[kopema]

Paige Terner and the Case of the Pilfered Panties

Chapter 1


Newly-licensed Private Detective Paige Terner couldn't believe her eyes as she
watched the press conference. The mayor of Chagrin Falls was making a fool of
herself - again. The striking 27-year-old Joy Steelgrave looked every inch the female
authority figure. OK, her political opponents groused that she was "too pretty." And,
truth be told, their quips about her breast size were accurate if not appropriate. Even
her female rivals joined in. Well, come to think of it, all of her campaign opponents last
year were females - most of them almost as good looking as Joy herself - but they
sniped worse than any man could have gotten away with.

What Paige couldn't abide was how this supposedly "strong" female mayor let her
underling walk all over her. Steve Esteban was the City Manager, technically Ms.
Steelgrave's employee. But he towered over her at the podium, answering more
questions than she did, and even interrupting whenever he felt like it. He was always
touching her in a condescending manner. On the shoulder, the back and once even - if
Paige's eyes didn't deceive her - on Joy's taught but well-rounded bottom. Not only did
the mayor not protest this familiarity, she almost seemed to secretly ENJOY the
demeaning attention. She blushed profusely, even squealed once, but through it all, a
coquettish grin kept seeping through her otherwise professional demeanor.

It was completely intolerable. There is no way in Hell Paige would ever have voted for
such a weak-willed excuse for a leader as this lady. Except that - Paige admitted to
herself for the dozenth time - Joy was a lot better than any of her opponents were.
Nevertheless, Paige couldn't help but admire the masterful way Manager Esteban had
about him. His broad shoulders and quick, darting eyes. The way he seemed to know
just when to move his hands lower...

"Paige! What are you doing?"

Startled, the spunky young private detective whipped her hands back on top of her desk
and clicked off the TV feed to her computer monitor. Guiltily, she cringed: "I... I'm
sorry. I won't let it happen again."

"Whatever." Ron White was Paige's new male secretary. Paying his salary was nearly
bankrupting her, but she had to keep up appearances. By lording it over a man, Paige
felt she could let her customers know she was the sort of woman not to be trifled with.

...Or should that be: "not with which to be trifled?" She could never keep that kind of
thing (or anything else for that matter) straight while Ron was in the room. Come to
think of it, ever since she had moved to this town, Paige seemed to have a hard time
focusing whenever a man was around. She always seemed distracted by, well,
naughty thoughts. Maybe it was something in the water? More likely, though, it was
simply the social atmosphere. The women vastly outnumbered the men around here.
Technically, this gave the local feminists great political power, and most of the leaders
were female. But that strangely seemed to make the women here feel even more, what
was the word... submissive, maybe? Paige hated to think in such old-fashioned terms.
But sometimes she almost felt like the men in this town only put women up on
pedestals so they could look up their...

"Well, I'm waiting!" Ron barked.

Flustered, Paige shuffled randomly through the papers in her in-basket. "I'm sorry, I
was just on the Internet looking for leads."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what your hands were doing down there." Paige's blush
deepened from pink to cherry red. "Look if I don't get my paycheck by tomorrow, I'm
out of here. What kind of private detective doesn't have any clients anyway?"

Paige knew she should put him in his place. What business did a mere secretary have
trying to tell a licensed private investigator how to do her job? But she had to admit, the
man did have a point. And speaking of a point...

"Hey, eyes are up here sister!" Ron snapped. His broad grin told her he wasn't really
angry, but he seemed to get quite a kick out of calling attention to Paige's lack of focus.
She quailed at the humiliating faux pas. It wasn't so much that she had a desperate
urge to constantly "check out his package," it was just that her eyes seemed to have a
natural tendency to lower whenever she tried to look him in the eye, and they just sort
of tended to settle a bit below belt level. She'd have to work on that to develop her
"tough gal" private eye persona. But not right now. Ron didn't seem to be in the mood
to put up with any sassiness out of her.

"Whatever..." The surly male secretary stalked back out of her office. OK, Ron didn't
have the greatest vocabulary in the world, and he couldn't take dictation. Or type; or
file; or do pretty much anything else that a secretary should do. But Paige needed
something -- anything -- to tell the world she should be taken seriously. And a male
secretary just screamed: "powerful female."

Unfortunately, Paige Terner wasn't turning out to be much of a boss -- or much of a
private detective, for that matter. Twenty three years old, she had flunked pretty much
every certification course in the country until she finally filed a registration in Chagrin
Falls, Florida. Not only did she pass her test with flying colors, but the "King" of the
island had lavishly wined and dined her at his private estate before granting her license.

Taking advantage of a legal loophole 20 years ago, Bob Portals had used his immense
fortune and political connections to purchase an undeveloped island off the coast of
Florida and set it up as his own private "kingdom" of sorts - severed from most legal ties
to America and the state of Florida. People laughed at the time, but the software mogul
turned the worthless sand spit into a thriving principality -- actually, a pair of separate
townships. One, named Chagrin Falls, was set up to support a world-class college.
The other was "Happy Dayze," one of the most exclusive resort and retirement
communities on the Gulf Coast.

Paige had been thrilled. First of all, to finally have a license, But also at the opportunity
to live in what seemed like an exotic fantasy locale. It turned out to be a fantasy all right
-- but not exactly one tailored to her personal specifications. Only a very select few
were allowed to "emigrate" from America to Chagrin Falls. The vast majority of them
were students at the college. Like Harvard and Radcliff used to be, the Chagrin
University was split up into a male and female schools -- only here, the female school
was about five times as large as the males' school. "King" Portals justified the
discrepancy by saying that it was necessary to help rectify America's sad history of
discrimination against the fairer sex. But since she had lived here, Paige's
investigator's senses picked up on something a bit odd. Nearly all of the female
students were - forgive the crass language - hot. Some suspected that King Portals
selected female students that way, while limiting male students to only those smartest,
wealthiest, or best-connected to ensure the status of the college, and to help keep his
realm untouched by the mainland's rules regulations and even (believe it or not) taxes.
Be that as it may, no female would ever be willing to publically admit that the girls'
school's reputation was undeserved. And, unsurprisingly, none of the male students
were doing any complaining either!

Because of the school's combination of good reputation and lax standards, competition
for female slots was stiff -- but only figuratively speaking. The male students were
willing to put in extra hours studying in return for being surrounded by lots of desperate
young women. The female students, regardless of their initial aptitude, eventually got a
top-flight education. Although the average woman took over six years to get through
the program, an unconventional demerit system ensured they all learned everything
they needed to know. The real plum of the whole deal was that the top graduates -
male and female alike - were eligible to move to the fabulous neighboring resort town at
the ripe young age of 35. The vast majority of women took retirement as soon as it was
available. But for some reason, a lot of male graduates decided to stick around and live
in the coed-filled college town - go figure. Anyone who got married or pregnant was
required by charter to "retire early" - because taking care of one's family comes first,
don't you know - and move into Happy Dayze.

This is what led to Paige's professional dilemma: Practically no one in this town was
married. So the meat-and-potatoes of the private investigator's market - spying on
cheating spouses - simply did not exist. She'd had her shingle out for three months
now, but hadn't had a single client. Her building was rented from the monarch (who
technically owned everything, and everyone, in town), and she was already three
months in arrears!

It's also what led to Paige's personal dilemma: The vast majority of Chagrin Falls'
inhabitants were young, attractive, single women. Getting a steady boyfriend was a
rare treat. And getting a husband was practically unheard of. For some strange
reason, for a woman to promise a man "Let me take you away from all this" didn't really
work all that well in Chagrin Falls.

Out of desperation, Paige hired a cute male student as her part-time secretary, thinking
the cache of having a man in the office would help attract some (presumably female)
clients. She spent the last of her savings paying his first week's salary, and that was up
last week. This morning, Ron demanded his paycheck, and Paige tried to pay in
promises. And, although Paige thought she was as cute as a button, it turned out that
her wiles didn't go all that far in this town. Without so much as a by-your-leave, he had
her over her desk, skirt up and panties down, and gave her a good sound spanking!
Tearfully, she promised to have his check to him by tomorrow -- and then promised him
a WHOLE lot more than that. Surprised at how inventive she was becoming, Ron
casually "slipped" and slid his hand between her legs. He confirmed beyond any
shadow of a doubt what he'd always suspected: his boss had the serious hots for him.
He patted her consolingly on the fanny, but told her that if the check wasn't in his hand
first thing, then she would be his servant for the next week -- and that service wouldn't
involve any filing!

As he left early for the day, Ron reminded her of her obligation: "See you tomorrow,
MS. Turner." Ron loved poking fun at the way Paige insisted he call her "ms." Since
practically no woman in this town was a "misses," Ron pointed out, she wasn't fooling
anyone. She was just putting on airs. But Paige insisted on keeping her dignity about
her at all times. Based on the explicit description Ron gave her about what would
happen if she didn't come through with what she owed him, come tomorrow, Paige's
dignity was about to become a thing of the past! Since failure to pay an employee was
a "banishable" offense, Paige had no legal recourse. Ron could turn HER over to the
authorities any time he wanted. Paige shuddered to think what the draconian courts of
this land would do to her, especially since she owed King Portals a big chunk of
change. What's more, that warm and tingly feeling between her legs told her that any
claim she made about molestation would be utter fraud.

Slinking back into her chair, Paige was too flustered even to rearrange her skirt or pull
up her panties. She closed her eyes and thought about all the things that young stud
might force her to do. For all practical purposes, she would be his personal slave...

"Hello?"

Startled by the greeting and simultaneous knock, Paige shot up, looking into the eyes of
a woman whose head was already peeking around her office door. Scooting forward,
she clumsily tried to lower her hem, hoping that the desk would cover her exposed (and
even more shamefully glistening) sex.

"Uh, uh. We're closed!" Paige stammered. Could this lady tell what she had been
doing? Caught in the act twice in one day. Whatever would people think of her?

"At two o'clock in the afternoon?" The brunette had a quizzical look on her face as she
came on through the door. Paige was mortified, but then saw something that made her
think this lady might have some problems of her own to worry about.

She was wearing the most ridiculous outfit page had ever seen. Her hair, nails and
makeup looked the very epitome of professionalism. But her clothes! This otherwise
elegant lady was wearing an outfit that no self-respecting cocktail waitress would have
on. The top was a black strapless bustier, with a low bustline that seemed to stick out
past, rather than contain her breasts, which were jiggling freely behind their flimsy
shield. From where she was sitting, Paige couldn't be sure, but she guessed that a tall
man standing close would have an unimpeded view of her areola and nipples.

The skirt was worse. It was scandalously short, and flared out garishly. It somehow
seemed to be floating feeling around her waist; bobbling around in constant danger of
revealing everything both fore and aft. Its nervous occupant was obviously trying to
keep the movement contained, but she seemed afraid to actually touch the garment, for
fear anything she tried to do would only aggravate the situation. Her shoes were 8"
platform heals, and it was clear this lady was new to the experience. She walked into
the office; wobbling precariously; hips gyrating. She awkwardly plopped into a chair,
sticking her arms out to catch herself, and momentarily neglecting to control her
wayward skirt. It flared up wildly, as her legs splayed apart, exposing everything to
Paige. Absolutely everything, as it turned out. Paige was shocked to see that this tart
didn't even have on any underpants. At the same time, her top bobbed down too,
revealing all her charms, both top and bottom.

Ordinarily, Paige would have been outraged. But it was obvious this poor lady was
even more embarrassed than the detective. Forgetting her own recent embarrassment,
Paige had to stifle a giggle. "Look, I don't know who put you up to this, but this isn't
really the time or place for a practical joke..."

Cringing, the under-dressed mystery lady was nonplused by the impression her attire
gave. It was almost as if she didn't want to be dressed in such a ridiculously
provocative manner. Her pleading eyes gave Paige pause. "No, no. It's not the way it
looks. My name is Wanda Fitzgerald. *I* am the one who is the victim of a prank, and I
need to hire you." She hefted her Louis Vuitton purse onto the desk. "Please, just
listen to my story..."