A Gauntlet For The Girlies

Emily advanced cautiously through the halls of the fun house, holding her skirt down primly. She couldn't believe it. That nice, cute, nerdy-looking boy had seen her panties! And she'd been so careful, too! She'd been trying to flirt with him, but she hadn't meant to flash him! He was never going to think she was pretty now!

Another jet of air came up from below, making her jump. What were those things? They couldn't be part of the funhouse, surely. Nobody would deliberately design a machine to blow girls' skirts up and embarrass them, no matter how perverted they were. No, she thought, the machinery must be even more broken than Mr. Jackson realised. He would never have sent her in here if he'd known something like that was going to happen.

She looked at the colourful wooden walls of the funhouse, decorated with grinning clown masks whose eyes seemed to follow her down the corridor. The building was bigger than she thought. She'd only just come in, and already she wasn't quite sure which way she was going or how to get back.

Nathan, watching through the eyeholes of one of the clown masks, thought about shouting a warning, but he didn't want to startle her. Instead, he watched as she peeped curiously into a vase of flowers, only to be ambushed by a jet of icy water that hit her right between the eyes. Despite himself, he grinned. The funhouse was full of little tricks and traps like that, and secret passages between the walls where you could hide and watch people walk right into them. He was just now beginning to see the appeal.

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. He knew all about this funhouse. He knew how that dirty old man Mr. Jackson had designed it. "Bit of a gauntlet for the girlies, you know," the man had said, tipping him the filthiest wink in the world. "Get them in the door with pretty prizes. Then a bit of blown skirt, a bit of wet bra, a bit of smacked bottom and a few tickles and pinches to keep them on their toes. All in good fun, you know. And we'll sell the photos."

Nathan had given him the cold shoulder. He was a nice young man who respected women, and he wasn't going to be party to any dirty tricks like that. But now, watching through the walls as Emily crept nervously through the funhouse, jumping at every strange noise and flinching at every gust of wind, he had to admit there was a creepy little part of his brain that was beginning to enjoy itself. It was a bit of a thrill, watching her squirm.

And she wasn't wearing pants! How must she feel, knowing she wasn't wearing pants? With an effort, Nathan tried to control himself. He was here to help Emily, not make her suffer. He had to keep thinking virtuous thoughts.

He peeped at her, banishing certain images from his mind, as she stood before a pair of doors, frowning in befuddlement. One was painted green, and labelled TRICK. The other was painted red, and labelled TREAT.