Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it's fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire's Place, (http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2012.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. There is also some adult content written by a middle-age juvenile mind. You were warned.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homophone herding by Holly Hart
Um, that means they proofed it &/or otherwise saved you from me.

Chapter 12, Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

Welllllll, to be honest this is part 2 of chapter 12. Probably 4 or more parts to follow. Don't ask me how many, I only write this stuff!

Various locations in Iowa and Wisconsin, June 03-16, 2007

* * * *

They zipped back and forth in controlled chaos, delivering trays of food and taking orders. Okay, they took the orders first THEN brought the food. Picky, picky, picky. I'm telling the story here, so quit interrupting, Jeese! It was like some strange ballet or roller-derby. Part of me thought back to an old Raquel Welch film, something to do with roller-derby with her on skates in this body hugging... Oooooh, remember that Linda Ronstadt album cover with her on roller skates and those tight short-shorts, made J-Lo look like a boy. ... Okay, I admit this one carhop was really built, miles of legs, a great ass and pert, yet generous, brea ... She wasn't built quite to my current standard -- who is? -- but the 13 year-old boy in the back of my mind was drooling. Then he, my inner pervert, the um 13 year old boy, imagined me on roller skates and this tiny Lycra-Spandex bikini and got very confused. Lusting for yourself is a bitch.

She came back with our *dogs*, the root beer in frosty glass mugs, and my change all on a rubber meshy thing-lined aluminum tray that hung on the edge of my window. We ate, and I managed to avoid acting the tease; it wasn’t easy mind you.

~~No need to be embarrassed, Joanie; it’s a hotdog, it’s not his …~~ This would not be easy in my state of mind. I tried eating the dog sort of sideways, but that proved messy.

Eric laughed. “Joanie, that’s funny.”

I tried breaking it into bits and eating it that way. That was very messy without utensils, and these dogs were loaded with fixings. I noticed Mel and Eric ate theirs holding its cardboard *basket* close beneath it.

“Yeah, Joanie. Why are you eating it sideways and picking at it and not simply biting off the end?” Mel asked.

“Hon, if you have to ask why, I am very relieved.”

“Eat it the regular way, Joanie. You’re cracking me up.”

“Okay, Eric, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I started to eat it the normal way, starting from one end, but was soon licking the end and sucking on it to keep all those toppings from falling off. I eased off for a moment to lick my lips clean and sip some of the old-fashioned root beer. I must admit it wasn’t entirely my subconscious *frustrations* driving my more outrageous actions. I did vamp it deliberately. I didn’t exactly deep-throat my unfortunately phallic meal, but I mimed it, sort of. By the time I finished, Eric was blushing but remained quiet. Mel heroically managed to not laugh, though it was a close thing. I guess the root beer was too good to waste snorting out her nose.

We put our trash and empty mugs back on the tray, along with a generous tip. Our car hop noticed we were done and hustled over. She picked up our tray full of empty root beer mugs and our trash, after pocking the tip in her apron. “Thank you, and please come back someday.” She was grinning, then she saw I'd autographed the bill and attached a signed publicity photo with the words "Best damned hotdog I ever had! Love, Joanie. P.S. Could I be a carhop here?"

"The owner will have a heart attack when he sees this," she called back to us as she rolled away; it was a big tip, but she’d been a good waitress.

We drove off with our bellies full and then some.

* * * *

I was impressed by Eric’s restraint, given my blatant display; even at fourteen, he had to know what I was insinuating. He said nothing, but as we exited the parking lot he whispered to me, “Eating a hotdog the usual way reminded you of, um … you know …”

Since we were safely on the road, we could speak freely again. “Yeah, you should have seen the look on the bailiff's face when I ate one while on jury duty."

Mel snickered, LOUDLY.

"It was a hot dog; I ate a hot ... dog, Mel," I growled. She laughed in reply. Eric stayed quiet. I laughed nervously.

"Sorry I teased you, but it’s so frustrating, this waiting for you, Eric, and you are awfully forgiving of my antics.”

“You only tease me because you like me. I don’t mind.”

“Like is not the word. If you were old enough, Sara would not be the only pregnant woman about to marry into the Johnson-Williams family.” ~~And you’d be in a coma from sexual exhaustion, IF you survived~~ If I was wound any tighter, I would have imploded.

“Oh!” Eric was shocked but recovered quickly. “I understand better than you think.” Then he did something unexpected. It was just a hand gently stroking my thigh a few times as we drove along. There was nothing overtly sexual about it, but the longing in that brief gesture spoke volumes.

I felt desired, protected and all tingly in a pleasant way. ~~Ghod, he knows me better than myself.~~ I daydreamed of making love to Eric -- not a good thing while driving. Then all my dreams came crashing down to Earth.

“Would you two stop getting mushy? Yuck!” Mel said loudly, then she giggled.

“Ghods, I told you to keep Eric and me on the straight and narrow, but do you have to enjoy it so much, Mel?”

“Yes!”

* * * *

Mel and Eric had me drive around town, as they pointed out various landmarks and favorite places of theirs. We finally stopped by Terrace Hill to change our clothes then drove off for Mel’s Joanie Fan Club duties. Eric tagged along “to keep me from falling into the evil clutches of Mel’s girl gang,” or so he claimed.

“I wish to point out I am a girl, too.”

“Joanie, you are a woman; there is a big difference.” He pointed at my …um, girls... twin towers... breasts, okay? Well, I mean, they were hanging out right in front, so-to-speak. It wasn’t like it was deliberate on his part. I think. We both broke up.

“Boys!” Mel exclaimed, and that summed it up nicely, I thought.

* * * *

We drove over to Lisa’s house where the local server for the fan club was located. We arrived with time to spare for the four o’clock chat.

“Lees? I’m here. Can you use some help today? I brought a guest along, and she’s an expert on everything Joanie. She knows more about her than anyone.” Mel fought hard not to giggle. I was impressed. “I have a feeling the chat lines will be swamped today.”

“Sure, Mel, the rest of us are waiting for you in the computer room. What took you so long? Anything you want to tell us a….” Lisa saw me and screamed; the other girls came running.

“Girls, I know Mel's brother Eric’s a hunk, but isn’t this a bit much? … Oh, you’re excited about me?” I gave them all hugs, then giggled; the girls calmed some.

Lisa, Julie, Debbie, Kim and Chrissie I remembered from the November sleep in. Two of the nine girls at the sleep in — that’s if we’re counting Mel and Babs — couldn’t make for various reasons, though I was told they usually participated. Since we’re counting Babs, then three didn’t make it, happy all you math majors? They -- the girls who didn’t make it -- were in for a surprise. All the girls were noticeably more mature both physically and mentally. Then they were at the age where girls mature much faster than the boys. In a few years the boys come roaring back, as evidenced by Eric. They clearly were having fun with helping run the fan club and web site, but they were serious about it. Okay, they were a bit giggly and excitable when I showed up, but then I was happy to be there too.

Maybe it was bias on my part, as Mel’s friend and protector, but she seemed to have matured more than any in the group. She was eleven going on sixteen, in my eyes. She was a skinny, not-yet-eleven-year-old when we met in the middle of that busy highway in Prairie Du Chien. From what I gathered later, she was just entering puberty then, not even in a training bra. By the November sleep over, she was filling a training bra amply and almost an A cup -- or so she claimed. I remember her saying the next time I saw her, when I was in Iowa for the Valentine’s Day dance, ‘I’m 5 foot 7 -- almost 5 foot 8, I weigh 98 pounds, and I’m almost a B cup.’ Oh, and she said that she had just completed her first menstruation and was ecstatic she was now a woman or words to that effect. Mind you she talks fast, almost as fast as me, so I didn't catch everything she said. What I most remembered was her enthusiasm.

~~I had last seen her this Easter weekend, and she looked even lovelier, but now -- Wow! Thinking back on her in that bikini earlier today, I thought she looked a full B cup and maybe a little taller than the last time. And she most definitely has an ass -- a cute one; Mel is no little girl from behind now.~~

I was shocked at how fast she was changing. I was also shocked it took this long for it to sink in, but then we were with Eric, and he had matured as much and in all the right places to my way of thinking. I guess my attention was elsewhere when we were at the beach. But then as Madeline Kahn said on *seeing* the Monster: ‘Woof!’ I admit I’m exaggerating, but a girl can dream, can’t she?

The Warner Records people had provided the girls a roomful of computers, headsets, web cameras and the like, in addition to setting up servers and anything else to support the fan club. They even provided filtering from the kooks and nutcases. All the email, voice mails and such went through hardware firewalls, sophisticated filtering software and had live technicians monitoring it all ready to act as needed, particularly on the chat days. The privacy of their full names and home addresses were assured. If anyone tried to trace them down they'd dead end at a secure proxy server in Culver City California, not Des Moines Iowa, It was common knowledge the fan club was HQ'd in Iowa, and the Governor's daughter was one of them, but any other personal data was strictly under lock and key. The girls got me on-line and ready to have some fun, I hoped.

Lisa started the official chat.

Lisa_IA96>>”The chat is officially open.”

Moments later, text messages came in.

Eve_loves_ponies>>”Will Joanie do any concerts this summer?”

Jeramae_95>>”Yeah, is she touring? I’d love to see her in concert.”

We got a bunch more messages just like that one. The girls looked and me and started snickering.

I grinned back at them and said, “Okay, I’ll answer them.”

Joan_1957>> “Joanie is not planning on touring. After the attack at her record premier, last Halloween, she is concerned for the safety of her fans. BUT she will perform in public several times this summer.”

That got a chorus of “where, when?”

Joan_1957>> Unfortunately, there will be little advance notice, again for the safety of her fans, but it will be on television. Most likely she will perform in mid-July and again in late August.”

There was speculation of where and when, until someone asked THE question.

Billie_3_Bamma>>”How do you know her schedule?”

Joan_1957>>”I know her schedule intimately, though it is still in a state of flux, i.e. it is not fully set. In reverse order, she has promised a major TV show to perform for them in late summer. The date is to be determined, but will most likely be in very late August. In early August, she will be with her friends in Iowa as the Governor’s wife gives birth. July is Summer school, and she will be busy teaching, though she will appear on a TV special. The latter half of June she'll be in Wales -- as in England -- for filming of a TV series; she’s a guest star in a long running show. The first half of June, she is visiting friends in the Midwest, and today *I* am answering questions with Mel and her friends at *my* fan club. THAT’s how I know.”

“You’re Joanie???!!” or the like, poured in, more like avalanched in for the next few minutes. I think if I had opened the window I would have heard them squealing with excitement.

We turned on the web cameras so the fans could see me and turned on the sound. This took a lot of bandwidth. To be fair to all the chatters, we didn’t do it for long, but we promised the video clip would stay up on the site for a while. I had fun with the camera though.

“Hi! Joanie here. I didn’t expect to be on the chat today, but Mel told me how much fun her friends have doing this, so I had to come along. I wish you a safe and happy summer and ‘be excellent to each other.’” I paused for a moment. “What, none of you has watched Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure? It’s practically a film classic! Well, it and Citizen Kane.” I giggled, and my fan club fanatics gave me a big hug on camera. We turned the cameras off, except for occasional still frames of me, to free up bandwidth; we’d gotten notice from our Warner's techie angels we were almost out of capacity. Once the kids knew I was on, they called friends, who texted friends, who IM’d others, and the lines went crazy. Who said 'Went crazy? You're already there.' Fess up, who? One more crack like that and I am, like soooo out of here!

We all answered as many questions, public and private, as we could in the time available. Mel and the girls had amassed a fact book on me with help from Warner, so many of the questions they could answer on their own. It, of course, left out any details dangerous to my family or me, but it was all true. Lies can bite you in the butt, after all. And nobody bites ME in the butt unless I want them too ... 'cept maybe Eric. Ooooooh harder baby, har... Um , where was I? Any *lies* were lies of omission. A couple broadcast stations tried to get online, but the way they asked questions was a tip off. I private-chatted back to the two who tried.

Joan_1957>> “baby6blue, you’re a reporter aren’t you?”

baby6blue>>”How did you guess?”

Joan_1957>>”Most of the chatters are teens and adolescents. You came off too mature, and your spelling was much better -- better than mine. I tell you what; I’ll do an interview sometime in the next few days, if you behave. It’s okay to follow the chat and report on it, but this is for the kids to have harmless fun, so back off. What’s your phone at the station?”

baby6blue>> “Mine? I’m an intern here. I do fluff pieces and gofer work to earn work-study credit at the local Vo-Tech school. I’m on-line researching you and the fan club for one of the full-time, on-air talents.”

Joan-1957>>”Tell your supervisor-slash-on-air talent -- tell the station manager for that matter -- I will do a full hour interview they can use as they like, but only if *you* interview me. I’ll throw a few bones his or her way, but I want you to get the lion’s share of the credit and the on-air time. Deal?”

We made a deal. The other journalist was an online entertainment blogger/e-zine person. I PM’d Warner, and they said this person was legit and respected. I sent them a proposal based on Warner's advice, and they agreed to listen in quietly and not disturb the chat, if I private chatted with them later.

“Joanie, I have a strange one here. They private chatted me saying they knew you and asked if would you chat.” It was one of Mel’s gal pals from the sleepover, Kim maybe?

“You think they are on the level?”

“Mel never tells us much about your school, for your safety, but the person mentioned a Miki and her being very upset about missing Meerkat Manor due to a power outage.”

Okay, dear d/j/w, you’re asking yourself, “A power outage at Whateley?” Well, yeah, it’s all those energizers. The data network is a bitch to keep up for any length of time, and even the power has partially blown out, at least in individual buildings. They all have backup generators for critical systems and the medical needs of certain staff and students. ~~All it need be is a half hour to an hour outage, or a series of outages covering much of that time, to make Miki miss her show. I’m sure I’ll get the details next time I’m back on campus. If Miki ever figures who, if anyone, was responsible for it … the mind boggles. I suppose I'll have to get one of those uninterruptable powers supplies for her TV now.~~

Enough on that subject, folks, it’s time I get back to the on-line chat. “What was their sigline?” I asked.

“Pink_shift.”

“That's one of my school friends, no ifs, ands, or doubts about it.”

I know, some of you dear d/j/whatever readers are thinking, 'But Warner has all these techies monitoring the lines and stuff and they're gonna find out about your Whateley friends and ...'

A good question that deserves a good answer, but a woman needs to keep some secrets to maintain her allure. It gives one an air of mystery and mature sophistication. Thus I'm not giving an answer ... so there! Plubulbulbulbpt!

Joan_1957 to Pink_shift>>”Pink_shift, how’s everything back at school? And I LOVE the sig, Pinky.”

Pink_shift to Joan_1957>>”Miki misses you already, complains she should be with you, and is eating like a furry pig. The *kitties* are being good and are very protective of Miki. I think they sense she is *with child*. They keep bringing her toys and tidbits of food and things. It’s sweet. We talked with Mr. King about getting instruments for our own practice hall, and he is working up a list of models and suppliers. He thinks he can get us a discount but suggests we contact your producer and see what he might do.”

Joan_1957 to Pink_shift>>” I’ll send Mr. Karaoke a message to contact you and see if he can help. I’m proud of you all for following though on this. Practice hard, have fun, and if you do well I’ll let the gang ask a favor of me. I‘ll do anything within reason, even if it’s embarrassing.”

Pink_shift>>”Understand. Embarrassing. Perfect. We miss you but will keep in touch. If they are still friends, tell Eric’s pal I remember him; if he is interested, you can give him my email address. I still think of him and those kisses back that Easter weekend. Speaking of Eric, how is lover-boy?”

Joan-1957>>”Like a wild stallion. Got to go, bye.” I broke our private chat. Pinky’s sig came up next in the main chat room.

Pink_shift>>”Aaaaaah! That was mean, Joanie, and tell him hi for me. Oh, isn't that spelled 'Wyld Stallyns'? I have a few friends with me …” After a minute or so, I realized nearly the whole of the Sabers were online via Pinky’s connection. Pinky's Bill and Ted reference went right over my head ... until later.

Joan_1957>>”Everybody, the various persons typing as Pink_shift are, in fact, several school friends of mine sharing one computer. They can tell you what it is like to go to school and hang around with me. And if they know what’s good for them, they will lie through their teeth!”

I decline at this point to go into detail about the chat, as my so-called friends turned on me and spewed the most outlandish tales about me; unfortunately, it was all true. By the time they were done, I sounded like a saint, albeit a sexy one.. They said so many nice things about me, I almost cried. I also fear what Pinkie’s reply of ‘Understand. Embarrassing. Perfect,’ means. They must want me to do something wild to go through all that sucking up.

~~ After posing naked for Playboy, I find it hard to imagine anything that would embarrass me. Then again, Pinky and the gang are very clever. They might come up with something. I guess I’ll find out the hard way. Me and my big mouth.~~

When the main session ended, I chatted with that e-zine/blogger. She was polite, knowledgeable and asked thoughtful questions; obviously, she would never be successful on a major commercial network.

Speaking of *networks*, you're still wondering about our security? I maybe a near blonde but I'm nobody's fool. The link back to my school friends in New Hampshire was very special and extra secure as it was routed though a system Whateley used. Descriptions like byzantine, amorphous or complicated do not do it justice, Our in-house techies, Whateley's, that is, designed it. DARPA envied what we had.

* * * *

The girls took turns getting their picture taken with me, in addition to several group photos. Lisa’s mom had a digital camera and promised to email everyone copies -- myself included. It was supper time when we got back to Terrace Hill. Babs had relented; my rant at her for cooking up a storm for me must have got to her, and she'd ordered in Chinese. It was just the thing for a hungry mutant girl, and I had fun learning, or trying to learn, how to use chopsticks. They were all proficient; I had never learned. I kind of got the hang of it, I am an exemplar after all, but there was this one time.…

“I think I’m getting this … Oooops!” A piece of sesame chicken, dripping with sauce, had slipped out of my sticks and down into my cleavage.

“I’ll get that,” Eric called out and reached out with his chopsticks. To be honest, he started to reach out with his bare hand, but thought better of it. A tiny piece of my mind was disappointed. Not in Eric’s momentary weakness, but that he didn't follow through with a hand down my blouse and whatever else was a logical consequence of feeling me up -- or would that be feeling me down? But then I am a touchy-feely girl.

I covered myself up like I was naked, and the table broke into laughter. My face turned crimson -- I saw myself in a mirror. I ran to a bathroom and cleaned up.

“Joanie, I was only trying to help.”

“Eric, that kind of help is only allowed after we are engaged; got it?” Now he blushed. “Eric, remember I was a boy; I know how their filthy minds work. And bless you for it.” He blushed even worse, and Mel snorted milk out her nose. “Can’t anyone here be serious for once?”

I never expected the Governor and Babs to start a food fight. Naturally, THEY won. They ganged up on me. They pork fried-riced me back to the Stone Age.

* * * *

We cleaned up the kitchen and ourselves -- it took a while. After a good long shower, I dressed, and we talked late into the evening.

“I don’t think I’d recommend it on a regular basis, but that sweet and sour sauce someone … *Bob* … rubbed into my hair left it extra silky and shiny. Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” I tossed my head like they do in those shampoo commercials.

“Huh?”

“Eric, I think Joanie was aping an old Pantene advert.”

“Joanie, you look better than that actress from Weird Science ever did.”

“Bob, you think I’m that sexy?” ~~Wow! He thinks I’m hotter than Kelly Le Brock was? That IS sexy.~~ “But what will Babs say?”

“I’m willing to share the two of you,” then she laughed.

“Sis! Now cut that out!”

“Honey, my back is sore; can I have a back rub tonight, please?”

The way she said ‘please’ got Bob's immediate attention.

“Hon, it’s ’may I have a back rub’ and you certainly may. I think we should give the kids some time alone, and you do look tired. It’s time us old fogies went to our room … for your back rub, Ms. Bunny.” He took her hand, helped her to her feet and led her lovingly from the room. He wrapped his other arm around her waist, its hand resting on….~~Is he fondling her ass? The dirty old man.~~ Propriety prevents me from mentioning where Babs’ free hand was wandering as they passed out of the room. Thankfully their children could not see where her hand ended up, but I could. ~~Dirty old man? He’s positively saintly by comparison with Babs. ~~

“Dad took Mom off to bed early ’cause she needs a lot of sleep at this stage of her pregnancy,” Mel explained.

I suspected something else, what with Bob acting like an oversexed teenager. Babs was worse, that naughty hand of hers in his pants confirmed my *suspicions*.

~~Oh you minx! They say a woman’s libido is higher than usual after the first few months of pregnancy, and only the physical discomforts of late pregnancy interfere with that desire. Poor Bob! Babs is going to kill you, but what a way to go! … Am I that envious of Babs and her pregnancy? You BET!~~

Eric had an early morning exam -- 8 o’clock -- so he went to bed around ten. Mel *dragged* me off to her room and showed me the latest acquisitions to her Joanie collection before we went to our respective beds.

“This is the very latest addition, Joanie.” It was an HD-DVD box-set of the Hawaii concert. The back cover was a picture of the Waikiki band shell and a sea of humanity surrounding it. The front cover featured a lone, long-haired woman, standing at the front of the band shell stage, singing. I was struck by how lovely she was. This woman was smokin' hot, and she was me.

“Already? They sure marketed this one fast.” It was the show recorded at Waikiki, full and complete with extras from the rehearsals and my news interview.

I noticed her copy had a small note inside. “To Joanie’s number one fan, from Jay. Enjoy, and tell Joanie thanks from me.”

“That was nice of Jay.”

“Sure was; it’s $49.99 in the stores, and it sold out in a day. He knew about me from the news. Mr. Karaoke gave him my address after calling my parents for their okay. You sure sang pretty at the concert. Um, Joanie, can we have a sleep over again?”

“I don’t know, with your mom and all....”

“I’ll ask Lisa and the girls at school, tomorrow; maybe her mom will allow it at her house. The chat session went well, so I think she’ll agree to it.” She gave me a big hug and sent me off to bed. “You get your beauty rest, young lady. tomorrow's a school day.”

“Yes, Ma’am … Hey, wait a minute, you’re the one with school tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Mel!”

I had the strangest dream that night, This studly red-haired young man was licking sweet and sour sauce off me while these two familiar looking guys played electric guitar backed by two babe-ilicious young women on keyboards and drums. There was this big graffiti style logo behind them...

~~ Wyld Stallyns?!~~

No way!

* * * *

Monday June 04, 2007

I woke to the sounds of a Governor's aide helping the kids get ready for school. I quickly dressed in something tasteful -- alright, it showed a lot of skin, but it’s June and hot out, honest -- and hurried to the kitchen.

“Can I help?”

“Ms. Brown, Joanie, I didn’t know you were here.” It was a woman who sometimes manned -- a woman manning something; strange -- the switchboard in the mansion.

“I’m here for two weeks. How may I help?”

“Anything, everything; this being the last week of school, the children’s schedules are changed.”

“I have my crew cab; I can take them to and from school or run family errands. I want to give Babs and Bob a break.”

“You’re a guest, Joanie; you don’t need to,” Babs said waddling into the kitchen seating area. Bob was escorting her and looked exhausted but happy.

“I want to, as my gift to you and Bob, so lump it.” I stuck out my tongue.

There was no arguing with me, as I pulled out all the stops; and let’s face it, men are basically lazy -- even the best of them. So, ten minutes later, I was driving my friends to school. Eric had an earlier start, as a middle-schooler, so he got dropped first. Kids were standing outside waiting for the doors to open. I parked in the loading zone and got out to send him on his way.

“Now be good, and no fighting with the other boys and girls,” I said and laughed. In the meantime, Mel got out so she could move up front.

“Okay … Um, Mommy? I‘m out at 3:05.”

I laughed. “3:05, I got it, Son.” I gave him a big smile, a hug and a brief kiss. Several of his classmates shrieked. ~~Oops!~~ That was not strictly my true internal voice at that moment. I know I’m hemming and hawing, but someday my children may read this. I don’t want them to know Mommy can swear like a longshoreman -- an angry, drunken longshoreman with a thesaurus.

I whispered to Mel, and she gave him a hug and a kiss too. ~~That will confuse them. I have to be more careful in public with Eric.~~ I watched him as he walked towards the building. My eyes were drawn to his tight, firm … “Damn, I thought my hands were low during that hug. I think I squeezed his ass. Ghod, but he looks hot. Ghods, did I say that out loud?”

”’Fraid so, Joanie, but no one else heard you.”

“Thank goodness, Mel!”

She giggled in response.

I snapped out of it, opened the door for Mel, and helped her into the front seat. I *bounced* my way back to the driver’s side of the truck to the amazement of the other teens.

“Lead on, Mel!” I said with an exaggerated bow and wave of an arm to my amused BFF.

She giggled then gave me directions to her school. We soon arrived, and I parked.

“Eric gets out at 3:05; I’m done at 3:25, Joanie.”

“What, you don’t walk home either? It’s only three miles! When I was your age I walked twenty miles through the snow dodging tyrannosaurs all the way.”

“Joanie, stop teasing.”

"To be honest, no tyrannosaurs, just the occasional smilodon, but dodging those glaciers was a bitch. They may be slow but they are persistent."

"JOANIE!"

“Okay, stop using those kitten/puppy-in-the-rain eyes on me. It was less than half a mile on concrete sidewalks and all on quiet side streets. Satisfied now? Mel, I’m spending some time with your mom today, but I’ll pick you up. Got it?”

She got it, if I interpreted that monster hug of hers right.

* * * *

I made excellent time and was soon back at Terrace Hill. Babs was dressed and ready -- as ready as a very pregnant woman can be.

“Okay, Sis, what do you want to do today? Shop, eat out, beauty salon — not that you need it, gorgeous -- go for a ride in the country? Or is hanging around with me all you could ask for? We could always go to a local college and trawl for hot undergrads,” I cooed and fluttered my eyelashes.

Babs exploded in giggles; I brought out the teenager in her. “You’re not that exciting, little sister, though the trawling for guys sounds fun. I could do with a trim but no perm, hair coloring or anything with harsh chemicals. I’m being extra careful with my twins.”

“You have a favorite hair dresser? Call and see if she has an open slot this morning, Babs.”

“You want an appointment too? Maybe get a new look?”

“Hon, last summer I got one hell of a new look, plus if I cut this hair, Eric would kill me. Maybe a manicure or pedicure would be nice or a new style of makeup? What about after?”

“It’s in a mini-mall, and they have a nice Greek family restaurant.”

“It’s a date.”

“Let me call.” Babs dialed. “Maria, it’s Mrs. Johnson … yes, Babs. I need a trim badly, but nothing else because of my pregnancy; the chemicals, you know. I also have a friend visiting; she could use a manicure, pedicure and a makeover. I tried to persuade her to get a new cut, but her boyfriend might object … great, we’ll be over right away.

“Let’s go.”

“Do we need a State Trooper with us?”

“Not really, but one will watch us from an unmarked car just in case. We could try and ditch our tail. It drives them crazy.”

“That’s wicked, Babs! We’ll see.”

* * * *

We drove in my truck, after I assured her personal security team it had better armor than some tanks. They had misgivings.

“Ms Brown.”

“Joanie, please.” The officer was new and had never met me.

“I understand you have some training and experience in law enforcement and participated in an actual rescue from a siege situation.”

“Yes, I’m on the security staff at Whateley, and I’m in the National Guard as a police technical specialist. The rescue, ah, you must mean the island of Maui.”

“Yes, Joanie, though I would feel happier if you were armed, given Ms Johnson’s …”

“Babs, please.”

“Babs’s current vulnerability.”

“I have some training in firearms, but I prefer to talk my way out. I have used Tazers, but that was on two foolish and dangerous individuals at the school. That was only after they had assaulted a security officer, putting her in the hospital, and resisted arrest.” That officer being me, duh, but he didn’t need to know that.

“I understand, but politicians and their families are targets these days. For her safety, I respectfully request you carry a weapon. We can use your National Guard status to issue you an emergency concealed-carry permit.”

“If I must. Babs, what do you think?”

“I say ‘saddle up … Pilgrim.’”

“That is the worst John Wayne, but then he was from Winterset, Iowa, so what the heck. Officer, I needs me some-a them-thar shootin’ I-rons.”

They fixed me up with a so-called baby Glock, a small but serious semiautomatic pistol. I would have preferred a Tazer, but they believed it was necessary, so I deferred to their judgment. They offered me a shoulder holster that, given my build, made the gun all but disappear, if I wore a woman’s blazer. Except it was in the seventies and going up fast, and I was not going to dress like it was fifty out. I was in a modified Daisy Duke outfit -- a summer blouse tied off below my breasts, and women’s summer hiking shorts instead of the short-short jean cut-offs. Running shoes were reasonably cool and safer than sandals for driving. We settled on a shoulder bag with a built in holster, and we were off.

WHAT! Who said that? I can wait all day you know. I'll admit I have a, um impressive pair of ... well breasts but hide an M16 in there? Be fair! Though on second thought, if you broke it down and removed the stock...

* * * *

The mini-mall was a converted, old-fashioned department store and very ornate. We parked in a nearby municipal lot and walked to the building. The State Patrol officer parked where she had a good view of us. The building was well air-conditioned and comfortable, which I’m sure Babs appreciated.

“Sorry we took a little long, Betty. My security detail got fussy with me.” Babs spoke to her hairdresser, while I looked back at our *tail*.

“It’s slow day, Babs; no problem. This must be your friend, I can see why her boyfriend doesn’t want her to cut that hair, it’s gorgeous. It would be a shame to cut your hair, Ma’am, it’s so silky and must have taken years to grow that long. Please, have a seat, Ms...?”

I turned, and the poor woman almost collapsed. “It’s Joan, but call me Joanie.”

She took a deep breath. “Crystal, come up front; you have a customer, nails and makeup.”

A short and slender young woman, no more than 25, in contrast to Betty’s tall athletic forty-something, came out with a cart of supplies.

“And what exactly did you … Holy Crap!”

“Babs' twins are not contagious, Crystal, if that’s why you exclaimed there. I could use my nails done, as it is summer and sandal time, plus I’m always looking for a makeup style that makes me appear a little older. I’ve already done the hell-for—leather look and the Playboy model glamour look. Thank Ghod they don't use staples anymore." I giggled. "I need something more … cute coed ... wholesome hottie-ish? Can you fix me up?”

“Me?”

“Babs swears by this place, so yeah, you, Crystal.”

“One minute!” She ran in back and came out with a binder full of magazine clippings and what looked a lot like a paint sample card. I spent a lot of time in hardware stores as a child. “This is such an honor!”

“Calm down, I don’t want you passing out on me. I’m no expert on these things, so take your best shot, but let me know before you do anything, Crystal.”

She flipped through her binder, stopping on several pages, and occasionally scrunching her face. After a few minutes there was this *ah-hah!* look on her face. “What do you think of this?”

She showed me a picture of Nicole Kidman from a few years back that was stunning. "Is this from the film Practical Magic?

“I think you’re right, Ms Bro ... Joanie. She’s enough like you in color and general build I thought it might work for you. I realize her hair is redder, and she’s not near as developed on top, but then you are not the typical woman.”

“Yeah, sometimes I think I’m a Barbie doll brought to life. Babs, what do you think of this makeup and nail scheme?”

“Oooh, that is *you* Joanie. Go for it!”

Oh, and as a concession to Babs' concerns, Crystal did my nails as far away from her and as near to an exhaust fan as practical.

* * * *

An hour or so later they finished, and Babs was gushing with compliments. “That is you, girrrl. I wish I looked half that good.”

“This coming from the cover-girl of People Magazine? Look, you’re on this month's issue.”

“I’m on the cover?”

I held up so she could see it. I’d noticed it while waiting for my toenails to dry. According to the article inside, she was at a school giving a talk about respecting the rights of others, regardless of race, sex and such. The Johnsons had a long-standing reputation for that, which explained why they were so kindly towards my mutant friends and me. It was a flattering photo; Babs looked radiant. I mean it, too. Pregnancy looks good on her, and I told her so.

“I look fat!”

“You look pregnant, healthy and sexy.”

“I look like that silhouette from the credits of Alfred Hitchcock Presents.”

“You must be older than you look, Grandma. Plus you have way better boobs than he did. Don't hit me!”

“Joanie! That’s mean. I think you own me lunch … after I treat you to an outfit to go with that makeover.”

“Babs, I can pay for my own,” I whispered. “Hell, I could pay for most of your state budget.”

“A gift from Big Sis to Little Sis?”

“That’s low, dirty blow. I can see you’re a politician’s daughter. You’re on.” I got an idea. “Babs, what about a vintage clothing store? Since, as Crystal said, I am not the typical woman, maybe something not so modern, but classy, might suit me better.”

“A treasure hunt! I like.”

“Betty, any suggestions for a great vintage clothing store? Something that might carry fashions suitable for my leggy friend?"

“I don’t shop at such stores much myself, Babs, but the area near the university has several decent shops.”

“I know this great store; my roommate works there.” Crystal gave us the store's name, and Betty agreed it had a good reputation.

”What’s your roommate's name so we can get her the commission or a tip if they don’t use commission?” I asked.

“Billie, um … You should know Billie is … she was my brother and is transitioning. You won’t be offended?”

“Crystal, I was a guy less than a year ago. I’m sure she’s a great girl, just in need of a little medical help.”

“One of my college friends was a lesbian. We’re still in touch. So long as she’s professional and knows her merchandise, I have no qualms.” Babs assured her.

“Can I take them over to the store? It's hard to find. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes, Betty.”

“Get us each a cup at the coffee shop on the corner on the way back and I’m happy.”

* * * *

break part 2 here

Um, that means this is the end of part 2 of chapter 12. More will follow soon. REALLY

John in Wauwatosa