling, but my view was obscured by the justice. As I witnessed all this, two things became clear to me: first, all of that dancing and enticing men and welcoming their intimate touching the whole night long had likely elevated Betsy to an edgy, suggestable state of wild sexual energy. Second, Justice of the Peace Orville Oxman simply had to be hung like a horse!
Justice Oxman allowed Betsy a long moment to reflect on the oath she had taken and her commitment to the truth before grasping her hand, turning slightly and announcing over his shoulder, "The defendant may be seated! Deputy, you may bring the next defendant forward to be sworn in!" The Justice's voice was just a bit too loud and more excited than before, I noticed.
Sydney stepped forward voluntarily. When she and Betsy passed one another, I saw Betsy roll her eyes in disbelief. Sydney reached Justice Oxman's side, turned to face the rest of us, and displayed one of those droll, bored expressions that are normally confined to thirteen-year-old girls. That bored expression on her sweet face didn't last long.
I was shocked at the difference in height and size as Sydney stood next to the justice. Sydney's eyes barely rose above his waist. Just as with Betsy, Justice Oxman grasped her hand and drew it up almost as high as her shoulder and out of my line of sight in front of him.