Miss Hathaway Finds Herself

[esercito sconfitto]

Miss Hathaway Finds Herself
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Miss Hathaway Finds Herself

by Autolycus_7

The Clampetts were bustling about the kitchen, eating Granny's lunch standing up, in preparation for their long trip. Mr. Drysdale, followed by his trusted secretary, Jane Hathaway, came in, and the banker could not disguise his annoyance. "Come on, come on, the plane for Paris won't wait for us! I told you, Ms. Hathaway will stay behind and watch the house for you, she'll clean up, she'll take care of everything, as always!"

That's right, chief," Jane said, gritting her teeth. She would have liked to have gone to France as well with the billionare Ozark family, but her insistance that the Marseille oil well deal was a bad investment had alienated her boss to the point of his penalizing her. But she smiled, dressed in her conservative tweeded coat dress that fell below her knees. "Come on, all of you," she said, making the best if it "I'll clean up. You all get going."

She stayed in the kitchen as they walked through the living room to the awaiting taxicab outside. She had her back to the open back door and didn't hear the sound of someone coming up behind her. The woman, dressed in a convict's greay shirt and pants, reached in and took Granny's large frying pan off the wall, the one Jed Clampett had bought her to be able to cook four possums at one time for his always-hungry nephew Jethro. The convict raised the skillet above her head with both hands and slammed it into the back of Ms. Hathaway's skull.

Jane staggered from the blow. Her eyes glazed. Her mouth popped open. And then she fell straight backward onto the floor, although her stiff spine seemed to resist bringing her head all the way down.

Just then Jed Clampett's daughter Ellie May shouted in from the living room. "Goodbye, Miss Jane!"

Miss Hathaway, her head still off the floor, seemed to hear her and looked as if she was trying to rise. With one hand, the convict struck Jane on the back of the head again with the frying pan, producing a loud gong. Ms. Hathaway's head fell back and rested on the floor.

"What was that?" Ellie May's voice asked. The convict glupped and, clearing her throat, attempted to duplicate Miss Hathaway's Byrn Mawr accent, which she had heard through the back door as she had knelt waiting for the family to leave. "That was nothing, dear. You have a nice trip! Everything is fine."

"Okay, goodbye," the young woman's voice said, trailing off.

The woman convict looked down at the unconscious secretary. "Yes, everything is just fine. You know," she said, getting on her knees, still examining her victim, "when Lucky Lucy told me she had seen you in the bank and you looked just like me, I didn't believe her. But damn if you don't. Your face at least, you scarecrow," she laughed, commenting on Jane's scrawny, matronly appearance. "Except for the glasses," the convict, who wore no glasses, said. She reached down and took Jane's glasses off her sleeping face. "I guess I can look over them for a while," she said, peering through them. But then she discovered something. "I should have known. Pure glass. I can wear these. Come on, honey. Didn't you ever hear that men don't make passes at girls who wear glasses. Or maybe you did."

She put the glasses on to get use to them and started to unbutton Jane's coat dress. "Let's get started," the convict said," spreading the dress open, revealing Miss Hathaway's bra, bare midriff, half skirt, and knee-high stockings. But then she discovered something else. She reached down and cupped Jane's right breast through her bra. "Wait a minute. You got boobs."

The convict pulled Jane up, unfastened her bra, and saw her ample breasts pop out. The convict let her fall back with a thud, and Jane's breasts danced for the ceiling. "What's the matter with you, honey. If you didn't wear glasses and dress in my aunt's clothes, you'd be a looker. Wear something tight," she said, pulling down the half skirt to reveal shapely legs. "Maybe you want to be an old maid, honey," the convict said, slapping Miss Hathaway's tight belly and then pulling down her stockings and then her panties, "but you're defying nature."

Jane Hathaway lay stretched out naked on Granny's kitchen floor, an appealing presence. The convict stood up, dropped her pants and took off her shirt, and she was soon naked too.

She caught her reflection in the sheen of Granny's freshly-polished refrigerator door and decided that her hair was longer than Miss Hathaway's. She found a scissors used to cut bones in the drawer and started trimming her hair, standing naked in the kitchen. The convict heard Miss Hathaway stirring on the floor and, without taking her eyes from her job, raised her bare foot and brought it into Jane's forehead. The stirring stopped.

Satisfied, the convict dressed in Jane's clothes and then went into the living room to find a mirror. Looking at her reflected disguise, the convict decided that Jane's clothes made her look skinny and matronly too. It was perfect.

The convict walked back into the kitchen and stared down at the naked and unconscious Miss Hathaway. "I could dress you in my clothes and kill you, I guess. But I never did murder, and besides you're just too damn hot, if I do say so myself."

Searching the cupboards, the convict found Granny's jug. She uncorked it, took a sniff, and almost passed out herself. "Whhhew. I heard about moonshine!" She put the jug on the floor, pulled the naked secretary up into a sitting position, and leaned her head back against the lower cupboard. Jane began to stir again. The convict reached up and took the glass that Jethro had left off the kitchen table. She poured a full glass of the moonshine and brought it to Jane's lips. Miss Hathaway's eyes began to flicker, and she panted, "What--what happened."

"That's all right, dear. Drink this and you'll feel better." She had poured half of it down Jane's throat when her eyes bugged out, no doubt from the burning sensation going down. But as soon as the convict took the glass away, Miss Hathaway grinned and then dropped her chin into her breasts.

"That's right," the convict said, putting one arm around Miss Hathaway's right thigh and the other around her back." She hauled her up and carried her into the back closet, lying her flat about the potatoes and boxes of roots. "You sleep, dear," the convict said, shutting the door, "and when the police find you, they'll see how gorgeous you are. And you let them, you hear."

With that, finding Jane' keys in her coatdress pocket and taking the jug with her, she walked to Jane's car parked out front.

Once at the bank, the convict who looked like Miss Hathaway walked right into Mr. Drysdale's office and sat at his desk. A young secretary came in, "What are you doing, Miss Hathaway, you know that Mr. Drysdale--"

"Close the door," the convict ordered, avoiding eye contact with the woman. As the young bimbo, who was the type Drysdale always hired, did so, the convict uncorked the jug. "Come over here." When the top-heavy blonde on high heels tottered over, the convict said. "I'm testing you. Who do we call to bring up large sums of money from the vault?"

"Mr. Jenkins."

"And his extension is--?"

"222"

"Fine, smell this," she said. holding the jug up.

Once the bimbo was out like a light on the floor, the convict dialed extension 222. "Jenkins, Mr. Drysdale just called and said the oil deal looks so good that he wants me to bring him $2 million from the Clampett's account in a large briefcase. Bring it up to me, would you?"

"You know I can't do that without Mr. Drysdale's authorization in writing," Jenkins' voice said.

"Why I have it here," she said, patting the jug, "bring the money up here and I'll show it to you."

******
It wasn't until 8 p.m. that a cleaning lady found the blonde secretary and Jankins in each other's arms, naked, on Mr. Drysdale's couch. But the convict, having had her joke, took pity on them--and Miss Hathaway. On the desk was a yellow legal pad on which she had written: "The REAL Jane Hathaway is in the Clampett's kitchen closet. Signed, former Convict 67534." By the time the note was found, the convict was driving her rented car through the Mexican border.

The first policemen who entered the kitchen closet saw Jane Hathaway's bare feet sticking out over a bag of potatoes, her belly, and her right breast. Retreating, he called for a lady officer. She went into the closet with a blanket and came out carrying a smiling Jane Hathaway, her bare legs and breasts evading the blanket. As they both carried her to the couch in the parlor, both officers, who had seen Miss Hathaway at the bank, agreed that without her clothes she was a looker.

In the hectic days that followed, Mr. Drysdale fired Miss Hathaway, the board fired him and, fearing a lawsuit, re-hired her and apppointed her acting president of the bank. In addition, she began dating both of the police officers.

From the perspective of both the convict and Jane Hathaway, things had worked out rather well.