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Jackson Dyle

. . . and his fellow gamesters, Treena and Roberts. This is from Part 17 of “‘Tami Smithers Was Here’”. “Jackson Dyle" is a play on “Carson Dyle”, the elusive villain in the Cary Grant - Audrey Hepburn comedy “Charade”. Jackson calls himself “Master Jack”, which I got from that strange song which got a lot of play when I was traveling across the country in 1980, a trip that furnished a lot of inspiration for the cross-country journeys in “The Long Escape” and “‘Tami Smithers Was Here’”.

As is explained later, humming “The Star Spangled Banner” was (is?) a recognized “stop” signal in the BDSM community (I heard that somewhere). In Dyle’s mind Tami is confirming that she knows this but actually she has no idea.

“So what did you say your situation was?” Jackson Dyle said.

Tami, glancing upward at the stairs for the set of clothes that would momentarily arrive, said, “I was left without my clothes by this sorority I was trying to join. It was a prank.”

“That’s terrible. From what college?”

Tami thought quickly. “Smith College,” she said off the top of her head.

“Smith College is in Massachusetts,” Jackson Dyle said.

Trying to put an end to this question, Tami cleared her throat and said, “There’s another one, a small -- small place not too far from here.”

Jackson Dyle leaned forward, sipping his coffee, and said, “My dear, there is no such college nearby or anywhere in this state. I should know, I’m a college instructor.” He spoke not as if accusing Tami of lying but as if somehow just playing along with something.

Tami stared at his reflection in the polished table top, wondering why he was testing her so.

“Then there’s the matter of your tan, very exquisite, with no lines,” Jackson Dyle said, with a long lisp through the word “exquisite”. “Obviously you enjoy being nude, you must spend a great deal of time without clothing. Now tell me the truth.”

Tami was flustered now. “I am telling you the truth. I -- I was left a few days ago. I’ve been walking through the woods, trying to find a house. That’s why I -- have my tan.”

“Really? It takes more than a few days to make tan lines totally disappear. For one thing, you’d be sunburnt over your breasts. . . And what have you been living on?”

“Nuts and berries and stuff I’ve found,” Tami said, realizing how unlikely this sounded, then adding, “I -- I took a course in edible plants.”

“Mmm - hmmm,” Jackson Dyle said cynically. “I see your spiel now. May I congratulate you on your entrance. In our years of play, we have never had someone who was so dramatic and inventive. Maybe you’ve noticed our telescope upstairs. Roberts is much into astronomy,” he said, motioning to the military looking man, who was entering with a full set of athletic workout clothes, including sneakers and socks, arrayed on a wooden coat hanger. “Though last night he got distracted by a heavenly body like none we have seen before. I’m glad, it allowed us to set things up.”

“You’ve got this all wrong,” the towel-clad teenager said, wondering why he was messing with her head, though now she was fixated on those wonderful clothes on the hanger and impatiently waiting for him to offer them to her.

As if she had said nothing, Jackson Dyle said perfunctorily, “Tell me, do you know how to hum the ‘Star Spangled Banner’?”

Tami was too fixated on the clothes to notice how odd this question was. “Of course I do . . . Can I have those clothes now?”

“And how old are you?”


“Very good. Pray tell, how did you hear of us? We usually work only through the college.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Tami said. She was starting to get a little pissed off at this screwing around. “Can I have some clothes to put on, please!”

Jackson Dyle shrugged. “O.K., if that’s how you want to play it.” He got up from the table. “At this point, you may start calling me ‘Master Jack’. Now, I must ask you to remove that towel.”

Tami said nervously, “So I can put on those?”, looking at what was on the hanger in Roberts’s hand.

Jackson Dyle said, “Of course not, you silly fool.” He assumed a lower, more stentorian tone of voice, without a lisp. “You will have to earn the right to wear clothes! Roberts, please.”

Roberts put down the hanger and started around to Tami’s side of the table. Clutching the towel to her chest, the shocked and terrified teenager got up and made for the door. Roberts went after her. There was a quick slapping of bare feet and clomping of military boots. The boots were faster. He grabbed the towel as it flew away from the girl’s now exposed butt. Tami struggled to hold on to it while pressing the towel against her breasts. There was a brief tug back and forth. Finally with a mighty jerk Roberts ripped the fluffy covering from the teenage girl. She spun to the floor and cowered on her knees in anguish. “Noooooo!!”

The two men watched as the naked teenager crossed her arms over her breasts and quaked. “W - why are you doing this to me?? P - please -- let me have the towel!” Then, in a pleading tone, “Please? Just the towel? I’ve wanted it so long!!”

One second of seeing the stony faces of the men was enough. Tami had to get the hell away from these weirdos. She sprang to her feet and ran for the door. Roberts grabbed her hand just as she reached the doorway.

“HELP!! HELP!!” she yelled. As Roberts dragged her in, Jackson Dyle said, “It’s no use, there’s no one around for miles.” It was hard for Roberts to handle the wildly struggling girl, but after a few seconds he had pushed her bare bottom back into the chair. The two men looked down at her. Roberts leaned back to lock the door.

The naked teenager, legs pressed together, leaned forward into her crossed arms. “P - please let me go.” She was shaking and tearful.

She sensed Jackson Dyle and Roberts looking at each other. In a moment Dyle was back with a cell phone. “If you don’t like it, then call the police. Just dial 911. My name is Jackson Dyle, the address here is 9548 Bowditch Road, Farmington, Arkansas. Just tell them we won’t give you any clothes, and charge us with false imprisonment and harassment.”

Tami looked at the phone and froze. Once again, she thought of that fax in the post office, that headline she saw in the newspaper box. The “Nude Girl Alert”. Seconds went by.

Seeing her failure to respond, Dyle concluded, “Just so we’re clear.” Tami squirmed as he put his hand on her bare shoulder. “This, my dear, promises to be a lot of fun.”

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