On a sleepy and rather hot Thursday afternoon there were few customers at the large Department Store not too far from the Potomac River in Washington, DC. On the second floor, in the Female Apparel Department only ten or twelve women browsed the displays in the lingerie section. This was probably due to the recent promulgation of the Husband Permission Act by Congress. Women below 25 were considered minors and married women of any age were required to carry permission from their fathers, tutors or husbands for shopping. Although it didn't include groceries and low cost items, the number of female shoppers decreased substantially.

Suddenly the quiet afternoon was shattered by a noisy commotion. A woman clad only in a flimsy set of high cut blue and white panties, a matching bra and auto-supported high hose appeared running on high heels from the general direction of the dressing rooms. She was being chased by a large man in a suit who held a doubled belt in his right hand and was dragging behind him another woman — this one dressed in a short summer dress.

Although the first woman was running in heels, she was more agile than the large man who was hindered by the woman he was dragging. A third woman — obviously a salesgirl — was running after them calling the large man who was bellowing, "Stop, Susan, it will only be harder on you!"

"Only if you catch me!" breathed the escaping brunette. She looked over her shoulder, saw that the man was gaining on her and at the last moment changed her direction, ducked under a counter, saw an open door and crawled through it. The room was empty of people and there was a key inside. She slammed the door behind her and turned the key. She sat on the floor, her back against the door breathing heavily.

In the meantime the large man couldn't change his direction and slammed into a display. The display couldn't support a man charging into it and collapsed. The large man, still dragging the second woman, collapsed as well in a confusion of legs, arms, panties, bras and stockings. A few onlookers gathered in the general proximity of the disaster area.

The man managed to get up helping the girl whose short dress was gathered at her waist uncovering her pink panties and gartered stockings. It took both a moment to recover their dignity. The girl smoothed her dress down and the man took from the inside of his jacket a couple of hangers with a dozen panties, throwing them on a counter. A garter belt that was hanging from his head fell on the floor. He looked down and picked up his belt.

He looked around and spotted the door through which Susan had disappeared before he crashed into the display. He tried the knob and found the door closed. "Susan!" Nothing. "Susan!" He bellowed. Not a sound from behind the closed door.

He started to pound on the door. "Susan, open this door, or you will be very sorry!" He could be talking to a door. He resumed the pounding. The number of onlookers who stopped browsing in favor of the new spectacle started to grow.

"What's happening here?" A slightly older woman appeared at the side of the pounding man. She was dressed in a uniform similar to the salesgirl who was twisting her hands nervously on the verge of tears. The woman had an air of authority about her and said firmly. "Sir, you are causing a disturbance. I must ask you to stop it immediately."

"You didn't see a disturbance yet!" bellowed the enraged man transferring his attention from the door to the woman. He still had the belt doubled in his right hand and looked ready to use it. The woman took a cautious step back. "Sir, I'm Miss Babcock, the manager of the Lingerie Department and if you don't stop this havoc I'll have to ask you to leave, or I'll call security."

"And I'm Mr. Bill Callow and it's my wife Susan locked in this room. She is grounded for maxing all our credit cards, and her little sister Jane who is my ward knows it very well," he pointed with the belt at the petite girl who he was dragging behind him and who tried her best to melt into the background, "and I didn't gave either of them a permit for shopping."

"She didn't show you her permit for shopping, Gina?" Miss Babcock asked the nervous salesgirl.

"But ma'am," Gina defended her self, "the shopping permit is only required at the check-out counter. She was only trying on the clothes..."

"She is correct, Sir..." started the manager but was interrupted by the man, "I don't care, Miss. I want to exercise my right to take a piece of hide off my dear lying wife. I demand that you open this door. Where's the key?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," she didn't sound sorry at all, "but it looks like the key is in the door... on the inside."

"So, bring another key, call the janitor, call security, do something!" shouted the exasperated man and resumed pounding on the door. "Susan, open it this instant! You don't know what trouble you're in!" He stopped pounding for a moment. Not a sound from the other side. "Susan! If you don't open it now, I promise you won't be able to sit down for a week! For a month! For a year!"

He suddenly decided to break the door down and hit it with his shoulder throwing his considerable weight behind the blow. The result on the door was nil. His shoulder almost cracked from the effort.

"Ouufff." He started to massage his wounded shoulder.

"The door is reinforced because our safe is inside," explained the manager mildly with a hint of amusement in her eyes at the enraged man. The crowd was growing continuously.

Bill got another idea. He grabbed his startled sister-in-law and bent her over a counter, her skirt-covered pert behind nicely displayed. He easily pinned the squirming girl to the counter top with a hand on her back. He raised his belt. "Susan!" he shouted, "I'll beat your sister's bum black and blue if you don't appear like now!" He and the crowd waited in suspense. He waited for Susan to show up, the crowd waited curious to see if he was good on his threat.

CRACK! "Yaaaaaaaiiiii!" Young Jane's yell could probably be heard on the other side of the river. Bill waited a moment. "Susan?" No answer, no sound, no movement from behind the door.

CRACK! CRACK! The belt got Jane twice on her light skirt nicely filled from within. Jane's long legs kicked up giving the assembled crowd a pretty sight of her stocking tops and thigh flesh above.

"Aiiiiiiiiiiiiii! Susan!" yelled her sister, "come out, you coward! He is flaying my ass!" The room behind the closed door could as well be empty. The thought crossed Bill's mind. "Is there any other exit from this room?" he asked Miss Babcock.