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Jennifer, the young, blonde and pretty reporter who had just joined Northern News after graduating from college with a degree in journalism, sat at her desk in the empty newsroom. She wore a purple blouse, which went well with her dark gray short skirt and lighter gray stockings. A black belt around her waist and matching black heels completed the ensemble. Jennifer dressed professionally rather than casually in the hope that people would take her seriously and not just regard her as a sex object because of her looks and figure – as had occurred when she recently interviewed two astronauts making a mission to Mars. That interview had been harrowing on so many levels. Still, she had survived it and now she was back at the newspaper trying to come up with an angle for her next article.

Most of her colleagues at the paper had gone home, but Jennifer was not in a rush to go back to her empty apartment. Instead, she sat at her desk and fumed as she read the 72-point size headline of the paper’s late afternoon edition:
BINDING BANDIT BAILED!!!
Jennifer was furious as she read how Tigh Bond, a thirty-something criminal who had preyed on young women on local college campuses for several months, had been released on bail thanks to the persuasive arguments made in court by his attorney, Louis D. Loia, Esq. The attorney had successfully argued that his client needed professional help pending trial, not incarceration. The article quoted Loia as saying, “None of the alleged scantily-clad victims were actually hurt when Mr. Bond tied them up and gagged them. Indeed, Your Honor, I venture to say, some of the girls may have even enjoyed the experience!” The eloquent legal eagle had long admired attorneys of yesteryear who had creatively represented clients with such improbable strategies as "The Twinkie Defense" or "The Kojak Defense" so, borrowing a page from those bastions of the criminal bar, Loia claimed that his client acted as he did because he had become obsessed with seeing girls tied up due to his having watched the 50 Shades of Grey DVD twice a day for weeks before beginning his tying and gagging spree.

Employing what her own paper, Northern News, had termed the "50 Shades Defense," Loia ultimately convinced the judge to free Bond earlier that day on a modest bail so he could seek professional treatment. As Judge Forrest Crater stated in delivering his opinion, “Watching that movie even twice suggests to me that there is a spring loose in the defendant’s head. I believe justice will be served if Mr. Bond is released on bail so he can receive appropriate professional counseling prior to trial.” The judge ordered Bond into counseling and also compelled him to surrender his DVD player as a condition of being released on bail.

Jennifer was certain that there was some monkey-business going on with the release of Tigh Bond on bail. After all, no less than 18 college girls had come forward and identified him as the person who had accosted them each in their off-campus apartment buildings, charmed his way into their apartments, and then left them bound and gagged in their underwear before leaving them otherwise unharmed. Each victim had also told the police that their assailant repeatedly had addressed them as “Ana.”

Jennifer read the article again and decided that it warranted further investigation. She drafted a quick email from her desk computer to the City Editor about her suspicions and advised that she was going to try to interview Tigh Bond’s lawyer. She hit the “send” key and then gathered her purse and notebook before leaving the newsroom.

Unbeknownst to Jennifer though, the spellchecker on her desk computer did not recognize the word “Tigh” so a text box opened offering spelling suggestions for the highlighted word that was not in the computer’s dictionary. Her email had not been sent and would not be sent until Jennifer either ignored the spelling alert or added the questionable word to her computer’s dictionary. Making matters even worse, Jennifer, who was a card-carrying member of the Sierra Club, hated wasting electricity, so she had programmed the power saver feature on her computer to put the computer to sleep after ten minutes of inactivity. Thus, not long after Jennifer left the newsroom, her monitor faded to black, hiding the message containing her suspicions and plan.

* * * * * * *

Jennifer took a taxi to the building where Loia had his office. It was 8:00 PM. The building was fairly deserted and most of its office windows were dark. She approached the security desk and showed her press pass, explaining to the guard, who was busy texting on his Smartphone, that she had a late appointment with Louis D. Loia, Esq. Without even looking up, the guard admitted her and pointed to the bank of elevators. “Twentieth Floor,” he said.

Jennifer took the elevator to the twentieth floor. It opened directly into the office space of Loia’s firm. There was no one at the reception desk, so the intrepid young reporter called out nervously, “Hello? Jennifer with the Northern News here. Hello? Is anyone here?" No one answered, so Jennifer decided to roam through the hallway to see if anyone was in the office. She had a bad feeling about intruding unannounced into the lawyer’s office, but she did it anyway.
Jennifer stepped quietly as she made her way down the dimly lit hallway behind the firm’s reception area. Every so often, she called out, “Hello? Mr. Loia? Anyone?” She didn’t encounter anyone as she walked down the hallway so she rounded a corner and, upon seeing light coming from the office at the far end of the corridor, she called out a little louder, “Mr. Loia? Is anyone here?”
A voice responded from the office down the hall. “Who’s there?”
Jennifer grew bolder and more confident now that she realized she was not alone in the dark law office. She approached the office and saw the name “Louis D. Loia” engraved on a brass nameplate outside the door. She peaked her head in and saw a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties sitting behind a mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was clean-shaved and wore a dark suit and tie. He looked up as Jennifer entered his office. “Who the hell are you?” he asked as his eyes looked her over from top to bottom.
“I’m a reporter from Northern News and I’ve come to talk to you about one of your clients, Tigh Bond. You know, the creep you got out on bail earlier today.”
“Do reporters from your paper routinely come around unannounced, after hours, and sneak through people’s offices, Miss?” He paused before adding, “What’d you say your name was?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say, but it’s Jennifer.” She looked him in the eye. “The door was open and no one was at the reception desk.”
“So you decided to trespass and snoop around the office? Is that it?”
“I wasn’t snooping. I called out to let whoever was here know I was here,” she answered defensively as she looked around the office, checking out the art and diplomas on the walls. “I’m surprised,” she said finally.
“At what?”
“I’d have thought you’d have some pictures of sharks or vampires on the wall. Professional colleagues and all, right?”
His eyes hardened at her insult. “It’s funny that some Lois Lane wannabe gets insulting when she’s caught red-handed for trespassing, but that’s to be understood. After all, I’ve read your paper so I’m not surprised that its so-called journalists snoop and trespass. Did you look through the garbage cans too as you snuck through the office?”
“I prefer Brenda Starr to Lois Lane actually," she retorted. "But what about you? You can’t get real clients so you represent creeps like Bond?”
He chuckled as he looked her over again. “Have a seat, Jennifer,” he said, pointing to an armless chair across from his desk. Once she sat, he leaned back in the chair. “You don’t think much of Tigh Bond, do you? Why’s that? Have you ever met him? Has he ever wronged you?"
She shook her head and looked defiant. “He’s a perverted creep who preyed on helpless girls. He should be in jail but you used that asinine defense and convinced a dimwitted judge to let the creep out on bail. Tell me, Perry Mason, did you pay off the judge for that bail decision?”
He shook his head and looked angry. “That’s a hell of an accusation to be making, Jennifer. Saying that too loud or to the wrong people could get you in a lot of trouble. Maybe sued for slander even.”
“Are you threatening me?” she asked.
“No, just making a statement, little girl.”
“I’m not intimidated by you, buster. And I’m not a ‘little girl’ either.”
He looked her over, settling his eyes on her chest. “Yeah, I see that. Not little at all, are you?”
She blushed. “You’re just as big a creep as your lousy client.”
“You reporters!” he sneered. “You think you can do whatever the hell you want and print whatever the hell you want too. And then, when someone cries foul, you hide behind the First Amendment and claim freedom of the press. Well, would you like me to tell you something about Tigh Bond, Miss Jennifer the Reporter from Northern News?”
She took out her notebook and pen. “Yes, tell me how you could represent a perverted loser like him.”
He shook his head again and then stood. He moved around the room and looked out the window, staring down at the city from twenty stories high. “You don’t know him or the facts of his case and yet you’re willing to convict him just the same, aren’t you?” he asked with his back to her.
“I haven’t heard anything from you to make me think otherwise,” she hotly shot back as she watched him standing by the window.
“Look on the wall behind the desk chair, Miss Reporter.” She faced forward and looked at the wall. “That’s a framed copy of the Bill of Rights. You know, the document that says Freedom of the Press in its First Amendment.”
“I don’t need a civics lesson. I need to know how you could have put a guy like Tigh Bond back on the streets so he can prey on other young women.”
He turned and looked at her as she stared at the Bill of Rights. “But, you do need a civics lesson, Jennifer. The Bill of Rights contains ten amendments, not just your precious First Amendment. Let me tell you a little about the Sixth Amendment. It says, among other things, that in all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall have the assistance of counsel for his defense. The Constitution guarantees him a defense and the Eighth Amendment says that no excessive bail shall be required.”
He watched as she wrote fast to take down all of his words. “So,” she began, “You justify putting a perverted criminal back on the streets because of your love for the Constitution?”
He slowly approached her from behind. “The Constitution applies to everyone, Jennifer. Lawyers, reporters and even accused criminals.”
She continued taking notes. “I get that. But you know what he’s accused of and yet you blamed his behavior on a movie? And some judge bought it?”
“The judge just followed the law. He can’t unreasonably deny bail. Tigh Bond didn’t actually hurt any of those girls so he’s not a violent criminal. He just likes to see pretty college girls tied up and gagged in their underwear.” He laughed. “Half the people who use the internet like to see that, I bet!”
“Mind if I quote you on that?” she asked.
He laughed. “Sure, go right ahead.”
“So, first you blame a movie and now you’ll get some quack doctor to support your position that 50 Shades of Grey drove your client to do what he did. Is that the plan?”
“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Jennifer. Mind if I use that idea of yours?” he asked with a chuckle as he stood right behind her chair, looking over her shoulder as she wrote down all that he was saying.
“I just can’t believe that you can sleep at night and look yourself in the mirror in the morning knowing that you put this guy back on the street,” she said. “How do you know that right now he’s not tying up and stripping some pretty college girl?”
“I happen to know for a fact that he’s not doing that, Jennifer,” he responded as he reached into a pocket of his suit jacket.
“How can you be so sure?” she asked.
“Because right now he’s actually tying up some pretty reporter,” he said as he suddenly draped a long white rope around her waist and forcefully pulled its ends around both her and the seatback to bind her to the armless chair.
The unexpected attack made her drop her pen and notebook. She tried to pull at the rope that was drawn tightly around her waistline, but he was too fast and he knew what he was doing. “You!” She yelled. “You’re no lawyer!”

"I never said that I was,” he laughed as he knotted the rope behind the chair and took another rope from his pocket. “You’re the one who assumed I was the lawyer. My mouthpiece is apparently running late for our strategy session tonight. And that's fine with me.” He gave the pretty girl’s hair a sharp tug. “Now be a good little reporter and put your hands behind the back of the chair,” he said.
Reluctantly, the attractive blonde put her hands behind the chair where they were immediately snared by another piece of rope fashioned into a loop. Her assailant pulled the loop tight and then began winding the rope around and around her wrists before making a cinch, pulling it tight and then knotting it well beyond the reach of her fingers. “You’ll never get away with this, you. . . . you . . .”

Her captor took yet another lengths of rope and snugged it under her breasts as he stood behind her. “Cat got your tongue, Miss Snoopy Reporter? You used a whole lot of uncomplimentary adjectives before when you described me. Let’s see. There was loser, perverted, creep, lousy. Have I forgotten anything else?” He criss-crossed her breasts with the rope, pulling it tighter than necessary as if to make a point, but then loosened it a little before pulling the ends around the back of her neck and repeating the process of binding the rope around her shapely breasts.

Jennifer gritted her teeth. “Yes! Pathetic! I forgot to say you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Bond laughed. “It’s probably not a good idea to antagonize me right now, you know,” he said as he pulled the last lengths of the rope around her upper arms before knotting it behind her upper back.

“Probably not, but I never was very good at tolerating jerks,” she responded as she struggled unsuccessfully to get loose.

Bond stood behind her and, leaning over her shoulder, he reached for the buttons of her purple blouse and began undoing them from the bottom.

“Wait! What are you doing? Stop!” cried the helpless young reporter.

“You’re a smart girl. Well, you’re a girl at least,” taunted the man with the ropes. “What does it look like I’m doing? I want to see your bra!”

“You can’t! It’s indecent! Let me go!” she pleaded.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Bond undid the blouse and exposed her lacy lavender bra. “If you thought that was indecent, you’re really not going to like this,” he said as his left hand clasped her left breast through the bra and squeezed it.

Jennifer opened her mouth to scream, but the scream never left her mouth because Bond’s assault on her breast was merely a ruse to let him jam a cloth inside the helpless girl’s mouth. Then, as if by magic, he pulled another cloth out of the air and used this to cover her mouth before tying its ends together behind her head. “That, my dear journalist, is called an over-the-mouth gag,” he explained. “But I think in legal circles, they call it a gag order!”

She protested and cursed at him, but her words were muffled by the cloths in and around her mouth. “Finally! Peace and quiet!” he said as he pulled another rope from another pocket and circled around the chair. She glared at him as he used it to bind her legs together just above the knee, but she stared daggers at him when his fingers lifted her short black skirt to expose the tops of her stockings, giving him a glimpse of her white panties. “Reporters definitely should be seen and not heard,” he told her as he brought forth yet another piece of rope.

Jennifer struggled hard in her bindings and, as he bound her ankles together, she wondered if her captor had bought every bit of rope sold at the local Home Depot. Once her ankles were secured, Bond snaked the ends of the rope under the spindle that connected the chair’s rear legs and tied the rope to her bound wrists, competing the seated hogtie. “And that’s what they call a proper restraining order! He looked over his bound captive. “Well, Miss Snoop, you owe me!”
Jennifer furrowed her brow as she looked at him both angrily and quizzically. He simply laughed at her. “I've given you a huge scoop! You can now write a firsthand account about me.” He took out a cell phone and began to take pictures of her from every angle, zooming in on her bra and the tiny bit of her panties that he could see. Jennifer pleaded in her gag and tried shaking the chair as the phone’s camera took photo after photo of her. “Don’t worry, I’ll email them to your paper’s photo editor. Northern News, you said, right? A picture really is worth a thousand words!

After taking more than a dozen shot with the camera, the villain knelt in front of the chair and ran his hands up and down Jennifer’s stocking-covered legs. She tried to kick him but, in the seated hogtie, all she succeeded in accomplishing was hurting her bound wrists. She was at his mercy. He locked his eyes on hers and deliberately licked his lips slowly. His eyes next focused on her neckline and exposed bra before moving lower. “Let’s see what you have under this pesky skirt of yours, Miss Snoopy Reporter.” As his hands traveled up her legs this time, they continued moving upward till they came to a stop at the black belt around her waist. His fingers tugged at the belt and then reached for the buckle.

Jennifer closed her eyes tight and shook her head urgently from side to side while making as much noise as she could through the gag. She could not believe this was happening to her again. Suddenly, the door to the office crashed open and there stood Louis D. Loia, Esq. “Tigh, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, hey Louie,” replied Jennifer’s captor. “This nosey girl reporter wanted to interview you about the bail hearing today and, since you weren’t here, I thought I’d give her a demonstration she could really write about. Besides, she called me some awful names!”

“Tigh, release her at once!”

“No way! At least not until I see what she’s got on below this skirt. Tiny panty-peeks just don’t do it for me, you know. I like to see them stripped to their scanties!”

Bond resumed his effort to undo Jennifer’s belt, but, just as he was about to unclasp the buckle, the dashing attorney grabbed Bond by his right shoulder, spun him to the left and then clocked him on the jaw with a hard right cross that sent the villain to the floor where he didn’t even twitch. The lawyer rubbed his sore right fist. “It looks so much easier in the movies when they do that,” he said with a wink. “Let me call Security to take care of my former client and then I’ll get you loose. Although,” he said as he looked at her bound and gagged in the chair with her bra exposed, “You really do look kinda nice like that.”

* * * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer and Loia had each given their statements to the police and Tigh Bond was on his way to the precinct house to be booked on yet another charge.

“I’m really sorry about all this, Jennifer,” said the lawyer.

She smiled. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Loia,” she replied.

“Thanks. And call me Louie.”

“Louie Duh Loia?” she said. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“I wish I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me, Jennifer."

“Sorry,” she replied contritely as she suppressed a smile. “But can I ask you a question?”

Louie raised an eyebrow and gave a quick nod. “Will you continue to represent him?”

The attorney shook his head. “No can do. Ethics rules won’t let a lawyer act as an advocate at a trial in which the lawyer is likely to be a necessary witness.” He pointed at the ropes and remnants of the gag on the floor. “And I am definitely a witness to what happened here tonight. It’s too bad really. I bet I’d have made the news a lot with our creative defense.” He smiled. “It may have even worked,” he said with a laugh.

She shook her head, but she was smiling too. “Well, this has certainly been an exciting night. I think I’ll head back to the office and write up the story for tomorrow’s morning edition.” She bent down to pick up her notebook and pen.

The lawyer looked her over as she was bending over and licked his lips. “So, umm, Jennifer, can I ask you a question now?”

Jennifer stood up and turned to the lawyer. “Sure thing."

“Before you head back to the city room, can I buy you dinner?”

She beamed. “I’d like that, Louie. You are my hero after all, right?” She gave him a gentle peck on his right cheek, which made him blush.

“Very good,” he said. “And then maybe after dinner, we can go back to my place and watch a movie. I hear this one’s pretty good,” he said as he walked over to his desk and picked up the DVD case with a familiar image of Jamie Dornan about to kiss Dakota Johnson whose arms were raised above her head .

Jennifer bit her lip and blushed herself. But she didn’t say “No.”

THE END!

**********

Endnotes:

The two "improbable strategies" mentioned in the story -- The Twinkie Defense and The Kojak defense -- were creative legal arguments made by attorneys in defense of their criminal clients. One defense blamed excessive sugar for causing diminished capacity and jurors actually gave it credence and convicted the defendant of manslaughter instead of murder. The other defense, which blamed a murder on too much violence on TV, didn't work as well and the defendant was, in fact, convicted of murder.

The civics lesson given to Jennifer by the villain of the story does accurately explain, in part, some of the rights given by the Sixth and Eight Amendments to the U.S. Constitution. Mr. Loia's ethics lesson is similarly accurate.

I named the fictional judge in this story after a real judge from New York City, Judge Joseph Force Crater, who vanished without a trace on August 6, 1930. He was alleged to have been involved with NYC corruption but no evidence that Judge Crater was actually corrupt was ever found.

Finally, in the interest of being candid, I have neither seen nor read 50 Shades of Grey, but I do like the cover of the DVD!

Description
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Jennifer, the young, blonde and pretty reporter who had just joined Northern News after graduating from college with a degree in journalism, sat at her desk in the empty newsroom. She wore a purple blouse, which went well with her dark gray short skirt and lighter gray stockings. A black belt around her waist and matching black heels completed the ensemble. Jennifer dressed professionally rather than casually in the hope that people would take her seriously and not just regard her as a sex object because of her looks and figure – as had occurred when she recently interviewed two astronauts making a mission to Mars. That interview had been harrowing on so many levels. Still, she had survived it and now she was back at the newspaper trying to come up with an angle for her next article.

Most of her colleagues at the paper had gone home, but Jennifer was not in a rush to go back to her empty apartment. Instead, she sat at her desk and fumed as she read the 72-point size headline of the paper’s late afternoon edition:
BINDING BANDIT BAILED!!!
Jennifer was furious as she read how Tigh Bond, a thirty-something criminal who had preyed on young women on local college campuses for several months, had been released on bail thanks to the persuasive arguments made in court by his attorney, Louis D. Loia, Esq. The attorney had successfully argued that his client needed professional help pending trial, not incarceration. The article quoted Loia as saying, “None of the alleged scantily-clad victims were actually hurt when Mr. Bond tied them up and gagged them. Indeed, Your Honor, I venture to say, some of the girls may have even enjoyed the experience!” The eloquent legal eagle had long admired attorneys of yesteryear who had creatively represented clients with such improbable strategies as "The Twinkie Defense" or "The Kojak Defense" so, borrowing a page from those bastions of the criminal bar, Loia claimed that his client acted as he did because he had become obsessed with seeing girls tied up due to his having watched the 50 Shades of Grey DVD twice a day for weeks before beginning his tying and gagging spree.

Employing what her own paper, Northern News, had termed the "50 Shades Defense," Loia ultimately convinced the judge to free Bond earlier that day on a modest bail so he could seek professional treatment. As Judge Forrest Crater stated in delivering his opinion, “Watching that movie even twice suggests to me that there is a spring loose in the defendant’s head. I believe justice will be served if Mr. Bond is released on bail so he can receive appropriate professional counseling prior to trial.” The judge ordered Bond into counseling and also compelled him to surrender his DVD player as a condition of being released on bail.

Jennifer was certain that there was some monkey-business going on with the release of Tigh Bond on bail. After all, no less than 18 college girls had come forward and identified him as the person who had accosted them each in their off-campus apartment buildings, charmed his way into their apartments, and then left them bound and gagged in their underwear before leaving them otherwise unharmed. Each victim had also told the police that their assailant repeatedly had addressed them as “Ana.”

Jennifer read the article again and decided that it warranted further investigation. She drafted a quick email from her desk computer to the City Editor about her suspicions and advised that she was going to try to interview Tigh Bond’s lawyer. She hit the “send” key and then gathered her purse and notebook before leaving the newsroom.

Unbeknownst to Jennifer though, the spellchecker on her desk computer did not recognize the word “Tigh” so a text box opened offering spelling suggestions for the highlighted word that was not in the computer’s dictionary. Her email had not been sent and would not be sent until Jennifer either ignored the spelling alert or added the questionable word to her computer’s dictionary. Making matters even worse, Jennifer, who was a card-carrying member of the Sierra Club, hated wasting electricity, so she had programmed the power saver feature on her computer to put the computer to sleep after ten minutes of inactivity. Thus, not long after Jennifer left the newsroom, her monitor faded to black, hiding the message containing her suspicions and plan.

* * * * * * *

Jennifer took a taxi to the building where Loia had his office. It was 8:00 PM. The building was fairly deserted and most of its office windows were dark. She approached the security desk and showed her press pass, explaining to the guard, who was busy texting on his Smartphone, that she had a late appointment with Louis D. Loia, Esq. Without even looking up, the guard admitted her and pointed to the bank of elevators. “Twentieth Floor,” he said.

Jennifer took the elevator to the twentieth floor. It opened directly into the office space of Loia’s firm. There was no one at the reception desk, so the intrepid young reporter called out nervously, “Hello? Jennifer with the Northern News here. Hello? Is anyone here?" No one answered, so Jennifer decided to roam through the hallway to see if anyone was in the office. She had a bad feeling about intruding unannounced into the lawyer’s office, but she did it anyway.
Jennifer stepped quietly as she made her way down the dimly lit hallway behind the firm’s reception area. Every so often, she called out, “Hello? Mr. Loia? Anyone?” She didn’t encounter anyone as she walked down the hallway so she rounded a corner and, upon seeing light coming from the office at the far end of the corridor, she called out a little louder, “Mr. Loia? Is anyone here?”
A voice responded from the office down the hall. “Who’s there?”
Jennifer grew bolder and more confident now that she realized she was not alone in the dark law office. She approached the office and saw the name “Louis D. Loia” engraved on a brass nameplate outside the door. She peaked her head in and saw a man who appeared to be in his mid-thirties sitting behind a mahogany desk in a leather chair. He was clean-shaved and wore a dark suit and tie. He looked up as Jennifer entered his office. “Who the hell are you?” he asked as his eyes looked her over from top to bottom.
“I’m a reporter from Northern News and I’ve come to talk to you about one of your clients, Tigh Bond. You know, the creep you got out on bail earlier today.”
“Do reporters from your paper routinely come around unannounced, after hours, and sneak through people’s offices, Miss?” He paused before adding, “What’d you say your name was?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I didn’t say, but it’s Jennifer.” She looked him in the eye. “The door was open and no one was at the reception desk.”
“So you decided to trespass and snoop around the office? Is that it?”
“I wasn’t snooping. I called out to let whoever was here know I was here,” she answered defensively as she looked around the office, checking out the art and diplomas on the walls. “I’m surprised,” she said finally.
“At what?”
“I’d have thought you’d have some pictures of sharks or vampires on the wall. Professional colleagues and all, right?”
His eyes hardened at her insult. “It’s funny that some Lois Lane wannabe gets insulting when she’s caught red-handed for trespassing, but that’s to be understood. After all, I’ve read your paper so I’m not surprised that its so-called journalists snoop and trespass. Did you look through the garbage cans too as you snuck through the office?”
“I prefer Brenda Starr to Lois Lane actually," she retorted. "But what about you? You can’t get real clients so you represent creeps like Bond?”
He chuckled as he looked her over again. “Have a seat, Jennifer,” he said, pointing to an armless chair across from his desk. Once she sat, he leaned back in the chair. “You don’t think much of Tigh Bond, do you? Why’s that? Have you ever met him? Has he ever wronged you?"
She shook her head and looked defiant. “He’s a perverted creep who preyed on helpless girls. He should be in jail but you used that asinine defense and convinced a dimwitted judge to let the creep out on bail. Tell me, Perry Mason, did you pay off the judge for that bail decision?”
He shook his head and looked angry. “That’s a hell of an accusation to be making, Jennifer. Saying that too loud or to the wrong people could get you in a lot of trouble. Maybe sued for slander even.”
“Are you threatening me?” she asked.
“No, just making a statement, little girl.”
“I’m not intimidated by you, buster. And I’m not a ‘little girl’ either.”
He looked her over, settling his eyes on her chest. “Yeah, I see that. Not little at all, are you?”
She blushed. “You’re just as big a creep as your lousy client.”
“You reporters!” he sneered. “You think you can do whatever the hell you want and print whatever the hell you want too. And then, when someone cries foul, you hide behind the First Amendment and claim freedom of the press. Well, would you like me to tell you something about Tigh Bond, Miss Jennifer the Reporter from Northern News?”
She took out her notebook and pen. “Yes, tell me how you could represent a perverted loser like him.”
He shook his head again and then stood. He moved around the room and looked out the window, staring down at the city from twenty stories high. “You don’t know him or the facts of his case and yet you’re willing to convict him just the same, aren’t you?” he asked with his back to her.
“I haven’t heard anything from you to make me think otherwise,” she hotly shot back as she watched him standing by the window.
“Look on the wall behind the desk chair, Miss Reporter.” She faced forward and looked at the wall. “That’s a framed copy of the Bill of Rights. You know, the document that says Freedom of the Press in its First Amendment.”
“I don’t need a civics lesson. I need to know how you could have put a guy like Tigh Bond back on the streets so he can prey on other young women.”
He turned and looked at her as she stared at the Bill of Rights. “But, you do need a civics lesson, Jennifer. The Bill of Rights contains ten amendments, not just your precious First Amendment. Let me tell you a little about the Sixth Amendment. It says, among other things, that in all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall have the assistance of counsel for his defense. The Constitution guarantees him a defense and the Eighth Amendment says that no excessive bail shall be required.”
He watched as she wrote fast to take down all of his words. “So,” she began, “You justify putting a perverted criminal back on the streets because of your love for the Constitution?”
He slowly approached her from behind. “The Constitution applies to everyone, Jennifer. Lawyers, reporters and even accused criminals.”
She continued taking notes. “I get that. But you know what he’s accused of and yet you blamed his behavior on a movie? And some judge bought it?”
“The judge just followed the law. He can’t unreasonably deny bail. Tigh Bond didn’t actually hurt any of those girls so he’s not a violent criminal. He just likes to see pretty college girls tied up and gagged in their underwear.” He laughed. “Half the people who use the internet like to see that, I bet!”
“Mind if I quote you on that?” she asked.
He laughed. “Sure, go right ahead.”
“So, first you blame a movie and now you’ll get some quack doctor to support your position that 50 Shades of Grey drove your client to do what he did. Is that the plan?”
“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Jennifer. Mind if I use that idea of yours?” he asked with a chuckle as he stood right behind her chair, looking over her shoulder as she wrote down all that he was saying.
“I just can’t believe that you can sleep at night and look yourself in the mirror in the morning knowing that you put this guy back on the street,” she said. “How do you know that right now he’s not tying up and stripping some pretty college girl?”
“I happen to know for a fact that he’s not doing that, Jennifer,” he responded as he reached into a pocket of his suit jacket.
“How can you be so sure?” she asked.
“Because right now he’s actually tying up some pretty reporter,” he said as he suddenly draped a long white rope around her waist and forcefully pulled its ends around both her and the seatback to bind her to the armless chair.
The unexpected attack made her drop her pen and notebook. She tried to pull at the rope that was drawn tightly around her waistline, but he was too fast and he knew what he was doing. “You!” She yelled. “You’re no lawyer!”

"I never said that I was,” he laughed as he knotted the rope behind the chair and took another rope from his pocket. “You’re the one who assumed I was the lawyer. My mouthpiece is apparently running late for our strategy session tonight. And that's fine with me.” He gave the pretty girl’s hair a sharp tug. “Now be a good little reporter and put your hands behind the back of the chair,” he said.
Reluctantly, the attractive blonde put her hands behind the chair where they were immediately snared by another piece of rope fashioned into a loop. Her assailant pulled the loop tight and then began winding the rope around and around her wrists before making a cinch, pulling it tight and then knotting it well beyond the reach of her fingers. “You’ll never get away with this, you. . . . you . . .”

Her captor took yet another lengths of rope and snugged it under her breasts as he stood behind her. “Cat got your tongue, Miss Snoopy Reporter? You used a whole lot of uncomplimentary adjectives before when you described me. Let’s see. There was loser, perverted, creep, lousy. Have I forgotten anything else?” He criss-crossed her breasts with the rope, pulling it tighter than necessary as if to make a point, but then loosened it a little before pulling the ends around the back of her neck and repeating the process of binding the rope around her shapely breasts.

Jennifer gritted her teeth. “Yes! Pathetic! I forgot to say you’re a pathetic excuse for a human being.”

Bond laughed. “It’s probably not a good idea to antagonize me right now, you know,” he said as he pulled the last lengths of the rope around her upper arms before knotting it behind her upper back.

“Probably not, but I never was very good at tolerating jerks,” she responded as she struggled unsuccessfully to get loose.

Bond stood behind her and, leaning over her shoulder, he reached for the buttons of her purple blouse and began undoing them from the bottom.

“Wait! What are you doing? Stop!” cried the helpless young reporter.

“You’re a smart girl. Well, you’re a girl at least,” taunted the man with the ropes. “What does it look like I’m doing? I want to see your bra!”

“You can’t! It’s indecent! Let me go!” she pleaded.

But her pleas fell on deaf ears as Bond undid the blouse and exposed her lacy lavender bra. “If you thought that was indecent, you’re really not going to like this,” he said as his left hand clasped her left breast through the bra and squeezed it.

Jennifer opened her mouth to scream, but the scream never left her mouth because Bond’s assault on her breast was merely a ruse to let him jam a cloth inside the helpless girl’s mouth. Then, as if by magic, he pulled another cloth out of the air and used this to cover her mouth before tying its ends together behind her head. “That, my dear journalist, is called an over-the-mouth gag,” he explained. “But I think in legal circles, they call it a gag order!”

She protested and cursed at him, but her words were muffled by the cloths in and around her mouth. “Finally! Peace and quiet!” he said as he pulled another rope from another pocket and circled around the chair. She glared at him as he used it to bind her legs together just above the knee, but she stared daggers at him when his fingers lifted her short black skirt to expose the tops of her stockings, giving him a glimpse of her white panties. “Reporters definitely should be seen and not heard,” he told her as he brought forth yet another piece of rope.

Jennifer struggled hard in her bindings and, as he bound her ankles together, she wondered if her captor had bought every bit of rope sold at the local Home Depot. Once her ankles were secured, Bond snaked the ends of the rope under the spindle that connected the chair’s rear legs and tied the rope to her bound wrists, competing the seated hogtie. “And that’s what they call a proper restraining order! He looked over his bound captive. “Well, Miss Snoop, you owe me!”
Jennifer furrowed her brow as she looked at him both angrily and quizzically. He simply laughed at her. “I've given you a huge scoop! You can now write a firsthand account about me.” He took out a cell phone and began to take pictures of her from every angle, zooming in on her bra and the tiny bit of her panties that he could see. Jennifer pleaded in her gag and tried shaking the chair as the phone’s camera took photo after photo of her. “Don’t worry, I’ll email them to your paper’s photo editor. Northern News, you said, right? A picture really is worth a thousand words!

After taking more than a dozen shot with the camera, the villain knelt in front of the chair and ran his hands up and down Jennifer’s stocking-covered legs. She tried to kick him but, in the seated hogtie, all she succeeded in accomplishing was hurting her bound wrists. She was at his mercy. He locked his eyes on hers and deliberately licked his lips slowly. His eyes next focused on her neckline and exposed bra before moving lower. “Let’s see what you have under this pesky skirt of yours, Miss Snoopy Reporter.” As his hands traveled up her legs this time, they continued moving upward till they came to a stop at the black belt around her waist. His fingers tugged at the belt and then reached for the buckle.

Jennifer closed her eyes tight and shook her head urgently from side to side while making as much noise as she could through the gag. She could not believe this was happening to her again. Suddenly, the door to the office crashed open and there stood Louis D. Loia, Esq. “Tigh, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, hey Louie,” replied Jennifer’s captor. “This nosey girl reporter wanted to interview you about the bail hearing today and, since you weren’t here, I thought I’d give her a demonstration she could really write about. Besides, she called me some awful names!”

“Tigh, release her at once!”

“No way! At least not until I see what she’s got on below this skirt. Tiny panty-peeks just don’t do it for me, you know. I like to see them stripped to their scanties!”

Bond resumed his effort to undo Jennifer’s belt, but, just as he was about to unclasp the buckle, the dashing attorney grabbed Bond by his right shoulder, spun him to the left and then clocked him on the jaw with a hard right cross that sent the villain to the floor where he didn’t even twitch. The lawyer rubbed his sore right fist. “It looks so much easier in the movies when they do that,” he said with a wink. “Let me call Security to take care of my former client and then I’ll get you loose. Although,” he said as he looked at her bound and gagged in the chair with her bra exposed, “You really do look kinda nice like that.”

* * * * * * *

Fifteen minutes later, Jennifer and Loia had each given their statements to the police and Tigh Bond was on his way to the precinct house to be booked on yet another charge.

“I’m really sorry about all this, Jennifer,” said the lawyer.

She smiled. “It’s not your fault, Mr. Loia,” she replied.

“Thanks. And call me Louie.”

“Louie Duh Loia?” she said. “Has a nice ring to it.”

“I wish I had a nickel for every time someone said that to me, Jennifer."

“Sorry,” she replied contritely as she suppressed a smile. “But can I ask you a question?”

Louie raised an eyebrow and gave a quick nod. “Will you continue to represent him?”

The attorney shook his head. “No can do. Ethics rules won’t let a lawyer act as an advocate at a trial in which the lawyer is likely to be a necessary witness.” He pointed at the ropes and remnants of the gag on the floor. “And I am definitely a witness to what happened here tonight. It’s too bad really. I bet I’d have made the news a lot with our creative defense.” He smiled. “It may have even worked,” he said with a laugh.

She shook her head, but she was smiling too. “Well, this has certainly been an exciting night. I think I’ll head back to the office and write up the story for tomorrow’s morning edition.” She bent down to pick up her notebook and pen.

The lawyer looked her over as she was bending over and licked his lips. “So, umm, Jennifer, can I ask you a question now?”

Jennifer stood up and turned to the lawyer. “Sure thing."

“Before you head back to the city room, can I buy you dinner?”

She beamed. “I’d like that, Louie. You are my hero after all, right?” She gave him a gentle peck on his right cheek, which made him blush.

“Very good,” he said. “And then maybe after dinner, we can go back to my place and watch a movie. I hear this one’s pretty good,” he said as he walked over to his desk and picked up the DVD case with a familiar image of Jamie Dornan about to kiss Dakota Johnson whose arms were raised above her head .

Jennifer bit her lip and blushed herself. But she didn’t say “No.”

THE END!

**********

Endnotes:

The two "improbable strategies" mentioned in the story -- The Twinkie Defense and The Kojak defense -- were creative legal arguments made by attorneys in defense of their criminal clients. One defense blamed excessive sugar for causing diminished capacity and jurors actually gave it credence and convicted the defendant of manslaughter instead of murder. The other defense, which blamed a murder on too much violence on TV, didn't work as well and the defendant was, in fact, convicted of murder.

The civics lesson given to Jennifer by the villain of the story does accurately explain, in part, some of the rights given by the Sixth and Eight Amendments to the U.S. Constitution. Mr. Loia's ethics lesson is similarly accurate.

I named the fictional judge in this story after a real judge from New York City, Judge Joseph Force Crater, who vanished without a trace on August 6, 1930. He was alleged to have been involved with NYC corruption but no evidence that Judge Crater was actually corrupt was ever found.

Finally, in the interest of being candid, I have neither seen nor read 50 Shades of Grey, but I do like the cover of the DVD!