A Dirty Girl Gets Clean

"You can't make me do anything."

The therapist smiled as he looked at the girl slumped over in her chair. "Of course not," he said. "You are absolutely right. I can't make you do anything."

"Wait a minute. You're agreeing with me?"

"Of course. I can't make you do anything. That's very perceptive of you."

"But I thought you told my dad--"

"I told your father I would see what I could do but I can't make you do anything."

"You mean I could just get up and walk out of here right now?"

The man nodded. "Of course, but then I would have to phone your father and tell him that you weren't being cooperative."

"See. I knew there was a catch."

"Not at all," the therapist told her. "You asked if you could get up and walk out and I told you could but I also told you what I would do. No catch at all."

"But I can't leave."

"Of course you can, but there are always consequences. Like when you smashed your car into your boyfriend's car."

Lindsey Ravendale grinned at that. "My ex-boyfriend, you mean."

"Well, yes. Trying to kill someone with your car does rather tend to put a crimp in your relationship, doesn't it?"

"I wasn't trying to kill anyone except maybe the bitch he was with."

"That was his sister."

"Yeah, but I didn't know it at the time. I thought he was cheating on me."

"But the senator, your father, he had to pull a lot of strings to cover that up, didn't he?"

"Must not have pulled too hard," the girl grumbled. "They still arrested me for driving under the influence."

"Yes, but that was better than getting arrested for attempted murder."

"I guess."

"And then there was that time at Spring break."

"Yeah, so."

"So it was bad enough you took your top off but then lots of children do that, but then you had to go and take your bottoms off, too. Did you really think the cops weren't going to notice?"

"Well, they were supposed to notice," the girl grumbled.

"What's that?"

"If you take your clothes off, people are supposed to notice. If they don't, then there's definitely something very, very wrong."

"Yes, but you do like to be noticed. You like to be noticed a lot."

"Yeah? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," the therapist said, "as long as it is done in a healthy environment."

"So you think I'm not healthy," Lindsey said.

The therapist smiled. "Now, Lindsey," he said. "Did I say that?"

"No, but--"The girl caught the man watching her. "Whatever," she said and then she went back to moping.

The therapist smiled. "You should count yourself as being a very lucky, young lady."

"Yeah, and why's that."

"Because most people, if they did half the stuff you'd done, they'd be in jail by now."

"Yeah, well maybe, so what are you going to do to me."

"I'm going to hypnotize you."

The girl snorted. "Yeah right. That's a laugh. Like I'd ever let someone like you inside my head. You'd probably turn me into a zombie or something. There's no way I'm going to let you do something like that."

"I have no intention of turning you into a zombie, as you put it," the man said. "If that was all I could do, then I really wouldn't be very good at my job. No, I just want to help you keep yourself out of trouble but as for letting me inside your head, you're completely right, but you see that's the problem, isn't it?"

"What is?"

"You're all out of options, aren't you, Lindsey? What did your father say he was going to do if you got yourself in trouble again."

The girl mumbled something.

"What's that," the man said. "I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

The girl mumbled something again.

"I still didn't catch that," the man said. "What did you say."

"Boarding school," the girl said. "He said he was going to send me to boarding school but I can break out of there if I want to."

"Ah, but this isn't just any boarding school. It's a school for troubled teens. I've heard of the place. I'm afraid breaking out is going to be a whole lot harder than you think it'll be."

"I'm eighteen so he really can't do anything at all to me."

"No, but he can cut you off from his money. Do you want to be poor, Lindsey."

"No," the girl grumbled.

"So you see, there is something he can do."

"Whatever."

"So that's the deal, isn't it? Either you take your chances with me, or it's a one way ticket to boarding school. The senator has a tough campaign coming up and he can't be bothered with talk of family instability at home, so what do you say."

The girl mumbled something.

"What was that, Lindsey. I'm afraid I didn't catch that."

"I guess," the girl said. "I guess we can try it your way."

"Excellent, Lindsey. That's very good of you. See, I knew you could be cooperative if you put your mind to it, and now, let's see what we can do to clean up your act."

Yeah right, the girl thought. She'd show him. Cooperative my ass.

She halfway expected the man to pull out a watch and start to swing it in front of her face, but he didn't do that. He was just talking with her. If he was going to do it, why didn't he just get on with it.

She almost wished he would hypnotize her just so she wouldn't have to listen to him drone on.

Whoa, the girl thought. Where had that thought come from? Was he trying to hypnotize her now. Well, she wasn't going to let him do it.

But the man kept talking. Yap, yap, yap. She really wasn't even paying attention to him anymore. Something about ... about ... what was he talking about?

Shit. He's trying to hypnotize you, the girl thought. Get a grip on yourself. Stay steady.

But almost as quickly, she found her mind falling into the patter of the man's speech. It was getting harder to pull herself back from the brink. She had to resist, she told herself. She had to resist, but it was so hard when she didn't even know what the man was doing.

He's trying to hypnotize you, the girl told herself.

Yeah, but how?

That was the problem, wasn't it? If she knew what he was doing, she could fight it but she didn't know what he was doing, not really. He was just talking.

The therapist could see it happening. He'd done it before. He knew the girl wasn't really under but he knew she was susceptible. He knew she was open and that was all he needed from her. His voice kept coming at her, taking her deeper and deeper.

The girl could hear the man talking but she couldn't do anything about it. Somehow, he'd done it. Somehow, he'd pried her mind open and now he was putting new thoughts there.

She was a dirty girl. That's what the man was telling her. She was a dirty girl and she needed to clean up her act.

She wasn't a dirty girl. That's what she wanted to tell the man, but the words never came to the surface. Instead, his words continued to beat down on her like the water on the sand. "You're a dirty girl. Clean up your act. You're a dirty girl. Clean up your act."

She was a dirty girl. She needed to clean up her act. Yes, she could see that now.

No wait, she thought. That was the man talking. That was what he was telling her to think.

But what if he was right?

Her mind didn't have an answer to that. "You're a dirty girl. Clean up your act. You're a dirty girl. Clean up your act."

I'm a dirty girl, Lindsey thought. I need to clean up my act. I'm a dirty girl. I need to clean up my act.

Lindsey blinked. Wait a minute. Where had all the time gone. Something had happened but she wasn't sure what.

"Are you feeling better now," the therapist asked.

What had he done to her, the girl wondered. What had he done to her. "I'm fine," she grumbled.

No wait, she hadn't grumbled it. She'd sat up straight and she'd said it perkily like some bubble-headed bimbo. Why the hell had she done that?

She wasn't sure but what she did know was that she was a dirty girl and she needed to clean up her act.

"Same time next week then?"

"Sure. Same time next week." Why the hell had she said that, Lindsey wondered even as she grabbed up her things and staggered out of the man's office. Heck, it almost sounded as if she wanted to be there. What the hell was wrong with her.

Mike Hanrihatty was waiting for her when she got out of the doctor's office. He was a staffer in her dad's office. Her dad hadn't even trusted her to make the trip unescorted.

That was because she was a dirty girl, she told herself.

Stop that, she argued back. I am not a dirty girl.

"Everything go all right in there," Mike asked.

Usually, she would have fired off a retort at a bone headed question like that, but she was after all, a dirty girl, so why should she get all high and mighty.

Stop that, she told herself. Stop it.

Mike led Lindsey to the car. She felt so subconscious. It felt as if everyone must be staring. She liked it when people stared, didn't she, but the reason people were staring was because she was a dirty girl. She needed to clean up her act.

Stop that, she told herself. Stop that.

But it was so hard. All the way home, she kept telling herself how dirty she was. All she wanted to do when she got home was to go take a shower, a nice long, hot one. She was so dirty. She needed to clean up her act.

Lupe met her as she came in the house. Lupe was her father's housekeeper but Lindsey had no time for the woman. As soon as she was in the house, she was on her way up the stairs. She was a dirty girl. She had to clean up her act.

She was already stripping off her clothes as she stumbled into the bathroom. Steam rose as hot water pelted down on the tiled surface and then Lindsey stepped under the water and she let out a sigh. She was a dirty girl. She had to clean up her act.

Lindsey squirted shampoo into her hand and then she began to run her hands through her hair. The agitation that she'd felt earlier was still there but it was slowly easing. She rinsed the shampoo out of her hair. She wasn't a dirty girl, she kept telling herself. She wasn't a dirty girl.

She grabbed at the soap and she lathered it up in her hands. She was not a dirty girl she told herself even as her hands went to work on her body.

Her stress was easing now. The combination of the hot water and the soap was finally having its effect on her. She wasn't nearly as stressed as she had been. She wasn't a dirty girl, she told herself again. She wasn't a dirty girl.

Her hands stroked her breasts. She liked the feel of the soap on her tits. Must be clean she told herself as her soapy hands slid along her tits. She grabbed a nipple and squeezed before finally pulling her fingers free.

She wasn't a dirty girl. She had to clean up her act.

She liked being clean. Being clean meant taking showers and taking showers meant--

She liked being clean.

One of her hands slid down over her taut stomach even as the other stayed up around her breasts. Where else was she dirty, she wondered.

From where her hands were, it wasn't all that far for them to find their way between her legs. Surely, she must be dirty there, she told herself but she could fix that. A little more soap and then she was working her hands between her legs and she let out a contented sigh. Mmm yeah, it felt so good to finally get herself clean.

Lindsey moaned again but it was almost as if she could feel herself getting dirty again. The more she rubbed herself between her legs, the dirtier she got but she could take care of that, she told herself. All it would take was a little more soap and a little more rubbing.

And yet, almost unbelievably, she seemed to be getting even more dirty. Rub yourself harder, she told herself. Rub yourself harder. You need to get clean.

Her soap slickened fingers continued to work their way between her legs and the girl continued to moan.

She was rubbing harder and faster and faster and harder. Her hand squeezed her nipples even as she rubbed herself between her legs. Must get clean, she told herself. Must get clean.

She gasped as her pussy finally succumbed to the attention it was getting and then she gasped. She doubled over in the shower even as the water continued to rain down on her and the girl moaned with satisfaction. She was finally clean.

Lindsey Ravendale stepped out of the shower and she looked at herself in the mirror. Not a speck of dirt on her. She was clean as clean could be. She knew she wasn't a dirty girl.

"So," the therapist asked. "How have things been going for you this past week?"

Lindsey bit back the urge to tell the therapist what she'd been up to. He didn't need to know that she just couldn't seem to keep herself clean enough, that she couldn't keep her hands from between her legs. "Things are fine," she said.

"Are you sure," the man said. "It seems like a dirty girl like you, things are probably never really fine. There's probably something always going wrong."

Lindsey gasped. How did the man know that, she wondered. How did he know she was a dirty girl?

I am not a dirty girl, she wanted to argue back.

The man was speaking and she'd missed what he was saying. Who cares what he's saying, she wanted to tell herself and yet, she found herself wanting to listen.

She was a dirty girl. She knew that now and she needed to clean up her act. Oh shit, the girl thought, he's trying to hypnotize me.

Not trying, she realized. He was doing it.

And she wasn't trying to stop him.

She was a dirty girl. She was a dirty girl and she needed to clean up her act.

Lindsey just sat there as the man talked. On some level, she knew he was in her mind and she knew it had been easy but on a whole other level, she knew she just didn't care and why should she. She was a dirty girl. She needed to clean up her act.

She wanted to say no but she didn't say no.

The man was waking her up. Lindsey didn't feel any different than she'd felt before except ...

Except that she felt so dirty.

But what was different about that, she wondered. She was always dirty. She was a dirty girl.

No, she wasn't, she told herself, but she didn't believe herself. She knew she was a dirty girl. She knew she had to clean up her act.

She had to get out of there. She had to clean up her act.

Mike Hanrihatty was waiting for her in the doctor's lobby just as he had been before. He put down one of the magazines. "You ready to go," he asked.

"I'm ready," the girl said but even as she said it, another thought was running through her mind. She was a dirty girl. She needed to clean up her act.

Mike dropped Lindsey off at her house and the girl practically leapt from the car. She ran into the house and then she ran upstairs to her bedroom. She was stripping off her clothes and then she was heading for the shower.

Lindsey sighed as she stepped under the water. It wasn't like she was suddenly clean but at least it was a start.

Once again, she ran the shampoo through her hair. She was feeling better but still it wasn't nearly good enough.

Again, she squirted soap on her hands and then she was running her hands over her body. Her hands started with her tits and the girl moaned. She loved it. She loved the way her soap-slickened hands felt on her body. She loved the feel of her tits. She loved cleaning up her act.

But she knew she hadn't gone far enough. She knew there was still more work to do.

One hand stayed on her tits even as the other one slid between her legs and the teen moaned. She closed her eyes. This was familiar territory. She'd been here before and it felt good to get herself clean.

Must get myself clean, the girl thought. Must rub harder. Must get myself clean.

But geez, she was such a dirty girl.

The girl moaned as she pushed a finger inside her pussy. Must get myself clean, she told herself. Must get myself clean. She was feeling good. She was such a dirty girl but it felt so good to clean up her act.

Her eyes closed. She was almost there. She was almost clean.

She was right on the verge. She kept pushing that soap slickened finger inside her. She was almost there. She was almost there.

Lindsey gasped as her pussy finally surrendered to her finger. Fuck, that felt good. She loved it. She loved the feel of that finger. Oh geez, it felt so fucking good.

But was she really clean?

She still felt like a dirty girl. Maybe there was some other place that needed cleaning. She squirted more soap into her hands and again, she started with her tits.

She was still dirty. She needed to clean up her act.

Where else was she dirty?

Her hands slid down over her body. She felt so dirty, but where was she dirty?

Almost to ask the question was to answer it. She grinned a lascivious grin. She'd never put her hand there before.

She turned around and let the water beat down on her ass. She let a hand slide down over her tight, little rump and it wasn't all that long before she had her fingers in between her cheeks. She had to be dirty here.

One hand braced herself against the wall even as she spread her legs and then she was rubbing her finger up against her tight, little hole. She knew this was certainly a dirty place and she knew she had to clean herself because she knew she had to clean up her act.

Her finger just nudged its way inside her hole. She paused for a moment, getting used to the feel of it and then she pushed a little harder. She didn't say anything. She just tried to acclimate herself to the feel of the way her finger felt in her ass.

She was a dirty girl. She knew that. She was a dirty girl who needed to clean up her act.

She moaned softly as the finger moved deeper inside her. She was glad her finger was soapy. It would have hurt if it weren't all soapy and besides, this was a great way for her to clean up her act.

She brought her other hand down off the wall of the shower and this one she slid down between the front of her legs. One finger was diddling her from behind even as the other one diddled her from the front.

This time, she did moan. She didn't have any choice. She moaned again. She was a dirty girl but she was doing it. She was cleaning up her act.

Cleaning took time. Cleaning took effort. Cleaning took lots of hard rubbing. The girl moaned. Boy, did it ever take lots of hard rubbing. She loved being clean.

Lindsey gasped as her body surrendered to her fingers. Oh yeah, she really did like being clean.

Lindsey Ravendale continued to see the therapist and the more she did, the better her behavior got. One day, she was sitting on her bed. She was hard at work and her concentration showed. This was delicate work she was performing but one thought kept running through her mind. She must keep herself clean. She must keep herself clean.

At first, she'd been using scissors and that had been fine up to a point but there came a time when scissors were no longer effective. She'd long since reached that point so she'd moved on to the next phase.

She held her breath as she dipped the razor in the bowl and then gingerly, she slid it between her legs. One last swipe and then the deed was done.

All of the sudden, it was as if the girl realized for the first time what it was she had been doing.

"Aaaack!!!"

Lindsey's mother came running into her daughter's room when she heard the girl scream. She looked at her daughter sitting there on the bed and the woman pulled up suddenly, sensing that something was amiss. "What's wrong," she asked warily.

Lindsey looked down between her legs. "What's wrong," she almost screamed, her voice rising in agitation. "What's wrong. Look at me, mom. I shaved my fucking pussy."

Her mother just shook her head in frustration. "I can see that, honey. Geez, I'm calling the doctor."

"No, mom, don't do that. It's all his fault. He's doing this to me."

Her mother shook her head. "That's pretty low, Lindsey, even for you. You know, sooner or later, you have to take responsibility for your own actions."

"But it's not me," Lindsey insisted. She was almost on the brink of crying. Why wouldn't anyone believe her? "It's him," she cried out. "It's him. He's doing this to me."

Her mother wasn't listening. She just stormed out of the room and moments later, Lindsey could hear her mom on the phone, first talking to her dad and then minutes later, talking to the therapist and not all that much later, she was sitting in the therapist's office.

"I understand we had a relapse," the man said.

"It's not my fault," the girl said. "It's yours."

"Now, Lindsey, I don't really think that's fair, do you?"

The girl sat slumped in her chair. "I don't care what you think," she said. "It's your fault, not mine."

"Can I see it?"

"Can you see what?"

"Can I see your shaved pussy?"

"What! Hey, when I tell my parents that you--"

"And who will they believe? You or me?"

Lindsey already knew the answer. "You," they said. "They'd believe you."

"That's right, they would, so I'll ask you again. Can I see it?"

"Why," Lindsey asked.

"Because I want to," the man said. "Because I want to see how clean you've managed to make yourself. Now why don't you come over here."

Lindsey felt a surge of satisfaction course through her. Did he actually say she was clean, she wonndered. And that's when Lindsey realized that she'd stood and walked around the man's desk.

"Turn around," the man said and for some reason, Lindsey again did as she was told.

"What are you doing to me," Lindsey asked.

"I'm not doing anything," the man said. "You're doing this all by yourself. Now, if you'll just lower your panties."

It was only then that Lindsey realized she'd already pushed her jeans down past her hips. The girl was struggling.

"Come on," the man said. "I know you want to."

"No," the girl whimpered but even as she did, she was pushing her panties down.

Lindsey could feel the man's hands on her ass.

"Should we see just how clean you are," the man said. "Let's see. Bend over."

Lindsey bent at the waist. She could feel the man's hands as they slid between her thighs. He was pulling her lips apart.

"You must be really proud of that," the man said. "That's a good, clean shave."

Lindsey did feel proud. She wasn't a dirty girl. She had a nice, clean shave.

No wait, she told herself. That wasn't right. She shouldn't feel proud. He'd made her do this.

But she was clean.

It was almost as if the man was reading her mind. "You're cleaner now, now that you got rid of all that disgusting hair."

He was right, Lindsey realized. She did feel better now that she'd gotten rid of all that dirty, nasty hair. It was so dirty. It was so nasty.

Nothing at all wrong with being clean, is there?

No. There was nothing wrong with being clean. She knew she was a dirty girl but that didn't mean she had to stay that way. She could make herself clean.

It's so good of you to get rid of all that dirty hair.

He was right, the girl realized. She was glad she'd gotten rid of all that nasty, dirty, disgusting hair.

You're doing such a good job keeping yourself clean like that.

There was a part of her that wanted to object. There was something wrong here but she couldn't figure out what. She was keeping herself clean and she was doing a good job. What could be wrong with that?

But you can be even cleaner. You want to be cleaner, don't you?

She did want to be cleaner and suddenly, she knew she couldn't wait to have the man tell her how. She was a dirty girl but she didn't have to be that way. She wanted to clean up her act and she wanted to be even cleaner.

Use your fingers.

She wasn't sure if the man had said it or if she had thought it on her own but where it came from really didn't matter. The thought was right. She knew it was. She could use her fingers. Visual inspection was fine but what she really needed was to use her fingers to see if she was really clean. She wanted to be clean. She wanted it bad.

The man was talking but she wasn't listening or at least, she didn't think she was. She was thinking about how clean she wanted to be. She was a dirty girl but it was important to be clean.

She wanted to use her fingers to make sure she was clean. She wanted to be clean.

The man continued to talk but all Lindsey could think about was how clean she wanted to be.

She was back at home. It was the next day and she was lying in bed. She had her fingers between her legs. She could feel how clean she was and she loved it. She liked feeling clean.

She liked using her fingers. It was so much better to use her fingers to make sure she was really, really clean.

She was wet. Surely that couldn't be right, she told herself. That was the mark of a dirty girl but she didn't want to be a dirty girl. She wanted to be clean.

Her fingers probed. She was definitely wet. She wished she had some soap that she could rub between her legs but she didn't want to get out of bed. Not yet, at least. She rubbed her hand between her legs. Maybe that would make her cleaner.

But it didn't. If anything, she seemed to get even wetter and that just made her rub herself even harder. Cleaning meant rubbing. Cleaning meant doing it hard. She knew she just had to get herself clean.

It wasn't working, she thought. She was getting more and more dirty. She needed to rub herself harder. She needed to get herself clean.

She couldn't stop herself. She needed to rub herself. Harder. Harder. She needed to rub herself. Harder. Harder.

The girl gasped as her pussy finally succumbed to what her hand was doing and even as she felt it, she knew something was wrong. She was a dirty, dirty, dirty girl.

Lindsey sighed as she pulled herself out of bed and she dragged herself off to the shower. Some soap and water, she told herself. That was what she needed. Especially the soap, so nice and slick and applied between the legs. Yep, that was what she needed.

She needed to clean up her act. That's what she needed. She was after all, a very dirty girl.

She loved the feel of the water as it pelted down on her because as soon as she felt it, she knew she was that much closer to getting herself clean and she desperately wanted to get herself clean because she knew she was just so dirty.

She moaned as she felt the soap between her legs. Oh fuck, she moaned. She was such a dirty, dirty girl but she liked it because it gave her a chance to get herself clean. She liked cleaning herself because getting clean just felt so good. She was close. She was close. Oh geez, she was so fucking close.

Lindsey moaned as the bar of soap finally pushed her over the edge. She moaned and then she gasped as her pussy started to cum. She couldn't help herself. It just felt so good.

Lindsey kept going to see the therapist. She no longer questioned what she was. She'd come to accept it. She knew what she was. She was a dirty girl and she was okay with her as long as she got the opportunity every once in a while to clean up her act. She liked getting herself clean.

Her parents didn't care what the therapist was doing. Lindsey was doing better in school and her parents were starting to think about what kinds of colleges they might be able to get her into. Even her teachers had noticed a change in her. She was more attentive in school and more respectful. Whatever her parents were doing, her teachers told them, they should keep it up.

To everyone including Lindsey herself, it seemed as if the girl had made an almost miraculous change in her life. Some people said she'd just grown up. Others said it was about time. Lindsey didn't say much of anything. Deep down inside, she still knew what she was. She was a dirty girl and the dirtier she felt, the more intensely she cleaned herself until in the end, she always left herself gasping for breath.

She finished her high school year and went to work on her father's reelection campaign. She'd decided to put off college for just a bit. It would, after all, be just a semester or maybe a year at most, and the experience she would get would be invaluable, and besides, colleges liked seeing young people who were active members of their communities.

She was sitting behind her father that day when he gave that speech.

"And so I'm telling you," he told a rapt group of listeners, "we must clean up the corruption that is Washington today."

Lindsey hardly felt it. She clapped right along with the others on the platform today.

"I know what you're saying," her father said. "You're asking yourselves if I really mean what I say. You're asking yourselves if I have the guts to get the job done. You're asking yourselves if maybe I'm part of the problem and not part of the solution."

There were some nods in the audience.

"I'm telling you," the senator said. "I may live in Washington but that's not where I'm from. I'm from here. I'm part of you and you are part of me and I'm telling you, if you reelect me, I can get the job done. I know what needs to be done and I'm telling you that with your help, I'm the one who can clean up that town."

There were more cheers but that wasn't what had Lindsey's attention. It was something else. It was a feeling between her legs.

"I'm telling you," the senator continued. "I'm telling you. I can clean up that town but I need your help."

Lindsey bit down on her lip even as she clapped for her father. She could feel it again, her almost constant companion. She could feel it, the need to be clean. She knew what she was. She was a dirty girl.

"I can help you clean up the mess," her father said.

Lindsey moaned softly to herself. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to be clean.

"Washington is a dirty, dirty place and it needs to be cleaned out."

Lindsey was clapping but she was only halfway paying attention to her father's words. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She knew a dirty place that really needed to be cleaned out.

"We need to teach those people how to clean up their act," her father was saying.

She was a dirty girl, Lindsey was thinking. She needed to clean up her act.

"I know what you want," her father was saying. "I know what you want. I hear what you're telling me. You're telling me you want to see it. You want to see Washington clean up its act, don't you."

"Yes," the crowd roared.

"What do we want to see Washington do?"

"Clean up its act."

"What's that," the senator roared. "What do we want Washington to do?"

"Clean up its act."

"I don't think they can hear you back there. Say it loud. What do we want to see Washington do?"

"Clean up her act."

What had they said, she thought. Did she hear them right. What did they want? They said her. They wanted to see her clean up her act.

And Lindsey was so wet. She moaned to herself. She wanted to show them. She wanted them to see that she knew how to clean up her act.

She stopped herself at the last moment. This was ludicrous, she told herself. She couldn't do that.

Her resistance lasted for only a moment or two and then she was pulling up her skirt. She'd show them. She was a dirty girl. She knew that, but she'd show them. She knew how to clean up her act.

The energy seemed to go out of the words-whipped crowd as people saw what was going on on stage behind the speaker. People stopped and stared at the young woman pulling her panties to one side and playing with her pussy and the most amazing thing was she seemed oblivious to them.

The senator turned and found himself staring at his daughter. Her breaths were cumming in ragged pants as she rubbed her fingers between her legs. "Got ... to ... clean ... up ... my ... act," the girl moaned. "Got ... to ... clean ... up ... my ... act."

The man stopped and then he moved across the stage. He tried to help his daughter up.

"No, daddy," the girl moaned even as she continued to work her hand between her legs. "I'm a dirty girl, daddy. I have to clean up my act."

Senator Ravendale lost in a landslide even as the popularity of his daughter surged. It seemed everyone wanted to do an Internet on Lindsey Ravendale to find out what crazy thing she was going to do next and that was just fine with her because she made all kinds of videos of her cleaning up her act and she sold them for lots of money because it turned out the dirtier she got, the more people wanted to see what she was going to do next because even dirty girls have to get clean sooner or later.