Blonde Joke Chapter Seven by Jeffrey M. Mahr   Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, a dumb blonde, and a smart blonde are walking down the street when they spot a $10 bill. Who picks it up? The dumb blonde. There’s no such thing as Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, or a smart blonde.

“I enjoy being a girl. Step. Turn. Hold. Hold. Hold. Curtsey. Hold. Good, but next time remember to smile. You looked like a scared rabbit up there, Tommi. Now clear the stage for the next act.”

“Wow. That was hard work,” Tommi panted as she dabbed at the sweat on her forehead, “but I loved it.” The crowded dressing room was bustling with bodies in varying stages of undress as Tommi enthused to anyone who would listen. Katrina was one of them, but not willingly.

“I’m getting too old for this,” Katrina grumbled.

“Wait a minute. We’re the same age.”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Katrina noted and returned to her primping. “Come on. We need to get back home for the planning meeting.”

One of the girls, Debbie, reached over and interrupted. “Excuse me, but may I borrow some of your mascara? Mine just ran out.”

Katrina handed it to her and in that brief period Tommi interjected, “But I like it here. It’s so warm, so friendly, so giving.” She smiled and nodded at Debbie who was holding out the mascara, patiently waiting for Katrina to take it back. With a snarl Katrina grabbed it and slammed it down onto the tabletop. Tommi shrugged an apology to her but Debbie just huffed and turned her back on the two of them.

“Do we have to?” Tommi whined.

“Yes, ‘we have to.’ Now get moving. We still need to mingle,” Katrina reminded her twin who smiled in anticipation.

The way out through the club was like an obstacle course, one created by a misogynist and implemented with the single-minded intensity of an army training Sergeant. The management insisted that all performers mingle with the customers for one hour after each show. Mingling, as management clearly specified in each girl’s contract, involved drinks and talking to the customers as they sat or circulated through the hall. Well, management called it a hall but the employees called it “the pit,” or on a bad night, “the pit of hell.” Unlike most such establishments, customers were not officially allowed to touch the artists, as management called them, while they were in the hall and dating customers was frowned on. The reality was that the customer could do anything he, or she, wished as long as the artist was not damaged. This left quite a bit of room for the maneuvering that usually occurred. After all, these were the wealthy and powerful. They expected to get what they wanted and usually did.

“Hey, that was a great act, ladies.” Katrina was trying her best to keep a low profile and get the two of them out with a minimum of mayhem, but Tommi kept jumping from table to table acting like a cat in heat.

“I especially like the joke about the blonde and the bowling ball.” He reached up and brushed some of Tommi’s hair from his face also brushing Tommi’s right breast on the way up and laying his hand on her upper thigh when he put it down, which was not surprising since she was sitting on his lap. “How did it go? Oh, yes. “Chances are they’ll both end up in the gutter.” He howled with laughter and Tommi buried her face and breasts in his chest as she held on for dear life. “Is that where you’re headed you little minx?”

“No, but I’ve made a few touchdowns in my day.” Katrina jerked up to examine her self induced clone wondering why Tommi had said that and finding her twin looking just as confused. Her “lap mat” continued speaking, oblivious to the girls’ exchange.

“Ah so you like to score. Well, let me offer you this token of my appreciation for your show.” It was a crumpled bill. “And let me suggest another one each for your sister and you if the two of you were to join some friends and me for a private party we’re holding tomorrow night.

“Oh, thank you for the offer, but we have a commitment for tomorrow.” Katrina forced herself to smile politely as she answered, just happy to have gotten in an answer before Tommi could finish inflating her lungs. There was no question in Katrina’s mind that Tommi’s answer would have been an unequivocal “yes” from the look of disappointment she gave Katrina.

“Tut tut, my dear. I’m quite friendly with the management. I’m sure I can arrange something with them if you’d like.”

“I’m sure you could, honey, but the job’s not here. We’re both students and we’ve got a paper we need to write.” Katrina stood and started dragging Tommi to her feet only to feel herself being groped by a passerby.

“Please excuse us, but we do need to circulate. We’re glad you enjoyed the act.” Tommi quickly bent over and gave him a peck on the cheek before permitting Katrina to pull her off into the crowd. Glancing back Katrina saw another woman already on his lap.

“Where’s Tommi?” Maggie dropped onto the couch next to Katrina, slipping off her shoes and sighing tiredly as she wiggled her feet.

“In the bathroom. I gave her first shot at it.” Katrina put her head back and closed her eyes as she tried to relax. “God! Now I remember why I was so glad to end my career on the stage.”

“Yeah,” Maggie agreed and began rubbing her own aching feet. “Sometimes I feel the same way, but you’ve got to admit the money’s good.”

“Yeah, the money’s good. Tommi made a clean grand from just one ‘patron,’ but at what price? I’d get poked and prodded less if I were a lab rat. If we keep doing this much longer I’m going to have real problems saving dear Tommi from herself. Damn, but she seems to thrive on the attention.”

“And I think she likes the control, too.” Maggie chimed in. “I’ve seen what you mean. Doesn’t she have any inhibitions?”

“Apparently not, although that reminds me. She said something tonight that has me wondering if some of her memory is coming back.” Maggie stopped rubbing her feet. “She said something about football. Let me see if I can get it right. It was...it was in response to some pit slug’s comment about the gutter ball joke in the act. She said she’d ‘made a few touchdowns’ in her day and then looked confused, like she didn’t understand why she’d said it. What do you think, M&M?”

“Maybe, but she’s become a real flirt. That might have been all it was.”

“I guess so.” Katrina sighed and put her head back again.

“I’ll check it out after the meeting. For now, I’m not sure whether it would be better if she remembers or not.”

“Or if it even matters?” Tommi said as she walked in wrapped in towels as Katrina’s and Maggie’s eyes bulged.

“To answer your question, yes, I remember.” Tommi sat daintily in the chair opposite and noticed how she had sat with her legs tucked under. “Good job with the hypnosis.” Maggie distractedly nodded acknowledgment of the compliment. “If I don’t think about it I’m quite feminine.”

Looking back at the others Tommi continued. “Yes, I have my memory back. It’s been coming back in bits and pieces over the last week, but I wasn’t sure what was going on so I kept quiet. A good businessman, excuse me businesswoman, always holds her cards close to her breast, if that’s how it should be paraphrased.” She giggled and was once again the airhead, but when she stopped it was all business again.

“Well, I for one am glad.” Katrina smiled tentatively. “You did this to yourself, but I always felt we were taking advantage of you when you weren’t able to make decisions for yourself.”

“How much of our discussion did you overhear?” Maggie was worried.

”All of it. Don’t worry. I’m not going to have you brought up on charges for malpractice before you even finish your degree. Tommi’s laugh was not comforting. “Actually, I should probably thank you. It is obviously questionable whether I will ever be able to get my old body back.” Tommi thought for a moment before turning to Katrina. “You didn’t, perhaps think to have a sample of my DNA anywhere did you?”

“No. Sorry. If you’ll remember, I had asked for a company wide initiative to collect and maintain samples of every employee, but you never approved it.”

“True. A definite lack of foresight on my part.” The laughter still wasn’t very comforting. “Well, I guess a body is a body. Actually, in the admittedly short time in which I’ve been able to compare, I have the feeling that this one could be the superior one.”

“Excuse me.” Maggie tentatively raised her hand as if to ask a question.

“This is not a classroom. Spit it out.”

“I was just wondering what made you come to that conclusion. I mean, as a psychologist I recognize that you’re in a unique position to answer that question.” When Tommi didn’t answer she continued. “I mean, the only other sources of information on this subject are subjects of sexual realignment surgery and hermaphrodites. The first group is so fixated on the subject that their opinions automatically considered questionable and thus discounted without proper consideration by the mainstream clinician. The second group really doesn’t have a fair opportunity to assess the merits of each as the vast majority are surgically altered by their early teens, usually much earlier. Thus, they tend to experience only one gender, usually female. The few that are altered to become male are never able to develop the musculature to fairly compete and thus rarely experience sexuality as a male.”

Tommi was tapping her toe impatiently. “Are you done yet?”

“Uh...I guess so. Will you answer the question?”

Tommi smiled, just smiled. Maggie fidgeted as she waited. Finally, Katrina couldn’t take the silence any more. “For God's sake, answer her already.”

Tommi speculatively examined Katrina for several more moments. “Maybe. Not now, but maybe after the meeting,” she turned to Maggie, “if you ask me really politely little sister mine.” Seeing their confusion Tommi just smiled this time. “I’m going to get dressed. Where are the others, and when is this meeting, anyway?”

Katrina and Maggie just stared after as she sauntered off to the bedroom. “Ah...I ah, I better get cleaned up.” A subdued Katrina followed.

“Ladies. Ladies.” Tommi daintily tapped her wine glass against the coffee table. “This meeting of the A.B.D. ecdysiast’s self improvement and revenge against GTI club is now called to order. For those of us, like me, who were not altogether aware at the last meeting would someone please review the minutes of that meeting?”

The other’s eyes darted from one to the other, no one wanting to start. “I guess I can answer that.” Karen grudgingly began ticking off items with her fingers.

“First, we agreed to let Maggie hypnotize you to provide a knowledge base and set of mannerisms to make it easier for you to adjust. Second,” Karen blushed but continued, “we agreed to reevaluate what you should be told based upon your ability to comprehend. Third, we concluded that we should help Katrina get what she deserves from her invention.” Karen turned to Kat, “What did you call it again?”

“ViTaGeSeM,” Tommi answered first. “Please continue.”

“Fourth, we agreed that if the people at GTI were willing to risk kidnapping and death threats...”

“Implied,” Tommi interrupted again. “Implied death threats, for all the difference it makes. Knowing my father–ex-father–it was probably real,” she smiled bitterly, “although I can’t, for the life of me imagine Dick Baldwin or Harry Walton having the testicular fortitude to carry out the threat.” Katrina’s lip curled at the thought of either of them doing much of anything effectively.

“Uh hum.” Karen cleared her throat. “Shall I continue?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. “If the people at GTI were willing to risk kidnapping and ‘implied’ death threats, they were willing to play dirty to the point that no criminal action was likely to succeed and any attempt to use the courts was likely to bankrupt us well before any possible positive outcome.”

Tommi nodded and turned to Katrina. “I warned you that would not be a functional option a long time ago.”

“True...and it was never really considered, although we did agree to actively gather money for at least a token attempt in that venue.” Karen sat back and waited for Tommi to absorb everything that had been presented her. He responded before she had settled back into her chair.

“Is that it? Don’t you all have some kind of a plan?”

“Well, we do have a plan of sorts, just the idea, nothing fleshed out...”

“Yeah, yeah; and the plan?”

“We...we’re going to do a sting. You know. Like the movie with Paul Newman and Robert Redford?”