Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

A 48 year old man will search for the answers to these and stranger questions in ways she never imagined.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This was first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. I’m confident it’s derivative, unimaginative, dull, unintentionally plageristic, ungramatical and possibly hazardous to ones health. I ask that you be gentle and constructive in your criticism. I’ve been a good boy, scouts honor. I did this for fun and in my appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit and enjoy. Remember this is non-canon not cannon fodder. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005 yada, yada, yada. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp., Alpha Centari for further details. Any copyright or trademark infringement is purely accidental and please don’t hit me!

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapters 1- 3

Chapter 1-Arivial
Thursday December 14, 2006 Dunwich NH

The station master cum book keeper, ticket agent, porter, janitor, section hand, guard, handyman, and damn near anything else that needed doing, had seen a lot of strange things during his years with the railway. The strangest usually involved Whateley Academy in some way, or another.

Little surprised him anymore, not even the sight of those first-year students returning from a daytrip to Boston last October ... what did they call themselves, ‘Team something-ba’ ... Timba ... Jimba ... Bimba ... Kimba, that’s it, ‘Team Kimba’, barely caught his notice. He hardly remembered them at all, the regally cute red head, that oddly oriental looking blue-haired girl, or that strange Goth girl, and their friends made no impression on him. Yup, No siree-bob.

When the conductor called for help offloading some freight he thought nothing of it, until he saw it. The object that caught his attention was in most ways quite ordinary. Whateley was frequently receiving and shipping the most unusual items. Unfamiliar fantastical machines, exotic plants and animals, even mysterious sealed containers from Hanford WA, and other secretive government labs, came and went so often as to be almost routine. It was just a motorcycle after all.

The sight of motorcycles, scooters, or mopeds being shipped via the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle was not unprecedented in his experience. A number of the older students and more than a few of the staff owned them, but this one was different. It looked very old, World War I vintage or even older, yet in remarkably, no, disconcertingly good condition. It wasn’t in mint condition like a museum piece, it showed signs of being ridden recently, yet it seemed too new. It had to be a replica or restoration, no way could the leather, rubber, and paint be original -- and with no rust? But still ... he pondered the enigma as he waited for its owner to claim it. The enigma was a 1915 Harley-Davidson with an F-head twin cylinder engine equipped with original company racing parts, but the station master only recognized it as a very old Harley.

“Sir, excuse me. I’m Joan, and I’ve come for my motorcycle,” a pleasant voice said.

The accent was hard to place, possibly Midwestern, but the station master wasn’t sure. There was something about the voice that bothered him, something familiar. The station master turned towards the voice, and got his second surprise of the day. A tall, slender woman of indeterminate age stood holding out a baggage claim ticket. With her long strawberry blond hair she looked sixteen to twenty years of age, but her copper eyes had a wistful, serious look that seemed much older. She wore an odd mix of vintage and modern motorcycle gear and carried a pair of leather panniers draped over one arm.

“I gather from the freight tag you’re headed to Whateley Academy. Here to visit a brother or sister?” the station master queered.

The strawberry blond smiled in an eager yet slightly nervous way. “No, I’m their newest faculty member -- or so I hope. I’ve got a tryout of sorts as a teaching and research assistant, mostly in the history department. The position I’m trying out for is, well, a sort of Jack-of -all-trades/utility player. I’m to fill in as needed whenever and wherever they need me, but not just in the history department. I’ll even work with maintenance and security in a pinch.”

There was something strangely familiar about the girl. He’d seen her face and most definitely heard that voice before, but where?

“Shouldn’t that be a Jill-of-all-trades,” he said stone-faced, and a bit puzzled.

She laughed replying, “Hey it’s a living.”

While they spoke, she fixed the leather panniers to the rear of the cycle.

“Didn’t Whateley just get a huge grant from some foundation? What was it today’s paper said, fifteen million?” Ha asked.

“It’s from the Meridian Foundation, and its two-hundred and fifty million dollars, as an endowment. They get to use the earnings it generates,” she corrected him. “It isn’t technically official until tomorrow. I have the Meridian Foundation to thank for all this. The position I hope to earn is due to some stipulations written into the endowment.”

She continued speaking while putting on a modern helmet and a pair of old-fashioned leather gauntlets.

“If all goes well, I’ll be working in the history department with the holder of the newly created Meridian Chair,” she paused then said in a low voice, “Very closely in fact.”

She smiled then turned and walked the cycle away from the station, her knee-high black motorcycle boots clicking on the platform.

She rode away from the station, enjoying the stark early winter scenery and remembered back to the start of her strange adventure.

“‘Timeout,’ “she said to no one but herself, “that should do for that code name they said I needed. Anyways I’ve got loads of time to come up with a better one if I don’t like it, all the time in the World.”

Then laughing, she pulled to the side of the road to stop and wipe her tears.

* * * *

Monday July 3, 2006 Fermi Lab near Chicago IL
11:55am

The senior research director had waited long for this experiment, nearly two decades since the cancellation of the Super Collider project. Today finally was the ‘BIG SHOT’. The decades old often modified and upgraded ring accelerator was ready to reach the energy levels and relativistic speeds that the far larger Super Collider was expected to yield. This test would truly ‘push the envelope’ and then some. Back when the Super Collider was canceled physics said an accelerator the size of the big ring at Fermi could never approach a small fraction of the energies and speeds of the far larger machine. Physics at the quantum level had surprised the profession many times in the past. Today’s test would prove that again though not quite as the physicists, engineers, and technicians anticipated.

“Is the ring clear of all personnel?” asked the research director.

“Yes.” replied the systems operator.

“Initiate the test.”

“Test program running in three, two, one, MARK!” the operator called out.

“WHAT? No ‘Yes Master.’ No ‘She canna take it Captin.’ No ‘It’s ALIVE!’

“No, Director, I don’t go for those silly sci-fi clichés. The computer predicts we’ll achieve maximum sustained energy at twelve noon local time.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Why soitenly. Nuk, nuk nuk.”

“Oh no, Three Stooges!” the director groaned.

** * *
Chapter 2-Departure
Wednesday December13, 2006 Amtrak station, Milwaukee WI
8am CST

I begin this journal/diary/notebook or whatever on the advice of my doctor back at University Hospital in Madison. Dr. Sara believes it may help me come to terms with what has happened over the last five months and to better understand the true nature of my ‘gifts’, for want of a better term. It’s worth a try I suppose; at least I might sell my life story for a few bucks someday. They, whoever ‘they’ are, say a journey of a thousand miles begins with one step or something to that effect. This is a prime example of one of my greatest strengths and weaknesses; my knowledge is miles wide and inches deep. That’s kilometers and centimeters for your metric fans.

The single step in my case was taken on a pleasant July third in a tiny roadside park outside of Poniatowski Wisconsin.

* * * *

July 03,2006 near Poniatowski WI
11:55am

I turned my Ford Focus off the granite, gravel and clay road and into a small chain-link square of land carved from the side of a farmer’s field. The tiny park is located on Meridian Road near the cross-roads community of Poniatowski, WNW of Wausau Wisconsin. A nearby sign says ‘Geologic Point of Interest’. This is misleading, the ‘point of interest’ is in fact a geographic point on the map marked with a bronze surveyors marker inscribed with 45:00:00 N, 90:00:00 W. This is one of four points like it on Earth, a point half-way between the poles and equator and halfway between the Greenwich meridian and the International Date Line. One is in remote China, two are in the ocean. The modest park is a sort of poor man’s North Pole, a pole for those on a budget.

I found the park by accident some years before; I was thumbing through a DeLorme atlas when I realized that this geographic point was within a long daytrips reach from Milwaukee. I found it on my second try and was delighted to see it commemorated by a small park. When you need something to clear the cobwebs, a daytrip to nowhere is nearly perfect. I was feeling a little down; it was July 03 after all, and this trip would take my mind off it. July 03 was my late mother’s birthday, her mother’s birthday, her mother’s grandmother’s birthday and the day my grandfather (my mother’s dad) died. My mother had died three weeks prior to her 79th birthday the year before so, the day carried a lot of emotional baggage.

Her death hit my harder that expected as it brought up all sorts of regrets and painful remembrances, foremost of them being my failure to find ‘the right woman’. To be honest it would help if I actually asked them out more often than once a decade, but I was very shy around them. I liked women, I still do -- don’t get me wrong. I simply wasn’t comfortable asking them out, too many self doubts I guess. Mom’s death shook me enough that for the first time in years, I’d gone out on a few dates. Success was limited so fa,r but I had hopes.

This day trip to Poniatowski with the obligatory follow-your-nose route back was just the ticket for the blues, I hoped. Oddly now that I think back on it, it worked, beyond my wildest dreams but not in the way I intended. It’s only now some nine months later that I think I know what happened that strange day. They say, there’s those ‘they’s again, you can never know the past with any real precision, too many points of view for one. Since developing my ‘gifts’ I can come closer than most. My transformation was likely due to a quirky series of coincidences that I later pieced together from various news items of the day and from my own memories. I was precisely in the right place at the right time in space-time or precisely in the wrong place at the wrong time in space-time, depending on how I look at it. I’m leaning towards the former as the later is just too depressing.

Here I was out of my car standing over the surveyors marker at precisely Noon (I was glancing at my watch at the moment) when I ‘felt’ it. Four things happened at once with the prime focus being where I stood, lucky me. The news over the next few months told it all. The first clue was a magnitude 6.0 quake had hit central Wisconsin at Noon July 03, 2006 centered near the town of Poniatowski. That one I knew before anyone else -- I was there. Quakes in the upper Midwest are rare and usually the result of the slow rebound of the Earth’s crust from all that ice we had back in the last great Ice Age. This one was a whopper by our standards, plates fell, plaster cracked and that was about it.

The second clue was the spectacular displays of Northern Lights on the evenings of July 02/03 caused by a series of violent storms on the surface of the Sun. I’d seen them July 2nd, and they were impressive despite all the light pollution in Milwaukee.

The third clue was of a minor accident at Fermi Labs. The large ring accelerator had suffered a power surge in during a test of its latest upgrades. This caused an overload that damaged a portion of the machine. Fortunately there were no known injuries or release of dangerous radiation, or so the news articles read. It was later determined the surge in the incoming power lines was caused by a massive electromagnetic pulse generated by the interaction of the Earth’s magnetic field with a blast from those massive solar storms. It feed into the North American power grid and caused wide spread disruptions.

The fourth and last clue was the announcement of the probable detection of gravity waves passing through the Earth at and around Noon CDT July 03, 2006. These ‘ripples’ in space-time were predicted by Einstein’s theories but only in the last few decades were sensitive systems, often buried deep in old mines, built that might detect them. One could say that the long dead Elvis was easier to spot than gravity waves but such cheap humor is beneath me ... uhm.

* * * *

July 03, 2006 Fermi Labs near Chicago IL
Noon CDT

The lights in the control room flickered, went out then came back on as alarms sounded and lights flashed on the various control counsels.

“What was that?” the director cried out.

The systems operator studied the displays for a moment then spoke. “Probable power spike, Director.” He said then continued after a moment. “Obviously the computers are OK since they’re still up and running. From the system logs, it appears a huge spike in the incoming power overwhelmed our protection features for a moment. Enough got through that the accelerator exceed its new design limits by at least an order of magnitude. This caused us to loose magnetic containment at an unused experiment port on the NNW section of the ring. Luckily no other significant damage seems to have occurred Director.”

~Personal note: Oh yah, like what happened to me doesn’t count! ~

“Any chance of a release of radiation?” asked the Director.

“Unlikely from the readings, we’re heavily shielded as you know. From the logged data any radiation release would have been along a narrow path to the NNW and then at a shallow downward angle. The only place that line intersects the Earth’s surface is in north central Wisconsin, and that’s several hundred miles away.

“Well that’s a relief.” thought the Director. “Just out of curiosity where does that line emerge from underground?”

“One moment Sir.” the operator said. “Of course topography would have some affect, but the location should be very close to 45:00:00 N, 90:00:00 W. That’s near Poniatowski Wisconsin.”

“Where that?” the director asked.

“It’s near Wausau, like the insurance company, sir. From what maps show, it’s in the middle of nowhere, so if any radiation got that far practically no one’s there.”

* * * *

Wednesday December13, 2006 nearing Chicago on the Amtrak Hiawatha
9:15am

Here I was, lucky ol’ me, standing at what amounted to ground zero for the strangest set of coincidences I can imagine, and I have a very good imagination. My knowledge of physics is rather spotty, but there is a phenomenon in particle physics called the Bragg point. Please forgive any misspellings. Matter is mostly empty space so subatomic particle/waves don’t interact with it unless the have a charge or collide head on. This is especially true at high speeds.

A poor but useful analogy is when a water-skier lets go of the tow rope, nothing much happens until he slows below some critical speed. From the viewpoint of a distant observer, the water suddenly swallows them whole. The Bragg point is something like that. Yes I know that’s not really how it works, but back off man, I’m not a scientist, to paraphrase Ghostbustersâ„¢. Do I know my film trivia or what? Or what! Back to the point, from what my doctors say, and they say a lot, their best guess is I was standing at the center of the Bragg point for an unknown type of subatomic particle, possibly even quantum strings

String theory is the latest attempt a Grand Unified Theory or theory of everything, the ‘Holy Grail’ Einstein was searching for but never found. Some of the better theories have ten or more dimensions to space-time. I have enough trouble living in the classic three plus time. To get back to the story, I was standing at the intersection of the Bragg point of the errant particle beam from Fermi Labs, a gravity wave, an electromagnetic pulse generated by the interaction of that solar storm with the Earth’s magnetic field and a piezoelectric shock wave from the local earthquake. They can’t even make a guess as to the odds of this happening. The last time they tried the, computer fried out. If you consider this to be a stroke of luck, then I’m badly overdue to win the Powerball and be struck by lighting many, many, many times over.

I barely noticed anything odd at the time. I felt a vibration but attributed it to a heavily laden milk truck passing by moments latter. The only casualty was my digital watch, which appeared to have lost power then restarted as it was blinking 12am Jan 01. My car was fine, and no one else has ever reported any odd symptoms to date. Apparently the total volume of the interaction of these forces was very limited, limited to yours truly. Oh happy happy, joy joy. Starting my car as I was ready to leave, I noticed something was not quite right with the world or with me. I felt a sudden chill of the sort you get when you come down with the flu.

“Great, now I’m getting sick.” I said to myself but the feeling quickly faded.

I backed around to drive out when I thought I saw a small crowd at a ribbon cutting ceremony, like you’d see at the opening of a new store or public building. It was there for a moment then gone.

“Must be my imagination, but why was everyone wearing those late 60’s style clothes?”

Because of that chill I’d felt I decided to take a quicker route home just in case. By the time I was passing Wisconsin Dells, I’d not had a repeat of any signs of illness, so I turned of the Interstate at Portage, intending to take State highways 60 or 33 instead. They would be slower but far more scenic. This, of course, was when things started to go seriously strange with a big red S, boots and a cape. Portage is aptly named being situated at the point where the Fox which flows into Lake Michigan at Green Bay and the Wisconsin, which floes into the Mississippi near Prairie du Chien are a very flat mile or two apart, an easy portage. A natural crossroads Portage has existed over 300 years, from the days of the first French explorers and fur traders. The native peoples used it to advantage long before that. For a while a canal and series of locks and dams connected the rivers, but the continually shifting sands of the lower Wisconsin River defeated the federal governments attempt to maintain a safe channel. By the late 19th century, the canal was gradually abandoned. Most of the locks were dismantled or filled in by the early 1950’s.

I drove out of downtown Portage, if you can call a couple blocks a downtown, when my aches and chills came back with a vengeance. I nearly caused an accident slamming on my brakes at the sight before me. I pulled to the side of the road to gather my wits. What I saw made no sense but I was strangely compelled to check it out. I walked the 100 feet or so from my car to the apparition in shock. What I saw simply could not be and what was worse I heard it and smelled it. It had to be a hallucination, it wasn’t possible yet it was there. I’m sure any passerby that saw me must have thought I was pretty strange. I don’t fully recall if they did as my attention was so completely drawn elsewhere. My senses were locked on a small riverboat, its decks stacked high with lumber passing slowly through the open jackknife bridge over the canal. As it passed, I heard several sharp blasts of its steam whistle, the steam dissipating quickly in the warm summer air. I could hear the rhythmic pulse of the engine and churning paddlewheels while the wood smoke from the stack made my eyes water.

Everything about the scene made sense and felt real. The problem was it made sense for 1886 not 2006. The bridge was decades gone, the canal blocked of and systematically abandoned over 50 years before. The people, the horse drawn vehicles and well everything else was wrong. I was even able to touch the warning gate blocking the road, which gave me a small shock. Then as quickly as this apparition came, it was gone along with my aches and chills. At this point I was more than a little bit worried about my health and my sanity and more than a little bit spooked.

In my understandably agitated state, I made what in hindsight was without doubt the most foolhardy decision of my life, to drive home and curl up in bed. Driving home I realized how stupid that was. Something was seriously wrong with me, and the best place to get help would be at a major research or teaching hospital. I decided to drive home, take a quick shower, change clothes and drive to the nearby regional medical center after informing my Dad or sister where I was going. I was on autopilot, barely paying attention to where I was as I fought to stay alert and in control. I had felt increasingly tired since touching that phantom warning gate. I no longer had that odd headache but my joints and muscles felt really sore, as if I was coming down with the flu just like I’d felt back at Poniatowski.

I kept it together long enough to get into Milwaukee County and close to home. I was generally achy and very tired, but I felt I could make it home to let my Dad or sister know what was gong on. Tired or not, the weird sensations still came and went. As I was leaving the freeway, my vision blurred for a moment, and I swore that for a moment the cars around me and in my mirror were all 60’s and 70’s vintage, many in very good condition.

I thought, “Must be a car collector’s convention in town this week.”

Saving time I cut north and east out of the County Institutions grounds. I saw an orange bullet nose Milwaukee Road Hiawatha train past overhead as I drove thru a railway underpass.

“A rail fan trip?” I mused.

Amtrak replaced that train over 30 years ago. The Canadian Pacific bought those tracks some years back when the bought out the Soo line who bought the bankrupt Milwaukee Road in the 1980’s. I parked in front of our house to save time. As I got out of my car, the Super Bowl of the Weird went into overtime. As best as I can recall, it seemed like two or more realities were vying for the same space. Rather like when reception is poor, and two distant radio stations fight for the same frequency on your radio, fading in and out as you listen. In my case the whole perceivable universe was fading in and out between alternative realities.

I walked past the large elm tree and the concrete streetlight pole in front of ... Oh, oh. The alarms in my head went off as those were both gone nearly 30 years now.

~I’d better hurry up and get to the hospital. ~ My inner voice sagely suggested.

The air became oddly cold; it seemed more like late winter than midsummer. I opened the wood and glass screen door on the side of the house which had been replaced by a series of aluminum and glass doors starting more than 40 years back. I had little opportunity to consider the incongruity of this for when I opened the inner door and turned toward the kitchen I knocked my mother over. I looked at her lying there, she couldn’t be more than 30 years old, and I was born when she was 31. She screamed at her apparent attacker, me.

“Mom?” I cried out in total confusion.

As I lost consciousness my last sight was of my terrified, attractive young mother in her, I mean, our home.

****
Chapter 3-Revalations
University Hospital, Madison WI
July 07, 2006, 6am

The next few days are a blank. I have only what my doctors and nurses told me to go on. Apparently I gave them a hell of a fright. My condition was deteriorating rapidly, but by a stroke of luck the emergency department was very quiet that evening so the physicians and nurses who saw me soon noticed the nature of my changes and very quickly cordoned off part of the emergency room. They did a fast but thorough examination while simultaneously taking numerous baseline photos, measurements of all kinds and obtaining various samples. A Flight-for-Life helicopter flew me from Milwaukee to the high security section of the University Hospital in Madison where the new paranormal and mutant unit for Wisconsin was located.

I woke from my coma early the morning of my fourth day in the hospital. I was relieved I had somehow made it to the hospital though I couldn’t remember how I got there. Best I could tell I felt fairly normal. I saw the usual IV lines hooked up to me, the saline and glucose labels were easy to read from my bed. Several monitors were attached to me much like you see on TV or in film.

~Well I’m alive and I don’t feel too bad. ~ I thought. ~I wonder what’s happened. Now how do I call the nurse? ~

I saw a control pad clipped to the rail of my bed, and reached to press the call button. I noticed my hand looked, well, like a girls. It was obviously smaller with long delicate fingers, the skin smooth, perfect and nearly hairless.

“Maybe I‘m sicker than I feel, that sure was weird,” I said, then I pressed the button, and a short time later a young nurse walked into my room smiling.

“I see that our sleepyhead decided it’s time to wakeup. I imagine you have lots of questions, so I’ll call the doctor for you. She wanted to talk with you as soon as possible,” said the nurse.

“What’s wrong with me?” I spoke, my voice soft and a bit scratchy, understandable under the circumstances I supposed, yet the voice was not mine.

The few times I heard my recorded voice, I found I sounded a lot like Ron Howard, the film director. To myself my voice is lower and richer, a function of the sound reaching my ears thorough both the air and my bones. The voice I heard now was low, sultry and very feminine, much like I remembered my mother’s voice and her mother’s -- my Grandma’s -- voice. It was somewhat embarrassing going through puberty and realizing that my Grandmother and Mom had low, sexy voices. I tried to make sense of what I’d heard but could not. Before I could start to worry too much about it, a doctor came into the room with that same pretty nurse.

“This is Dr. Sara Grobeschmidt-Taylor, and she’ll explain everything to you. I’ll wait just outside the door if you need anything, dear.”

The doctor gave her a sharp look.

“Nurse Carrie?” was all she said.

“Sorry, Doctor. As I said, John, I’ll be waiting right outside if you want me,” Nurse Carrie said as she walked out the door.

“I know you have many questions but please wait until I finish. This will save time and reduce any confusion. I have good news for you, John. You’re very healthy and should be up and out of the hospital in a few days at most. You were extremely ill when you were admitted; we thought we might lose you. You’re at the University Hospital in Madison by the way; you were flown here by helicopter from Milwaukee when they realized what was wrong. Fortunately you responded very well to treatment, mostly rest and IV fluids, and are nearly fully recovered. As to why you were so sick, we know what your condition was but as to the triggering mechanism we haven’t determined yet,” the doctor explained.

I was very confused by what the doctor was saying, but I kept quiet. I think she saw my fear.

“As I said before, John, you’re now very healthy, healthier than me. I need you to keep an open mind and listen to what I say. When I finish, I’ll gladly answer any questions, ok?” the doctor asked.

I nodded my consent.

“To put it simply, you went through what my specialty calls a burnout. Your body was replacing its cells at a very rapid rate. Normally each and every cell in your body is replaced over a 3 to 4 year cycle with few exceptions. Your burnout was your body replacing every cell in roughly a 48 hour span. You even have a whole new set of teeth, believe it or not, John. The stress of this nearly killed you, but you recovered nicely and soon can get out of bed. You’re the first patient I’ve ever seen survive such an extreme burnout. We need to, or more correctly, would like to do a few special tests before you leave us-purely voluntary but to your benefit.”

I wanted to speak but she gestured for me to wait.

“I have one last thing to say, then you can ask your questions. You wonder why things seem and feel a little different and why you were sick. Here goes, by some mechanism unknown you’ve been transformed down to the genetic level so extensively that you are now what the public calls a mutant. Don’t worry, in appearance and in most other ways you are absolutely normal. You do have some special abilities due to your mutation” ... She said, and paused for a moment reconsidering what she wanted to say ... “and have changed physically as well,” the doctor said enigmatically.

“What do you mean by physically?” I cried out, very worried.

It didn’t help my emotional state when I heard how odd and sexy my voice sounded. I started to cry softly.

“John, please calm down. Your fine, really, just a bit different than before, to put it simply you are no longer a man in his late forties but are by all measures an extremely fit and healthy 16 to 18 year old woman. A woman with all the appropriate equipment -- and very well arraigned I might add,” she said and smiled at me.

“I’m a woman?” I said incredulously.

Then as my mind processed what the doctor said, how my voice sounded to me and the signals my body was sending me, I said, “I AM a woman, aren’t I doctor?”

“Oh yes, and that’s going to take some adjustment, but we’ll get you the help you need. Your life as you’ve known it is gone, and you new life will be strange at first but you’ve gained a lot too. You’re exceptionally healthy and younger for a start. As to getting started again, we’ll get you the necessary documents to prove who you are. The law protects you as well. You can try to go back to your old job if you wish. I’d like you to think of this as second chance at your life,” she said.

A warning light was flashing in the back of my mind, but I ignored it due to the shock from the knowledge of my transformation into a young woman. The warning light and klaxon waited until a little switch in my head flipped as I remembered that other word the doctor used to describe my condition.

“MUTANT?” I practically screamed at her as the alarms screamed in my mind. “What do you mean by mutant?”

By now I’d worked up to quite a decent tantrum.

~Tantrum? Now were did that come from? Guys don’t have tantrums. Children and girls throw ... Ah that’s right; I’ve switched sides haven’t I? ~

At this I broke out laughing, giggling really. My anger and fear deflated by the absurdity of my current situation. This put my humor gears into overdrive. Doctor Sara’s face went through an amazing transformation, from calm reassurance to serious concern to professional detachment to the broadest smile I had seen in some time.

“Well that’s not exactly the reaction I expected. Mind letting me in on the joke?” she asked while struggling to fight back the giggles her self.

“It’s just that the absurdity of my ... condition suddenly struck me. I was about to throw a tantrum like a girl when I realized I am one. That stopped my anger cold. Then I thought, mutant, you can’t get much more mutant than becoming a girl overnight at least from where I used to be. That’s when I broke out laughing, Doctor.”

“Sara, please, call me Sara,” she said then she broke into a major giggle fit.

That got me going again. We must have been pretty loud because Nurse Carrie burst into the room, stopped, then she joined in the fun. None of us were of much use for the next ten minutes or so. The moment one of us started to get some control one of the others would set us all off again.

“Female ... Mutant ... Now those are two words I never expected would apply to me.” I said in a controlled manner, still fighting off the remnants of my laugh attack. “Not that it won’t take some getting used to, but I have to admit it’s not like I never imagined it happening.” I said.

They looked at me dumbstruck. I continued.

“You know what I mean.”

They continued staring at me.

“Think of it like a child’s fantasy; didn't you ever pretend you were a kitty cat, a dinosaur, or a space alien? It's not that I really wanted to be one, or be a girl for that matter, it's was just for fun. It was a great game pretending to be a doctor, nurse, fireman or astronaut,” I offered.

The lights came back on in my new girlfriends’ ... girl friends? ... heads.

“Ah, like pretending to be a fairy princess.” Carrie started.

“Or Batman and Robin,” Sara continued.

“That’s the idea.” I responded adding, “But in your cases, Sara and Carrie, I think Cat Woman and Batgirl are more appropriate. You two certainly have the figures for it.”

~WHAT did I just say? ~

“Sorry, somehow that just came out. I don’t mean to offend,” I said quickly to cover my surprise.

“None taken I assure you, ‘Ms’ John.” Sara said, she emphasized ‘Ms.’ as a wicked smile grew on her face. “If we’re talking Halloween costumes here, I picture you as a younger version of Romana from Doctor Who. You’ve seen Doctor Who, John?”

I nodded yes.

“The first Romana, what was her name?” she asked.

“Mary Tamm?” I questioned, knowing clearly the actress she meant but not fully comprehending or perhaps comprehending too well the implications of her remark.

“Are you saying I look like her?” I replied nervously.

NOW I was worried. It was strange enough becoming a mutant and a female, but being an attractive female was, well ... I don’t know what it was, but I didn’t want to know what it was.

“Not exactly like her, I meant more as a general type of woman,” she tried to calm me. My anxiety level dropped a bit.

“Well that’s okay guess. She was rather attractive back then, but it’s not like I’m her twin sister, is it?” I smiled back in relief. “Just so I’m not some ugly monster.”

“That’s not what I meant either. I’m still not making my self clear.” She said, paused, then said, “Um ... have you seen yourself yet?”

“Well no. I’d only just woke up when Carrie called you in.”

My anxiety meter started to twitch up into the yellow zone.

“Do you think you can get up and walk a bit?” Dr. Sara asked.

“I’ll try,” I managed to say as my anxiety meter crept just short of the red zone.

“I’ll help you,” Carrie said as she assisted me up and out of the bed.

When I got to my feet, I wobbled a bit but managed to stay up. Soon I was feeling fairly normal except for the unfamiliar sensations coming from my chest and um ... other area.

“I’m ready, let’s go take a look,” I said.

I was still a little unsteady but got smoother and more confident with each step.

“I must be getting better, that wasn’t hard at all.” I said.

My anxiety meter started going down. Then I saw the poster on the bathroom door. The kind of poster that a younger Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Michelle Trachtenberg or some other up and coming artist might put out. The, I’m so young, I’m so innocent, and I’m so sexy, and I don’t know it sort of poster. I stood and took it in. She was definitely hot looking if you go for jailbait, with that open-mouthed look of surprise on her face and her long, wild and unkempt hair combining to great effect.

~The skimpy hospital gown on her tall busty frame is a tad too kinky for my tastes but still ... Hospital gown? ~

My internal voice stopped. I moved forward to get a better look. She moved forward simultaneously. I moved in response. She moved in mirror fashion.

~MIRROR? ~

My anxiety meter went up in smoke.

The next few hours I don’t remember too clearly so I have to take Sara’s and Carrie’s word for what happened.

Apparently I said something extremely cleaver like, “Ththththats’s MEEEE?” in a fairly memorable stutter, cum shriek.

I finished my routine with a one-and-one-half clockwise spin into a backwards dead-faint, difficulty level 3.2 for an overall score of 9.8 out of ten, not bad for an amateur. I lost two-tenths for failing to stick the landing. I would have lost more but I pulled off a perfect tuck into the fetal position to salvage it. They showed it to me once from the security tape. Those CCTV cameras are everywhere these days. I hope they didn’t have one in my bathroom, Ewu! Even now five months later it disturbs me to watch it.

To my dying day, my doctors say that could be a long time from now, I’ll be grateful to Sara and Carrie for when I woke they were both in my room by my bed. Carrie was holding my hand as Sara caught a quick snooze a few feet away in a stuffed chair. That kind of care must have cost my insurance a bundle but its money well spent in my opinion. I owe those girls a debt I can’t begin to repay. I will keep in touch and I will honor my debt. Well, enough of this maudlin stuff and back to my story.

I woke with surprisingly few aches and pains despite my fall, more about why that was the case later. Overall I felt really well and wondered why they were holding vigil on me? Then I remembered getting out of bed, seeing the poster that suddenly moved and...

“That was Me!” I shrieked.

I started to shake uncontrollably and cried like I hadn’t since I was a child. I did so for quite some time, crying from fear, crying for my late mother, crying for the girlfriends I never had, just crying out all my regrets. Whether it was fatigue or running out of things to cry about I don’t know but as quickly as it started it stopped. It’s not like I felt great, I just didn’t feel overwhelmed anymore.

Regaining control, I said, “Could I see myself again? I think I can take it now.”

Carrie smiled at me, squeezing my hand. She turned to Sara.

“Only if your sure hon,” Sara said in a concerned but relaxed tone.

“On second thought, could I have a shower and do something with my hair first. I’m sure I’m a mess.”

I must have said the right thing because they hustled me to the bathroom, got the shower going, then waited just outside the door like a pair of cats watching their food dish being filled. I always took quick showers -- this was no different. Well I did spend a while longer and use up a lot more shampoo on my hair.

“What is it with mutants and long hair?” I said to my angels.

My hair had been short for years. Being as bald as I was, long hair had that Bozo the Clown, David Crosby, comic relief killer from Diamonds Are Forever connotation in my mind. Believe me it’s not a good one. Now my hair was, for want of a better description, everywhere. I could feel it brushing the top of my butt as I showered.

~This is sure different but hey it’s all mine. ~ I mused, that was definitely upside #1 in favor of being a girl.

Upsides #2a and #2b and especially #3a and #3b I couldn’t fully examine with Sara and Carrie there but from the ... um ... brief accidental encounters I experienced, purely as an unintended side-effect of soaping up and washing off I hasten to add, they were serious points in favor of womanhood as well. #2a and #2b were the most obvious “points,” their “points” sticking way out in fact. My mom and grandmother had fairly large breasts for their trim frames but these were embarrassing. I would have a hard time tying my shoelaces with these blocking my view. Alright, so I’m exaggerating a bit here, but they sure aren’t small. As to bra and clothing sizes, I hadn’t a clue. BRA SIZE, now that’s an alien concept.

~I guess now I’ll be the one leaving my dainty delicates dripping in the bathroom. Ah, sweet revenge on my sister. ~

~ Personal note: Insert evil cackle here. ~

I was not prepared for this. The Boy Scouts say ‘Be prepared,’ and I was a former Eagle Scout, but this was nothing they could hold against me. I know what one of those hormone happy adolescents would like to hold against me, but that is neither here nor there. It’s down right about there actually. Whoa! Get a grip, girl. Grip? Ewh, bad word choice there, diary. On reflection maybe it was a good thing the two women were watching me like they were starving cannibals, and I was the main course. I had been a horny little bast ... Boy Scout in my day, but this was an entirely different ballgame. Now those are some well mixed metaphors. I might have rubbed myself raw if they weren’t there.

I gathered what little control I could muster, turned off the shower, and started toweling myself dry. I say started because I nearly didn’t finish it. The roughness of the terry cloth dragging across my new skin was not helping my ... “condition” ... to ease at all. Upsides #2a and #2b were bordering on being dangerously stiff; you could poke your eyes out with them, happily. Upsides #3a and #3b, which had replaced the part or parts previously most in favor of being male, were #3a-swollen and um, expectant and as I dragged the towel between my legs #3b was hot, felt very squishy and OH MY GHOD! I nearly fainted.

~I think that was an orgasm. If that was what it was, please, sir, may I have another helping? I have got to remember about #3a, it’s going to be a favorite. ~

I think Sara and Carrie guessed what had happened because they smiled, then started to snicker. The blush and silly grin on my face didn’t help.

“You may need to rethink how you towel yourself off. Things are a wee bit more sensitive than before, I take it?” Sara offered while trying to compose herself.

“If either of you ask me if I need a cigarette, I’m walking out that door naked or not,” I replied in mock outrage.

That set us all off again, which to quote Ms Stewart was “a good thing.” The bout of laughter took the edge off my arousal enough that I could function again.

“Is there some way I can get help learning to cope with all of this?” I said while gesturing at my body like a model displaying a car.

“Sure, as I started to say earlier, that’s why I ordered Carrie to call me the moment you woke. You need to learn how to take care of your new body in addition to us evaluating your mutant abilities. You need to learn about feminine hygiene, your monthly cycle, how to dress for and act in public, and how to interact with men and women.”

“And how to keep your clothes on and knees together,” added Carrie in a perfect deadpan voice.

Sara looked like she was about to chew Carrie out when I chuckled back, “No, no, Sara. She’s right. How does it go? ‘Hello Daddy, hello Mom I’m your Ch ch ch ch cherry bomb.’ It’s from an old Joan Jett song, before your time, Carrie, or yours, Sara. This is something I never expected to add to my resume, mutant nymphomaniac,” I finished with just the right hint of sarcasm.

“I’m sure it’s just a temporary symptom of your mutation -- well it probably is, maybe. I can’t say for sure, since your transformation is unique in my experience. Complete male-to-female, or female-to-male, mutations are not the norm so far as the records indicate. Late onset of mutant powers is even rarer. This late is almost unheard of. You’re just about off the charts so to speak,” Sara explained.

“Does this mean I’ll be the subject of a groundbreaking medical paper? Perhaps you’ll get to name it after me, John’s Syndrome” I purred in a rather catty manner.

“You go, girl!” spoke Carrie in her best ghetto fabulous/valley-girl voice. “I don’t think you need worry too much about fitting in as a woman. That last remark of yours would shred a couch to ribbons. Meorrrrourer, phitt, phitt!”

I think she added the last bit for emphasis and punctuation; shades of the late Victor Borge here.

“Now that we have that out of or respective systems, is it okay with you if I assign Carrie as your personal 24/7 tutor in the female arts? From experience we’ve found the newly transformed benefit from limiting their exposure to the ‘real world’ until they’ve had time to come to grips with their changes. The one-on-one instruction speeds the process. Carrie’s well-trained, bright, hardworking and a lot of fun to hang around with.” Carrie grinned and blushed. “She’s also the closest to your apparent physical age of all our nurses here. She just graduated from nursing school last December, so she’s the most familiar with current teen/young adult fashions and the hot topics.”

Sara’s face turned serious. “I know your memories are those of a 48 year old man, but by the hormone levels in your blood and by bodily measures of development, you’re closer to 15 to 18 years of age, tops. You’ll need help if you want to fit in with your apparent age. If you don’t, you’re going to stick out like snowman on Miami Beach. It’s probably best to think of it as some great new adventure,” Sara said, paused, and then her face lit up. “It’s as if the ‘tape’ of your life been stopped and rewound back almost to the beginning. You get to choose how it plays forward,” Sara suggested. I thought for a moment as a wry smile grew on my face.

“Stop-rewind-playback, I like the metaphor, Sara. Let’s do it.”

“That’s a good attitude, John; I think you’ll do all right.” Sara said brightly.

“I suddenly feel so happy and ... oh ... perky! Is it me or the hormone talking?” I burbled and tossed my long head of hair as my mischievous streak decided to have a bit of fun or was it something else?

“Probably both,” Sara replied smiling at my attempt at humor.

“Doctor Sara.” Carrie interjected, “What about her, I mean John’s name? John doesn’t exactly fit her now.”

“That’s up to John, Carrie, but a name change could make it easier to start fresh and fit in.”

“Joan or Jean comes immediately to mind,” I said quickly. “I like the sound of Jean better but Joan has the better nicknames. I mean Joanie is a whole lot better then Jeanie. Every time I’d hear the later, I’d feel compelled to blink and head-snap my ponytail. Too damn I Dream of Jeanie for my tastes, Master.” I giggled at that.

~Why a giggle? ~

“Well then, Joan or Joanie it shall be,” Said Sara.

“Call me Joanie, please,” I said. Sara smiled very sweetly then spoke.

“It’s just so strange, but Joanie was the name of one of my best friends in med school.”

“Are you kidding me, Doctor?” Carrie asked. “My best friend in high school was named Joanie, talk about deja vu.”

“Seems I’ve picked the right name then, so what do we do next?”

****
To be continued.

Revised 07/20/06
Thanks to my evil younger sister for proofreading assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 4

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

This chapters subtitle pretty much tells it all, Fashion and the Lab Rat. Our heroine gives an accidental fashion show and gets poked, prodded, pricked and dunked, all in the name of science.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This was my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. I’m confident it’s derivative, unimaginative, dull, unitentionally plageristic, ungramatical, and possibly hazardous to ones health. I ask you be gentle and constructive in your criticism. I’ve been a good boy, scouts honor. I did this for fun and in my appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit and enjoy. Remember this is non-canon not cannon fodder. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005 yada, yada, yada. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for further details. Please don’t hit me!

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 4-Fashion and the Lab Rat
University Hospital and environs, Madison WI, July 8th to 18th, 2006

The first couple of weeks after I recovered from my transformation were arguably the most exhilarating and boring, enjoyable yet frightening time of my life. Nothing I had done before came close except, well nada, no exceptions. The newness of sensations, the subtle and not so subtle differences in how I moved, how I sounded, the absolute absurdity of the whole situation were constant sources of wonder and surprise. My as yet undefined mutant power, or powers, worried me greatly; just who and for that matter what was I?

The doctors, nurses, researchers and staff were for the most part friendly and professional, though I thought one or two seemed at best uneasy in my presence or at worst insulted by it. Fear of the unknown can cause resentment, envy or outright hatred in certain individuals or groups. Racial, ethnic, or national “purity” have been rallying calls for the worst kinds of racism, or even genocide. Mutants sadly weren’t exempt from the list of possible targets. The hospital wisely kept the mutant wing well under wraps, limiting the number of staff and visitors to help maintain a low profile. By my appearance I had little to fear. I looked very normal albeit attractive. I stood out but no more so than any other good looking young person. With the hospitals location on a Big Tenâ„¢ campus in a state capital, I was just one among a crowd of young people, so here I was relatively anonymous. How I got to look this way was unusual, but not the end product.

This would take some adjustment on my part, but I did not fear it -- well not too much. What worried me big-time was the type and extent of my power or powers, and the risks they might pose to my health, life, liberty, and to that of the people around me. Even before I started my evaluations, I knew I must be very careful as to how, when, and where I used my power(s). Anything to do with seeing into the past, let alone altering it, was potentially very dangerous stuff. Knowledge is power is a shopworn maxim, but a true one. My power, if I could learn to control it offered near endless opportunity for misuse and abuse.

-- Note to readers: A thunderclap followed by diabolical laughter may be indulged in at this point. Enjoy. --

It was precisely due to these fears that the Wisconsin State Paranormal and Mutant Unit — the WSPMU for you acronym lovers — had a strict policy of no visitors for new transformies, until both their doctor and they felt confident. There were exceptions in extraordinary situations, a dying patient, or where family members were also mutants, but these were rare. I was initially shocked, but soon agreed with the reasoning. It was late on the day I woke that she told me of the policy.

“Sara, when can I see my family? I’m nearly recovered now; they must be worried,” I asked.

“Joanie, your sister, her husband, and your dad came the first night, but I sent them home. You were unconscious, and burning up: we packed you in a bathtub full of ice, and chilled your IVs and oxygen to get your temperature down to 106 degrees Fahrenheit.” Sara replied.

“106 degrees?” I asked.

I was shocked; fevers that high were very dangerous, 108 or higher were fatal.

“106 in an ice bath, Sara?” I asked again.

“When I said burnout, I wasn’t kidding, Joanie. I’ve seen several individuals who cooked themselves without treatment; it’s a terrible way to die. There was nothing your family could do to help; we were too busy treating you to let them see you, and your appearance mid transformation might have upset them. The treatment kept the fever from spiking any higher, and after 48 hours it came down to normal. You remained unconscious another 24. That’s not to say we didn’t keep your family well-informed,” Carrie took over.

“Dr Sara,“ she giggled slightly as if she was hiding something, “or I called your family several times a day. They know you’re conscious and nearly recovered but that they still can’t visit. We sort of lied, and said you don’t want to see them until you’re further through therapy. We implied you’re uncomfortable with how you might appear to them.” Carrie looked sheepish.

“You sort of lied?” I retorted.

“Only with the best of intentions. Look at it this way, Joanie: We don’t have a clear idea what your powers are; they could be potentially dangerous. Once you’ve had your powers exam and have some time to get used to your new body and powers, then a visit is safe. You’ll be more comfortable and less likely to hurt yourself or them; I’ve seen it happen, dear,” Sara said in a motherly tone.

“Can I at least call them?”

“Your voice is very different; you’ve said so yourself. Even if you convince them You are who you are, you’ll just cause them distress. Better they get the whole package all at once with a visit. It could be days or weeks until you’re ready, I can’t say. Carrie will loan you a secure laptop so you can email them all you want. It’s untraceable, and you can get them used to the idea of your changes without frightening them. You can call them if you like, or even leave after tomorrow. You’re not a prisoner, but I don’t advise it.”

I spent the rest of that first evening considering what I would tell them. I decided to tell my sister I was a mutant, but not go into any details other than I was healthy, and undergoing therapy to get used to my new body. I didn’t mention the possible powers, or the, um teenage girl thing. That little omission would prove embarrassing later. I’d tell my dad I was getting better and I hoped he’d be able to visit soon, but to wait until I said okay -- in other words, vague but hopeful. I spent a lot of time those first few weeks thinking about what happened, and if there was a way back to manhood. It all came down to the warper time powers they said I must have, but it confused the hell out of me at first. Five months later, I’m only now beginning to understand the implications of my gifts.

It’s one thing to know the past, it’s orders of magnitude different to know it with utmost precision, and to manipulate to that end. Yah, I know it’s ”impossible”, or “even if you could” ... “time paradox” ... “yada, yada, yada,” I’m here to tell you time travel is possible, but definitely NOT for the squeamish. Writing down over five months later “real time,” nearly half a year “my time,” I still don’t have all the kinks out of it. The ONE biggie no-no nearly all the sci-fi writers agree upon, the “don’t cross your own timeline” admonition, boy-o-boy, now girl-o-girl were they spot-on. I’ve only myself and my emerging untrained powers to blame for my extreme makeover, and I’m damned if I can find a way out of it. The old time travel paradox traps rear their elegantly ugly heads here in all their labyrinthine glory, but I’m getting ahead of myself here, or is it behind? With all that’s gone on the last five “real” months, it’s hard to tell sometimes.

The day after I woke up, the ever helpful Carrie took my measurements, and that same day walked in with bags of clothes, shoes, and basic accessories for me to try on. She bought enough to last me at least a week, and showed considerable restraint in her taste. This was not the easiest of tasks given that I now apparently was 6 feet ½ inches tall, a perky 40D-24-35 and 145lbs dripping wet, with strawberry blond hair hanging down to my rear, fair skin, and copper eyes set in a pleasant—looking face. Oh dear, I think I’m getting off on myself.

Note to self: Calm down Joanie. I known I’m my own dream-girl but still, yet another reason to get myself to Whateley ASAP. I still wonder how 40D’s can be perky.

For the most part the clothes were tasteful, fit reasonably well, and showed some sense of style. Admittedly there were the two pairs of 4 and 5 inch high heels.

“High heels with me a mere 6ft ½ inch?” I asked.

“They’re a necessary evil for more formal occasions.” Carrie insisted. Even the few skirts weren’t too bad as long as I thought of them as,

“A variation on shorts, and you do have the legs for them,” Carrie pointed out. ”A purse and clutch -- well you do have to carry ID and money. Many women’s outfits don’t accommodate a wallet. A women’s watch will fit better, is practical, and you don’t want to be late for your appointments.”

She gave similar rationales for makeup, pierced ears - I had them done that same day in the hospital salon - jewelry and hair doodads.

“All necessary to fit in public, and for practical reasons too; you don’t want your long hair blowing in your face after all,” Carrie thoughtfully added.

As to the tiny, fluorescent pink, thong-style string bikini however, on trying this on I decided it was time to fight back.

“You’ll want to get a tan,” she began.

I might as well been naked -- it covered so little.

“Too much sun is bad for your skin,” I countered.

~ Nordic goddesses do not tan. ~

“What about swimming, or the beach?” she replied.

I felt lucky to breathe without falling out of it.

“A one-piece is more practical and far less likely to pop off unexpectedly,“ I said.

I parried her argument and counterattacked. I thought I had her at my mercy, but she sprang her secret weapon.

“But it looks sooo good on you. Don’t you want to look your best, just like any other young woman?” Carrie cooed at me.

This I was not prepared for, a blatant appeal to vanity followed up with a strong appeal to the logic of looking my apparent age. She had me; I was defeated. She was the master. I was about to hand her my verbal sword when she made a fatal error.

“You’re gong to want to start dating; this will help attract the boys.” The tables turned.

“WHAT!” I was outraged. “So this is your game? Have a boy in mind for me already, little Miss Matchmaker! A bit shy but with a great personality?”

I was red in the face and shaking with fury. Carrie’s expression went from shock, to fear, and then suddenly she began to laugh uncontrollably. I stared in disbelief, and then the light came on. I broke up. We must have been like that for some time, for when we finally got control of ourselves, we had collected a fair crowd of her fellow nurses. They stared though the now open door at the two of us lying exhausted on my bed. I stood up; my 40D’s straining to get free, then smiled.

“Well now that everyone is here, what do you think? Is it me?” I did a quick turn, trying not to giggle or jiggle too much.

“Damn, I gotta get me one like that; my husband will go crazy,” said a fit 30-something brunette.

“I wish I had the figure to pull that off,” a pretty but skinny gal in her 20’s said longingly.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that; it’s so tiny,” a voluptuous blonde of about 40 said.

“You’re gonna need a really big stick to beat the boys off, girl,” said a very tall, redheaded younger version of Lucy Lawless, and so it went.

“Oh well, if you got it, I suppose,” I admitted.

I got this wicked thought and gave into the "Dark Side".

“Before you ladies leave, just one question: Is my butt too big?”

“Oh you!” they said in unison.

They left, shaking their heads, the tall redhead looking back towards me several times until she was out of sight.

Now that I had some normal clothes, my powers evaluation could commence. Dr. Sara gave me one of those ubiquitous clip-on photo name badges. It identified me as a researcher in her department.

“This will let you move ‘round the hospital and not gather unwanted attention. This badge is also a smartcard, with it and your PIN you can go to and from the mutant wing at will, and through most other secured doors in the hospital,” Dr. Sara explained.

“Won’t there be questions asked? I look awful young for a grad student or a college freshman for that matter.” I asked.

“I’ve had some experience with the need to conceal an identity,” Sara spoke in a soft almost conspiratorial tone.

Her smile suggested she was having a bit of fun at my expense. Something about Sara’s and Carrie’s interactions and their appearance bothered me from early on, and then it dawned on me.

“Carrie’s a mutant isn’t she, and though it’s just a guess, is she a close relative, a niece? You look so much alike.

Then it hit me, “Your daughter.”

Sara’s eyes flashed at me; I must be treading on dangerous ground. She looked around then leaned in close.

“Don’t repeat what I’m about to say to anyone, ever,” she said in a flat, serious tone. “Your intuition is correct, but I don’t hide the fact she’s my daughter. I do conceal her mutant abilities, so she can have as much of a normal life as possible. Her empathic and telepathic abilities are part of why she’s employed in this department but no one here knows about them. Please be careful, I don’t want her hurt,” she said, struggling to hold back her emotions.

“The last thing I would do is hurt either of you. I know it’s your job and all, but without you two I would ...”

I had to stop, the words wouldn’t come. I don’t know if was my words, or the little lost child look in my eyes, whatever the reason, Sara swept me up in her arms and held me there. We held each other for some time, and when we broke apart, I knew I’d found my new Mom. She could never replace my dear biological mother, but somehow it felt right. In the short time I’d known her, I’d concluded she was what my mother could have been, if she’d come of age in more recent times. Social and intuitional pressures kept my mother from a career in math or science, despite a partial college scholarship. She ended up an executive secretary and stay-at-home mom, not that she ever complained. Sara was definitely a kindred spirit, bright and adventurous in spite of her fears. I would not let her be hurt, not if I had any say in things.

Note to Diary, I wish “Mom” could be with me at Whateley.

* * * *

December13, 2006 leaving Chicago on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 10:30am CST

Dear diary/journal/whatever, I made my connection just in time, and am on my way to Boston, the next major stop in my journey to Whateley. I must have made an impression riding through the streets of Chicago between train stations on my ancient Harley. Thank goodness it’s an unusually mild day; I wouldn’t want to do that in the snow. I hope no one recognized me, though I did get a few odd looks here and there. Now where did I leave off? Oh yah, my first “official” day as a lab rat.

I left my hospital room carrying a gym bag filled with clothes, shoes, a swimsuit, and towels. I dressed simply in walking shorts, a sleeveless “A” sport top, sport bra, ankle socks, and women’s walkers. No jewelry or makeup except for my new ladies triathlete watch, and ear studs to keep my piercings open. They already looked healed when I showed Dr. Sara last night, which surprised her as they should take days, or even weeks, to do that. As a test she took one out, and it started to close up in seconds; she barely put it back in time. She made some notes about that, and told me not to take them out for now.

I was led to my first powers evaluation by that same tall, redheaded nurse. I’d been warned that part of the powers testing was quite physical, so I dressed for battle. With my ID badge clipped high on my top and my long flaming hair scrunchied into a ponytail, I marched bravely into the lab. The physiological tests came first. I stripped, and that redheaded nurse fitted me with a smart, stylish web of medical sensors she glued to my skin. They connected to a small transmitter held over my backside with a belt. I carefully pulled my red one-piece swimsuit over it. It’s amazing how electrical wiring just goes with any fashion ... Not. Carrie chose red because it went well with my eye and hair color -- so she said. I knew this wasn’t going to be easy or pleasant, but it took a while to get comfortable wearing this, um ... network.

“Ah, Ms Joan,” said a powerfully built man. “What I’d like to do first is get baseline measures of your fitness. If you would climb onto the seat suspended above the tank over there, we can begin.”

The 30ish man in his lab coat - how original - gestured at a water tank with large windows on three sides. Water tank ... wires ... electricity?

“And you are?” I raised my eyebrows and placed my hands on my hips in a defiant pose -- that’s assuming one can look defiant in a swimsuit and bare feet. If Mr. Big, Dark, and Muscle-Bound was going to persuade me to get into a water tank wearing my electric swimwear, I at least wanted to know the name of my executioner.

“Sorry, I’m Dr. Alexander James Torkelson III. Quite a mouthful, I’m afraid, but you can call me Alex. He held out his hand to shake. As I did so, I noticed he wore no wedding ring.

~Um, single maybe, ~ I thought.

I also noticed there was quite a mouthful rising up in his trousers, a big mouthful.

~Ewh, I do not want to go there ... but still it is was rather flattering. ~

He noticed where I was looking. Now I was embarrassed.

“See anything you like, Miss?”

He had a broad grin on his face, his eyes locked on my, um, assets. Even through the suit’s built-in bra he could tell I was responding in kind. I looked away.

“I am sooo embarrassed, Doctor, I ... It’s just that ...,” I hesitated, not sure what to say next.

“Occupational hazard; happens all the time really. If you’re not comfortable with this, we can reschedule or assign a different physiologist. The last thing we want to do is be too hard on you.”

I let out a shriek, then began laughing uncontrollably. I got dizzy, and nearly passed out. Dr. Alex caught me and half dragged me to a nearby bench.

I regained consciousness, took a deep breath, and in as calm and steady a voice as I could manage asked, “Did you have to say ‘hard on’?” then I broke up laughing again.

Sometimes I think my inner child needs a good spanking, naughty, naughty. Once I calmed down, I was shocked, I’d never seen someone that big turn that red, not since my swim instructor accidentally did a total pancake belly flop off the springboard some 35 years ago. I noticed Alex’s new skin tone went well with his steely blue eyes.

~Oh, oh, this body will take some serious getting used to. Damn I need a cold shower. ~

“It’s okay Dr Alex,” I said sheepishly, “let’s get the tests over with. It’s just that I’ve only been like this,” I gestured along my body,”for a few days, and I’m just not used to it.”

Dr Alex got that clinical look on his still flushed face.

“Yes, I read your file. Parts are classified so I don’t have everything your primary physician Sara does, but I understand your physical appearance is significantly different than before your mutation,” he said.

“That is an understatement for the millennium, believe me, Doctor,” I replied resignedly.

“Not to pry, but I take it you weren’t nearly this attractive before? Not that you have to answer; I’m just curious.”

“How can I put it? Let’s just assume I was the same species before, and leave it at that for now.”

I decided to hedge my bets. I’d answered polite but very vague.

“Sorry. Would you get on the scale over the tank, please?” Alex asked.

“Okay, Doctor Alex, let’s have some fun, oh happy happy joy joy.” I climbed up onto the sling attached to the scale.

“Hold very still, please,” he said, then he wrote down a figure. “It’s okay to move, but stay in the sling. In a moment, I want you to lower yourself slowly into the tank, then grab the underwater handholds, and after blowing out as much air as you can, submerge yourself completely under the water. When I bang on the side of the tank, you can come up. It won’t take long, promise. This is the best way to measure your body fat to lean ratio. Ready?”

“I’m ready, Doctor.”

“Anytime, Joan.”

I did my bit, he soon banged on the tank loudly, and I climbed out. I forgot sound travels better underwater. I grabbed a bath towel from him gratefully. He looked at some gauges on the tank and wrote a few more figures.

“Thanks, Doc. That water was cold. What’s next?”

I dried myself off, then quickly wrapped the towel around me to hide my stiff and not so subtle highlights. In the meantime, he called in the nurse.

“We’ll measure your height, then the nurse here will take a few blood samples. Next you get to run on the treadmill and breathe through that wonderful mask and hose.”

“Sounds delightful,” I quipped.

“A stress test is not the most pleasant experience, I don’t enjoy them myself, but between the body sensors, infrared scanner, gas chromatograph, airflow measurements, blood and urine samples, we’ll get a good measure of you overall cardiovascular and aerobic fitness.”

He continued as the nurse did her job and left.

“You’ll need to change into your athletic shoes and socks but keep the swimsuit on. That way you won’t disturb the sensors, and you’ll stay cooler.”

“And I’ll show a lot more skin,” I quipped.

“Yah, well there is that too. Honest, it really will be more comfortable, and save you time.”

~Yah and he’s enjoying the view. ~

“I’m game if you are, let go.”

The nurse confirmed my height at 6ft ½ inches and weight at 145 pounds.

~Gee I lost less than two inches and over 80 pounds, not bad. ~

“145’s not fashion model thin, but okay I guess with my height.”

As he spoke, she hooked me up to the treadmill.

“It’s towards the very lower end of the recommended weight range for your height, but these charts can be misleading. The body fat and cardio/aerobic measures are more accurate. The water displacement and height to weight measures suggest you’re very healthy, very lean but not underweight. We need to be sure you’re not underweight, as that could cause serious trouble as you get older. Too many girls try to look like fashion models and teen singers, and some end up seriously malnourished. It sets them up for reproductive problems, and osteoporosis, in later life. You’re what, sixteen? Strange they forgot your age on your chart. Sorry, it’s marked as classified, um?”

“I’m of legal age if that helps, Doctor Alex,” I said.

“So you’re 18 then,” his face took on a curious blend of smiling and frowning, very odd.

“I’m over 18, Doctor. Let’s leave it at that,” I said defensively.

“All the more reason to do these tests, Joan, if you want to avoid trouble later on. I see you’re scheduled for a bone density test tomorrow, and radiology is examining the x-rays they took while you were still unconscious to check the maturity of your growth plates. Good, that means we’ll have news for you soon.”

He was deep into “professor” mode, I knew it well. I’d often been that way in the presence of a girl I was attracted to. I intervened.

“So, Alex, honey, when do we start this stress test?” I said this in the sexiest tone I could manage without breaking up - note the subtle emphasis on honey; I do have my moments.

“Oh, ah,” he said, “Right, on the count of three; one, two, go!”

The machine started, and so did I. After 30 minutes of gradually faster and steeper runs it slowed, and tilted back level to cool me down. We stopped; he looked at the printouts and smiled.

“Joan, you are in great shape; you must be on the university cross-country team, or play tennis or soccer for them because your response to exercise is that of a top endurance athlete.”

I smiled, knowing how far he was from the truth, but I kept quiet for now. He looked puzzled.

“In fact, your results are even better than that. Are you in training for the 2008 Olympic team?” I kept smiling. “Let’s get some more blood samples right away, nurse!

The rest of the morning went the same way. Every test we did, he thought the calibration of the machine was wrong, or set up incorrectly. I was pricked, poked, prodded, and made to pee in so many cups, I felt like a fast-food soda fountain. Alex finally thought I was some up-and-coming star of the Olympic team sent here as a practical joke on him. A med school rival and he interviewed for a job with the center in Colorado, He’d lost out, and thought this was a sick gag. He’s finally had enough.

“That’s it, a joke is a joke, but this is a waste of my time,” he said angrily.

“What do mean, Doctor Alex?” I was confused by all this.

“Don’t Doctor Alex me -- you’re not a mutant patient here; you’re just part of a practical joke that’s gone on too long and ... “

“But, Doctor Alex!” I cried in surprise.

I was hurt and scared; what had I done to anger him?

“If you think you can con me with that ridiculous sexy/innocent act of yours, you’re very much mistaken; you’re no mutant!” he said.

I looked away and started crying.

“And if you think a cheap trick like ... You really are crying aren’t you?”

I nodded my head, still trying and failing to slow my tears.

“You are a new mutant here for testing,” he said very calmly while moving on to the bench next to me and placing an arm around me in comfort.

I nodded yes again and resumed crying worse than before.

“I’m so sorry Joan. Just let it all out, it will be okay girl. Please forgive me, I was wrong to treat you like that,” he said, and my crying slowed to sniffles. “That’s better, Joan. I’m sorry if I was cross; it’s just your tests all came back so damn normal.”

“Normal, what do you mean by normal?” my crying stopped abruptly.

“Most mutants I’ve tested show unusual physiological responses. By that I mean they exhibit super speed, super strength, TK or telekinetic powers, electromagnetic abilities, and the like, but you don’t show anything.”

“I thought this was just the baseline physical testing, not a powers exam, Doctor Alex. What’s going on? I need an explanation.” I looked him in the eyes. “Please!” I pleaded; I was a wreck.

I guess the calm of the last few days was the lull between storms. The stress of this last week must have caught up with me.

“Joan, to be honest we were testing both at the same time.” he admitted.

“But why would you do this to me? I’m not...“ I said very worried.

“No no, it’s nothing to be frightened of, Joan. We just do the first powers tests on the sly, to get a more honest assessment. Not surprisingly, most new mutants try to conceal their powers, or give inaccurate test results because of unfamiliarity with their powers. The stress of the testing regimen is designed to make your powers come out by instinct, and that’s hard to fake or conceal.”

“So you trick us into using our powers?” I said with some anger.

“That’s a rather cynical way to put it, but basically true. It’s not that we’re devious or have sinister motives. Just think for a moment, Joan, I assume your transformation was unexpected, disorienting, and more than a little frightening?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, I’m still not very comfortable with what happened and why.”

“It’s often that way. You can understand how as stressed as most new mutants are, they don’t make for calm, cooperative test subjects. Sort of like walking into class, finding the all-nighter you spent cramming for math is really an essay on Hamlet.”

I smiled and stifled a laugh; Doctor Alex was being very nice. I had to respond but how?

“Thanks, Alex, I do feel better now.”

He smiled back. I noticed the time.

“When do we get a break? It’s nearly two if that wall clock is accurate. I’m getting very hungry. Oh and please call me Joanie.”

“You’re right, Joanie; we’re way overdue for a break. We should have stopped hours ago. Let me make it up to you by taking you to lunch in the Doctor’s Lounge, my treat.” he said; he seemed very sincere in a little-boy-lost sort of way.

“Alex, can I at least get out of these sensors? They’re getting uncomfortable.”

“Sure, we don’t need them anymore today. I’ll have them off in a jiffy. Let me get the nurse and the solvent, and we’ll get you cleaned up.”

That tall redhead came back again. Strange, I still don’t know her name. Doesn’t she have a nametag? Thirty minutes later, I was free of those annoying sensors, showered and dressed. Ah heaven, at least compared to the “network” I’d been wearing. I now wore fresh lingerie, a simple blouse, slacks and deck shoes I’d brought in my gym bag, put my hair back in a ponytail clip and was on my way with Doctor Alex to a very late lunch.

“I’m sorry that took so long, Joanie,” he said after a waitress took our orders. “Typically a test session breaks every 2 or 3 hours, we went nearly 5. I guess I got too wrapped up in it ... and you.”

The last bit he said under his breath, obviously not intending to say it out loud. I don’t think he meant for me to hear it, but I did.

“Doctor Alex, um.”

“Yes Joanie, call me Alex.”

“Alex, what did you mean by,” and you”?”

“You heard that?”

“Yah, I most certainly did. Care to elaborate?” I questioned him.

This was dangerous ground for him and me, but I was tired, very hungry, and wanted to be entertained, or maybe it was something else. Was I sizing him up as a sexual partner? This was weird on just so many levels.

~He’s one of my doctors; I’m way older than him chronologically; I’m way younger than him physically; I’m getting hints that I might have the beginnings of something good going on with Nurse Carrie, and I was a man less than a week ago. ~

If this kept up, I was going to make a lot of psychiatrists and lawyers very wealthy, very soon.

“Joanie I, ah, I,” he stammered.

“It’s okay Alex, I’m flattered, really I am, but we’re both under stress here, and I think we forgot ourselves a bit. Let’s not read too much into it; let’s both keep calm, professional but friendly and see how it goes from here, deal? I could sure use some more friends, especially male friends right now, and I hope you might be one for me,” I said to indicate we needed to back off, but that I was not totally unreceptive to his interest.

Note to diary; did I really think that then already? I’m still not sure of my interest in men, and it’s five months later, though I’m definitely warming to it -- as to females, more on that later. Sometime I feel like that old joke about answering a question on a form, “sexual preference; male/female? Yes, please.” I’m still very confused.

After an awkward pause, he spoke.

“I told the lab to rush your blood work and other sample tests. This afternoon,” I glared at him. “Yes, well what remains of it, will be easy, no physical stuff, promise.”

I smiled as he said this. A repeat of the morning marathon was not welcome. After lunch, we returned to his office off the lab.

“Ah good, the results are back. Give me ten or fifteen minutes to review and make some notations, then we can go over them. Where we proceed from here, the test will tell. Feel free to walk around the lab; just don’t touch anything, okay.”

Twenty minutes, and only one smoldering scorch mark on the wall later, he was ready, “That death-ray just went off by itself, Alex: I didn’t touch it, honest.”

I did bump its cart with my butt, purely by accident, but I wasn’t going to admit that to him.

“Joan, so far it all looks very good though a bit puzzling.” He said Joan? Okay.

“What do you mean, Doctor Alex?”

“Please, Joanie, ‘Alex.’ I thought we settled that back at lunch. Doctor Alex comes off so stuffy, okay?” he said and raised his eyebrows very Spock-like.

“Sorry, Alex,” I snickered.

He was getting a bit silly, but he had made me relax, which was his intention, I guess.

“Well, Alex, what are the results?” I asked.

“I’ve got good news and better news. Good news is you’re very healthy, and surprisingly normal as mutants go. If I didn’t know you were a mutant, it would be hard to tell from the tests so far. This should make it easier for you to live a relatively normal life,” he said.

“That sounds great, Alex, but how did I do? The way you were going on and on earlier about me not being a mutant, and being part of a practical joke, had to come from somewhere.”

He still hadn’t said much. I was curious as to why.

“How can I put this best? The tests failed to reveal any obvious mutant powers. You don’t have super speed, super strength, super elasticity, or anything like that. You don’t generate an electric field any different than so called normals, and you don’t project a telekinetic or TK field. Your blood, urine, sweat, infrared heat flow, and gases are all very normal. Your primary doctor says you show no signs of empathic, telepathic, or other so called powers of the mind. “

“Ok I’m Ms. Vanilla Ice-Cream here, Alex. So what is different about me that you don’t seem to want to tell me?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to; it’s that I just don’t know yet, though I have some theories I’m going to test with your help. That’s the better news; we get to spend more time together as you’re still quite a mystery to us.”

He looked very pleased with himself, like he’d won the lottery. Gee maybe I am that good looking. I figured I’d better derail that line of inquiry quickly.

“Can you tell me anything, Alex? Like what’s your best theory so far?”

“They’re all pretty raw mind you, but I’ll try. The big tip-offs to your powers fall in two areas. One, your physical measurements are very human, but near perfect for a normal human,” he said, groping for the right words at times.

“Perfect? How do you mean perfect?” His answer confused me.

“All your physical measures are at or very near that you’d expect of a top athlete or an Olympic champion. That’s why I thought you were an Olympic candidate. Your strength relative to your size, your speed, agility, reflexes, flexibility, well everything, is just so above the norm, but not supernormal. That is a clue in itself. No one normal is all these, not even a decathlon champion, iron man winner, or top woman gymnast. Your results are so good that with sufficient training to get the forms down, you would likely medal in any sport you wished.”

“What a shame mutants are banned from the Games. Sounds like I could have some fun,” I said a bit flippantly, but Alex smiled.

“The other clue is your endurance, Joanie. All the tests and samples we took point to the same conclusion. You have an incredible resistance to fatigue --how much so we can’t tell yet.”

“Come to think of it, the tests seemed awful easy. I never did feel tired on that crazy treadmill of yours.”

“That’s the point; you should have been exhausted. The Energizer Bunny couldn’t have done better, and we did check to see if you’re an energizer.”

“An energizer?”

“They can tap into electromagnetic fields or other sources of classical energy to augment theirs, but you showed no unusual energy flows in or out, nor any signs of magical forces at work, I may add.”

“Magic?” This was a surprise to me.

“We had our resident magic expert, or mage, a sorceress technically, check you out while you were being tested earlier. But she found no evidence of ley lines or any other sources of magical energies being disturbed. Before you ask, all objects are linked by ley lines. It’s a bit like gravity that way, but it’s magic, not classical physics,” he said; the light bulb flashed in my mind.

“Ah, the large mirror on the wall.”

“Very perceptive of you, Joanie,” he smiled, and snickered a bit.
.
“About as perceptive as a steamed clam, that window is obvious once you look for it, which, to be honest, I didn’t till now,” he smiled again.

“That what’s so puzzling and interesting, Joanie. You’re burning up all these calories in the tests, yet the blood work, urine, heat flow, and other tests give results as if you’re hardly working at all. You so show some metabolic waste products or fatigue chemicals in your samples, but at far lower levels than we’d expect, and your recovery time is way too fast,” Alex explained.

“So you’re saying I’m doing all this physical work, which should burn up loads of calories, but you can’t account for where it’s coming from or going to, right? Are you saying I’m violating the laws of thermodynamics and the conservation of mass and energy?” I asked quickly; this was getting weird.

“Have you taken a lot of physics, Joanie? That’s exactly the enigma you pose for us dear,” he asked.

~Dear, humm? ~

“Give me your best guess, Alex?” I asked; I was a little worried, and it wasn’t just about my strange metabolism.

“Most likely you’re a warper. Warpers manipulate, or ‘bend’, space-time.”

“Like the warp drive in the old Star Trek series?”

I was shocked; this was weird with a capital W.

“That’s pseudoscience or science fiction. We’re talking real science here, brew ha ha ha ha!”

He faked an evil laugh. I giggled a bit.

~Giggle? Oh oh! ~

“You got me hooked, Alex. Just what does a warper like me do?” I asked.

“In your case, it’s nothing to do with gravity; we measured nothing strange there. We -- being your Doctor Sara and I -- think your powers are liked to the time component of space-time, and possibly cross-linked to dimensions other than the classical x, y, z and time,” he said this with a very serious face.

I asked the obvious, “How does this affect me? What powers do I have?”

“We’re now sure yet, but it’s likely related to time. Some warpers can move themselves or objects through space like a sci-fi teleporter. From the symptoms you had at the start of your mutation, Doctor Sara and I think you’re a time-sensitive at minimum. That means you can definitely see or hear the past, and just possibly see into the future, to a limited extent.”

“But why could I see, smell, hear, and touch things in the past? I must have been there; it was so real,” I said, hungry for an answer.

“Two possibilities are the most probable. Visions of the past can seem very real, and most time-sensitive warpers are that way. They can see the past, but not interact with it. A small subset of time-sensitive warpers can alter the rate time flows relative to themselves and a small subset of those can actually travel from one time to another, but usually it’s very limited as to how far back in time and in duration. We think your powers fall into this last group,” he answered.

“So I travel through time, Alex?” I asked.

“Possibly; we’ll need to do more tests,” he replied.

“What about my appearance. Why am I so young?” I asked, realizing too late I may have said more than I should.

“You’re not barely over 18, Joanie?” Alex seemed surprised; Sara must not have told him everything.

~Oh yah, my charts had no age on them. ~

“Sara said you are a very special case, and I’d have to ask you for any of the restricted information. How old are you, Joanie?” he said, dropping the big one.

I decided he needed to know; I hoped I could trust him.

“Alex, one week before this Christmas I turn 49. I was born December 18, 1957.”

I waited. His jaw slowly dropped. I could see the shock in his eyes.

“That explains why some things you say sound so odd. The way you talk and act makes you seem older than you look. You sure are one for the books, Joanie,” he said, and looked embarrassed.

“Why are you embarrassed, Alex? I can tell.”

I didn’t fully understand him.

“Here I’m worried I have feelings for a patient who says she’s over 18, but all the tests, including her x-rays, suggest is 15 to 16 tops. Then I find out you’re old enough to be my mother. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.”

So, okak; he’s a bit agitated but basically cool with it.

“Think of it from my end, Alex. One day I’m middle-aged, next say I’m ... well ... jailbait. Not that its all bad; I am young again. They’re gonna freak at my 30th high school reunion. That’s for sure.”

“Need a date, Joanie?”

We both broke up. Nothing much got done the rest of the day, but we did set a schedule for the next day’s tests. I also got an offer to go to dinner at one of the better restaurants around the Capitol Square, which to my surprise I accepted. Sara said I could leave the hospital for short periods now as long as I kept her informed, longer with a chaperone. Hey, who am I to turn down a free meal?

Anyways this is just a social occasion to help me get at ease with my new self; it’s not like it a date. What kind of a girl do you think I am? I’ve enough complications without adding sorting out my sexuality into the mix. Let’s take things one step at a time, walk before we run, and so on. I told myself this frequently, those first few days after my transformation. I admit that part of me was eyeing Doctor Alex with less than professional interest, as another part of me saw Carrie in a similar light. I decided it was best to just take it slow concerning these issues, back burner them so to speak, and just work on getting myself together. I needed friends now, not lovers.

* * * *

University Hospital, Madison WI, July 9th and 10th, 2006

Alex and I finished our tests early the next afternoon. We weren’t much closer of the answers to who, why, and what I was, but we were closer to having a definite plan to find out.

“We’re finished for now, Joanie. I’ll write up my findings then meet with your Doctor Sara to devise a game plan for you,” Alex said.

“Game plan, Alex. What sort of game plan are we talking about?” I thought I knew but wasn’t certain.

“That’s what Sara and I will discuss. We need a plan to bring out your powers so we can learn their nature and limits, then you can gain control over them. The tests so far revealed only the barest glimpse of your potential. We need a way for you to explore and exercise your powers rather like an athlete in training. The trick is to figure out how to do it safely and discreetly.”

“How soon and what do I do in the meantime?” I asked.

“With luck, by the end of the week at the latest,” he said.

“Today’s Monday, so I only need to wait 4 or 5 days, I hope,” I wished out loud.

“That’s the goal. Sara may have interim results for you before then, so don’t worry too much.”

“I admit to being impatient, but I think I can wait that long Doctor Alex,” I said without thinking much about it.

“Why the ‘Doctor Alex’, I prefer plain Alex. I think of you as a friend, not just a patient Joanie.” He seemed a little hurt.

“Oh sorry, it’s just I need to keep my life simple for now, no complications. I don’t mind us being informal; I’d like to be your friend too. Can we just leave it like this for now? These last seven days have been very confusing, you know?”

“That’s fine with me, Joanie. I was a little worried I was getting too ... friendly with you. It’s always a risk when people work intimately together. It can be a quagmire for physicians, sometimes. I wouldn’t knowingly breach a patient’s trust, and the very nature of your condition makes that critical. I’d rather work with a friend than a patient any day.”

“So you see me as more a friend than a patient?”

“Frankly speaking, I see you, Joanie.” I smiled.

“And,” I prompted. This could be fun.

“Joanie is my very attractive friend, who I intend to do everything in my power to help find herself, as both her friend and doctor.”

“And,” I prompted him again.

“That’s good enough for now,” he finished.

That bomb was defused for now. Time would tell as to what might happen or not.

“Now that that’s settled, Alex, I’d still like to take you up on that dinner offer.”

I threw him a bone; anyway I needed to get out somewhere, anywhere. I was going a bit stir-crazy.

“You still want to go out with me?” I’d surprised him.

“Why not? You’re my friend aren’t you, Alex?”

“Guess I am at that,” he smiled back. “Is this Saturday, six pm too soon?”

“No, that’s fine, I’ll let Sara know. Just one condition, though.”

“Yes?”

“I’d like Carrie along as well. She suggested we go out clubbing sometime soon. She told me,”

“You have to have some fun, let off some steam and get back a bit into the real world,” he stated.

“I can’t think of anything I like more than a night out with you two.” I said this quickly, as I didn’t want Alex to think I was afraid of him.

I was more concerned of what might happen if we had too much to drink and ... oh my! Given the things I’d dreamt of since my change, I didn’t know if I could trust myself around anyone male or female. I hadn’t been this way since puberty.

“Alex, do I need to dress up? This restaurant doesn’t have a dress code, does it?” I asked nervously.

He laughed, then said, “Not much of one, Joanie, business casual is fine.”

“So the Daisy Dukes and braless crop top are out then?” The humor bug bit me again.

“Y ... you have D…daisy Dukes?” He took the bait, and I hadn’t even got to the braless part.

~You’re mine now, sucker. ~

I reeled him in.

“What do you think, Alex, dear?”

I love The Southern Bell. If I laid it on any thicker I’d have to join the Plasters Union. He floundered for an answer. I decided to let him off the hook and throw him back, um ... a fishy motif here. I could barely contain myself.

“The look on your face was priceless, Alex. Just having a bit of fun, Ghod I need to get out. Knee length skirt, sleeveless blouse and pumps okay?” I asked; I’d had my fun for now.

“That will do fine. Hell, you could wear leather and high heeled boots, and they’d let you in. Anything you can wear in some great public building is fine -- just don’t try setting fire to one. I know I have.” Alex replied.

“So you’re a fan of Monty Python too? Great we’ve got two comedians here.”

Note to Diary: little did I know how prophetic Alex’s leather comment would prove.

* * * *

To be continued (revised 07/21/2006)
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 5

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

In chapter 5, Joanie has a nice meal, meets the cream of the Dairy State's mutants, gets early results from her medical and powers exams, and finds her social calendar may get very busy, fast.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. I’m confident it’s derivative, unimaginative, dull, unitentionally plageristic, ungramatical and possibly hazardous to ones health. I ask you be gentle and constructive in your criticism. I’ve been a good boy, scouts honor. I did this for fun and in my appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit and enjoy. Remember this is non-canon not cannon fodder. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005 yada, yada, yada. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for further details. Please don’t hit me!

p.s. Any sugestions as to a better agent or agency are welcome, share and enjoy!

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 5-MSG and I’m a What?

Oriental Express’s Chinese Buffet Restaurant, Madison WI,July 10th, 2006

Yah yah dear diary/journal/whatever, I know chapter 4 goes from July 8th to 18th, but chapter 5 is July 10th, so sue me. It’s not like I’m all that competent with my warper powers yet, so I do tend to mess up the time line on occasion. Don’t worry; I’ll fix it long before Jerry Lewis is even close to becoming the 40th President. Hey it could be worse and that Regan guy gets in. Fooled you! Um, Regan never was President, was he? On second thought, maybe it’s easier to edit my diary/journal/whatever.

I ate with Carrie and Sara that evening at a local Chinese buffet. Cheap, tasty, and I was finally out of the hospital, whoopee! Well for a few hours anyhow. I said as much to them between mouthfuls.

“You needed to get out. All work and no play make Joanie a sad mutant,” Carrie said. Her mom just smiled unconcerned. I was worried with a capital W.

“What are you doing, Carrie, trying out me?” I whispered angrily in her ear. “You have no idea who might overhear that. If the wrong person hears or tells I’m dog meat.”

Carrie replied nonchalantly in a normal voice, “Nobody here cares that you’re a mutant, Joanie.”

“What? I thought you were a friend,” I nearly shouted.

I took a breath, turned and spoke in a low voice.

“And you, Doctor Sara.” I said, putting emphasis on Doctor, I was livid. ”My own doctor not caring a hoot about my safety. If this is how you really think of me, I’m out of here!”

I got up to leave. At that point, Sara then Carrie broke out in the biggest giggle fit I’d ever witnessed. Mad as I was, I got caught up in it, collapsing back in my chair crying and laughing my head off. Despite my distraction, I noticed all the other dozen or so patrons and workers in the restaurant laughing or smiling as well.

Once things calmed down, I asked out loud, “Would someone please tell me what’s going on here?”

I noticed a closed private party sign hung on the glass entrance door. A powerfully built, short twenty something man spoke first.

“I’m Badger Boy, and yes, I look a bit like and have similar abilities to that larger member of the weasel-family-monikered super hero but my claws are titanium, not adamantium steel. The cute oriental girl filling the buffet - she smiled and waved at me - is Ginseng Glory; she’s our resident magic user and has TK powers. The man at the register owns the restaurant; he’s Oriental Express and is a speedster.”

“So this is the Mutant Support Group you told me about the other day, Sara,” I said, then it hit me, MSG? “MSG meeting in a Chinese restaurant, that’s sick. Sara Sara Sara, shame on you. I damn near wet my panties.”

I grinned my biggest, happiest grin. I was Safe!

“You are as quick as Doc Sara said,” one of a pair of identical-twin college age boys said.

“And I’m happy to say you’re every bit as lovely as she claimed,” said his other half.

“We’re projecting empaths, and I think you’re one hot babe too,” said twin #one.

“And you two are?” I asked.

“The Platteville Pair,” they said in perfect unison. “Yes, we know it’s a lame code name, but the Dynamic You-Know-What is sooo copyrighted.”

“Holy injunction, Plattmen! To the Platt-cave!” I just couldn’t resist. I could hardly keep from singing, “Dada dada dada dada dada dada dada dada Plattmen!”

Okay, so I didn’t resist that either, I’m weak.

“Oooh ... that is just sooo BAD, I hope you’re one of the good guys and gals. If you’re not, were all DOOMED!” said an Amazon of a twenty-something redhead. “I’m Big Red, your basic super powered ‘brick’ little Miss Pun-O-Matic,” Red said with a silly grin on top her impressive frame.

“Little Miss? I’ll have you know I’m a full six foot plus, these babies are all mine,” I said pushing up my breasts with both hands, “And my hair is not out of a bottle Ms. Clairol light auburn!”

Red looked mad, maybe her hairdresser did know? I calmed down or got sane, whichever.

“Don’t hit me,” I said in my best impression of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; I opened my eyes wide and innocent, a sexy pout on my lips.

“Oh you!” she exclaimed straining to hold in her laughter.

I wised up, finally.

“You’re one of the nurses from the mutant wing, I recognize you from my lab tests and my unintentional fashion show the other day.”

I walked over and put out my hand to shake hers. She wrapped me up in a more than friendly bear hug as one hand squeezed my ass cheek.

~ Is she coming on to me? ~

She let go but gave me a good, slow, look up and down.

“I said it then, and I’ll say it now: you’re gonna need a really big stick to beat off the boys ... and the girls too,” she whispered that last bit in my ear.

Well now I knew which side of the fence she was on or straddling, or maybe she was just winding me up. I was so awestruck, I was verging on clueless or was it just my hormones?

Carrie introduced the rest of the group. “The spiky haired boy is Hodag; he’s an energizer. Don’t let him near your computers or TV. The boy with the crimson hair and cowboy shirt is The Cranberry Kid, he’s a TK flier. The Viking centerfold is Glacier Girl; she absorbs heat. Next to her,” she pointed at a spectacularly curvaceous brunette in bib overalls, “is Dairy Maid, a great devisor/gadgeteer. Last but not least, the young man in the cargo pants, duster, rock-pick holsters and cowboy boots is Driftless Dan. I forget what he is,” Carrie said grinning.

“Driftless Dan, how’d you get that moniker?” I asked.

“Cause I live in the driftless area. Don’t you know your Wisconsin geology?”

“Oh, where the glaciers didn’t reach or didn’t reach much. No glacial drift, i.e. no glacial deposits, thus driftless area,” I replied — I’m not a ‘blonde’, I only play one in real life.

“Beauty and brains yet nearly a blonde, amazing,” Driftless Dan smiled then slouched back in his chair. “By the way I’m a phase shifter and have electromagnetic powers. The rock picks help me focus that last power.”

Sara spoke, “I brought Joanie along to our bi-monthly meeting to prove to her she’s not alone in this. If we can move into a circle here, I’d like you to tell Joanie and the rest of us a bit about your powers and origin. Joanie’s still is being evaluated, so we don’t know her powers in any detail, but they’re definitely warper class.” Several looked impressed as warpers are comparatively rare I was told later.

“Joanie, do you have a code name yet?” asked Ginseng Glory; that girl had pixie cute down to a science.

“No, not yet, I’m very new at all this mutant business,” I said a bit timidly.

“Gin, Joanie’s mutation started this July third,” said Sara.

“Wow, no wonder I’ve not seen you here before. I’d remember you if I had. By the way, I was the sorceress that evaluated you in the lab,” said Gin.

She had a hungry look in her eyes. What am I, bi-bait? I’ve been in the group barely ten minutes and at least three have hit on me if you count Platt-man two or was that Platt-man one — sorry, four people.

“You know,” I said very matter of fact, “A famous comic book superhero once said ‘with great powers come great ... risk of lawsuits for copyright infringement.’ Or something to that effect;“ I said -- several members snickered, “But with the way you guys and gals have treated me, it should read ‘with great powers come great libidos.’ My social calendar will be booked for months sorting through you lot.”

Most of the gang laughed, Sara rolled her eyes at me, but a few blushed with embarrassment. Now I really know why they call her Big Red.

“Sorry if I hurt anyone’s feelings, but seeing as we’re all young looking and super whatever, we’re bound to be a bit wild in the hormone department,” I said; Sara nodded. “Hey, I don’t mind, flirt away, just don’t get too serious about it. I haven’t sorted out myself out yet,” I said, then I laughed slightly nervously but it felt good to get it out in the open.

The Mutant Support Group, MSG, proved a big help, I kept in touch with them often, Big Red stopping by my room regularly and e-mailing me when she was out of town on MSG business. Privately a very soft, sweet gal despite her impressive build and brick powers, I think she saw me as her “little sister” as we were physically similar. At least that’s what I thought then, though later ... Sara had kindly provided me an encrypted laptop, so I could remain discreetly in touch with my immediate family. My dad and sister knew I’d had an “accident” and could not have any visitors but were out of the loop for now. Once my powers were evaluated, we would know if it was safe to try and resume my old life.

The next few weeks and months were a blur of woman 101, taught by Carrie and some members of MSG, particularly Big Red and Ginseng Glory. Red and Gin were especially helpful in developing my sense of fashion and social graces, respectively. This is not to diminish Carrie’s role in the least, she was the glue that held everything together, very sexy looking glue at that; damn my new hormones. Red and Gin supplemented Carrie, they did not replace her. Red’s 6ft 2in flawless Amazon body with her pale skin and red hair was much closer to my appearance than Carrie’s, as lovely as the 5ft 6in olive skinned brunette was. Gin, though equally attractive, was a pixyish Hmong descendant, so styles suitable for her seldom worked for me. That was very important, as the purpose of all this was to reintegrate me with society. I needed to look and act the part of a tall, pretty teen coming of age. Hide in plain sight comes to mind. It’s not so much I wanted to dress and act like I eventually did; it’s that I had to for my own safety.

Gin came from an immigrant Hmong family in Wausau not far from Poniatowski, may that name ever be cursed or blessed. Hers are very traditional parents but pragmatic and want the best for their three daughters. Gin, the oldest, is the only mutant so far. As to her magic and TK powers, she’s a Tasmanian devil, but it was her social skills I needed. From Gin, I’ve learned quiet grace and elegant manners. I’ve become quite a refined young lady, honest, no lying. - Note: sticks out tongue defiantly. - It was on an end of summer road trip, with Gin, Carrie and Red, that I made the breakthrough utilizing on my powers.

Sara, Alex and my friends at MSG tried every trick they had to get my powers to surface, but it fizzled mostly. They tried hypnotherapy, sleep deprivation, drugs, visualization, role playing, hand to hand combat, even electrical shocks but to little effect. A few times in tests, the precision chronometers showed a difference between my personal time and the real world. It was just a momentary asynchronicity, a few tenths of a second but it was measurable. For comparison, the Apollo 12 Moon landing was the furthest and fastest mankind had traveled, at that point. They theoretically earned a few billionths of a second overtime due to relativistic effects. Sara and Alex were excited when this occurred.

“Just relax and don’t think too much; it will come to you in time,” Sara offered.

“Your first time powers episode was by accident, maybe you’ll rediscover them in the same way; One day nothing then the next, Eureka,” suggested Alex.

“Alex, what would I be doing at a boat lock on the upper Fox River? I don’t even own a boat.”

“Eureka, very funny, Ms. Wisconsin Atlas.”

Alex smiled his usual “Oh Baby, want to come to my place and fornicate?” smile. I figured he did it unconsciously, but when I asked Carrie, she said about the only time she’d seen him do it recently was when I was around.

“I have to talk with him in private real soon. Know any place I can get a large can of pepper spray? It’s either that, or he gets neutered.”

Carrie laughed but she knew my discomfort with my newfound status of walking, talking sex object. My big shock came when Carrie admitted to not being immune to my newfound charms and didn’t want to be either.

~Oh my! ~

Sara had told me I could tell her or her daughter my darkest secrets as they were there to help me and considered me a friend. Carrie confessed the night after our dinner with Alex that she was bi and felt a growing attraction to me. It was more than just the “forbidden fruit” aspect of being a patient or the “exotic appeal” of my being a former man, it was the “Goldilocks Syndrome” as I came to call it. Big Red was too red and strong, Ginseng Glory was too dark and too petite, but I was strawberry blonde and just right.

“If it bothers you, I can get Mom to assign another girl to you, Gin or Red would be good choices,” she said this apologetically and looked sad.

“No no, Carrie, that’s unnecessary. It’s very forthright of you tell me, and I don’t think any less of you personally or professionally. I’m flattered, honest.”

She relaxed and smiled. I resolved to stroke her libido or was I mine?

“If anything it will make you a better instructor in the womanly arts,” I said sensuously.

She perked up and asked, “Womanly arts, Joanie?”

“After girl 101, I’m eventually going to need some, um ... advanced education. Give me a little more time; I may just need you for some one-on-one instruction,” I smiled seductively.

She made this high, squeaky shriek, then gave me a most wonderful hug and polite kiss on my cheek.

“My pleasure, Carrie,” I said softly, I meant it too.

~ Whoa that felt gooood. ~

“You’ve made me so happy. If you really mean it I can wait, Joanie.”

Okay diary/journal/whatever readers, now that its some five months later and I’ve left Madison for Whateley, what if anything happened between Carrie, Red, Gin or even Alex and yours truly? None of your damn business! I may throw you a crumb or two later but for now, suffice it to say, I didn’t leave Madison because of any of them. I’ll let my recollections of the Labor Day road trip speak for itself, when I get to it.

* * * *

December 13, 2006 somewhere in Pennsylvania on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 5:30pm CST

Sorry diary/journal/whatever readers for jumping off track. Here I’m talking about my emerging sexuality and I haven’t even described the results of all those tests. I was curious too at the time, still am. That’s another reason for my trip to Whateley; they still haven’t fully determined my powers or their extent. We know a lot more, and I have considerable control over two of them now, though not in time to prevent a lot of complications that made my choice of Whateley all the more urgent. Mind you something good, very good, came of it, I’ll explain later. Anyway, there are still some blanks to fill powers wise, thus Sara and her mentor both recommended Whateley, so here I am derailed in a manner of speaking. Speaking of jumping off the track, that’s why I’m stuck here in the middle of Nowheresville PA, we’re waiting for track repairs. Should still make Whateley on time, I planned for this.

* * * *
I met with Sara, Alex and Carrie a few days after our night out.

“Joanie, we’re stuck for the moment on how to proceed with your powers training. Frankly, we still don’t have your mutant powers fully categorized or rated beyond a rough and ready guesstimate. I’ll summarize were we are now, then we can look at were you need to go. Between the four of us, we should come up with something productive,” Sara said.

“I’m listening, Sara.” I said.

“For now, I’ve classified you a level 2 or 3 exemplar and a warper, subclass time sensitive, level unknown but probably 3 or above. You’re a high level regen, level 4 or higher and there’s an outside chance you’re an empath/telepath, but we’re not sure.” Sara waited for this to sink in then went on. “In plain English, exemplar means you’re an idealized version of yourself, the level 2 or 3 means your physical measures are as strong, flexible, quick and attractive as a human can be without being superhuman. In all physical aspects, you’re human but a very fine one.”

“So no super powers then? I so wanted a cape, boots and spandex body suit,” I said, then pouted — why did I do that?

“Not like in the comic books, no, Joanie. No heat vision, super speed or mega strength, but with some practice you could kick ass in the WAAU or NCAA,” Alex added. “You have world or even Olympic class physical performance but are no brick or speedster.”

“So the exemplar stuff means I’m a very athletic and attractive girl, but what does the rest mean?”

Sara spoke. “We’ve confirmed you’re a warper with time related powers. Warpers manipulate space-time, the very fabric of the physical universe. Potentially very powerful but usually limited to specific abilities. Some warpers fold space-time and teleport objects or themselves. Some warpers alter their density or their phase and can pass through solid objects. Think of phase as similar to a radio frequency. Some warpers bend light or alter their density and become invisible. Warpers are not a common type of mutant, but you, Joanie, fall into the very rare subclass of time sensitives/time manipulators. Most see visions of the past -- your classic clairvoyant. A few can navigate the possible time streams and see a bit of the future -- these are the precognitive. You are one of the rarest of the rare, an actual time traveler/time manipulator. In theory you can physically move between the now and past points in time and back again. You can even interact and bring objects with you. The tests and day of your mutation prove most of that. You may also be able to alter the rate that time flows within a limited area. This means you may be able to slow or stop time, maybe even back it up some but to a limited extent. No clues as to you and precognitive powers, but it could be part and parcel of your class of warper.” Sara waited for my response.

“I’m a top of the line human but not superhuman, and I travel back and forth in time, interact with the past, alter or stop the flow of time over a limited area, and maybe even see into the future, but we haven’t a clue how I do it? Did I leave anything out?” I said taking a much needed breath.

“That’s basically it, Joanie, except for the regen powers,” said Alex.

“I’ll bite. What’s a regen and how does it relate to me? I’m guessing regen is short for regeneration or regenerator.” This was getting interesting.

Carrie spoke, “Very good, Joanie, regens have unusually fast or powerful abilities to heal themselves or sometimes others, and extreme resistance to disease. Mom and Alex think you’re a high level regen -- that’s level 3 and up.

“You like TV trivia? You certainly spout it often enough,” said Sara.

“Yah yah, Sara, I talk too much some, well lots of times. What’s the point?” I was a little miffed.

“We think you’re like those old watch ads, you’ll take a licking and keep on kicking.”

~Oooh that one was painful, I must be rubbing off on Sara. ~

“So you think I’m real tough. Sorry, Sara, I stubbed my toe the other night, and it hurt like hell.”

Alex spoke next, “Your resistance to injury is not so much the issue as to how fast and well you recover. You’re not bulletproof: you can’t leap over tall lawsuits in a single cliché, but should you ever get injured, even life-threatening or usually fatal injuries, you’ll quickly and flawlessly recover.”

“I can’t be permanently hurt?” This conversation was getting too strange.

“That’s what the cell cultures and your aerobic fitness results suggest. It was your pierced ears that helped clue us in on this, Joanie. I’ve sent samples and copies of your tests to a facility out East that specializes in mutants, ARC. Doctor Otto there was a mentor of mine, and he’s agreed to consult on your case, but we’re both keeping it discreet. You’re just an unknown mutant who’s undergone a male to female...

--THUMP! —

Alex? Alex? Alex can you hear me Alex?”

Sara held his limp head as he lay collapsed on the floor.

She spoke very slowly, “You didn’t tell him about that aspect of your transformation yet, did you ... Joanie.”

It was like she was Mom, and I was holding a red crayon in my hand, red crayon marks all over the wall as she waited for me to confess.

“The right moment hasn’t presented itself yet.”

“And pray tell what is the moment you were waiting for?” she said in her mother knows best tone.

“Hell freezing over felt pretty good,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Ah!” was all she said.

“I wanted to tell him for some time, but you’ve seen how he looks at me,” I tried to defend my actions or rather inaction. “Every time I got even close to talking about my big ‘secret,’ he’d get these huge puppy dog eyes and ...” I had to stop for a moment.

“You didn’t have the heart to tell him,” Carrie said completing my sentence; the girl’s an empath/telepath after all. Carrie paused for a moment, “My Ghod you’ve got the hots for Alex.”

Carries tone said she didn’t want to believe what she’d sensed in me. I wasn’t any happier myself at her revelation, but she was right.

“I may be a former man, but this body has a mind of its own. Looking at him, what gal wouldn’t be interested at some level, not that I’d do anything about it now at least,” I explained.

I’d decided it was best I talk to Carrie privately and soon to let her know that, in no uncertain terms as a former man, this woman was still attracted to particular women, and she fit the description perfectly.

Alex came to. “I just had the strangest dream; I thought you used to be a man.”

“Up ‘til July third but not anymore, sorry I didn’t tell ... Alex ... Alex?” I had more pressing issues to deal with. “Sara, while Alex recovers, okay if Carrie and I take a coffee break, back in say half an hour?”

“Sure he’ll be fine,” Sara replied.

“Carrie, let’s go.”

I smiled sweetly and motioned for her to follow. She came but still looked sadly disappointed. We found a quiet corner in the staff lounge, put down our coffees on a table and sat facing each other.

I checked we had some measure of privacy then spoke, “Carrie how do you see me? Please be honest.”

She had a confused look on her face but as she spoke it slowly shifted to one of hopeful joy.

“I see a beautiful young woman whose mind is a mix of naíve wonder at her new life and body and of years experience as a man. I see a woman full of deep regrets and fear but overall an increasing sense of joy and optimism for her future. Most of all I see a shy, almost timid individual who’s swiftly blossoming into a confident, outgoing and utterly irresistible creature I am strongly attracted to.”

“And?” I asked trying to conceal my evolving feelings for her. A look of surprised delight came on her face.

“You are attracted to me as more than a friend.” She looked very happy.

I answered teasing her a bit but in a nice way, “And why wouldn’t I be? I made a lot of mistakes in the past, and I don’t intend to repeat them. I may not feel comfortable in my new relationship to men, but I’m still attracted to women.” I paused for effect. “And you dear, Carrie, most definitely qualify as a Woman.”

“I’d like that more than you can imagine, Joanie, but I don’t want to hurt you. It’s also possible that this could be considered a breach of professional ethics on my part.” Carrie’s longing and concern were etched on her face.

“You’re not my doctor or therapist so I don’t see any conflict of interest. If we act on our feelings, it would be by two consenting adults, so don’t worry, whatever happens, happens. Okay, Carrie?”

“Okay, Joanie,” she said with a sly impish smile, “just not too slow. I turn 18 in a month after all. I wouldn’t mind a present.”

“No wonder Sara is so, you know; until 18 then, cutie.”

I gave her a peck on the cheek. I hadn’t done that in years, it felt great. We’ll see later, I guess.

~ She’s 17? ~

Carrie and I started our way back to Sara and Alex.

“Tell you one thing I learned, Carrie.”

“What’s that Joanie?”

“Now I know why Alex seemed so upset when I insisted he take us both out to dinner, professional detachment my ass.”

“I think he’s interested in more than your ass, Joanie.”

We must have been a sight giggling as we walked slowly down toward the mutant wing.

* * * *

To be continued (revised 07/30/2006)
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

This chapter is dedicated to my older sister Ann who died 12/31/2005 aged 50. You’ll be missed, your brother John.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 6

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie learns first hand of the "joys of womanhood". Later her girlfriends devise a plan to make her look more like an adult -- albeit a kinky one -- instead of perpetual jail-bate.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece and you can tell. I’m certain it’s derivative, unimaginative, dull, unitentionally plageristic, ungramatical, and possibly hazardous to ones health and sanity. I ask you be gentle and constructive in your criticism. I’ve been good, scouts honor. I did this for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit and enjoy. Remember this is non-canon not cannon fodder. All rights reserved in perpetuity, which is a very long time. John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005 yada, yada, yada. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for details. Share and enjoy. Please don’t hit me!

p.s. Sugestions for a better agent or agency are welcome. I’m desparate here, mind you they’re better than my previous agent Mr. A. B. Normal. He quit to work for L. Ron Hoover and the Church of Appliantology.

(If you figure out these last two silly references, boy do you know the 70’s — my condolences.)

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 6-Leather
State Street, Madison WI, August 9th, 2006

December 13, 2006 near Albany New York on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 11:30pm CST

And now for something completely different; it’s ... my last entry for the day. Sorry about that diary/journal/whatever I’m remembering my relief at surviving the first few weeks of August. The month started out bad and went downhill from there, or so I thought at first. Funny what you think was so bad at the time wasn’t and might even been good after all. One experience in particular was very uncomfortable, but the implications are joyous in the long run.

My life settled to a routine after those first crazy few weeks in the hospital ended. Sara moved me into a small apartment block just off campus, a sort of half-way house for mutants. Sara and Carrie lived in the building, so help was just an intercom away. Mornings were spent in various physical activities and tests, often with the help from MSG. We followed the game plan suggested by them at the Chinese buffet meeting. This combined strenuous physical conditioning to improve my fitness if possible and my body image awareness, which I definitely could improve on. We hoped as my mental body grew to match my physical body I might discover how to control my power, i.e. mental image=physical reality=BIT=eureka. You can tell I’m not a mathematician, but you get the concept. At least it would keep me busy and make me more comfortable with my new body.

Afternoons were a mix of occasional medical tests (fewer and farther between), basic mutant history and mutant laws taught by MSG or Carrie. Then followed the most important of all, Woman 101 taught jointly by Carrie, Big Red and Ginseng Glory. Woman 101 was increasingly a field course, I found to my delight and occasional horror. From the last week of July on I was subject to a constant and merciless bombardment of womanhood by The Gang of Three. Everything from fashion and makeup styles in vogue today to highly practical lessons like woman’s hygiene or hair care and control i.e. styling. Long hair may be sexy, but it’s high maintenance.

The um ... hygiene lessons came in handy starting at the end of July when I discovered to my joy I was not just a mutant but a PMS’er. I just thought I was a bit moody and well, um sexually frustrated for some reason, stress maybe. Waking August 4th I learned where my moodiness and other symptoms came from. The stress of my mutation had delayed the start of my cycle a few days. I clearly was a heavy flow type, ewh what a mess! I’ll never tease my sister or any woman about it ever again, promise; well maybe a little. It helps to laugh about life’s tribulations sometimes. The really fun part, at least for the gals and my sister when I finally told her, is that none of the usual drugs to ease menstrual symptoms such as ibuprofen or naproxen sodium worked for me. Sara’s tests show I metabolize drugs, any drugs, so fast they can never build up to a therapeutic level in my blood. Oooh such a big word ... and they say a college education isn’t what it used to be.

It’s not that bad at least I don’t get violently sick to my stomach like my mom did up until her first pregnancy. Pregnancy, now that is one way to control my PMS for a while. I’m not sure I like the side effects of that prescription though I’m told getting it filled can be a lot of fun. Enough with the smutty double-entendres and on to what you know you want, dear diary/journal/whatever readers, Shopping! Cue music: Valley Girl by F. Zappa. Sorry, got over enthused there.

I was feeling pretty good by the night of August 8th, so The Gang of Four -- I was now a member in good standing -- decided I needed cheering up so a shopping expedition to State Street was planned for the next day. State Street is a pedestrian friendly area of quirky shops and bistros that cater heavily to the nearby UW-Madison crowd. They explained it to me the morning of the 9th.

“But I’ve plenty of clothes now,” I said in protest.

“Two pairs jeans, two pairs brown slacks, four blouses, one plain blue over the knee dress, four pairs of shoes including trainers, some socks, six bras, ten panties, a red one-piece swimsuit, no stockings, no pantyhose, no skirts and only one bikini -- that’s not a wardrobe, that’s not even an emergency care package, girl,” said Carrie with considerable emphasis.

Red spoke, “How we see it, Joanie,” they all nodded conspiratorially, “You need to develop a style suited to your looks, and build, and acquire a wardrobe to match. We see a proper wardrobe as key to solving two of your biggest problems. Number one, your total lack of a costume or even a personal style, very important for us superhero mutant types.” She grinned. “Seriously, your image is important, and you may want to have a second persona handy if you ever need to protect your personal life from too much scrutiny. Number two, your body screams Female and SEX, your face screams naíve and Jailbait. No one will ever take you serious as an adult, and Carrie has assured Gin and I you are an adult despite looking like you do.”

Gin took over. “What Red’s saying is we need to work with what you’ve got and work around what you don’t have. We’re changing your look from teen SEX object to sexy, confident young woman. We’re gonna make you look older, confident, classy, a bit dangerous and worldly. Face it, you look like the cover girl for some jailbait monthly or worse, 'Tigerbeat'. As your friends, we’ve come up with ‘The Plan.’”

“And ‘The Plan’ is?” I asked apprehensively.

“LEATHER!” they shouted in unison.

“Leather, what do you mean by leather?” I asked,

Red spoke first. “Joanie, with those legs, your tall athletic body, and those breasts, all that hair, and those eyes, you need leather.”

“Like a bomber jacket? I know they look great but in the Summer?” I questioned.

“No, no, no, dear Joanie.”

Why was Red calling me dear?

“We said leather; we meant leather.”

Gin took over. “By leather Red means everything leather. Leather shoes, slacks, hot pants, mini skirts, bustiers, bras, bikinis, vests, caps, gloves, accessories, you name it.”

“Leather everything? That’s going to be awfully expensive and physically uncomfortable,” I argued.

“Not totally leather -- you can wear some great lacy black or red undergarments, black silk blouses, hose and such as necessary, but leather will embody the overriding concept and be the primary components of your outfits,” Carrie explained.

“And don’t forget the boots -- high heeled, high top custom boots,” said Gin with a tad too much enthusiasm for my comfort.

Red was practically drooling after Gin spoke, and Carrie, well, Carrie had that look in her eyes -- that look of anticipation and lust. Ghod I hoped I was truly a card carrying lesbian or at least bi, or the next few hours were not going to go too well.

“Okay, say I agree with your premise, I still can’t see how to afford it.”

~There, I’ve got them. I’m acting reasonable but I’ve put up a legitimate roadblock in their path. ~

Red spoke, “That’s why we’re going to State Street and not some suburban mall. Some of the best, “

“Funkiest,” injected Gin,

“Sexiest,” added Carrie,

“Used and vintage clothing shops are on or near State Street. That’s how we can both get you a distinctive style and do it on a budget,” said Red with real conviction.

“But how are we going to find anything that fits? I’m not exactly a standard size. How many six foot one-half inch tall, 145 pound, 40D-24-35 women are there. Be reasonable.” I was grasping at straws now; I was desperate.

“Ah dear Lady, that’s where our inscrutable Amerasian friend comes in so handy.”

~ Good lord, Carrie’s doing a bad Charlie Chan impression, as if there are there any others. Damn me and my fondness for old films. ~

“What Carrie means is, I know how to tailor and sew clothes, especially leather.” Red gave Gin a knowing grin and a nod. “I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”

Gin made a sexy pout. The gears turned in my mind and something clicked.

“So ... if we can’t find any woman’s leathers that fit you’ll cut down and re-tailor plus size and men’s leather goods. Well thank you, Martha Stewart Jr.”

I raised my arms in surrender and we climbed in Red’s F250 crew cab (red of course) for the short trip to State Street and my date with ... the horrors of retail. Brew ha ha ha!

* * * *

Cue music: Black Leather by Grand Master Flash, sung by Joan Jett

It wasn’t as bad as I thought though; the gods of retail/resale were merciful. Most of the stuff they mixed and matched for me was of good quality and in decent taste. A few items were a tad racy; the dark red bustier, skin-tight hot pants combo in calfskin comes to mind. I have to admit when I saw it on myself in the shop mirror, I had to agree with the choice. I did look good in them, scratch that -- I looked great. The way they clung to my body and complimented my skin tone, hair and copper eyes was amazing. That and those fire engine red go-go boots with the funky 5 inch heels, Steve Zink number twos -- I think they’re called. No one would mistake me for jailbait in that getup. I looked like a refugee from an adult version of Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-in. Sock it to me!

We ransacked the shops like some bizarre Viking raiding party. The shopkeepers weren’t too happy with us at first with mess we made, but we all bought a lot of stuff, especially me. Mind you, Red and I managed to get some serious discounts, if you had to deal with two six foot plus gals who looked like escapees from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition would you say no? That helped us stretch our dollars, shame on us.

~If Dad can get a senior citizen discount, it’s only fair I get a serious cleavage discount. Particularly after the way that last clerk drooled at me, shame on her! ~

After a while, we had quite a crowd of admirers, male and female, following our manic shop-till-you-drop crusade, and they bought stuff too. Monkey-see-monkey-do I guess, that and the effect of all those hormones we stirred up. We broke from the crowd and carried our loot to the pickup.

“That wasn’t near as bad as I thought, girls. What’s next, lunch and unpacking our stuff?” I asked.

“One last stop, Joanie. Don’t worry you’ll love it,” Carrie said.

~ Oh oh. ~

I didn’t like the mischievous look in her eyes. We locked up and walked back towards the shops.

“Be afraid, be very afraid,” I muttered under my breath.

“You will be afraid,” Gin said, this in her Yoda voice.

She must have heard me. We turned the corner and I saw it.

“Please don’t tell me we’re going in there.”

“We’re going in there, Joanie.”

“I asked you not to say that.”

“Get Smart, Agent 86,” they said simultaneously.

“I think we’ve been spending way too much time together,” I said. I looked at the shop window. “I really don’t feel too good about all this. This place looks like it sells fetish gear.”

“Well duh,” said Gin, ”but they do make the very best custom footwear. Their boots are to die for.”

Gin did a rather sexy turn for me, and I realized the slick looking ankle boots she wore must be from here.

“If yours are an example of their workmanship, I’m game.”

- Note to readers: 'These Boots are made for Walking' is appropriate music at his point. Indulge yourselves.

I ended up ordering three pairs totaling over 1000 dollars, but damn it, I’m worth it. Perhaps it’s being an ex-male, but I’m embarrassed to say my favorite is a pair of custom fit knee high cavalry boots with retention straps and three inch block heels with a steel reinforced insole for motorcycle riding.

“One number seven Steve Zink special modified with motorcycle heel,” the shop owner called back to his shoemaker.

Apparently the number seven usually has a six inch spike heel. The motorcycle is another part of ‘The Plan’. My sexy, confident, competent adult look required a coordinated vehicle, or so they told me.

“But I’ve got a 2005 Focus; it’s barely a year old!” I argued forcefully. Red replied with obvious distaste.

“Yes, but green?”

-- Note: actually light tundra according to Ford. Gees, who comes up with these names? --

“So it’s stealthy. Sometimes a low profile is good,” I said.

“Joanie, it’s so low it’s practically underground,” she replied.

Red saw my feelings were hurting. Man, uh girl can I do a pout or what. She backed off some.

“I’ll admit its practical, but you need something flashier like a pickup,” Red offered.

“Yah, you would say that Ms 4X4,” Gin said in mock anger, “Not that it doesn’t suit you and your Amazon warrior chic, but Joanie here needs something uniquely her.”

“PT Cruiser,” Carrie suggested.

“Too girly in a sexy retro way. Screams suburban mall rat,” said Gin.

~ Odd she drives a PT Cruiser. ~

“A hot convertible in red, yellow or black, maybe a Thunderbird or Mustang, since Joanie’s into Fords?” Red countered.

“Closer but predicable, much too tall blond Barbie Doll-esque for my taste; just picture it in pink, euw!” Gin said.

Mind you, she is barely five foot three.

Carrie spoke carefully, “This is Wisconsin after all -- how about a Harley, at least for the warm weather months?” This had some merit.

“My grandfather worked for them many years, so it’s kind of appropriate though he did forbid his daughters to ever ride on one. He said they were too dangerous,” I replied; Gin argued with that.

“Well you’re not his daughter, and a cycle is like just so kick-ass biker kewl!”

“Oh dear I’m hanging with a Valley girl Hell’s Angel. Did I just say that out loud?” Her steel-toed boots kicking my increasingly sore shins soon confirmed my hypothesis.

“Okay okay, I’ll get a motorcycle sometime next week. Damn it, Gin, that hurts!”

“Not soon enough. Badger Boy has a friend who restores and sells used cycles. I called and he has a couple Soft tails and a Sportster on hand. You’re getting properly dressed, then we’re off to the shop, Today.” Red said pulling up to her full height.

To cut to the quick, I bought a late 1980’s Harley Soft tail in pretty decent condition at a very reasonable price. He threw in licensing and lessons for free. We were friends of Badger Boy, though I think the clincher was the outfit I was almost wearing.

“Girls, this outfit’s positively obscene. You can practically see my nipples out the top of this busti-whatever.”

“That’s bustier, Joanie,” said Carrie. “Don’t worry, the cups have a special gripper lining. You could bounce on a trampoline all day, and they won’t pop out, well, not too often anyway.”

“Okay then, but these hot pants are worse. I swear my cheeks are sticking way out, and the way this leather molds to my skin, I don’t even want to think about what’s on display in front.”

I was upset and scared but more than a little turned-on. I admitted as much to the gals.

“That’s the whole idea, Joanie,” Carrie said.

“To look, and feel, like a slut?”

“No to look and feel like you haven’t a care in the world and could care less about what others think. Anyway your French-cut panties cover all your vital bits,” said Gin confidently.

“Yah and really well too,” said Red with all the gay abandon of an alcoholic in a brewery.

“Down, Red, bad girl,” I said then grinned. “Not that I’m unappreciative of the thought. Just keep it on hold for awhile, okay, Red? I’m still getting used to my mutant makeover.” Red looked a bit embarrassed and disappointed. “Now I’ve hurt your feelings, Red.”

She was fighting back the sniffles. Imagine an Amazon crying. Eeek!

“Carrie, we may need to re-think the privacy seal on my, um ... origins. I trust you and I trust Red and Gin to be discreet. It’s time to let them in on my two little secrets,” I said quietly.

“Red, Gin what we say here never leaves this room, swear it,” Carrie said. They agreed. “You both know that Joanie’s appearance and physical age changed considerably as part of her mutation this July third.”

“So what if she was thirty and a plain Jane, she isn’t anymore and that’s what counts.” Red seemed upset that we’d implied she was a shallow person.

“Tell them, Carrie.”

“What Joanie wants me to say is ... well she used to not ... ah she ... “

“Oh hell I’ll have to say it. I was born December 18, 1957 and my given name was John.” Carrie was stuck, so I bit the bullet.

“You were a 48 year old man?” Gin said in disbelief.

“I saw Joanie partway through her transformation; it’s absolutely true,” said Carrie.

“That explains why you know so much about the past and almost nothing a girl would know. And I thought my mutation was strange,” said Red.

“Strange?” I asked.

“Since you let your cat out of the bag, I guess I should too. When I mutated seven years ago, I was a mumble-four year old dark skinned five foot four inch African American with a flat chest, bad hair and braces. Honest.” We looked at her shaking our heads. “Ok I was five foot-nine and light skinned but the rest is true, shocked the crap out of my family, “ she said, sounding sad and upset.

“Would you believe, I was a five foot eleven blonde fashion supermodel,” said Gin in a Don Adams voice.

“I don’t I believe that,” I replied in mock German.

“How about a five foot seven inch red-head Playboy centerfold?” Gin suggested.

“I don’t believe that either,” Carrie said in faux French.

“A five foot three inch Hmong American with a skinny body, acne and glasses?” Gin admitted.

“Thank you, Agent 86,” said Red in bad Swedish. We all laughed.

Carrie looked scared. “Its okay, you don’t have to tell anyone, Carrie,” I whispered softly to her.

“No,” she said softly. “I have to tell someone someday, and I know I can trust everyone here,” giving us all hugs as she spoke. “I’m sure you wondered why my mom and I come to MSG, and why I rarely participate as other than a moderator.”

“You don’t have to, Carrie,” said Gin.

“I should, and as I said I trust you all. I’m sure you know Mom’s a low level devisor/gadgeteer and an empath, very useful in treating mutants,” we nodded. “I’m an empath/telepath of a fairly high level and a density shifting warper. See why Mom and I conceal my powers.”

“Intelligence agencies and criminal organizations would love to get their hands on you or failing that kill to prevent anyone else from succeeding,” said Red.

“We never speak of this again unless another’s life depends on it, agreed?” I said.

“Agreed.”

* * * *

The last part of ‘The Plan’ was makeup and accessorizing. It was kind of fun. Amazing what a little lipstick, eye shadow and such can do to change your appearance. I thought the blood red lipstick over the top, but it does send my don’t-mess-with-me-little-man factor through the roof. I will need this look at times. For cooler weather, we added lined leather slacks, tight fitting pullover sweaters, the ubiquitous bomber jacket and insulated four inch heeled cowboy boots with a waffle sole for traction, Steve Zink number fourteens, I believe. Add a trench coat for cold weather, my old male one, Gin re-tailoring it and adding a Kevlar lining to the shell. I may not be bulletproof, but my coat is bullet resistant. They picked up an old fashioned aviator cap minus the goggles and insulated gauntlet style teamster’s gloves for really cold days. Gin resized my trusted old Tilley bush hat to complete the ensemble. With the trench coat, leather slacks, cowboy boots and Tilley I thought I looked like Indiana Jones and said so.

“More like Indiana ‘Joan’, Joanie,” Gin said surveying her expert tailoring.

“I’ve never seen a trench coat fit so well. They usually look like a tent, but this fits like an Italian suit.”

“That’s the idea Joanie. Sexy, confident, classy and womanly all in one,” Gin replied.

* * * *

To be continued

p.s. Did anyone catch the James Burke, Connections, reference?

Revised 07/30/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 7

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie and her mutant friends roadtrip in the tradition of National Lampoon's Animal House, she discovers an unknown power while saving a childs life and gets her fifteen minutes of fame and then some.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents and such is accidental or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005- 2006. See my agent at the Sirius Cybernetics Corp. for details. Share and enjoy.

p.s. I need a new agent & agency real soon, I think they’re on to m ... I am very happy with my agency and will never ever leave them, Master.

Adult Content Warning: this chapter is a bit racy comparied to the previous six. Those uncomfortable with lesbianism or other adult sexual topics are advised. You’ve been warned. Actually, its pretty tame stuff and not graphic at all, but its best to play it safe. If you’re on this website, you know what to expect, so there.

~ Actually with any luck this warning will boost my readership skyhigh. Oops, didn’t mean to say that outloud. ~

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 7-Road Trip

Madison WI and the four-state area (WI, IL, MN, IA), August 31st thru September 09, 2006

December 13, 2006 nearing Boston on the Amtrak Lake Shore Limited, 4:30am EST

I should have set my watch to Eastern-time back somewhere in Indiana, but did I, noooo. Oh well, no harm done, except nearly going to NYC instead of Boston when they split the train. Thankfully my cycle had the proper tags, so I only had to run with my panniers in my nightwear to change berths. I’ll have to send the Conductress, who caught the berthing error and woke me, a nice thank you gift. I wonder if she likes music. Good thing I shipped most of my stuff ahead and could travel light.

Mind you, it gave the passengers who were awake a good show; I should have slept in my bra. Why they put me in an NYC bound berth, I’ll never know. Ticket clerks, Arrrg! Tried going back to sleep but too excited about Whateley, and my nipples were, um, hyper-sensitive. It was a good thing I only had to run through a half-dozen sleeper cars, now I know why most women wear bras. It’s not just for the support.

~Why does my new body have to be so, um, responsive? I’ll need a shower before I dare step out in public. ~

More than anything, the reason I’m on this train tonight was the fallout from The Gang of Four’s Labor Day road trip. Maybe I can nap, during my short layover in Boston.

The Labor Day weekend was when I discovered how to access one of my mutant powers and the day my life nearly went to hell. The Gang of Four decided, well the Gang of Three decided and Ms. Newby acquiesced, to take a road trip around the holiday weekend. I’d completed Girl 101 and Woman 101 so was now into the advanced courses. No, I don’t mean the one-on-one tutoring I hinted at with Carrie. I mean practical, everyday stuff like pretending to love children, especially your best friend’s charming twin two year olds who just learned to say ‘no’ and say it all the time for any reason — in stereo, euh! The womanly art of claiming you really prefer salads and fish over ten-ounce, New York Strip steaks with home fries. The womanly art of politely turning down the advances of a man who’s had too much too drink and who’s bigger and stronger than you. You get the picture.

* * * *

We voted on which vehicle to take.“ How about Red’s F250 crew cab?” I asked.

“Lots of room but piss-poor gas mileage,” said Gin.

“My Focus is cheap to run and handles us tall girls with ease,” I suggested.

“Would you sit in that back seat all day, even if you were my size?” Gin replied.

”And it’s green, eeeuh!” Red said sticking her long, sexy tongue way out.

~ Maybe I will take her up on that offer? ~

Gin’s PT Cruiser got some votes.

“It’s retro kewl and holds nearly as much as a minivan,” Carrie said.

“Looks like a street rod sort of, definite cruising potential,” said Gin; Red and I vetoed that.

“On the count of three, Red; one, two but it’s a Chrysler, eew yuck!”

“You both have Fords, you’re biased,” Gin said.

“That’s redhead bashing, shame on you,” I scolded.

Carrie’s Grand Caravan might have worked, but Sara needed it for a seminar that weekend, in Dubuque of all places.

“Sorry, girls, but I need the van, can’t miss the 10th Annual UMRVMC.”

“Huh?” we all said; I was tempted to sing, “UMC, VMC, MOUSE.”

“Upper Mississippi River Valley Mutant Conference; got to keep up in the field. Doctor Otto plans on attending, so we’ll have time to discuss your case in depth. In fact, we’re presenting a joint paper on your transformation,” she sounded excited.

“Won’t that tend to undermine all the effort we’ve taken to protect Moi?” My Miss Piggy was not the best, but she got the point.

“You’re safe, this is a closed conference, and you’re just a case number, no names or addresses,” Dr. Sara assured me.

“But what if someone makes the connection? They know you work at the University Hospital. What if someone comes and asks a staffer if any new mutant patients were admitted in early July, 2006? They might put the puzzle together, given enough pieces.” I was not assured my identity was safe.

“That’s why I issued you the student researcher ID. Lots of people at the hospital know you as a student researcher; just a handful know you as a patient of mine and recent mutant. Excluding Alex, only those in this room know your whole story.”

“Mom’s right, Joanie, I don’t even know your old address, just your former name,” said Carrie, in defense of her Mom.

“That’s okay then, I guess. Sorry but I’m touchy on this subject, ladies.” I calmed a bit. “Back to our discussion, we still don’t have transport for our road trip.”

“Simple, take Gin’s PT Cruiser this time and Red’s 4X4 pickup for the Christmas break trip. Switch off between your Focus and Carrie’s Caravan for any fall day trips,” my doctor said authoritatively.

The Gang of Four, trumped by Sara. It did break the deadlock though, bless her.

“You’ll love it, Joanie. The girls had a great time last year, UP, skiing wasn’t it?” she continued,

“Yah, it was a blast. You should have been there, Joanie. Gin’s a demon on the slopes, and Red made other women green with envy,” Carrie said.

“If you recall, last Christmas I wasn’t exactly qualified,” I said.

“You do now; it really was a wild time and the men were just so hunky,” said Red.

~Red said the men were ... hunky? ~

“Red nearly turned straight, the guys were so hot, but we got her back on the bi-wagon, didn’t we, Red?” Gin said and smirked.

“Ms. Sara, did your daughter always keep such low company?” I asked, getting into the spirit.

“Why no, Joanie, the year before I came along on the ski trip, and no one stayed sober or celibate with either sex,” Sara said straight faced. “I’d tag along more often, but the girls say I’m a bad influence.”

Sara licked her lips and struck a sensual pose. The room suddenly felt much warmer.

“I’m surrounded by perverts, deviants and degenerates, oh my! Where do I sign up?”

“Oh you!” they chorused.

* * * *

December 13, 2006 Boston MA, departing Amtrak Lake Shore Limited for station, 5:05am EDT

Cue music: ‘Wowie Zowie’ F. Zappa, Freak Out/Mothers of Invention with Frank Zappa 1966; ‘Road Runner’ sung by Joan Jett, The Hit List 1991, “I Drove All Night’ written for and sung by Roy Orbison 1992 release.

To enhance your reading experience, may we suggest the above music to put you in the proper mood? I know this isn’t normal for a diary/journal/whatever, but it’s mine and I’ll do as I want. -- Sticks out mental tongue in triumph -- I’d better check that my cycle got offloaded; I’ll need it later today.

“Oh conductor!”

* * * *

The road trip was, well, a trip. I, we all had a blast. Ghod those gals know how to have fun. I won’t describe all the crazy stuff that went on but to satisfy your craving for the more intimate details, let me leave you dear diary/journal/whatever with a few tidbits. I found that six foot two inch Amazons are far softer and cuddly than one would first imagine and very flexible. Mind you, don’t turn down busty brunettes; they can be very sharing, particularly when it comes to cute Asian girls. Almost sounds like something that Wholeman person writes for those TG adult fiction websites. I’m not saying one way or another if certain well known ... positions and techniques were employed by yours truly and company. Just know we had a lot of fun and leave it at that.

I know we passed through Galena IL, at least once, and we did stay a night in Davenport IA. I think we were in Red Wing MN the next night, or was it Winona, and La Crosse for another, but the whole trip is a blur. Ghodess, can those girls party. That and there were um, other distractions, giggle. There’s another giggle, what’s with that?

So here we are Labor Day morning, sticky, sweaty and our hair a collective mess.

“Hey it’s not my fault we forgot the hair conditioner and detangler spray. That wasn’t my job,” said Carrie.

“I still think we should stop at a drugstore or someplace,” I said for the twentieth time. My hair was by far the worst. “Damn you, Gin and Carrie, for your pixie cuts.”

“That’s what you get for letting your hair hang to your butt, Joanie. Red’s almost as bad off as you, what with her hair nearly as long. I don’t hear her bitching,” said a smug Gin.

“That’s only because Joanie’s letting me play competitive sticky fingers with her, while I rest my hung-over head on her oh so comfortable twin pillows. I’m not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. A little higher, Joanie, ah that feels nice.”

“Not that I’m unhappy with the ... Ah ... oh ... oh ... OH Ghod ... ooh that was good, situation here, Red, dear, but if it wasn’t for those two pitchers of margaritas none of this,” I gestured widely at our disheveled selves with my free hand, ”would have happened, certainly not as easily on my part.”

“Joanie, it was four pitchers, and Gin kept topping off your drink, when you weren’t looking,” Carrie said embarrassed.

“But I was topping off Joanie’s too,” said Red.

“No wonder I got drunk, sort of.”

“Sort of drunk?” said Red incredulously. “You were stewed to the gills, when we left the bar last night.”

“Yeah, but it wore off really fast. I barely had a buzz on by the time we walked back to our motel room,” I explained.

“With all you drank, no way you were sober,” Gin said.

“My new body burns off most drugs very fast. Ask me about it next time I have my period, even the prescription stuff is useless.”

“But that means you were ... “, started Red.

“Faking it like a pro.” They stared at me like I was a space alien. “It gave me the perfect excuse to, um ... let my hair down. Don’t look at me like that; all of you’ve been on me to loosen up, so I took you at your word. I have no regrets just don’t expect this every time.” They seemed okay with my revelation. “Okay ladies, what’s next on the menu?”

“Oh ... You,” said Red, and I was.

Good thing the PT has really dark window tinting, that and a generous amount of rear seat leg room. If Red was a recruiter for the LGBT community, I was seriously considering a lifetime membership.

“Red, uh ... oh ... AH, stop. Please.” She was definitely an artist. “Another time okay? We’re getting into a city, and we don’t want to frighten the natives.”

“Spoil sport,” Red said grinning from ear to ear. “I was just being neighborly.”

“Well howdy neighbor, glad tah meet yah.” I gave her my best hug and kiss.

Purely G rated mind you, okay pg-13, well nearly R, satisfied?

We got a motel on Prarie Du Chein’s main drag, then got an early lunch. “So what’s on for the rest of the day?” I asked, my stomach filled and my hair finally under control. If you’d been asked like Red to stop and pick up some conditioner and hair detangler the way I asked, you’d have done it too. I was starting to get the hang of being a jailbait temptress, shame on me. Still yah gotta use the tools at hand. We drove to the state welcome center that’s just off the US 18 bridges over the Mississippi River, to get some ideas and maps.

I suggested Effigy National Monument, just a couple miles north of the Iowa end of the bridge, “Great scenery, very secluded and quiet,” I pointed out.

The secluded and quiet they liked, the 400 to 600 foot climbs up and down the bluffs on the other hand… We decided to look for a public beach or pool on the Iowa side and sunbathe.

We got to the welcome center and found the grounds full of dignitaries dedicating an addition to the faculties. You know the deal; bored jaded news crews filming bored but smiling politicians with bored spouses and extremely bored children all waiting for the ribbon cutting ceremony to end. Nothing unusual except this ceremony was bigger than normal. The minor additions dedication was an excuse to announce a joint Iowa and Wisconsin effort to stop a planned upgrade and deepening of the locks and navigation channel that nobody but The Army Corps of Engineers and the barge companies wanted. The usual assistant state tourism director and mayor VIPs were instead the heads of both states DNRs, both state Governors and three US Senators plus their assorted wives and children. Problem was, there are no other bridges for miles either way -- we had to cross here.

We got some brochures and fixed our hair and makeup -- hey this is a road trip, and we have an image to uphold. We soon were ready to go, not the easiest with all the hoopla. Heard the expression ‘a good deed never goes unpunished’? I was about to find out the truth of it in spades. We were about to get in the PT when I saw something that still gives me nightmares. Two children had wandered away from the ceremony and started a game of tag dangerously close to the busy US highway. I heard the squeal of truck and car brakes, horns blasting and a child screaming. In their flight from boredom, the younger of the two, a ten year old girl, had run into the road.

I was horrified; she didn’t have a chance. Next I know, I’m running towards her screaming out my frustration. As I ran headlong to her, I noticed the traffic had inexplicably stopped, for that matter everything around me seemed either stopped or moving very slowly. The closer to me, the slower it moved. I grabbed the now motionless girl from a scant ten feet in front of the truck, smoke and dust surrounding its tires but also not moving. I got hold of her, and she came out of her torpor screaming. I pulled the girl into my arms and ran back with her to the safety of the grassy picnic area at the tourism center. I collapsed exhausted and everything started moving again.

I looked in her terrified blue eyes. “Thank Ghod you’re okay, little girl.” I said holding her tight as I gasped for breath. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to play in the street?”

The girl stopped screaming and started kissing and hugging me then said excitedly, “You’re my very favorite bestest new friend in the world -- that was so kewl what you did -- can we do it again -- what’s your name, pretty lady I’m Melissa I’m ten years old I’ll be eleven in four days -- can you be my big sister -- I like your pretty red hair its so long and shiny -- would you like to borrow my ponytail clip?”

~ I thought I talked too much; when does Melissa ever get a chance to breathe? ~

I was calming her down, as my three friends ran up to help us and the older boy she’d played with. Unfortunately for me, the cameras had been pointed in the general direction of the near tragedy, and everything got recorded. Everything: the kids nearing the road, the girl running into traffic, the strangely distorted image of a tall, shapely young woman running toward the children as the images surrounding that woman seem to twist and warp and well look like a surrealist painting made sense in comparison. They even got some color still photos of me in action.

~Oh great, I’ll end up a pinup poster on some horny teen’s bedroom door.~

Next I remember the six of us — Gin, Red, Carrie, Melissa, her brother Eric I learned later, and I -- were surrounded by the press, two governors, three US Senators, a squad of unhappy state troopers, and one extremely grateful thirty-something mother.

“How did you do that?” the woman practically screamed at me, in her excitement.

Then she’s keeling on the grass next to me, hugging and kissing her kids, who are hugging and kissing us ladies. I tried to answer the woman.

“I saw them run toward the road, and I had to do something,” I said very quickly; I was still pumped with adrenaline and a bit in shock.

A short sixtyish man with graying red hair walked up to me and said in a soft voice, “Do you know what you just did?”

“I just helped a girl out of trouble,” I managed to say.

~Do they think I’d tried to harm her? ~

“You saved the life of my only granddaughter, the daughter of the Governor of Iowa.”

“Huh?” I wasn’t too articulate at the moment, still in shock I guess.

“I’m United States Senator Joseph P. Williams of Iowa, and I am very glad to meet you brave lady. And you are?” he asked and very graciously, I might add.

“Joanie?” I replied as if I wasn’t sure who I was. Then I started crying, and I passed out.

I came to in the back seat of a stretch limo, the rest of The Gang of Four sitting facing me looking very concerned.

“Thank Ghod, you’re okay,” Carrie said as I opened my eyes and sat up. “They let us carry you into the Senator’s limo to check you out. They wanted to call the paramedics, but Red and I showed them our RN credentials, and Red and Gin wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“What are we going to do with you, Joanie? Do you realize the trouble you caused saving that girl’s life?” Red was squeezing my hand and smiling, but I could see she was worried. She paused. “They ‘made’ us and by that revelation, I think you’ve been made too.”

“Who or what was ’made’ by who or whom and what does it have to do with us or we?” What was Red talking about, and why had my grammar gotten so strange?

“The VIP’s and the press ‘made’ us, that is, they recognized Gin as Ginseng Glory and myself as Big Red. We’re known mutant super-heroines and public service spokespersons, after all.”

“I remember, you did some spots and billboards for The Wisconsin Dairymen’s Association, and Gin did a TV ad for the Department of Tourism,” I said.

“Put the pieces together, Joanie; the press already has. Think of it from a purely news-biz point of view. A gorgeous,” I blushed, “tall young woman saves a little girl from certain death, the daughter of a state governor and possible Presidential contender, on TV in front of dozens of press and dignitaries, in a manner that can only be explained by that young woman having mutant superpowers. She is seen immediately afterward in the presence of two known Wisconsin mutant supers, and she does it all clad in a skin-tight, deep v-neck leather crop top, leather mini skirt, and silver trimmed high heel cowboy boots -- very photogenic. Need I say more?” Red finished.

“I’ve just outted myself. Crap!”

“You said, Sweetie, not me,” Gin replied. “Just wait until you see the tight shot one of the camera men got of your lace panties when your skirt slid up after you collapsed on the grass. Oh, if it makes you feel any better, the footage went national about half an hour ago. You’ve been unconscious for 45 minutes,” Gin concluded.

“Kill me now!”

There was a knock on the door.

“Is Joanie okay? My daughter is really worried.” It was the governor’s wife.

“What do you want to do, Joanie? Can’t hide forever,” Gin said.

“Let them in and only them,” I said wearily.

Red opened the door carefully, letting in Melissa and her mom, then gave the press who were straining the police line a look that said, “Come any closer and prepare to be filleted.”

“Joanie, my daughter has something to say to you.” She waited then Melissa spoke.

“I’m so very sorry I was careless and ran out in the road, and you had to save me ‘cause no one could have got to me in time, and I would be dead now, and all those TV people will bother you and make your life a mess, and Its All My Fault!” She started crying.

~Good Ghod, she even apologizes nonstop! ~

I was feeling a bit queasy, ~Strange I hadn’t noticed it earlier, nerves? ~ I thought.

“Does she always talk like this?” I said and made a gesture with my hand opening and closing very quickly.

“Yes, Joanie, I’m afraid she does.” She had a wistful smile on her face.

~Oh well, in for a penny... ~

“That’s great because I like to talk a lot too, Melissa.” She grinned so I said, “What do your friends call you, Melissa? All my friends call me Joanie,” I said, gesturing at Melissa, her mom and The Gang of Three.

“I can be your friend, Joanie?” She grinned widely. I nodded, and then it hit her. “You’re friends with Big Red and Ginseng Glory; oh that’s just soo kewl!”

If she was anymore excited, she’d have exploded. She was bouncing in her seat.

“Wow, Joanie! Oh, sorry everyone calls me Mel. Hi Joanie, I’m Mel. Can you come over to my house, and we can have a sleepover and watch TV and make smores and popcorn and give each other makeovers? I can braid your long hair if you like, and I’m learning to use makeup -- you’re so very pretty, I bet you can teach me lots -- how did you get so tall -- I really like your clothes, they’re so kewl -- my mom won’t let me wear leather yet she says when I’m older, but it looks so good on you -- I wish I had nice boobies like you and mommy and ... “

“Whoa, slow down Mel!” I said.

“She called me Mel, Mom; Joanie called me Mel!” Melissa started bouncing again.

~ Is she a poster child for the sugar industry? ~

I turned to her mom. “I’m a little embarrassed here, but I don’t know your name,” I admitted.

“Barbara Anne Williams-Johnson, I’m Governor Bob Johnson’s wife, the governor of Iowa. Please call me Babs, all my friends do and you certainly earned that right today,” she said warmly.

“Babs not Barb or Barbie?” I asked.

“Do I look like a Barbie doll?” She gestured along her pleasingly shaped but petite body. “Babs is because I was constantly wearing this sleep shirt when I was in my teens. I refused to sleep in anything else.”

“Babs Bunny, from the Warners cartoons, I have a Pinky and the Brain pocket t-shirt, myself.” Babs smiled and stifled a laughed.

I felt someone tugging on my arm. It was Mel.

“Joanie, please can you come to my house for a sleep over?”

~ Ooh, she made these puppy dog, kitten in the rain eyes at me. ~

“But my friends and I have to get back to Madison tomorrow.” I tried to let her down lightly.

Mel frowned then grinned all the wider, if you can believe. “I have this oh so kewl idea, have your friends come too, we have lots of room. Oh my, you’re friends with Big Red and Ginseng Glory, they’re just the greatest mutant superheroes -- wow you must be a mutant superhero too, except you’re all girls, so you’re all mutant super-heroines, Mommy, can I have a mutant super-heroine sleepover pleeese!” Mel was hugging me so hard, I was amazed.

“Wow yourself, Mel, you sure are strong. You sure you’re not a mutant super heroine and don’t know it yet?” Mel giggled at that and started bouncing again, but at least she shut up for ten second straight.

“But they have to go home tomorrow, sweetie,” Babs said.

“Daddy can fix it and Grandpa Joe too. Daddy’s a governor and Grandpa’s a Senator, and Daddy says Grandpa knows where all the bodies are buried -- that’s why he’s such a good senator, and they can fix it with your moms and dads and schools and stuff, and you can come to my house, and we can do girl things, and in four days it’s my birthday, and you can be at my party... “

“Mel, it’s not just up to you, maybe Joanie’s friends have families who’d miss them if they don’t see them,” Babs was trying to help.

“But Mom!” Mel shouted, “Joanie’s my very bestest friend, I’ll just die if she can’t come over and...” Mel was bawling, Babs didn’t look too good and yours truly?

“Okay, okay, I’ll come, I don’t know how but I will, promise.” Now I was crying and I felt a sharp twinge in my lower belly.

~ I haven’t felt this bad in a month, Month? Let’s see, cramps, mood swings, feeling queasy; July 03 to September 04 is sixty-two days less four days for my transformation and one or two more to fully recover makes fifty-six days which is twenty-eight times two. Oh joy, my “friend” is back, just one more reason to hate math. ~

“Babs, can I have a word with you please.”

“Mel, can you give me and Joanie a moment dear? What is it, Joanie?” she asked sweetly.

“As much as I like to not disappoint Mel, I don’t know if I’d be the best company the next few days.” Babs looked at me strangely, I whispered in her ear. “I just started my, um you know, today. I only realized it now what with the crying and cramps I felt.”

“Then we have no choice,” she said out loud. I was relieved. “We’ll just have to put you up for the week.”

“What?” I gave her a look of utter surprise, this was unexpected.

“I just started my period today too, and mine are a bitch.”

“Mommy!”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t use such language.” Babs slapped the back of her own hand. Mel giggled. “Joanie, if anyone deserves to be pampered, it’s you dear. Your friends are welcome too. My husband can have a state plane fly you home together or individually, as necessary. I ... we owe you.”

What could I say now? Either way was a problem.

“This has to be a group decision, you understand, Mel, Babs?” They nodded in absolute unison.

~Like mother like daughter I guess, freaky. ~

“Babs, can you promise me I won’t, correct that, we won’t,” I pointed at The Gang of Four and Mel, “be set upon or set up to the media? I’m not interested in becoming famous, and Mel here, it wouldn’t be right to drag her into this,” I said very frankly.

“I can guarantee that, Joanie. Between Bob and my dad, no one will bother any of us,” she spoke grinning as excitedly as her daughter.

~ Ghod, what other traits do they share? Dad? Right, the senator is Babs’s father. ~

“Girls, what do you say?” I asked, Red spoke.

“I can stay one night, but I have to be at the UW Field house early the morning of the sixth to prepare for a pep rally, I’m coordinating the medical staff assigned there.”

“Three hours by national guard helicopter, less than two by state plane,” Babs said.

“Gin?” I asked.

“I teach a seminar at UW-Stevens Point in two days, but what about my PT Cruiser?”

“Piece of cake; several Iowa Air National Guard C130s are flying reservists to Wisconsin’s Fort McCoy/Camp Douglas the same day. They could make a quick detour to Central Wisconsin Airport. That’s a short drive from Stevens Point, and the airport handles commercial jets that need much more runway.”

~Babs has an answer for everything, just like her ... Oh dear! ~

“Carrie?” It was her turn now.

“Mel, Babs, Joanie’s sort of my responsibility.” They both looked surprised. “Okay if I tell them, Joanie?”

“You know I trust you, Carrie,” I said, giving her hand a friendly squeeze.

“Joanie came by her powers recently; she’s only been a mutant since July third.”

“No wonder my dad and the rest were so concerned when they couldn’t figure out who Joanie was. It was obvious she’s a super, but no one recognized her,” said Babs.

“My mom is Joanie’s doctor, and I’m assigned to her 24/7 as nurse, confidant, and personal trainer, so where she goes I go. Anyone for smores, I love them.”

~Wonderful, Carrie’s an X-Girl Scout and fellow sugar addict. ~

* * * *

To be continued
Revised 08/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie and Co. spend time with family of the girl she saved, make a boy happy and Joanie and Carrie attend a birthday party -- how dangerous can that be? The fifteen minutes of fame go into overtime.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fanfiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This was my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005- 2006. See my new agents Bill & Ted of San Dimus, CA, ‘Be excellent to each other and party on dude’.

p.s.These guys are a lot nicer but seem like a couple of airheads to me.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 8-Road Trip, Part two

Madison, WI and the four-state area - WI, IL, MN, IA - Sometimes we didn’t know were we were but it was fun, - August 31st thru September 09, 2006

December 13, 2006 Leaving Boston on connecting train to Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 6:30am EST

Getting from the Boston AMTRAK station to the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle was complicated as there is no direct connection, at least not a convenient one. I could ride my Harley between the north and south Boston AMTRAK stations to their Downeaster, but I’m not familiar with Boston and its old, narrow, congested roads, a traffic nightmare for this soon to be ex-Midwesterner. I could ride direct to the Shuttle, but that’s much farther and more of the same. That left sending my cycle separately via a freight connection to the Shuttle or using Boston’s Light Rail and Interurban system for both me and the Harley. It was tricky, but I had called ahead about this and managed to pull it off. I did need to use my charms on a couple burley male commuters to get their help hefting the cycle on the interurban, but they were very helpful and the dark haired guy was a stud. They got some very enthusiastic hugs and kisses from me. They deserved it.

It was awfully tempting to ask one or both out for a drink and back to his place. I think this body is pushing me more and more towards men; that I even fantasize about it is proof enough. Not that I’m not still attracted to women. I swear sometimes this body just wants sex, period. If it’s attractive, the gender doesn’t matter. Male or female, I respond and it’s not easy staying in control. I wonder if they can help me with “that” at Whateley. At least it will make for something interesting to discuss with their doctors.

I did have a nasty run in with someone at the Boston AMTRAK station, but I’ll write about that later. First, back to Mel, Babs, the rest of the Gang of Four, and Mel’s brother, Eric Johnson.

* * * *

For the next few hours, the seven of us rode in the limo; seven you say, we only counted six. Mel’s brother Eric had to come and apologize for putting his sister and me in danger. His apology was delayed due to the tongue-lashing his dad and grandfather gave him. There was this one other little complication, actually for a boy of thirteen in the throws of puberty, it really wasn’t that small, judging from the embarrassing bulge it made in his dress pants, and it was partially my fault. He’d started out okay, very remorseful and charming.

“I want to apologize to both my sister and you, Miss Joanie, for being reckless and putting you both in danger. I knew better than to play near a busy highway or to tease my sister even though she deserves it, the little twerp.”

~ Ah, this last bit was certainly honest, he must be her brother. Sibling rivalry, I know it well. ~

“I’m not a twerp; you’re just being mean. MOM! Eric’s being mean to me,” Mel whined, smart girl.

“What did I say to you earlier?” Mom was upset.

“Sorry, Mom, that was rude of me. I’m sorry too, Miss Joanie, I really like my sister, but sometimes I forget she’s younger, and we play too wild. I’m so glad you could save her.”

“I’m glad too, Eric,” I said as I bent forward to shake his hand.

This was a mistake as it gave Eric a very good, close view down my cleavage — my ample, flawless, oh-so-delectable cleavage. I realized my mistake, but it was too late.

~ Oh joy, just what we need now, throwing gasoline on the fires of male puberty. ~

I swear his voice dropped a full octave in a matter of minutes. He sure looked uncomfortable in his pants; part of him had to be. I could see his considerable bulge twitching against the fabric.

~ Ghod, I’m lusting for a thirteen year old boy, BAD BAD BAD libido, down girl, stay. ~

I’m afraid the rest of the girls saw his predicament and engaged in a game of tease the boy. They couldn’t get too raunchy, with Mel and Babs there, but it was almost more erotic for being so tame. The poor boys eyes nearly popped out when Red did this slow, big stretch -- her long, muscular, tan legs straightening all the way out to her pointed feet. The backwards arch of her torso combined with an almost feline rub of her arm against her head gave Eric the full benefit of her wonderfully toned middle and her marvelous chest. Carrie played the sweet and innocent but always was smiling when Eric looked her way. And Gin? She took a cue from my boob flash but upped the ante by opening a button or three and untucking her red silk blouse in a very sensual near striptease. I gave Gin a look.

“I’m just getting comfortable, Joanie, dear,” she whispered to me. “I saw how he reacted to your accidental boob flash, so Red, Carrie, and I decided to help Mel out by teasing him a bit. You know, show him how great it is to have a girl around. Maybe he’ll stop teasing his sister and ask her if she knows any nice girls his age.”

“You three did this and didn’t tell me? I’m hurt,” I whispered, then I pouted and broke out in giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Eric asked, his voice cracking.

“My friends decided you were mean to your sister and decided to play a trick on you,” I said. Then I went into sex kitten mode and in my most sultry voice said, “Did us big, bad girls make ‘little Eric’, um ... uncomfortable?”

Babs, the Gang of Three, and I broke out in howls of laughter. Eric looked like he’d wet his pants in the middle of a school assembly, and Mel looked like I’d given her the best gift ever -- revenge. It was time to let Eric off the hook, well a little.

“Eric, I’m sorry we teased you, that was as mean as you calling your pretty sister names.” Eric was contrite, Mel was grinning from ear to ear.

~ Must have heard me say she was pretty. ~

“Eric, if you’re nice to girls, they’ll be nice back. From how you’ve reacted to my friends and myself, I think you’re starting to like girls, maybe even thinking of doing stuff with them like going to dances or dating,” I said in a soothing tone.

“Eric, are you blushing?” Babs asked. “It’s okay, hon, boys your age are supposed to start noticing girls; just let Dad or I know what you’re doing, alright?”

“What everything?” Eric seemed worried.

“Just let us know where you’re going and with who. Remember to behave nice and remember the talk Dad had with you on your last birthday. Maybe it’s time we both have the talk with you.” She smiled but Eric looked embarrassed.

“Mom: in front of all these girls!” he complained.

“They’re women; that’s what your body is telling you, if you’ll listen, but you need to be a gentleman. There were lots of men who pursued me when I was their age, but I married your dad because he was a good-man not just because he’s so handsome,” Babs explained.

She got this look in her eyes, the same one my mom had when she especially happy with Dad. I changed seats to sit next to Eric; I put an arm around him and held his hand.

“Eric, girls can be lots of fun to be with. Why so you think your dad married your mom? Just don’t tease us, we’re people too. You’ll find girls can do just about anything boys like to do, but we’re much nicer to cuddle with.”

I gave him a good hug and a tender, lingering kiss on the cheek. On an impulse I gave him a quick one on the lips -- why I haven’t a clue. He was stunned.

“When you get a little older, maybe you’ll find a special girl that likes you too. See, I told you girls are fun.”

~Odd, that felt, um ... pleasant, must be a girl thing. ~

Babs was smiling, the gang looked at me with awe, and Mel was dumbstruck.

“Earth to Mel, earth to Mel, come in Mel, over,” I said, my hand cupping my mouth to mimic the sound of a WWII radio communication.

“You kissed my brother on the lips, ewwh!” Mel made a yuck face.

“Mel, it’s not like I kissed my own brother, I just wanted him to know it’s much better for him to be nice to girls than tease them.” Mel still looked grossed out. “Mel, you’re beginning to develop into a very pretty young woman, and your brother is fast becoming a handsome man. Having a good-looking older brother will be a real advantage.”

“How’s that?” Mel asked, clearly puzzled.

“The pretty ladies he’ll be dating will often have equally good looking brothers you might want to date.” Mel and Eric looked sick. “Don’t give me that ‘Euh! Yuck, sex’ look. Boys and girls can do lots of fun things together. The yucky sex stuff can wait ‘til you’re much older like even ‘til you’re married like your parents.”

This was tricky ground, but Babs nodded her approval, I think she thought I could walk on water when it came to her children.

“Anyway, Mel, it’s not as if I’m dating Eric,” I said, and Mel looked happier. “Doing anything next Saturday, stud muffin?” I cooed, Mel shrieked and everybody started laughing, even poor Eric.

~Bad bad Joanie, but Ghod that was fun! ~

* * * *

December 13, 2006 North of Boston MA, interurban in route to connection with the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 7:30am EST

Dear diary/journal/whatever reader, you’re wondering what’s with this no good deed going unpunished? Other than my face in the press, what harm was done? That’s the insidious nature of fame, it bites you when you least expect it. The damage was done, the harm would come eventually. Why do you think I’m on the way to Whateley? It’s not just to finish up my girl training.

Much good did come from my “outing.” Red and I got a break from our bout of lesbian lust. With the tension broken, we could concentrate on my training and just being friends, not that we haven’t fooled around since then. She knows I still have things to work out and is just happy to get what she can out of our relationship. Gin and sweet Carrie became closer as well, I think they’re a couple now, though Carrie has gone out a few times with Badger Boy, and Gin gets all dewy-eyed around Driftless Dan. Mind you, he is rather hunky in a Harrison Ford/Clint Eastwood, Indiana Jones /spaghetti western crossover way.

That road trip cemented them as my sisters, as much as marriage or birthright would have. The Girls say they might road trip to Whateley, after the spring university semester ends; they’re curious to see Whateley as my research intrigues them. That and the stories they’ve heard, Sara and Dairy Maid are alumna after all. The going away party the Gang of Three threw me was memorable, particularly the whipped cream and cherries mini orgy we had. It was Red’s idea, something about indulging an old male fantasy they figured I had. It was a good choice, a children’s pool full of pudding is way too hard to clean up after, and Jell-O stains so. Why blow this ex-man’s lesbian paradise, you ask? I found out that Halloween, I was not ready to protect myself from the darker forces my “outing” unleashed. I still may have ended up at Whateley anyway but that made it imperative.

It started out very innocently at Mel’s eleventh birthday party. I always suspected karaoke was a menace but that night confirmed it. The Gang of Four had to break up, as Red and Gin had commitments in Wisconsin, but Carrie and I stayed with Mel, Eric, and Babs at the Iowa Governor’s Mansion, Terrace Hill. The Victorian home was open to the public on the first three floors, but the fourth and tower were all ours. I enjoyed my time with Mel as I got the chance to be the little girl I never was. My inner child was female now, and she had a blast. We did all the things the TG fiction people write about, and I enjoyed much of it. We even did some horseback riding and swimming and why, because it said so right on my tampon box -- shame on me. Sorry but I couldn’t resist that old chestnut. Honestly, I had a lot of fun with Mel. In many ways she was older than her years, and I was younger.

I found Mel was heavy into the teen pop idol period of her life, her room full of pop star posters and teen magazines. After talking with Babs, we made arrangements to hold Mel’s birthday party at a local family-friendly supper club that had a karaoke room, which we rented for the night with her dad’s, the Senators, assistance. With Babs help, I bought a warm and decorative wool bed spread from the Amana Woolen Mill in the historic Amana Colony. Babs was upset at the cost until I suggested we mention who it was for and see if they’d give us a discount. Her “Daddy” made a few calls for us, and the next day we received it at cost. They would have sent it for free, but I insisted we pay something. Senator Joe sure has some clout in Iowa.

The party was fun; good food and her friends in their best casual clothes, “This is a birthday party not a photo op,” Babs explained to me.

The karaoke was my downfall, me and my pretty mouth! Senator Joe had gone all out. He adored his granddaughter, but I think he was trying to impress me, little Miss Nobody. I don’t think he intended things to get as out of hand as they did, but even political geniuses screw-up sometimes. The girls and the couple of boys who were invited ~ um ... boys ~ took turns singing along with the machine. Some were okay. Some were awful, one or two were pretty good. Mel was great, but then I’m biased. Everyone had fun, even her brother Eric. Then the shit hit the fan, but we didn’t know it at the time.

Unknown to us, including the Senator, digital cameras were snuck into the room. They were disguised as the regular security cameras. An employee of the restaurant was dating a local TV reporter and got word to her of the upcoming birthday party for the governor’s daughter and that the mystery girl who had saved her was a guest. Remote control cameras with built-in microphones were watching our every move. This was bad in itself but survivable. What made the shit fly was Grandpa Joe had called a fellow US Senator from California, who called his contacts and got a record producer who specialized in young singers to run the karaoke night. He brought in a far better, professional machine that had more songs, a great sound system and recorded your performance. That and he brought along several of his industry pals. I think they wanted to lobby the Senator.

Everything still might have worked out, but Mel was having so much fun and everyone else had sung, so she says, “Mommy: why haven’t you, Carrie or Joanie sung, it’s lots of fun?”

Several songs later an embarrassed but happy Babs and Carrie had finished their duets, the cowards.

Then Mel turned to me, “Joanie, please sing for me. I bet you have a pretty voice. I won’t laugh.”

Everyone giggled, clapped and pounded the tables like in an old prison film. I figured if I’m going to make a fool of my self, might as well do it big and get it over.

“Got any oldies?” I asked.

“All kinds, what do you fancy?” said the karaoke man.

“I’m feeling suicidal tonight, got any Roy Orbison?”

“Sure, I’ll bring up the menu.”

Orbison’s a favorite of mine; a fine singer-songwriter, a member of the rock and roll hall of fame and the Country Music Hall of Fame. The Rock Hall of Fame in Cleveland was dedicated to him on its opening, a few months after his death in December of 1988. His songs are often hard to sing, as his voice had a wide range, and he wrote for his falsetto as well. Women don’t have a falsetto, so I knew this would be hard, but it was for fun, who cares?

“Let’s start easy, play Oobie Doobie,” I said.

A mid fifties rock-a-billy song, Orbison’s first recording. It’s very easy to sing and has a catchy tune -- it was even in Star Trek, First Contact. I thought I did well, Mel liked it, she said the lyrics were silly. Then I sang Blue Bayou. Linda Ronstadt did a great cover on an album in the late 1970’s; it’s tougher to sing but very sentimental. When I finished, the kids were silent for a moment, then they started clapping wildly. Mel was very happy, and Babs and Grandpa Joe were looking at me like, well I don’t know, but it was good what ever it was. I noticed the karaoke man and the men who’d come with Senator Joe were paying attention too; they’d seemed bored before. I didn’t think much of it at the time, this was too much fun. It was late but Mel wanted one more.

“Oh what the heck”, hey these are kids, “You got Crying?”

“Up in a minute, Joanie,” he replied, somehow he’d remembered my name.

~Maybe he’s hot for tall strawberry blonds? ~

Mind you, the peasant blouse, above the knee skirt and ankle boots combo was pretty sexy. This is a difficult song, it won K.D.Lang and Orbison the Grammy for country duet of the year in the mid 80’s, and she sang the low part. As strong a voice as she had, it wasn’t up to some of the high, loud, emotional notes. I surprised myself; I got through it easy, no problems. I thought I held the high notes loud, long and clear.

~Gee, I always thought that was a tough one. Maybe my mutation gave me a decent range? ~ I thought.

When I finished, I was in for a shock. They all sat there wide eyed with their mouths hanging open.

“I wasn’t that bad, was I?” I asked.

~Are they playing some birthday party joke on me? I’m no birthday party expert. ~

Mel shrieked, ran up to me and hugged me hard. Everyone else started clapping and screaming, even Eric, Babs, the Senator and his strange guests.

“That was just so kewl, Joanie, where did you learn to sing like that -- I said you had a pretty voice -- I wish my voice was as pretty as yours -- if I ask Grandpa Joe I bet he can get a record company to let you sing for them and I could hear you on the radio and TV and you could give concerts and I’d be your biggest fan and ... “

I knew it was a mistake to give her the piece of cake with all those extra frosting decorations on it, that and all the soda. Sugar overload, aoooga!

“I’m glad you liked it, Mel, but I’m no singer. That was just for fun, and cuz I likes yah, silly girl,” I said smiling.

I gave her a hug and a mild noogie. I had to defend myself from ‘Sergeant Sugar Rush’. The party wound down; the kids headed home, giving us their thanks as they left. The Senator arranged limo rides for every child; he’d pulled out all the stops. Mel, Eric, Babs, Carrie and I were among the last to leave. Mel was still gushing over her presents; she loved the bedspread, sweet kid. Her mom taught her great manners. Mel kept saying how great I sounded, even Carrie and Babs got into the act.

“Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?” Carrie said.

“I didn’t know I could,” I said.

“I’ve gone to countless concerts, over the years with my dad and husband, and I’ve never heard a voice like yours,” said Babs.

“That bad huh?” I replied; now I was creeping out, this was beyond embarrassing.

“You’re very, very good, Joanie, professional singer good,” Babs asserted.

“She’s right, you know,” the karaoke machine man spoke up.

“And why do you say that?” I was getting annoyed, this much praise was disturbing.

“I say that because it’s true. The Senator asked a fellow Senator in California if he knew someone in the recording industry who wouldn’t mind running a karaoke machine for his colleague’s granddaughters birthday party. He called in a few favors, so here I am,” he explained.

“And you are?” I asked.

Damn, why did I ask that, why didn’t I just shut up and go home? If I’d just shut up, I not be in the mess am today.

“I’m VP for new talent at Warner Records, the man in the blue suit is a producer for Virgin, and the man in the grey pinstripe is with Sony and handles all their young female teen singers. We all agree you’re that good,” he explained; I looked at the Senator.

“Is this on the level?”

“Sorry, Joanie, but it is,” he said, and looked embarrassed, he’d sensed my discomfort. “They’re right and so are all the children, my daughter, your friend Carrie, and my grand daughter and grandson. You have a wonderful gift if you chose to share it. With that voice and your looks, no telling how far you can go.”

“Now that’s just ... I’m not ... What I meant was ...“ I sputtered. I was rattled, I couldn’t get the words right.

“Oh, one last thing, Joanie,” the karaoke guy said as he held out a business card, “I saw you first. Want a contract?”

They all gave me their cards, and private direct numbers, and said to call them if I was even a little bit curious about singing professionally.

It was late as we left; the party had lasted far into the night by eleven year old standards and the ten o’clock news had started. We stepped out the doors into a barrage of photo strobes and TV floodlights. The local ABC, NBC, CBS and FOX affiliates all had live remotes.

~How did they know the Senator was here? ~

“Joanie, Joanie can you speak to us, who are you?”

~Oh oh, they’re not calling his name, are they? Ghod, they know my name! ~

Senator Joe was used to press gauntlets, so was Babs, even Mel and Eric to some extent, but this was over the top. How we got into the Senator’s limo, I don’t know. It was a nightmare; I was on the edge of panic. Cooler heads took action, and with his and Babs’ connections, the police were soon out in force and freed us from the feeding frenzy.

“I’m so sorry this happened. I don’t know what to say.” Senator Joe was upset.

“You okay, Joanie? Dad can have you both on his private plane and back to your home tonight, if you’re worried,” Babs said trying to calm me.

Carrie looked in shock and was holding my hand tight and Mel?

“I told you, I told you. That was so wild all the TV stuff and cameras flashing, and you’re gonna be a famous big singing star, and I’ll be your biggest fan, and this is so kewl ...“

~Does anything faze this kid? ~

Thank Ghod the long day caught up with her as she soon stopped her happy nonstop chatter and lay smiling, snuggled up against me, her head resting on my lap. Carrie and I decided to stay a couple more days, in hopes that it all would blow over.

* * * *

The next morning the TV, radio and newspapers showed how far and fast it flies these days when it hits the fan. Like any well equipped political domicile, Terrace Hill had a media center with multiple TVs, tape and digital recorders, radios, press wire service feeds -- the works. They had a computer dedicated to searching the Web for any references to the Governor or his opponents. The governor and his/her staff could keep abreast of any politically important developments with ease.

It had flung everywhere. My picture was on the cover of the states biggest newspaper and inside several regional ones. I even made the cover of USA Today.

~Must have been a slow news day. ~

A piece on me showed up on the BBC World Service, geeze-Louise. I was the lead or feature story on every Iowa network affiliate and several western Wisconsin stations, including all of the major Madison ones. I made special note of that.

“There goes any chance of getting around Madison unnoticed, just freakn’ great.” I was so very pleased, yah, sure I was.

Babs got my attention away from the local and regional media. “Joanie, dear, I don’t think you’re going to like this one.”

FOX got wind of it first, and then the rest followed up their lead, MSNBC hit the jackpot.

“Repeating, MSNBC reports that the so called ‘Mystery Girl’, who saved the life of the daughter of Iowa Governor and Presidential contender Robert ‘Bob’ Johnson five days ago, is a recently discovered mutant who currently resides in Madison Wisconsin. Reliable sources told MSNBC that the Mystery Girls name is Joan or Joanie Brown and her amazing rescue of the girl, who is also the only granddaughter of four term US Senator Joseph P. Williams of Iowa, was due to Ms Brown being a warper with rare time related powers. Sources further report Ms. Brown’s story is all the more remarkable, in that until early this July she was a 48 year old “...

- THUD! -

I woke on Mel’s bed, her mom and grandfather watching intently from chairs, as Carrie checked my pulse. Mel stood on the other side of the bed, quietly crying.

“What happed?” Expecting Shakespeare? I’d only just come to.

“You feel like getting up, Joanie? You had us worried,” said Carrie.

“I’d like to crawl down a deep dark hole, but I can’t, so I guess I’d better get up,” I said feeling depressed.

Mel sat next to me on the bed looking very confused. “Is it true, Joanie, that you were an old man before you, you know, mutated?”

“48’s not that old. Your grandfather is a lot older than 48, and I don’t think he’s old, he’s distinguished. 48’s not old!” I made a pout, and I didn’t do it deliberately, I swear!

“That is just so, you’re so amazing, Joanie, my brother’s never gonna live it down that a guy, well a former guy kissed him -- I’m gonna tease him about it for years -- this is the best present ever -- I love you, pretty Joanie -- you’re the kewlest!” she stopped talking and started bouncing on the bed as she hugged and tickled me.

When she’d calmed down some and was only hugging me to death and grinning inanely, I asked, “Is she always like this? Doesn’t anything ever get Mel down?”

“Nope,” said Grandpa Joe.

“Sometimes, if she has to eat some vegetables she doesn’t like, but that’s about it,” Babs said.

“Once when she was four, we said she couldn’t have a kitty cat because she was too young,” said a tall, forty something man who’d entered the room.

“Bob, when did you get back? I thought the Conference of Governors ended tomorrow,” Babs asked.

~Bob? ~

“You’re the happy machine’s dad, Governor Johnson?” I asked.

“’Fraid so; can I call you Joanie as everyone else here seems to.”

“Joanie Brown, at your service, Governor,” I said shaking his big, strong hand.

~Oooh, he’s buff and sooo tall. Big hands, hum, I wonder if it’s true … No, I told you libido down, stay. Good girl. I have got to talk to Sara about this development. ~

“I’m sorry I couldn’t stay to thank you for saving Mel, but Babs said to go on to the Conference of Governors as she’d take care of things. I came back as soon as I could, I skipped the closing ceremonies. Joanie, Mel here is probably going to keep after Babs and me until we adopt you or let her keep you as her pet.”

He smiled, Babs and I giggled, Carrie and the Senator stifled laughs, and Mel said, “She’s my bestest friend, can she be my sister, Daddy? Please?”

“Don’t do that, Mel, it hurts my ears,” I said, then I giggled again.

~Why am I giggling so? ~

Mel insisted we have pancakes, as they always cheered her up, and I looked like I needed it. As we ate, FOX news came back on.

“We have exclusive footage our affiliate station shot, of mystery girl Joanie Brown entertaining at Governor Johnson’s daughter’s eleventh birthday party, last night.”

“Father, you promised you’d keep the press away,” Babs said with some anger.

“I wasn’t me, Pumpkin. I made absolutely sure the press knew the party was off limits; no camera, no reporters, period. Someone’s in serious trouble; this was a closed, private party.”

It was only TV sound, but there I was talking and laughing with the guests. They edited bits together and got some good close-ups of my face and profile but the kicker was the karaoke. They played the last thirty seconds of Crying, the sound was a little tinny but...

~ No, that can’t be me. I don’t sound like that? ~

I looked so happy singing, I was positively glowing.

“I really sound like that? I never knew. Carrie, what do I do now?” I started crying, a big sobbing cry.

“What’s wrong Joanie, why are you crying? You should be happy you sing and look so pretty and are my best friend. Don’t cry, please,” my new bestest friend said, and she hugged me hard.

~Mel’s talking normal for once; she must be very concerned for me. ~

I sucked it up like a former man now reluctant superheroine and told Mel.

“It’s not that I’m not happy I have a nice voice and pleasant looks, it’s just I wanted a normal life, and that doesn’t seem possible anymore. Not unless the press forgets about me.”

“It’s all my fault, Joanie, for running in the road. If you hadn’t saved me, no one would know.” She was distraught, poor child.

“It’s not your fault, that was an accident. People would have found out about me eventually; this way it happened a little early, that’s all.” She smiled some but still sniffled. I had an inspiration; I hoped it’d prove true. “Mel, ask your mom and dad, or better yet Grandpa Joe, he’s been in politics for years. Bet you, a few months from now, hardly anyone will remember me.”

“I don’t know if it will be that soon, but stranger things have happened. You’re right though, once a bigger story grabs the headlines, things should calm down, assuming you can keep those copper eyes of yours out of the headlights.”

~Senator Joe noticed my eyes; my, is he’s a smooth one and still so very fit. Damn but my libido’s playing nasty today, I thought it’s supposed to ease during my period? I’ll have to ask Sara about that too. ~

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 08/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 9

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie kisses an admirer, gets a second dose of the menace that is karaoke and gets helpful advice from Red. Joanie gives her sister a shock and learns a posible key to harnessing her time stop power.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt at writing a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005- 2006. See my new agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA, “Be excellent to each other and party on dude.”

p.s. They get better.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 9-Road Trip, Conclusion and Breakthrough
Des Moines IA & Madison WI and points in-between, August 31st thru September 09, 2006

December 13, 2006 at station waiting for the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle
8:30am EST

With help of two college boys and the station master, we muscled my Harley off the interurban and on the platform. The Grand Miskatonic Shuttle has a mixed light freight; baggage car with a small portable loading ramp, so getting my cycle on the train should prove easy. Correction: that should read Station Mistress -- she was much stronger than she looked. We girls took one end, the boys the other; she was nearly as strong as the two wiry college boys combined, I just helped to steady the load. I was tempted to ask if she was a mutant, but that’s her business. Now that I’m one, I notice mutants more often; at least I think I do. Not that we’re common, but there are more of us than I imagined. I gave them my thanks and sat on bench for the Shuttle, due to leave at 9am.

Des Moines, IA, September 10th, 2006

Through the governor, we arranged transport on one of several Iowa Air National Guard C130s due for Wisconsin’s Fort Mc Coy/Camp Douglas to pick up some reservists flown previously. Gin’s seminar wasn’t over yet, so she arraigned for Driftless Dan to drive up and meet us at the gate to the airfield.

~Oh joy, I get to ride in a pickup truck, for an hour or two. ~

Driftless Dan’s, “please do not call me DD”, truck was a Dodge Durango. Weird or what? Riding in his pickup truck for an hour or two was not my idea of fun, but we would avoid the press.

We said our goodbyes. Mel and I exchanged e-mail addresses, so we could keep in touch. I promised to call as soon as I was safe back in Madison.

She knew it was best I leave, but she hoped I’d return. “I know you can’t be my sister as much as I wish it, but you can still be my friend so call and come visit when you can, please. I’ll miss you so much, and I’ll just die if I don’t hear from you, so I’ll e-mail you every day so we can talk -- my brother has a crush on you; he said you’re really hot for a girl who used to be a guy but isn’t anymore -- he got your picture from the internet and printed it on photo paper -- I saw him put it in his wallet, and I heard him tell a friend of his he accidentally saw you in the shower, and you’re a real strawberry blond and you kissed him, and it felt so nice and ... “

“Your brother saw me in the shower?”

“Uh huh Joanie.”

“Eric is going to get an earful from me, he is so grounded,” Babs said. I had an idea; it was perfect.

“Babs, he’s your son, so do as you think best, but I may have a better idea. Do you have a camera, preferably digital?” I whispered the rest. She agreed and asked Mel to escort Carrie to our limo and wait there.

“We won’t be long, just lady stuff,” said Babs.

“Okay Mom.”

I winked at Carrie, and she smiled back. I quickly changed into the same leather crop top and miniskirt combo I’d worn the day of Mel’s rescue but improved on it with those knee-high Steve Zink high heeled boots. I took my long hair out of Mel’s ponytail clip and tarted up my makeup a few notches. I took a page out of Gin’s book, opening most of the buttons on the crop top, so I displayed a lot of cleavage. When Babs saw me, she could hardly keep from laughing.

“Joanie, that is just wicked. Eric won’t know what hit him. Do me a favor and don’t wear that getup near Bob or my Dad. I don’t want to be a widow or orphan at my age. Ghod, I think I’m attracted to you now.”

“Good, that’s the look we need. Ready?”

Eric was shooting hoops with a friend. This was just what I wanted; he was dribbling with his back to me.

“Eric, honey, aren’t you going to say goodbye, dear?” I cooed.

He turned; the ball stopped bouncing and rolled away. I walked slowly to Eric, slinking like a cat.

“Oh and you brought reinforcements. How sweet, but you know you’re man enough for me.”

Eric stood there stiff as a statue, ALL of him. I noticed his predicament.

“I see you want me too, and so soon after all we did last night, tiger.”

I pressed my thigh into his groin, put one hand on an ass cheek, grabbed his hair with the other and bent him into me.

“Take me now, lover,” I growled.

I kissed him full and hard on the lips with just a bit of tongue. A camera flashed, Eric started to push away.

“What are you two doing? Get out of my house, you tramp!” Babs was quite an actress. “And you, young man are in such trouble, when your dad and I get through with you ... “

“But I didn’t do anything Mom, I’ve never even been with a ...“

Babs and I put our arms around each other and broke out laughing. As we walked to the limo, I turned my head back to Eric.

“Hey Eric, when you turn eighteen if you’re still interested, call me.”

“Ghod, you’re such a tease, and you’ve only been like this for two months?” asked Babs.

“What can I say? I’m a natural.”

I was so happy with myself, it was a while before I realized my nipples were stiff and I had this tingly feeling in my...

~Ghod, I’m getting off on Eric. I’ll need to talk to Sara about this too. ~

* * * *

Driftless Dan dropped us at a side entrance to the Hospital where Alex was waiting, as we’d phoned ahead and learned the press was camped by the main entrances. I went back to my routine of class work, tests, powers instruction and advanced girl stuff. Things seemed back to normal for week or so.

Little did I know, it was about to get flung again and higher too. Several things happened to change my quiet existence. I received a CD in the mail from Iowa. The Karaoke machine was a professional model that recorded your performance. Senator Joe arranged for every party guest to get a copy of the Karaoke and a few photos of the birthday party he had taken himself. All our performances were on it including all of mine. Trouble was the kids got to bragging about the fun they’d had, how Mel had this kewl super-heroine guest at her party, how pretty she was and how well she could sing. Copies of the CD ended up in the hands of several radio stations, two of which were parts of nationwide radio empires and one of the kids posted my songs and photos to the Internet.

Busy as I was, I ignored TV and radio so it came as surprise when I got a call forwarded to my answer machine from the Karaoke guy asking me to please call him back ASAP. I’d given the Johnson’s Dr. Sara’s line as an emergency contact and she forwarded it to me as this way it was untraceable. I ignored it and went to the biweekly meeting of MSG at the Chinese Buffet. Oriental Express’s food was excellent as usual and for some odd reason, the topic for the night was how to keep your real identity secret. We discussed mistakes we’d made and ways to reduce risk.

“That’s why it’s so important to have a super name and even a separate code name. It’s critical to not let the public know your real name if you want or expect any privacy. Only a few of the top supers can get away with being fully out in the open.” Glacier Girl said. Apparently personal security was an area of expertise. “So remember rule number one, unless there is no other choice, always give out your super name and never your real name, Joanie.”

“Twist the knife deeper, why don’t you, GG? It was an accident. So what do I do now?” I asked.

“Pray and try to keep your lovely face out of the papers for a while.” said the Cranberry Kid. “Don’t feel bad, I f***ed up almost as bad myself when I mutated. You’ll not make the same mistake twice.”

“Yah, I’ll make a new and improved mistake,” I said sardonically.

“You’ll be okay, Joanie. GG is working on protecting your ID from unauthorized scrutiny and researching a new legal identity for you as a backup. Once you’re no longer flavor-of-the-day, you’ll be fine,” said Big Red.

Gin spoke next. “You need cheering up in a safe place. Most of us missed your, um concert, so lets go to the UW Memorial Union it’s ... Karaoke night.” Gin and several others said in unison.

“I suppose there’s safety in numbers,” I said unenthusiastically. My thoughts were less positive.

~Though I walk in the valley of death … ~

We drove to the Memorial Union - it’s a very big campus - and got carded. They didn’t want to let me in.

“Hey, no high school girls, we’re serving alcohol,” the bouncer barked.

They confirmed my ID, we got some decent tables not too far from the stage, got some pitchers of beer, margaritas and soda and sat back waiting for the fun to begin. I stuck to cola. The first hour went fine; various students got up, made fools of their selves or not then sat down. A number recognized some of us as local supers but left us alone. The second hour, they started to run out of volunteers, so some of us went up on stage. A sadder bunch of Madonna wannabes, there never was. Gin wasn’t half bad as an Asian Christina Aguilera. Red and Glacier Girl did a great job on “These Boots are made for Walking”.

We forgot about the menace of picture cell phones. Some idiots snapped pictures of MSG and yours truly and sent them off to a local TV news station hot-line, others called their friends. Forgetting myself, I suggested we do a group song, ‘Going to the End of the Line’, by the ‘Traveling Wilbury’s’, George Harrison’s all-star pickup band. Gin would sing verses one and four — Harrison -, Red the second - Jeff Lynn? -, my self the third verse — Orbison - and the rest the bridges - Dylan, Petty? - Then we’d all sing at the end. Prior to our song, a reporter and camera man snuck in with compact, low light, HD model we failed to notice. As we sang, the crowd grew rapidly. Why so many late comers, I wondered, had some large evening lecture let out? We sang, had a great time, and the crowd seemed to like it. Some one called out,

“Joanie, can you sing one by yourself?” I thought it was one of MSG.

“Okay, got any ideas?” I requested.

Various songs were shouted out, one gave me an idea.

“I’ve got it,” I said.

I told the karaoke operator what I wanted, and she cued it up. I was wearing the same outfit I teased poor Eric with, and it came to me, Black Leather by Grandmaster Flash, a rap song written for Joan Jett who’s known for her sexy, tough, working-class image ... perfect. I simply changed “my name is Joan Jett” to “my name is Joanie,” not bad in a pinch. I sang my heart out; giving it everything I had and vamping up a storm. I was wild on stage, Gin told me as I came off.

“Ghod you were hot, girl. I hope you didn’t do that at the birthday party.”

“Nah, purely G rated stuff. I’m not stupid enough to do that in front of preteens -- I have some level of control,” I said smugly.

The crowd wanted more, but it was late and I wanted to sleep. We walked out the doors straight into a mob of reporters and TV lights.

“Joanie, Joanie, is it true Warner and Sony have offered you recording contracts?”

“Are you going on tour?”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Is it true you used to be a man?”

Things went all funny again, then black. I came to slung over Red’s shoulder, the rest of MSG running interference between us and the press.

“I’m okay, Red, put me down. I can run real fast, don’t worry.”

She set me down, and we took off cross campus. Five minutes later, we were many blocks away and out of sight. Red was slightly winded; I was fine other that being somewhat nervous. I hardly broke a sweat.

“For someone who’s not a speedster or a brick, you’re a damn fast runner. You know, we ran over a mile and one-eighth in five minutes. That’s only a little over a four minute mile pace and blows away any women’s marks, yet you’re barely even sweating. I’m supposed to be the brick here, not you,” Red said between breaths. She knew of my enhanced endurance, but it was one thing to see it in the lab, another to experience it in the real world. We’d never had a chance to test it this way.

“Sorry, Red, but these boots slowed me,” I grinned.

“Remind me never to challenge you to any distance events. Now power lifting…”

“So where do we go?” I asked.

“My place is nearby; I’ll hide you there.” Red phoned the rest of MSG, told them were I was and turned on the TV. “Want to check out the damage?” she said cheerfully.

“No news, please, how about something light and fluffy, Entertainment Tonight?” I suggested.

“You’re on, Joanie. Set your cute butt next to mine and get comfy.” I stared at her.

“Just a cuddle to help you relax; okay Joanie?”

It was relaxing, actually. The ad break ended, and the show came back on.

“On the music scene, singing sensation Joanie was seen tonight performing for friends and students at the University of Wisconsin-Madison Memorial Union.” They showed a clip of me from my cover of Black Leather.

“There goes any chance of you singing in a church choir, Joanie. That makes Madonna look Republican,” Red quipped.

“Varity reports that at least three major companies are actively trying to sign Ms. Brown, a recently discovered mutant, with Warner rumored to be in the lead. Interest in the tall, redheaded super has been at fever pitch, since her dramatic rescue of the daughter of presidential contender Governor Johnson of Iowa. Speculation was furthered by her appearance at the girl’s birthday party and Joanie’s apparent close relationship to the Johnson family and their daughter’s grandfather, Senator Williams. Little is known of Ms. Brown’s origins other than she only recently became a super. Rumors persist that she is the illegitimate daughter of Senator Williams, his mistress, or that prior to her transformation she was a middle-aged man from Milwaukee, Wisconsin.”

“My father -- if they find out where he lives! If he gets hurt, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“It’s probably not that bad. The press thinks they know your last name, but they don’t know your old first name. Plus you have a very common last name, thank Ghod,” Red said trying to reassure me.

It’s just that I haven’t told him everything that happened to me.”

“What did you tell him, Joanie?”

“I e-mailed him a couple times and said I was getting better and in rehab, but I wasn’t allowed visitors. I told my sister most but not all what happened.”

“Not all?” Red asked.

“I told her I’m a lot younger looking and a mutant ...”

“But not ... “ she prompted.

“A teenaged mutant female sex bomb.”

“Hero with a half bra, girly power,” Red sang.

“Ha ha, so droll Sensei, I’m not an animated turtle. I feel such a fool,” I admitted.

“You got some ‘splaning to do, Lucy,“ said Red in a surprisingly good Ricky Ricardo.

“First cartoons, now old TV, I give up. “

“Hush Joanie, the show’s back on.”

“In a follow-up to our lead story, the unauthorized release of a recording of Joanie’s birthday party performance is causing headaches in the legal departments of the studios involved. No written or verbal permission was obtained from Ms. Brown to release or even record her voice or image. Legal experts say the fallout could be in the millions of dollars. “

Turn it off, Red. Can I use your...”

“Phone, sure,” she answered before I could finish.

“Now cut that out!”

“Jack Benny couldn’t have said better himself, Joanie.” It got my mind off my troubles for a while.

~Thanks Red. ~

* * * *

It was late, but my sister was still awake. “Hello,” she said sleepily.

“Sis, it’s your evil brother; it’s not too late to call?”

“I’m awake now. Is that really you, John? You sound so strange, still not fully recovered?” she sounded very concerned.

We had lost most of our aunts and uncles in recent years as we were the children of the youngest of their families.

“Remember, I e-mailed you and said it would be a while before I’d be back to normal?”

“You’re not dying, John?”

“No, far from it -- it’s just I held back a lot because I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Ghod, the mutation’s disfigured you. You’re missing limbs or grew a tail? Oh my poor brother,” she said with alarm.

“No no, I’m fine, better than I used to be in fact,” I said.

“Please tell me the truth; I’m all worried now.”

“You keep up with the news, don’t you, Sis?”

“I read a lot, sure. Making a dumb blond joke?” she asked.

“Read about the mutant who saved a girls life in Prairie Du Chein on Labor Day?”

“You know Joanie, the mystery girl? Who is she, what’s she like?”

“You’ve already met her,” I said and paused.

“I’ve met her ... Oh No!”

“Yours truly, what can I can I say other than, can I borrow that nice pleated purple linen skirt of yours for Saturday?” I missed teasing my sister.

“Dad’s gonna freak. When are you coming home? You have to see me,” she said in rapid-fire.

“Probably not for a few months; the press is too curious now. The conflicting rumors help but eventually someone will connect the dots. This isn’t fair, but could you break it to Dad? I’ll owe you big time, Sis, and I am a super.”

“Well okay, but you better bring me up to speed soon. Can you meet me somewhere?”

“I don’t know. Is the sci-fi club still meeting twice a month on the second and fourth Saturday’s?” I asked.

“Yea sure, you’re not thinking of coming?” She sounded shocked.

“Why not, can you think of a group of people less likely to draw a crowd?”

“We are kind of geeky,” she agreed.

“I’ll just say, I heard of your club from your internet site and decided to check it out. I may bring a few friends, don’t worry you’ll recognize them. You can always explain us as a group of sci-fi nerds trying out costumes for a convention. Still the same locations and times?”

“No change there, little sister,” she snickered.

“That’s a low blow, Blondie. Tell yah one thing.”

“What‘s that, my former older brother, now younger sister?”

“You’d better be on your best behavior, or I’ll steal your man,” I said.

“Oh you!”

* * * *

I returned the call from the now frantic Warner Records exec. I said I was interested in recording but had several nonnegotiable conditions. First: a satisfactory security arraignment, as I feared for my safety and that of friends and loved ones. Second, this was a one time deal, though I would give them first right of refusal if I decided to record again. Third, I wanted 30% of the gross before all expenses. As I ‘d already provided them with free publicity, all expenses related to promo, production, distribution, and such would come out of their 70%, half of my 30% would go to mutant research at UW-Madison. Lastly, any promo touring, photo-ops, concerts or TV and radio appearances were strictly at my discretion. If I wasn’t 100% satisfied, I walked.

He hemmed and hawed but agreed. “If I were you, I wouldn’t settle for less. I understand your fears and despite the restrictions, we’ll still make a tidy profit. The charitable angle is a great one, good for the university, and it could boost your sales.”

“One minor change, of my personal half of the 30%, send one-third, that 5% of the gross to the American Cancer Society under my name in my mother’s honor. I can’t give her name as my dad is still alive,” I requested.

“I’ll have a contract ready tomorrow. Got a fax number?”

I gave him the number to the mutant wing fax.

“Okay if my lawyer reviews it before I sign?” I asked.

“I was going to recommend you do that. Who’s your lawyer?”

“Senator Williams,” I replied.

“Tell me, he’s not your father is he?”

“No, and I’m not his mistress -- he’s just a good friend. Now, no more questions, okay?”

“Talk to you later, Joanie, and thanks. You won’t regret this.”

“Ghod, I hope not. I’ll be in touch,” I said and hung up.

It’s over three months later, and I still call him Mr. Karaoke. Silly ain’t I?

* * * *

MSG, Sara and a still confused Alex found the silver lining to my Labor Day disaster -- the video and still images gave them something to analyze.

“We think we found the key to your powers or the “trigger” if you will and have an experiment to test this when you’re willing,” said Sara.

“Well lead on, Mc Duff,” I replied.

“I don’t know why it didn’t happen before; perhaps you were still in shock from your mutation. You have Badger Boy and Dairy Maid to thank for it,” Sara said.

“What is it? You’ve got me all wound up, and it’s very frustrating.”

“Precisely, Joanie,” said Alex. “Emotion or more correctly, the release of adrenalin due to strong emotions is the key, we believe. From your own admissions, the sight of the little girl... “

I interrupted. “She has a name, Doctor Alex.”

I was pissed, did I care for Mel that much?

~Damn I think I’m going into mother mode. I’m thinking like a mother? Where’s Rod Serling? ~

“Melissa Johnson or Mel as she prefers, Alex,” I said testily.

“Sorry. When you saw Mel running into the road, the fear you felt jumpstarted your fight or flight reflex. In your case it’s so strong; it triggered one of your powers,” Alex explained.

“Come again?” Oh goody, pseudo-science, gobblety-gook time. “Plain English please; you’re giving me a headache,” I complained.

“Okay. Somehow, you tapped into those other parallel dimensions you’re linked to, Ghod knows how, and generated a time dampening field, for want of a better term,” Alex continued.

They had told me a few days before, they believed my time and regen powers were tied into the string theory concept of multiple coexisting universes. At the moment of my mutation, I got cross linked to them somehow and that might be the source of my inexplicable abilities. With any luck, they’d soon have more for me but needed to run the evidence by Dr Otto at ARC and a couple mutant physicists first.

“The closer to you, the stronger the damping field -- at its peak, everything within thirty meters of you stopped or was so slowed we can’t see movement, even comparing from frame to frame in the video. Beyond this, objects move faster and faster until at fifty meters, motion appears normal. When you collapsed on the welcome center grass, it all snapped back in a fraction of a second,” he said.

“So I stopped motion; that sounds like a force field or energy damping,” I hypothesized. Hey, I can spout pseudo-science with the best.

“That’s been ruled out; we observed relativistic effects in the evidence,” Alex said.

“Relativistic as in relativity: i.e. Einstein?” I asked.

“Yes Joanie, all the classic stuff was recorded; gravitational lensing, Doppler light shifts, compression and expansion of objects as seen by an outside observer, and time dilation,” explained Alex.

“Time dilation?” whoa Momma! We’ve hit the big-time. Out with Rod Serling and in with “The Outer Limits,” I exclaimed.

“A State Patrol squad got caught in your time stop. The onboard computer was reported as malfunctioning at the precisely same time as the rescue. Its internal clock was out of sync with atomic time by nearly twenty seconds,” Alex said.

“Huh?” Real intelligent on my part, don’t yah think?

“The police computers keep very precise time for evidentiary reasons, calibrating radar, time stamping on-board video and for data encryption, very hush-hush. Badger Boy found out through his police contacts and offered our help investigating. Dairy Maid found the computer had lost twenty seconds relative to its equivalents, yet no error messages or any excessive processor usage were recorded in its internal logs. The computer tested out perfectly, under every scenario she could conceive of. The only explanation remaining was time travel.”

“Why didn’t it snap back like everything else did?” I questioned.

“It did, but it took just long enough for the clock discrepancy to be reported over the police data network. The squad computers report to the network every few seconds, the link itself is always on. When you began the rescue, it started drifting off channel, Doppler shift, we think. The circuits compensated but eventually lost the link for ten seconds. It came back on but out of sync, only returning to normal shortly after you collapsed,“ said Alex.

“Why twenty seconds?” I asked.

“Given how fast you ran in testing and the other night with Red, the distance covered, stopping to pick up Mel and then returning to safety, the whole rescue took you personally from thirty-five to forty seconds,” Sara replied, taking over for Alex.

“But the whole rescue takes maybe fifteen to twenty on the video they keep showing.” I said

“Seventeen point five seconds, according to the video recorder clocks.” Gin said. “Like Alex said, time travel is the only way to explain it. For part of the thirty-five to forty seconds, you were essentially in your own universe where time moved at your command, your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty?”

“How else should I refer to someone who controls a fundamental aspect of space-time? Such powers are those of the gods or at least kings and queens of myth,“ Gin said in a overly formal voice.

“But I’m me, I’m ordinary, well a mutant but?”

~Set stand by for panic mode. ~

“I’m being melodramatic, but that’s how some might see your powers.”

* * * *
To be continued
Revised 08/12/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 10

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine learns how to control one of her powers, visits some old friends and tests another devatating power -- the power to turn men into drooling idiots. Oh, and she learns just how radically her life has been changed by her mutation.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is most welcome. This for the pure fun of it and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook, yay! All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA, their moto, “Be excellent to each other and party on dude.”

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 10- Field Test and Revelations 2
Madison and Baraboo WI, Late September to late October, 2006

December 13, 2006 on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 9:05am EST

The station mistress and I had no difficulty rolling my cycle up the ramp and into the baggage car. Nice gal -- I still swear she’s a mutant, but I didn’t ask. She recognized me but was very discreet about it. She told me I’d like Whateley and to say hello to Ms. Carson for her. Maybe she is one? Won’t be long now ‘til I reach Dunwich NH: next stop Whateley.

* * * *

At the meeting, Gin told me what they’d planned. “Red’s helping with an experiment to test if you can trigger your time-stop effect at will. You’ll need it to protect yourself, as word of your abilities spreads. If the press can figure your powers out so can the unscrupulous.”

“So how do we test this hypothesis, Professor Glory?” Gin smiled back feraly.

“Just follow Red around today. When it happens, you’ll know.”

“A mystery, yummy.”

“We thought you’d like it, Ms. Brown.” Fair is fair I suppose.

“Yah, great.”

What Gin didn’t tell me was they were, in essence, recreating Mel’s accident but under controlled conditions. I couldn’t be told, or it might not work. Where they got their hand on an Abrams A1A tank, I don’t know -- the local National Guard I think. One moment I’m in the country near Baraboo, jogging with Red on a quiet hiking path at the huge decommissioned Badger Ordinance Plant grounds - MSG had a training facility there. Next I know there’s a flash in the distance, and the ground explodes in our rear moments later.

“Run, Joanie, we’ve wandered into a life fire exercise!”

“Well duh!”

A second, much closer explosion encouraged us. In hindsight, the whole scenario made no sense, but would you argue logic with explosions and a tank coming at you? We ran zigzag towards what looked like cover. “Shit, a stripped out tank, it’s probably a target,” Red screamed. The tank closed quickly, we turned, I saw it stop and fire -- I knew we were road kill. I felt this feeling of nervous calm, very much like the day I saved Mel. I reached Red, who was time-stopped in mid-stride, I grabbed her hand running, and she came out of stasis. We ran straight for the firing tank, its main gun’s flames still visible but motionless, fixed in my time field and now helpless. Red soon had the tank rolled on its side, I collapsed, and the shell exploded safely away from us. Its turbine stopped as I came to, and I could hear Red laughing hysterically.

“What you ... laughing ... at?” I said between gasps.

“Damn girl, what a rush, Sorry to scare you. That was Gin’s test. All the explosions were set charges remotely detonated by an observer, and the few real shells were blanks and plastic paint rounds I could easily shield you from, if anything went wrong.”

“You bitch, we could have been ... No, we couldn’t have been killed or hurt, but I have to believe that was dangerous; also clever, mean, sick and cruel but mostly clever.” I slowly got up.

“Gin and I figure that now you’ve experienced the time stop effect several times, you can reproduce the ‘feel’ and get you power to work on cue, at least that’s the idea,” Red explained.

I was still pissed, but my energy level was near normal again, I was getting better at this and fast.

“You mean like this.”

I concentrated on the odd feelings I’d had, and Red soon stopped moving. I studied her for a moment, then tried something new. I grabbed her clothing, trying not to un-time-stop her. She came partially out of it but was moving extremely slowly as I stripped her naked.

~Yup a natural redhead. ~

Mind you I did know that from the road trip, still I wish I had my camera,

~Ghod, what a body! ~

I moved fifty feet away then relaxed.

“I know you like to show off your great figure, but isn’t that a bit much Red?” I asked, mocking her.

“Give me back my clothes you little.... You did it, Joanie! Uh, can I have my clothes back, Joanie dear, please?”

“Okay but you’ll have to make it up to me,” I said with a pout.

“What you have in mind?”

“Got any whipped cream at home?” I grinned in triumph.

“Joanie,” she said in a serious tone, “you’re one kinky girl.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” I said and giggled.

Red laughed, and I returned her clothes after a quick tickle or two. Don’t look at me like that dear d/j/w. After that tank stunt, I’d earned the right to some retribution - and Red blushes so cute.

“Oh, Red,” I said as she finished dressing.

“I think the National Guard would like their tank picked up.”

“Oh, yah.”

* * * *

Gin’s field test results gave me the germ of an idea. They, there’s those “they’s” again, say that money is power. I has little of either and a lot to lose, given my recent publicity. I could count on Sara, Alex and MSG for help in an emergency, my sister, my aging dad, and probably the Williams-Johnson family but otherwise I was on my own. Between the publicity seekers, con artists, psychos, corporations, criminals and the less savory government types, I was a cherry ripe for picking. I was a potential threat to the health and welfare of my friends and family. As word of my abilities spread, threats to them could be used to pressure me.

~Ghod they might try to kidnap sweet Melissa! ~

This was simply not acceptable. I needed power and protection. It was thoughts like these that lead to my devising “The Plan”. Like all good plans it was simple, and like most plans it had its flaws, but it would do.

Step one: lay low but not too low. Don’t make myself an easy target.

Step two: invest for my future in both financial and security terms. This meant acquiring wealth quickly and using it to “leverage” my position.

Step three: continue to develop and refine my powers while minimizing outside knowledge.

Step four: use steps one through three to ensure the safety of my friends, family, and myself.

Step five: this was the final step and most difficult to swallow. Find somewhere to live on an intermediate to long-term basis more secure than my current situation. As good as Sara and the mutant wing were, they had serious limitations. Mel’s birthday party and the UW-Madison Karaoke night convinced me that if the press were this bad, what would the serious nasties be like? I suspected that spy, terrorist, and criminal types would find me an attractive target.

My “safer” home research came to several conclusions. I needed to join a larger, more powerful organization, be it a supers group, the military, the intelligence ‘community’, or a large corporation -- otherwise I was on my own. I was leery of the military and intelligence community, seen too many films I guess. Plus I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut. Existing large corporations were a possibility, but I worried about being exploited and the strength of their security. My best options were joining a big cities super group or form my own non-living entity whose sole purpose was protecting me and mine. This last option gave me the most control, but it was a daunting task. I needed money, lots of it and a better handle on what I was and wasn’t capable of.

I sent an e-mail to Babs and Mel and asked them to contact the Senator for his advice. Babs was eager to help, so while I chatted with an enthusiastic Mel, Babs got her dad on a three-way. I explained the record contract offer, he agreed to have his legal staff review it and fax it back ASAP. I asked for his help setting up a foundation or corporation to protect my self and assets. In days I was a signed recording artist and the CEO and sole stock owner in “Joanie Enterprises”. I could use his staff via encrypted e-mail until I could screen and hire my own. I was overwhelmed by their generosity.

“If you ever need my help, just call me,” I told them.

They said my saving Mel more than paid for it but should Bob make a serious run for President, they might ask me to entertain at a rally or fundraiser. Mel and I talked again afterwards, and she was ecstatic I that I would record. I promised her a pre-release copy delivered in person. I swear the phone started bouncing.

On Senator Joe’s advice, I joined the Madison Supers Group, yes I know the initials are also MSG, but it saves on stationary expense. Joining made me a reserve officer in the Wisconsin National Guard, which gave me access to their resources. With the help of the mutant wing, MSG, and the Guard facilities, we refined my super’s skills. By Halloween of 2006, I could run a mile at the world record time for men and barely break a sweat. Where the heat I generated went and the energy I used came from, our best guess was an inter-dimensional transfer. Mind you, it gave me a huge apatite but by classic thermodynamics, it didn’t add up. Of course I’m not the classic John 1.0 but the new and improved Joanie 2.0.

My training was bearing fruit. My “graduation” involved time stopping a pair of Air National Guard A-10 Warthogs as they taxied for takeoff, then boarding the aircraft, placing giant pink and white bunny ears over their helmets, shades of A Christmas Story, then exiting the aircraft, photographing my handiwork and watching them takeoff. Girl, I was tired after. The pilots were very embarrassed when I showed them the photos I’d taken; I let them keep the ears though. I had to take them to dinner to make it up to them -- like their male egos couldn’t take it and needed soothing, yah sure. They just wanted a night out with the babe. Well at least they were good dancers.

Dairy Maid’s analysis of my “graduation,” Gin’s “tank” experiment and Mel’s rescue proved that the mass or speed of objects time-stopped made little difference. The area or volume involved, the time stop’s duration and the amount of my physical activity did.

* * * *

As a break from training the Gang of Four piled into Carrie’s Grand Caravan and drove to my old sci-fi club’s meeting. The risk was low, and I had to talk to my sister and dad. I’d called and found the meeting was moved to an alternate site, a large Victorian steamboat house that one of the club members roomed in. It was one of a pair of houses built in the 1880s by two brothers; the term steamboat refers to the shape and layout of the house. This was a break for me as a private home minimized any risk of discovery. We got into Milwaukee early enough to stop by my sister and brother-in-law’s home. She noticed how, um, “close” the four of us were and teased me.

“Gee Joan,” she put a lot of emphasis on Joan; I think she relished the chance to be the older sibling for once. “I know you always wanted to get in a girl’s panties, but four at once is a tad greedy, don’t you think?”

We’d always been competitive in a friendly way, but this was War.

“I may be late to the dating game, but I’ll tell you one thing, Sis, I’m ready for the Big Leagues now.” I said giving my breasts a push up with both hands, then posing like Linda Carter in her famous Wonder Woman poster, smiling with my hands on hips and chest held proudly. Then I stuck my tongue out and giggled.

“Oh you,” they all said.

* * * *

We had fun with the nerds. I mean sci-fi fans. They’re good friends and even though I couldn’t tell them who I used to be, they treated us well. The costume idea was a bust; they soon identified us from the Labor Day coverage and public service ads but were thrilled that us “celebrities” were fellow enthusiasts, and kept quiet about it, unlike the people at the Memorial Union. I only made one mistake and it turned out okay, I wore my leathers. The weather was cool, so I was in a long sleeve silk blouse, leather vest, form fitting leather slacks, my Steve Zink cowboy boots, some jewelry and my hair in a long braid.

-- Note to self: who the hell is this Steve Zink? Mind you, I love his boots.--

The rest of the Gang of Four was in similar attire. How should I put it, we could give a corpse an erection. We weren’t dressed like sluts -- we were just really hot. When one of the club members, Chuck, saw my friends, he pretended to have a heart attack, but none of us would fall for giving him mouth to mouth.

I snuck up behind and said breathily, “I hear you like girls in leather, care to have a gander, Chuck?”

If he’d died that moment, they’d have never got the grin off his face. He recovered quickly and was very polite and attentive to us the rest of the night as were several other single guys -- I wonder why?

I joined in a game of Risk they nearly always played. A member collected old board games and the classic French import was a favorite. We didn’t keep campaign books like Arnold Judas Rimmer of Red Dwarf, but we were a little fanatical. I must admit to cheating, though it was legal. I found if I kept my elbow in tight as I shook the dice, my forearm made my breasts jiggle in a most distracting manner, distracting for the men, that is. It merely made my nipples stiff and my panties damp, enjoyable, but I could control myself. Between this jiggling and my, um, pointers, the guys made several serious errors in their attacks. I cleaned their clocks. That’ll teach them to stare at a woman’s breasts like that. I don’t think they cared that they lost though, giggle.

~Why am I giggling in my diary/journal/whatever? I’ll have to ask Sara about that too. ~

We found a room at a downtown hotel; the desk clerk thought we were high-class call girls until we showed our ID. That was the best night sleep I had in years, yah sure. Just say the road trip added another chapter, Whoa momma! Did I forget to mention they had really big beds in the room?

We stopped by my dad’s the next day. My sister had told him, and we had talked on the phone, but the sight of me still shocked him. I was reminded of the problem as we were passing old family photos around, and I caught him comparing me to pictures of my mom at the same physical age. The resemblance was uncanny, I was much taller, with different colored hair and somewhat bustier, but I could see why my Dad was having a hard time. I could have been her sister; damn, I could have been her twin from certain angles. I talked to him in private, and said if he wanted to pretend I was her for a moment and hug me I didn’t mind, and I didn’t think Mom would either. He was a nice hugger, so warm and reassuring. He sure must miss her -- I do.

* * * *
One week before Halloween Sara called me to her office for as she put it, “A private conversation with Alex and me.”

Sara was always discreet when discussing the more unusual facts of my mutation, but she was especially careful today. She even placed Carrie, Red and Gin on guard in the corridor outside her office to make sure no one approached her locked door without our advance notice.

“Joanie, the reason for the hush, hush is I finally got the results back on your genetic and cell culture tests, and they are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I did a discreet literature search and went so far as to consult with my old mentor, Dr. Otto at ARC, and even he was impressed. He’d like you to come to ARC for testing, but it’s up to you. He still only knows you’re a middle-aged male to teenaged female mutant but not your name.

I was intrigued, “What does this all mean, Sara?” She usually was straightforward with me. Why did she seem evasive?

“Remember our talks about how powers can affect a mutant’s health and lifespan?” she asked.

“You mean how burnouts can kill and how some magic users have very long life expectancies?” I replied.

“Exactly, Joanie,” she said “Now you need to be careful who you share this with. You’re at risk from people and organizations that will want to learn your secrets. I’m serious; you need to be very careful.”

“You’ve got my full attention, Sara. Be very, very quiet, were hunting Joanie. Ha ha ha,” I said in my best Elmer Fudd. “Sorry but the mood was getting a bit too heavy, I’m not being flippant, just , you know me, Sara.”

She smiled again then continued. “The tests, including your aerobic fitness tests, all point to the same conclusion. What took so long was all the rechecking we and ARC did as they are, um ... so unusual.” If she didn’t have my attention before she had it now. “Barring severe injury or some fact we haven’t considered, you’ll likely live a long time.”

“How long Sara?” I asked.

“A very, very, very long time.” she said emphasizing long.

“How long, best guess?” I needed details.

“Read the Bible, Joanie?”

“A little, my parents never forced their religious beliefs on us kids,” I replied honestly.

“Heard of Methuselah?”

“Said to have lived many hundreds of years? I know the general story, sure.”

“By your standards, he died in infancy.” Sara said calmly.

“So I could live many hundreds of years?” I asked incredulously.

“Heard of the Fey?” she asked.

“The magic folk of Celtic legend?” I replied.

“Yes, Joanie, they do exist -- I met a few in my career. There’s even one who’s a student currently at Whateley, my old school. They’ve been known to live over a thousand, even two-thousand,” she said seriously.

I was flabbergasted. “I could live to two-thousand?”

“No, Joanie, they can live to two-thousand. You won’t have aged a day by then,” she clarified.

“Not a day in two-thousand years?” I was very nervous.

“That’s not quiet right, either. All your tests indicate you won’t have aged a second in two-thousand years,” Sara explained.

“That sounds uncomfortably like immortality. That’s supposed to be impossible.” On a weirdness scale of one to ten, today was a twelve and going up fast.

“I believe it’s all linked to your BIT and how it relates to your powers. Your Body Image Template is essentially the blueprint for ‘you’ and controls the interaction of your genes and mutant powers. It’s like a super set of DNA, but it controls all aspects of your mutation, not just your physical body like DNA does,” Sara said.

“You mean my BIT was for a female and immortal?” I asked.

~Huh? ~ I thought.

“Then why was I born male, and I aged? From what you’ve said about the BIT, I should have changed at puberty.” This was confusing.

“It’s a raw hypotheses, not yet a theory, but Dr. Otto and I think you BIT was altered as part of your warper powers when you mutated. Something triggered it much later in life than usual,” she explained.

“How can a BIT change? I mean could mine change again?” This was seriously weird stuff and it was all about me

“You’ve heard of string theory and how there may be multiple parallel coexisting universes?” she asked.

“I think PBS had a special on it a few years back. So how do these multiple universes relate to me?” I asked back.

Imagine your genes as letters on a piece of paper in a great cosmic typewriter, XX is female, XY is male. Overstrike or type over XY on top of XX and you get XX. Overstrike XX on top of XY and you get ...”

“XX and a female,” I finished her sentence.

“Bingo!” Sara replied.

“That might explain the gender change, but why the extreme life extension?” I wasn’t getting it.

“Some how, we believe, all the possible BIT sets and gene sets across these multiple universes got cross linked at the moment of your mutation. You ended up with the best of the best of these BIT and gene sets and that was recopied across the multiple universes. It’s like having a near limitless supply of backups to a computer’s memory. No mater how often you erase or corrupt it, the backups restore it, thus backing up themselves, very redundant. In essence, unless all of your backups are destroyed at the same time or the links to them severed, you can’t be killed, at least not easily,” Sara said.

“I can’t be killed?” I was close to hysterics, this couldn’t be real.

Sara sensed my fear and tried to reassure me. “You can be killed, but every cell in your body would have to be vaporized or the other ‘backup’ Joanies would quickly restore you.” She said this calmly and smiled sweetly.

I forced my self to keep cool though I was full of questions.

“How can you be certain?” I asked.

“We considered cutting your head off.” Sara said. “Sorry but I’m entitled to a fit of sick humor too, Joanie.”

Alex laughed and we gals giggled. It worked, I was calmer.

“From your cell culture tests, the aerobic fitness results too. We burned them, baked them, attacked them with chemicals, we froze and thawed them; we even put your sealed cultures in the university’s research reactor. Short of total destruction, your cells restored themselves perfectly every time. We can make them dormant but only by freezing or starvation followed by drying, and even then they’re still viable. We have them all stored in our highest security vault and then only as test numbers that are themselves kept in under heavy encryption. There’s nothing to tie them to you, Joanie,” she said.

“The tests show my cells are very tough, but that’s not proof of the anti-ageing hypotheses, time goes on after all.” I needed convincing.

“Ah but that’s the whole point, time does pass for your cells, but your BIT and by extension your genes are all cross linked to a single point in time in all universes, July 03, 2006. The time line for the various Joanies are all anchored to that point in time and linked strongly to your various selves by your warper time powers. Your BIT cannot age because it is effectively ‘stuck’ at July 03, 2006.” I was dumbstruck, not an easy thing.

“Dr. Otto and I speculate that as your BIT tries to ‘move’ in time it’s like stretching out a bungee cord, at some point the tension is too great, and it snaps back to the state it was at the moment you cross linked. That moment in time is so strongly tied to your BIT and the BIT to your genes which are tied to that moment in time; it’s a recursive loop, the more it ‘tries‘ to change, the more it restores itself. Add to this the concept that the rules of physics may be different in different universes -- the one and only constant through them all is July 03, 2006.”

This was heady stuff but a nasty thought came to mind. “But I can move, eat, sleep; I even have a monthly cycle now. How if my BIT is stuck am I not stuck as well and ... Oh Ghod, can I have children, or am I sterile?”

I’d never fathered a child, hell I never been with a woman, but the thought that I never could was sickening. Sara reassured me.

“No Joanie, It’s your BIT that’s stuck, not you. Your cells divide and grow and replace themselves, they just do it perfectly. We harvested an egg during your recovery, and it fertilized normally. Your personal time field shouldn’t interfere with conception or gestation. In fact since your BIT keeps you locked at your current state, every time you ovulate, the tissues lost in ripening the egg are quickly and perfectly replaced. You are not only fertile; you will remain fertile until you die.”

“I’m gonna make the Tampax and Pampers people a fortune. If I’m not careful, my daycare bills could finance a manned Mars mission.” Sara smiled at my poor jokes, but I wouldn’t show her any mercy. “Sara does this mean I suffer from perpetual PMS, I’m a perpetual emotion machine?” I said giving her my most innocent smile, then quickly ducking behind my chair and covering my head with my hands in mock terror. “No no, I’ll be good, don’t hit me, Mommy.” If a conversation ever needed a good laugh this one was it.

“It’s good to see your taking this well, Joanie, but remember as word gets out that a mutant exists that has time related powers and is the next best thing to immortal, your abilities and body will become valuable commodities to the unscrupulous, special ops types, criminal organizations and the like. Not to mention the tabloid press, religious fanatics and such. And you can be sure the word will get out despite our best efforts here. Eventually enough will leak for someone to put two and two together and get ...” Sara started to say.

“Me,” I finished. “Doesn’t that make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Great, now I’m either somebody’s money tree or a permanent lab rat.”

“Good, you realize the dangers and, Joanie ... “

“Yes, Sara.”

“Stop completing my sentences for. “

“Me.”

“Oh you!”

Okay, dear diary/journal/whatever, I did ask the other obvious question, and the answer was maybe.

“Will my children inherit my powers or lifespan?”

Sara spoke next and in an admonishing tone asked, “Alex, have you been fornicating with the patients again?”

I burst into the giggles so hard I nearly wet myself, Sara laughed so hard she cried, and Alex turned this lovely shade of red. He answered me.

“If the children are anything like you two, we’re all doomed.”

~Wow Alex actually cracked a joke, whoda thunk it. ~

“Maybe , maybe not, Joanie, but from a purely genetic standpoint the genes they’ll get from you are so robust their likely to live as long as say the Fey even with out any mutant powers.”

* * * *

To be continued (Revised 08/12/2006)
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 11

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie's life becomes a three-ring circus in chapter 11, can she survive? Please note: no Canadians were hurt in the making of this chapter.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook! Don’t yah love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. Frankly their moto should read, ‘They get better.’

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 11- Halloween, the Press, Field Tripping for Dummies part 1
Madison WI, October 31 to November 10, 2006

December 13, 2006 on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, 9:25am EST

Dear diary/journal/whatever, gee dear diary sounds awfully girly don’t it? Oh yah, I’m one now, giggle. That last giggle was deliberate, but still I do giggle so these days, and it’s not as if I’m an airhead. Sara’s tests show I’m smarter, learn faster and have a near perfect memory, part and parcel of the exemplar package. It’s been a huge help in coping with all the changes. The giggling still bugs me though. Everything from having a female brain, to the stress of my transformation, to “It’s a girl thing” was suggested. The simplest answer is the one I believe, I’m happy. Even after all the possible threats to my freedom and existence and the necessary isolation from my old friends and family, I’m happy. I’m healthy, that’s an understatement, young, attractive and my body is sooo um, responsive. I’ve got these cool, sorry Mel, kewl powers, some great new friends in Madison and Iowa, I saved a precious someone’s life, and I get to go to this strange and interesting school. Nothing will get me down now; I won’t let it, not even the memories of last Halloween; Ghod I hate Canadians. Okay just these Canadians, better?

* * * *

Monona Terrace Convention Center, Madison WI
October 31, 2006 Halloween

Cue music: ‘It’s Money that I Love’ Randy Neumann

Warner’s agreed to record it in Madison; this eased my security concerns. The release was set for November first with a big party, the only one we could agree to, held on Halloween at the Monona Terrace convention center. Warners wanted NYC or LA but agreed the Frank Lloyd Wright designed building was perfect. The party was a blast, many top artists and VIPs were flown in, Warners sparing no expense. It was like Christmas and a birthday rolled into one; I was amazed at all the famous people that came and a little frightened.

~Suck it up girl, time to schmooze the crowd, ~ I kept telling myself.

I wore my signature leathers, erotic but not slutty and was baring a lot of skin -- hey sex sells. They even flew in a live band comprised of top secession musicians, many who’d worked on the CD. Several members of MSG were here in costume to help emphasize the charitable angle and the drinks were flowing.

I didn’t know about the live singing prior to the announcement at the party. I thought I was there to smile and mingle while they handed out promo copies.

I was surprised when Mr. Karaoke announced, “And now as a special treat, Joanie will sing a few songs.”

“Thanks for telling me now.” There was polite laughter. “Since they were so nice and didn’t make me tour I suppose I can do a couple.”

We did several from the CD, the crowd was enthusiastic. I think they expected lip syncing, but we did it all live, and it must have sounded good. Then I gave them two songs we’d recorded but not used on the CD.

“I’d like to do two more then call it a night. First a sentimental love song, ‘It’s Money that I Love’ by Randy Neumann,” that got some chuckles as it’s a very satirical piece. We did the number perfectly, we rocked. “For my last song there will be a short pause while I put this on,” I held up a very blond wig, “as I need it to like get into character, whatever.” We launched into ‘Valley Girl’ by Frank Zappa; I spoke Val-speak like a native.

I was well into the dumb blond routine when armed men rushed the stage and held us hostage. The crowd thought it was a stunt until they fired at the floor to ceiling windows, blowing some out. There was little we could do; they were spread too far apart for the MSG or security to stop a once. I didn’t dare use my time-stop as I couldn’t be sure they were all in range; if any weren’t, the consequences were lethal. They must have seen the vids of Mel’s rescue because they Tazered me and dragged me away. I was tied, blindfolded and hustled to a waiting speedboat on Lake Monona while some stayed behind as a diversion. I learned MSG and security overcame them quickly with no harm to anyone but not in time for me. I was transferred to a van and driven around town, then dumped inside a solid concrete room -- must have been an old factory or warehouse. I woke chained tight to a wall.

“What is it with you villain types and abandoned factories, it’s so cliché?” I was pissed and not thinking strait, clever repartee this was not.

A man in a preppy suit walked up and slapped me hard in the face, brave man as I was chained, four goons training guns on me.

“Quiet, Joanie, I’ll do the talking, you listen. I’m with the Canadian Revolutionary Army of Patriots, and you’re helping us, you decadent American blonde-bimbo.” These were fighting words.

~He called me a blonde? Death is too good for him. ~

“You may speak, slave.”

“No disrespect, but I’m not a blonde or a bimbo, and let’s get real, Canadian terrorists? Plus the acronym of your group is CRAP. I demand to be abducted by real terrorists, not rejects from Second City.”

I was trying to get them to do something stupid. I hoped I was a quick healer, a regen, like Sara said, and I hoped the radio tracer in my boot was still working. I was chained and couldn’t break free unless I could get the key, then freeze them.

“You’re stalling for time.” He hit me harder than before, I could taste blood. “Tazer her, strip her, then tie her up. She probably has a tracer on her.”

~Damn, the high Hoser honcho has a least three working brain cells. ~

As I passed out, I thought; ~That’s strange, repartee always worked for James Bond. ~

I woke naked, sore and spread eagled on a steel table, my arms and legs tied down painfully. They may claim to be Canadian, but they were true bastards. I was scared, seriously scared. I knew a kidnapping could happen but had put it out of my mind.

“Who’s laughing now, Bitch? Sorry, my manners, you’re a whore and a bitch and a real strawberry blonde, I see. I apologize for the blonde remark, very rude of me.” He waited. “I said I was sorry, why don’t you answer back? Oh, that’s right; I had my associates gag you. I suppose you want to know what we intend. Blink once for yes, twice for no.” I blinked once.

~When I get free, this man is toast. I mean real toast, I intend to broil him alive, then cover him in butter and jam; I just have to decide on the flavor. ~

I amazed myself, here I’m thinking of my silly comic revenge and not cowering in fear though I was afraid.

~A side effect of my mutation? My confidence in general is way up; the sexual romp during the road trip was proof of that. ~

“After we take a few photos and send them over the Internet, your buyers will arrange pickup and payment. Just to make certain we’re doing a test before we do. Our sources say you heal very quickly -- perhaps you do. I can see no cuts or bruises on you, but our customer demands proof. He shot a few photos, the pervert. “Number one,” he called to a goon to my left, “break both her legs.”

He came at me with a piece of rusty pipe.

~Oh shit! ~

“MMGFFFS!” was all I could manage.

“What did you say, I couldn’t hear? Break both my hands too? OKAY, if that’s what you want, you sure are a kinky girl.”

The goon swung the pipe hard. The pain was indescribable, fortunately I passed out. I woke to the sound of gunfire then a wall of my cell burst open, it was Red. She ripped the table from the floor and carried it and me to freedom. She untied the gag, then carefully broke my restraints, I was free.

“How are you feeling, Joanie?”

“Very sore, tired and hungry; how are my hands and feet, Red? They started smashing them with a pipe, then I fainted.” I was still in some shock.

~This is strange, why am I so calm and clearheaded? ~

“I can’t see any obvious injuries, there’s dried blood on the table, but you look fine -- you sure it’s your blood?”

“Sure I’m sure, you’d think I’d make up something like this?” I was so upset I forgot myself, sat up and got off. “Hey, I feel alright, no pain, Red.” That’s when I saw the press photographers and TV cameras. “Um, Red, honey, thanks for the rescue and all, but do you think you can get me some clothes or maybe a blanket? I seem to be naked here, not that it won’t give my record sales a boost.”

Red quickly moved between me and the cameras and got a Mylar space blanket out of her bandoleer -- a utility belt is just so Batman -- and wrapped it around me. I grabbed a length of the ropes she’d removed and made a belt.

I was feeling very angry. “Give me a moment, Red.”

“Uh, you’re not going to do something foolish are you, Joanie?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” I walked as dignified as one can wearing a crinkling orange and silver space blanket wrapped around them like some bizarre beach towel. With hindsight it seemed more a parody of the classic LBD.

-- Note to self: You know with the addition of a breathable fabric lining, it might just work. I’ll have call Gin about it someday. --

Sorry, back to my story. I got up close to the press who started acting worried. The clicking of cameras slowed then stopped for the most part.

“Um,” I purred in my sexiest voice, “did you folks get some good ‘candid’ shots of me?” I turned to a couple of guys with big telephoto lenses. “Get any ... ‘beaver’ shots did we.” They looked very guilty. “I should ask for all the film, drives, recording media, or whatever or better yet smash your cameras, but this is a public place. However my tall redheaded friend over there,” I pointed to an extremely angry looking Big Red, “might have ideas of her own.”

~They look like they are about to ... YES, success ... wet their pants. I have got to find out how Red does that. ~

As the stains spread, I spoke. “I’ll ask you to do this then, would you please use only the more ‘G’ rated images? If anyone forgets, there better be fat checks donated to the American Cancer Society in my name, or I will sue. Given my looks, I think a jury might considerer this as attempted child porn, and there’s always the option of civil suites. Remember that my chief legal advisor is a United States Senator. Do we have an understanding?” Everyone nodded. “Good. Oh, and boys, I expect 8 x 10 glossies of every photo taken of me today, and I do mean all of them. I’m making a scrapbook, four of each should do. Mail them to MSG in care of my friend Red; you all know the address, ta ta!” I turned and walked jiggling and crinkling with Red to a waiting ambulance. “Red, once I get cleaned up, we’re going to the Chinese, I’m starving.”

She looked at me and shook her head, I could see the signs of her arousal straining through her top.

~Have I got it or what? Now if I can just keep folks from trying to steal it. ~

* * * *

They got the kidnapers but couldn’t get a handle on the buyer. They still don’t have them; they’re part of why I’m on this train. At the mutant wing, Sara insisted on x-rays, an MRI and lots of blood work, while Alex and my pals at MSG analyzed the blood and hair stuck to the pipe and other physical evidence. I was ravenously hungry, so Carrie got me some energy bars and sport drinks to help replace what I lost.

“You are one tough girl, Joanie. The tissue, blood and hair stuck to the pipe and the blood and gouge marks on the table are consistent with vicious, crushing blows, yet Dr. Sara says the x-rays and MRI show no evidence you were ever injured. From the digital photos your captors took, they broke both your legs, broke your right wrist and nearly severed the fingers on your left hand. The photos made me sick to look at them. You have The Cranberry Kid and Glacier Girl to thank for locating you. They homed in your backup transmitter; it was very low power, so you were hard to find,” said Alex.

“Backup transmitter?” I asked.

“Why’d you think GG gave you that rather too friendly hug just before you left for the promo?” Carrie answered.

“She wanted to cop a feel?” I suggested. GG is sweet but sometimes too ‘playful’ for my confused tastes.

“She planted a dermal patch transmitter on you. Nearly invisible, the trade-off is low power and short lifespan. It lasted just long enough,” replied Carrie.

“I thought I had an odd itch near my crotch, but did she have to place it there?”

“Would you think to search there? Be glad she didn’t shove it up your ...“

“I get the picture, Carrie.” Ewh! She left Alex and me alone.

“Some good’s come of this; we know you’re a higher level regen than we estimated. You’re a four or five at least; we’ll go into that another time. Carrie brought some clothes for you, so have a shower, get dressed and go out and get something to eat, okay, Joanie?” I was feeling unsure of myself, I think he noticed. “Joanie, if it helps the police and those MSG present say the same, you saved lives by not resisting.”

“I couldn’t do anything, I didn’t know were they all were, then they Tazered me. I felt helpless.”

“You weren’t at first, but even if you’d time stopped the ones near you, some terrorists were beyond your effective range. They would have soon noticed your attempt and reacted by killing innocents. You did good, Joanie; you took the bullet for them.” I cheered up, Alex often had this effect on me, but why were my nipples suddenly so stiff? He answered a quick phone call.

“Red says she has news about your abductors as soon as you’re dressed. She’ll tell you over some Chinese, and Joanie?” Alex asked.

“Yes, Alex?” I loved it when he talked to me.

~Oooh. Ghod I’m hot for my Doctor! ~

“I heard how you handled the press. If you don’t mind, can I have some of those candid 8X10 glossies? Whoa Momma!” Alex exclaimed.

“Pervert!”

~How dare he. ~

“Guilty as charged.”

“I’ll think about it.” I thought for one second. “Okay.”

~Dr. Hunk likes me. ~

The thought of him ogling my nude pictures made my panties wet. I was very confused and aroused. Alex grinned like he’d won first prize. He’d come very close to winning my cherry. I was on the edge.

“I suppose you’ll want them personalized, something like ‘Thanks for a great BIG time, Alex, lover” signed Joanie with little xxxxs after my name?” I fought to stay in control. I left the room before he could answer, or I ripped off his clothes. Warning hormone alert to Defcon Five!

“Joanie,” Red said discretely as we ate MSG’s favorite Chinese buffet, “Carrie and Gin are assisting the police in questioning your hosts. A little hocus pocus here by Gin and an empathic suggestion there from Carrie, and they’ll sing like canaries. If they don’t, GG and I can break something.” I snickered. “Meantime, what do we do about you, girl? You are becoming one serious security nightmare.” She smiled; it made her look so sexy.

~Ghod I am horny today. ~

“Tell me about it. “ My panties were damp again.

~Damn, I just changed those. ~

“It wasn’t totally unexpected, Red. I’ve got some feelers out on better security or safer locations. One intrigues me: heard of a private boarding school called Whateley Academy?”

“Aren’t Dr. Sara and Dairy Maid alumna? Glacier Girl is taking on-line courses from them, I think. It’s in New England?”

“Near Dunwich, New Hampshire, a couple hours train ride from downtown Boston. Sara says it’s pretty good, and Dr. Otto of ARC swears by the place,” I explained.

“It’s a college prep school for mutants; you’re not a teenager, Joanie.”

“Look closely at me, Red. If I don’t dress right and wear all the bangles, makeup, and boots, how old do I look?” The lights came on bright in her regal head.

“Ghod, how can I forget? You can pass for sixteen or seventeen, maybe even fifteen without much effort -- younger still if your breasts weren’t so well developed. It was hard to make you much more that twenty even with all the leather, make up and boots,” she said excitedly.

“Precisely, Red.”

“But Sara said that it costs a bundle.”

“I can believe it, imagine all the damage hundreds of mutant teenagers away from home for the first time can do or just hundreds of normal teenagers,” I offered.

“Holy liability uncapped ingénue!”

“Narrowly escaped copyright infringement there, Red, but it‘s true enough. Most Whateley students either have massive scholarships, whopping great grants, or fabulously fat fortunes. Sorry about the embellishment, but it felt so good.” I said with a satisfied smile. “Got a cigarette?”

“I know, Joanie, bad English is addictive. I’m in a twelve-step program myself, Adverbs Anonymous,” Red said straight-faced then stick out her tongue. We broke up laughing.

“Gee, Red, you sure do turn red when you blush.” On our way to her place I told her my financial plan, it took my mind off my urges. “I’ll need a ton of cash for Whateley and to beef up my personal security. That’s why I agreed to the recording contract -- that and to repay what you and my friends at MSG have done.”

“That’s not necessary, and you know it. They did the same for me; you’ll do the same for someone else,” Red said almost insulted.

“No, Red, I value what you and the others did for me as friends. It’s sad to say but some things take cold hard cash, and now I’m in a position to help. This is a supplement to my personal commitments, not a replacement.”

“So you’re not buying our friendship?” Red said mischievously.

“Heaven forbid, Red. If I wanted to buy your friendship, I wouldn’t use cash.” She looked at me like Spock from classic Star Trek. “I’d do this. “

I leapt onto her wrapping my arms around her neck and shoulders, my legs around her waist and played tonsil hockey with her for a minute or so -- I wasn’t counting. I released her from my embrace, straightened my clothes, and walked calmly as if nothing happened. We walked in silence for a few minutes.

“Joanie, let’s stop at that convenience store.”

“Why Red?”

“’Cause I need to buy two thirty pound bags of ice for the bath I need.”

“That good, huh?”

“Yup.”

“My pleasure, Red.”

“Ah, Joanie, we were talking about Whateley and your plan to pay for it before you so pleasantly interrupted,” Red said like a lecturer.

“Sorry, but I needed it. It’s strange but despite the kidnapping, assault and baring my genitals on TV well ...”

“Well, what is it, Joanie?”

“I’m feeling so ... aroused.”

“Aroused, Joanie?”

“You know, hot to trot, primed and ready to go, all systems horny,” I admitted playfully.

“That bad, huh?” she was interested, very.

“I’ve been like this all day, if anything it’s getting stronger. I nearly raped Dr. Alex, and he knows I used to be a man.”

“So were talking fifty pound bags for your bath then?” Red joked.

“I’m so surprised; you’d think sex would be the last thing on my mind after all that,” I said honestly.

“Some people do react oddly to stress, but I wonder. When was the last time you felt like this?” I thought for a moment.

“About four weeks ago.”

“When did your last period start? “ Red asked.

“A little over three weeks ... You don’t mean?”

~No, no, not me. No way. This is insane. ~

“Uh huh, could be,” Red said in a sympathetic tone.

“I have got to see Sara. I mean every girl has the right to be a nymphomaniac once and a while but every 28 days? My sister will never let me live this down. Oh no, I just thought of something else. Call Sara on your cell, I need to see her now!”

* * * *

“What’s worrying you Joanie, Red said you needed to see me ASAP, “ asked Dr. Sara

“I’ve had this recurring problem every 28 days since my transformation.”

“Your period’s causing discomfort?”

“My periods a nuisance sure, it’s what happens a few days before that’s the problem. I get ... well I feel like ... it’s kind of embarrassing, Sara,” I said, and started to blush.

“Your sex drive increases, Joanie?” I nodded while pointing at the ceiling and whistling.

“That’s very common, nothing to worry.”

“You don’t understand, it’s like I’m a different person. I nearly raped Alex today; it took everything I had not to knock him to the ground and screw him to death right there, I needed it so,” I said in all honesty.

“I’d put you on the pill to regulate your cycle and ease the symptoms, but your system would react to the hormones like any other drug, so it wouldn’t be effective. We can try biofeedback, relaxation techniques or behavior modification -- they may help, Joanie.”

“Any other options?” I asked.

“A practical one, lots of self stimulation when the urges get bad. Get a vibrator, several, and lots of batteries” I snickered nervously. “I’m serious, Joanie; a good series of orgasms should take the edge off your cravings. If they don’t, hey you’ve had some fun.” How she kept from laughing, I don’t know.

“Could be inconvenient at times, but I’ve no objections, though the neighbors might --- I’m kind of loud.” Sara cringed as we lived in the same building. “Any more ideas?” I asked.

“The only other one is to get into a long-term relationship with an understanding partner, a very understanding and athletic partner, and buy lots of condoms. Do that in any case as normal birth control won’t work for you. We could try an IUD, but they have problems too, and your body might just expel it.”

“Great Doc, so I’m Miss Easy Bake Oven, what else?” I said sardonically.

“One sure cure, pregnancy, well not really, as many women crave sex more after the first few weeks. Whether is due to hormones and/or psychological we’re not completely sure but at least you can’t get any more pregnant unless you’re a kangaroo, which you’re not.”

“Very funny, Sara, my other concern hit me when I remembered a piece of TG fiction I read. I have a hymen, right?” She’d given me a though gynecological exam after my recovery, that was different. Not your usual “turn your head and cough.”

“Yes most girls have one, but it’s not a true proof of virginity. It can tear in sports competition or by incorrectly inserting a tampon. In some girls, it’s flexible and simply moves out of the way, only being lost in childbirth. I hear such women are very sought after in the sex trade.”

“Exactly, Sara.”

“I see what you mean. To quote a favorite film of yours, ‘you’ll be t’rrifically popular’.

“This must be some divine cosmic joke. Every time I have sex with a man I’ll be a virgin, a perpetually nymphomanical virgin. Ha ha ho ho how funny; Joanie, every brothel owner’s dream.” I said, my words dripping sarcasm.

“All the more reason to be careful, Joanie, but its not all bad news.”

“Huh?”

“Thought your regen powers make you permanently fertile, your actual fertile days are the same as any other young woman. You can only get pregnant on certain days in your cycle and then your odds are only somewhat better than average. That’s only because your eggs are equally as efficient as the rest of you. Also you have shown an extreme resistance to disease. Either you won’t get sick or at worst you’ll start to, then your immune system roars back, and you’ll never catch it again,” Dr. Sara explained.

“Viruses too, even AIDS?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t go and deliberately expose yourself to AIDS or some other potentially fatal disease, but the cell culture tests suggest you’re immune. That doesn’t mean live virus might not survive in your vaginal fluids for a few minutes to hours. You should be safe, but you could act as an uninfected carrier.”

“So safe sex to avoid pregnancy and to protect my lovers?”

“Not a bad practice, Joanie.”

“I feel a little better,” I replied.

“One last thing, dear.”

“Yes, Sara.”

“If you ever bed Alex, do be gentle. With your endurance you might kill him, and he took so long to train.” I rolled my eyes.

“Great another comedian.”

~Just like my mom. ~

* * * *

Red and I met the rest of The Gang of Four at her house where I explained ‘The Plan’ to them. Gin paraphrased it to prove she understood.

“Let’s see if I have it, the record contract is for ready cash. Meanwhile you’re accumulating old currency, so that when you suss out your time travel powers, you can make stock and property investments in the past, so that by the near future you control an incredible amount of wealth for your personal and charitable needs? Did I leave anything out?” she asked.

“That’s pretty much it, Gin,” I said.

“Are you -- scratch that -- you are crazy. It’s not I don’t doubt you can eventually manage time travel, but think of the risk. The very best evidence of what can go wrong is your own transformation, one momentary encounter with your mother in the past and bobs-your-peter.” Gin grinned nervously. “Sorry for the gallows humor, but I’m seriously worried. If in one moment you managed to so alter the timeline that you’re a girl instead of a man, what bigger messes could you cause.”

~Gin is rightly to be worried. Damn, it made her look so hot and sexy. Oh joy, a week of this. ~

“You mean Jerry Lewis was not the 40th President of the United States?”

“Be serious for once, Joanie.” Gin snapped. Believe me you do not want to make a sorceress angry.

~I swear her eyes are glowing. Ghod it makes her so cute, ooooh. I have got to get laid or take that ice bath. ~

“Just trying to ease the tension, Gin, I know it’s risky, but it’s worse if it just happens at random. I have to believe it’s less risky to time travel knowingly with control than unknowingly and out of control,” I argued.

“See that you learn some control, Joanie. I may have something that helps. I’ll hobnob with some of my fellow wizards and witches and see if I can’t whip up a magical reality recorder,” Gin said and grinned.

“Gin, what’s with the Wizard of Oz reference?”

“Something to tell you if anything major has changed in the timeline so you can go back and fix it, assuming you don’t make it worse,” she gave me a feral grin.

I didn’t know whether to kiss her, thank her, or run screaming. Magic users are so hard to read.

* * * *

To be continued

Thanks to Renae for the use of her ta ta. FYI, Dr. Sara was quoting Young Frankenstein if you didn’t guess.

Revised 08/30/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 12

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie learns the "terrible price" her time-travel power demands, with help from her MSG pals. She has fun with men in uniform and visits a sugar addicted friend's family.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Gentle, constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook! Don’t yah love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. Got my bill for their sevices the other day, bogus.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 12- Field Tripping for Dummies part 2 and Sleepover part 1

Madison WI, Des Moines IA - November10-12, 2006

December 13, 2006 near the Massachusetts, New Hampshire boarder on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle - 10:00am EST

Cue music: ‘Going to the End of the Line’ by The Traveling Wilburys

Need to hurry; the Conductor says we arrive at Dunwich in minutes. I need to change out of my travel clothes and into my cycle gear for the last leg to Whateley. Overall the rail trip’s gone well. I’ve had little trouble with people recognizing me; the novelty’s worn off some in the public eye. Warners wants a follow up album; I wonder if it could be done at Whateley? I’ll have to see.

Oh sorry, as to not being recognized, it’s amazing what a little less makeup, simple blouse, sweater, skirt, hose and tennis shoe combo does to change my look. Add a baseball cap, sunglasses and my hair in a braid, and I’m a different girl.

Some people asked if I was “Joanie” or if I was related, but all I had to say was, “Can you picture me in all that leather and those silly boots?”

I have a dozen pairs of those silly boots in my luggage waiting for me at Whateley; how did I become so shoe obsessed? As to my fellow passengers, most were good about it. A couple young girls asked me politely, and I admitted I was her. They got personalized photos and CDs from me for keeping a secret - I brought some along just in case. I told them I’d e-mail them just so they could see the expressions on their parents’ faces. It will be nice to have some pen pals.

A few times there were troubles. An obnoxious -- is the any other kind -- intoxicated man would not take no for an answer. A word to the Conductor, and he was put off the train and into the hands of the police. One very nasty man followed me into an empty woman’s room at the Boston AMTRAK station and grabbed me from behind. No one assaults me! I time-stopped him, stripped him to his shorts, tied him up, then called the cops He’s lucky I didn’t do worse; after my ordeal with those kidnappers, strange men grabbing me makes me very upset. I was very lucky he didn’t try to knock me out. I still have occasional nightmares about my kidnapping; I hope this doesn’t set them off again. I’ll need to send a thank you to the Boston Police, nice people. Got to finish, I’ll write more after I get to Whateley.

* * * *
Gin offered to help me attempt a controlled time trip. She suspected the trigger involved some kind of meditative state as my only prior experiences all occurred when I was relaxed or distracted. Sara concluded that the reason it had not recurred, was I was subconsciously blocking my power. I was so traumatized by the experience of meeting my own mother, my subconscious would not allow a repeat. They both believed relaxation or similar techniques could surmount this.

“Gin, dear, your idea sounds like a sort of Don’t Worry Be Happy method for time travel.” She glared at me a moment and laughed.

“Joanie, most magic requires fierce concentration, meditation often is useful for this. It’s worth a try, and at worst you’ll have a great stress relieving tool at your disposal.” She seemed so sincere. “I can ‘see’ ley lines, the magic lines of force between various objects. I ‘see’ them much like you see things in your peripheral vision when driving a car. That’s what I need you to do, relax and concentrate on nothing directly, let your peripheral senses take over.”

We set up where no on would see us or surprise us, on the top of Bascom Hall, on a high hill on the UW-Madison campus, its oldest building. She set up magical wards to warn of intruders, then coached me towards that desired state. She held both my hands and spoke.

“Imagine you’re floating in a pool of warm, still water, not a care in the world, all is well,” Gin said in a soft, melodious tone. “Reach out with your mind, feel the totality of your body, the warmth of the sun and the water, the gentle touch of my hands, the smell of my perfume, the sound of my voice.”

“Are you trying to relax me or seduce me? The way I feel now either is go. Ghod I feel so aroused, relaxed but aroused.” Gin giggled slightly but remained calm.

“Concentrate on something that happened here in the past. Concentrate on an image, Joanie, my love.”

~So she is doing that as well, the minx. ~

I thought of something then got an odd sensation, a cross between a headache and an impending orgasm. I heard Gin gasp then speak very carefully.

“Joanie, open your eyes slowly, sit up and look around.”

She held on tight to my hands. It was obvious in her tone she was excited and scared. Bascom Hall is the oldest building on campus, well over 100 years old and still commands a good view in many directions. The crisp, dry November day was replaced by cold, snowy winter. From the roof we saw nearly all the familiar buildings gone. In the distance a great plume of smoke and flame rose to the sky, from the hill on the isthmus where the State Capitol should be. It was on fire, but this last happened in 1904!

”You did it, Joanie, we time traveled to 1904 and the last time the State Capitol burned. That’s what you thought of, wasn’t it? Gin said excitedly. “Let’s take a walk around.”

“It was, Gin, but shouldn’t we be getting back? I’d like to stay and look around but baby steps here, remember? Don’t screw up the past.”

“Forgot myself, Joanie, I’ll take a few photos from here as proof, then we’ll go back; you feeling okay, girl?”

“Just cold and extremely aroused, more than before -- damn headaches gone though,” I said in a deep, womanly tone, almost a moan. “Ghod, my panties are soaked through, and it’s not from the snow. Hurry up Gin, shoot or strip, take your pick.”

I was desperate for relief. She held my hand tight as she snapped a few.

“Okay, Joanie, think of where we came from, the smells, the sound, the feelings you had, and try for that again.” It took a few moments, the feelings came, and so did I. Oh Ghod did I, and it felt so good.

“Joanie, we’re back, definitely back. I can tell from my wards and the sticky notes I put across the rooftop door jamb.” I took a moment to answer as I felt another after climax.

“You really trust your magic, don’t you? Sticky notes, ha!”

“It’s an update on the old matchstick in the door jamb trick. How do you feel now, Joanie?” Gin asked clinically.

“Apart from a fading orgasm, ooooh ... and a minor headache which is almost gone, pretty good, Gin. At least I’m not so aroused anymore, and I am a little sleepy. Dr Sara’s advice was right about my urges ... Got a cigarette?” Gin snickered.

“You’re one damn lucky girl, Joanie; I use my powers, I get exhausted. You use yours and you get off, and you didn’t even touch yourself. I’m jealous.”

“Gin, they say half the fun of going somewhere is the journey itself, oooh baby!” Gin threw her pad of sticky notes at me.

* * * *

“So your time travel powers seem tied into your sexuality, or at least that’s how your body senses the power?” Sara paraphrased what I told her.

“That’s about it, embarrassing huh?”

Sara got that look in her eyes.

~Oh oh. ~

“You’ll have a very, um, rewarding life won’t you, dear.”

I couldn’t let her get away with that.

“One thing for sure, Sara, I’m carrying tampons and panty liners with me at all times. I was soaked by the time Gin and I got back from our ‘research’ trip. Travel is so educational,” I said, then I rolled my eyes and faked a moan. She just shook her head.

* * * *

In the first two weeks of November, I did several more with Gin’s help and that of MSG; we did a big test out at Badger Ordinance, where I took the entire Gang of Four and Red’s F250 crew cab along as a test of my limitations.

“From the test objects that traveled with us and those that did not” — tooth pick flags, and you thought they were only good to hold sandwiches together — “the area your time field envelopes is at most a radius of 30 meters or 100 feet.”

“What Red means,” Gin said, “Is you can take some pretty large objects back and forth in time but nothing like whole armies or large buildings.”

“Wow, a one-hundred foot circle!” — I’d impressed myself — “Still, there goes my plan to ‘try and take over the world’.” My Brain — as in Pinky and the Brain, NOT my mind dear d/j/w -- was not the best but it seemed appropriate.

“Ah yes. But it comes at a cost; your mind went off-line for nearly an hour afterward, some sort of trance it seemed. We worry you’ll get stuck like that if you push it too far, and it does make you very vulnerable. The larger the area transported and to some extent the mass, the longer the recovery time. Years do not seem to be the problem as much as volume,” Gin said with some concern in her voice.

Gin was unusually patient today; well I had been paying her a lot of close, personal attention recently.

~Ghod I’ve got to get my libido under control, ~ not that Gin objected.

“No pain, no gain or so they say.”

“We’re not kidding, Joanie!” Carrie sounded cross and worried. “We thought we’d lost you. Consider how vulnerable you were,” she said, and she was right; it had placed me and them at risk.

“You’re right, Carrie, anything could have happened. Good thing you gals came with me.” I heard nervous giggles from all of them.

“Ah ... Joanie, we weren’t unaffected,” Red said looking embarrassed. “We all felt tired afterwards and um, aroused.”

“Aroused? Red, you came so hard I thought you were having an epileptic seizure,” said Gin.

“You should talk, Gin. I haven’t seen that look on your face since the Labor Day road trip, and I, let’s say I feel great. I wonder if this isn’t some empathic effect. Mom suspected you might have some talent but couldn’t be sure, Joanie. Someday we’ll need to test you for it. Oh, and Joanie, thanks, you were the best I’ve ever had.” It took several minutes for us to all stop laughing.

“I’ll keep it in mind, Carrie.”

* * * *

It was time for a break and alone; I needed time to think, and I needed to see if I could take care of myself. Early on the second Saturday of November, I took off in my Focus for the first time solo since July 3rd. I’d not driven it much since, though Sara had my car transported to Madison back in mid July. I told Sara I was going for a few days but would keep in touch. I bought a prepaid cell phone just in case, giving only Sara my number. I didn’t want the Gang of Three running to the rescue unnecessarily, and I had to test myself, stand on my own two Steve Zinc number 11 clad feet.

~How do they make these so comfortable? ~

I understand they make some really sexy cat suits. I headed south west on US HWY18 / US HWY151 for Iowa and a long overdue visit.

I arrived at Terrace Hill some seven hours later, I did have to eat and go, you know. I wore my brown MSG bomber jacket, personalized with “Joanie” sewn across the top back and front top pocket, over a cream, wool turtleneck and black leather vest, black leather pants and the boots, my hair in Mel’s ponytail clip, very stylish. I was stopped at the gate by a guard.

“Have an appointment, Miss?”

“No, just a friend of the family here to visit,” I politely replied.

He glanced at me, and I got this look from him, like he was dismissing me as unimportant, just some dumb girl.

“Sorry, you need a pass, security you know, 9-11? No pass no entrance.”

Oh he loved his job.

“If you can get Bab’s or Mel on the phone, they can vouch for me,” I offered.

“Bab’s or Mel?” he looked at me closer; I think he was ready to call for reinforcements.

“I’m sorry; I mean Ms, Williams-Johnson or her daughter Melissa. I’m a friend, my names Joan Brown, call me ‘Joanie’,” I said this cheerfully. He looked at me like I was a lunatic with a bomb. “If you’ll just call them ...“

“I don’t know who you are, Ms. Brown, if that’s who you really are. Don’t move -- I’ve called for backup. Try something, and you’ll regret it.”

~Ooh, he’s a power hungry jerk. This is going to be a fun day, I can tell. ~

A squad car raced up behind me, officers jumping out with guns drawn.

~Damn, one has a shotgun!, ~ I noted with some fear.

I felt like saying something but one: I didn’t fancy being shot despite my proven regen powers and two: I preferred they dig their own graves.

Officer Rambo, as I now thought of him, barked at me. “Get out of the car slowly, with your hands held high, turn and place your hands on the roof, arms and legs spread.”

I decided not to point out how this would make opening the door, let alone releasing my seat belt difficult, I didn’t think he’d appreciate the subtle humor. As I did this who should come by but the Governor; he was jogging with two security aids.

“What’s going on?” he called out as they ran towards us.

“Stay back, Governor, situation under control. We caught this ‘woman’ trying to break into the grounds, possible mental case.”

“I suppose being the best friend of my wife and daughter could qualify her as a mental case,” Bob chuckled.

“Hi, Bob!”

“Hi, Joanie, why are you standing with your hands and legs like that, looks uncomfortable?” Bob said, trying to calm me with some humor.

“Stretching?” The squad officers and Rambo saw the light. Rambo did not look so sure anymore. They put their guns away and said it was okay to move.

“Sorry, Miss, just a mistake,” A squad officer said as he stared at Rambo.

“Do any of you fine officers know who Joanie is?” the governor said.

This looked to get real interesting, real fast. I watched as Bob continued the show. They shook their heads, obviously not news junkies. Bob broke out in a wicked smile.

“Joanie, do you want to tell them? I’m afraid I’ll start laughing or fire people or both, I haven’t decided yet.” He looked very pleased; hey he’d just done me a personal favor.

~Ghod I love this family. ~

“Any of you have school age kids?” One nodded. “Teenagers?” he nodded again. “They buy CD’s?” he kept nodding. I think he was catching on. “Hear of one called ‘Timeless’, classic rock and country covers sung by a new, tall, long-haired strawberry blond, leather clad young female, um?” I shook out my long hair as a visual aid.

“You’re that Joanie?” he said very quietly.

“That is the secret word, and the contestant wins one-hundred dollars.” I said in a bad Groucho. I wanted one more, slow twist of the knife. “One last thing, Officer?” I hinted I needed a name.

“Schmidt?” he said doubting his own words.

“Remember how this ‘Joanie’ got discovered, Officer Schmidt? Perhaps something involving Governor Johnson’s family, this Labor Day? Hum?”

“I’m toast!”

“With butter, jam and coffee on the side, explain it to the rest of the Three Stooges, I’m off to surprise a friend.”

~That felt so good on so many levels. ~

“Mel will be so happy, Joanie. She couldn’t sleep the night your signed CD arrived. Coming dear?”

“Lead on, Bob.”

* * * *

I drove, following the Governor up to the mansion. I pulled even and spoke out the driver’s window.

“Thanks for everything back there, Bob. I hope you don’t mind me saying, as I used to be a card carrying member of the male gender, but for a man nearly my real age, you have a fine ass.”

“Not at all, Joanie, just don’t say it in front of Babs.” he said between deep breaths.

“I can see why she married you, you’re very attractive, well to me now, not the old me, he liked girls, but well, I’m noticing men more and more. Please stop me before I stick my foot any deeper in my mouth, as it makes driving difficult.”

~Why did I say all that? I’m babbling to Bob just like I did when I talked with a pretty gir ... Now I’m attracted to Mel’s dad. Great! I have got to get a boyfriend, girlfriend or both and soon. ~

* * * *

I parked and followed him into Terrace Hill, trying hard not to stare at his tight buns as we walked up the flights of stairs to the private fourth floor. He did some stretches to cool down, the hi-tech fabric of his all-weather running suit doing little to hide his still trim and muscular physique. He turned and I could clearly see the impressive bulge ...

~Now I’m sneaking peeks at his genitals. Naughty Joanie, bad, bad, bad girl; he’s married, Bab’s a friend and Mel would never forgive you, girl. Oooh, but he’s sooo Big ... NO NO NO Joanie. I need those biofeedback lessons bad or a damn cold shower. I may have some control over my powers, but my libido is gaining control over me. This gets any worse; I should be on Desperate Housewives or in a Planetary Agents/Peapod crossover. Hum ... if GG and Dairy Maid joined and made us the Gang of Six? Oh my! I’ve got to get my mind off the subject. ~

“Bob, could I go somewhere and freshen up. I’m uncomfortable after my long drive, and I’d like to be presentable for Babs and Mel.” I was trying hard not to seduce the poor man.

“Sure, Joanie, guest rooms at the end of the hall, shower, Jacuzzi and everything. Toss me your keys, and I’ll bring up your bags.”

“You don’t need to do that; I’m a big girl now,” I said petulantly.

Bob deliberately broke eye contact and looked down for a moment “I’ve noticed. Sorry, just trying to be a good host, and that was too good a straight-line to pass on Joanie. Toss me the keys; I’ll be back in a jiff’,” he said holding back a laugh. I threw him my keys and went to the guest room.

* * * *

I showered, and got some blessed relief in the Jacuzzi. Bob had left my bags on the bed. I was sitting on the bed finishing dressing when I heard excited voices.

“Who, Daddy, who’s here to visit me, Daddy: tell me, tell me, tell me please!” Mel sounded ready to go into bouncing mode.

“Tell me too, Bob, please.” It was Babs. “Who’s come to visit Mel?” She was calm but as insistent.

~Now I know were Mel gets it from. ~

“Oh, just some girl from Wisconsin,” I could hear the smile in his voice even down the hall and through my closed door.

“I don’t know any girls from Wisconsin, Daddy?” Mel said, confused.

I heard a squeal and feet pounding down the hallway.

“Joanie, are you here, Joanie?”

She burst through the door and leapt onto the bed.

“When did you get here, Joanie; how long can you stay -- we can have a sleepover again -- I’ll call all my girl friends, and they’ll come over, and we can have lots and lots of fun together -- oh how I missed you, Joanie!”

She ran out of steam and simply stared at me with those sapphire puppy dog/kitten in the rain eyes. Once she got older that look would be devastating, the boys wouldn’t stand a chance, lucky boys.

“I missed you too, Mel. Not certain how long I can stay, but we can have some fun, sure. Just so long your mom and dad say okay,” I said; she just smiled and bounced.

“Hi, Babs, I see you cut down on her sugar intake.”

Babs giggled, “I was the same at her age, a Williams’s girl curse. Glad you came, Mel keeps talking about you, and it’s driving us crazy.” She rolled her eyes and stuck out her tongue.

~Definitely like-mother-like-daughter, Babs is the grown up version of Mel, no doubt. ~

“Meant to come earlier, but things got in the way. Can I have a quick word with your Mom and Dad, Mel? I won’t be long. You can stay and listen if you want.”

“It’s okay, Joanie; I want to get my collection ready to show you.”

“Collection?”

“Her Joanie collection: every time she sees an article in a newspaper or magazine about you, she keeps it for her collection, posters too.”

“There are posters of me? I didn’t know.”

“Warners made them for the displays that promote your CD. Mel begged the man at Sam Goodies so hard he gave her one of theirs, that and the life-size cardboard cutout of you in that leather outfit,” Babs explained, smiling warmly.

“Now I’m a giant cardboard cutout, what’s next, a Barbie doll?” Babs snickered.

“She has two of those, special limited edition Barbie dolls, one she plays with, the other in its factory sealed box, as an investment she says.”

“I’m a Barbie doll?” I was shocked. “I never authorized that.”

“Actually you did, I asked Dad. Don’t worry, you get a very nice royalty on each, a large part of which goes to the charities you designated, says so on the box.”

“But a Barbie doll?”

“Not Barbie but her new friend ‘Joanie’, and you have an action grip.”

“What?”

“You can hold the included microphone or grasp Skippers wrist as you drag her to safety.”

“That’s something I suppose.” I said resignedly. A piece of me was ecstatic.

~I’ve hit the big time, an action grip, wow! ~

“What I wanted to say is, I’ve worked on my powers control so I think its safe to have a sleepover, just she shouldn’t say I’m here to be safer,” I explained.

“You mean that time-stop you saved Mel with?” Babs said.

“I’m better with that too; no, I mean my primary power, the one I experienced the day I mutated but not again until recently,” I said excitedly. I had to tell someone.

“You have another power, what super speed, or x-ray vision?”

“Don’t be silly, Bob.” said Babs.

“It’s better than that, it’s time,” I said.

“It’s time for what, Joanie?” Babs was confused.

“Sorry, I said that poorly.”

~Whew, caught myself, nearly said, ‘my bad.’ ~

“My primary power is time-related like my secondary, the time-stop. Put simply, I time travel,” I said calmly.

“Like in sci-fi, as in H. G. Well’s The Time Machine?” asked Bob. They looked pale.

“Right out of Doctor Who, I’m my own TARDIS.” I hoped they’d heard of the British cult TV classic.

“The one with the time traveling police box -- you can do that, Joanie?” Babs said.

“Pretty much, Babs: except I travel though time, not time and space, well not as such.”

“Not as such, Joanie?” Babs asked.

They were still confused but so was I. This was about as clear as the instructions to program a VCR.

“I can travel to the past and come back in a different place. I can even transport sizable objects and interact in the past, but I move in distance the normal way. I walk, ride a bike or take a bus and such.” They nodded. “As to my kidnapping, that trick won’t work on me so well now as most of my clothes are carbon nano-tube fiber enhanced. Even some of my hose -- it cost a bundle. Don’t worry, if things get too hairy, I’ll bug off, I won’t put Mel or you at risk.” I smiled and gave them hugs. Ghod it felt good.

* * * *

Mel showed off her collection. It took an entire bookcase and the corner of her room, including the cutout. You know, I did look hot in that outfit. Mr. Karaoke was right to choose that one, and I thought it was for autographed photos. She’d spent a lot of effort on her collection, and it showed. She had everything sorted by category and cross-referenced by date. She’ll make a great museum curator someday, very organized.

“I was so scared when they said you’d been shot at and kidnapped, and they couldn’t find you,” Mel said barely stopping for breath.

“Slow down, Mel, you’re making me dizzy.” she giggled.

“When they rescued you, and Big Red got you free, and you stood up without any ...” Mel looked embarrassed.

-- Note to self: I’ll need to see if they sent those fat checks. --

“That’s okay, Mel, those nasty people stripped me so they could hurt me more, but I’m fine now.”

“I was scared for you, Joanie, but I wanted to say you looked so pretty even without any clothes,” She said this still smiling.

“I looked pretty when I was naked, Mel?” This was strange coming from an eleven year old girl.

“Yah, Joanie, you’re so tall and not fat, and you have such nice boobies and stuff.”

“Why are you talking about my boobies, I mean my breasts, Mel? That’s a little personal.” Mel got all conspiratorial looking.

“Want to know a secret, Joanie?” She was grinning.

“Okay, sure.” I rubbed my hands with glee, she giggled again.

“I’m growing breasts too, want to see?” She raised her printed t-shirt revealing a pretty lace trimmed bra. “I wear a bra now, it’s a training bra ‘cause they’re little, but Mom’s helped me measure to myself every Saturday since you first met me and they’re bigger every time. I’m almost an A cup.” She looked very proud.

“So Mel’s becoming a woman, I’m so happy for you. You’re gonna be very pretty; look at your mom and dad, you look a little like both. Give me a model’s turn so I can see.”

She turned slowly for me. I was so happy for her, nice kid. Plus if they get anywhere near her mom’s size, it should curb the bouncing -- just too painful.

“Mom says I’m developing a woman’s waist and hips, see?” She spun again then rested her hands on her hips to show off. We both giggled.

“I like my parents, and school’s okay, but sometimes I just wish I grow up real quick. Being an adult is so kewl.” She frowned a bit.

“It is, Mel, but being a kid is fun too. No responsibilities -- not any big ones anyway. Maybe that’s why what happened to me happened.”

~Oh that was clear, any more confusing, and I could write fine print for Hollywood contracts. ~

“I mean, Mel, maybe Ghod if you believe in one, fate, or whatever figured I need to see life from a new perspective, you know a different point of view. Maybe all this,” I gestured along my body, “is some great cosmic joke. All I know for sure is I saw life as a boy and then a man. I now see life a young woman, yet I remember the boy and the man. The trick is to balance these and come out a whole, sane person. Throw in the mutant powers and wow, I’ve got one crazy life. For the most part it’s good, and you’re a large part of why it’s good, Mel. You made me realize I need to help people and be with them, not just exist. You understand?” My, I was philosophical.

“I think I do, Joanie.” She got this puzzled look on her face then got real serious, real Girl serious. Oooh, smell the estrogen. “I know this, Joanie, you’re as much a lady as Mom and as much a girl as me. I don’t see the man or boy in there. Maybe they come out when you need to be strong, I don’t know. I just know you and Mom are the girls I most want to be like.” She stopped; I thought I saw a tear. I gave her a quick hug and a big smile.

“Cheer up, Mel, don’t let Joanie get you down. Time for serious stuff is over, what you want to do for fun, girl?”

* * * *

To be continued

I’m experimenting with some of the tips Cathy_t and Amelia_R sent me and am trying to format more in the Whateley canon style. Let me know if this chapter was easier to read. Let’s see now, independent clauses, subordinate clauses, Santa Clauses. Thanks.

This latest version follows in the style I’ve adapted from Itinerant, thanks to all who have helped.

Revised 03/22/2006
Re-formatted and revised 09/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 13

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie visits a friend and attends an all-girl sleep-over. She learns of the speed and power of modern marketing and has a close-call with the press. She discovers something personal that worries her greatly.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which gets me off the hook! Don’t yah love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. They just renegotiated my publishing contract and got me a big increase in royalties, excellent.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 13- Sleepover part 2

Des Moines IA — November 11-12, 2006

December 13, 2006 near Dunwich, New Hampshire on the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle - 10:15am EST

The conductor announced “next stop Dunwich;” we’ll be there in five minutes. Ghod I’m so nervous I could wet myself; me, Joanie, who’s run screaming into a busy highway to save a girl not knowing, she could stop time. Joanie, the terminally shy person now professional recording artist and girl-on-girl make out expert. Joanie, the gal clad in only a space blanket and rope belt that told off a salivating press mob and sassed back to kidnappers while naked in chains. Where has your courage gone? I can barely type this, I’m shaking so. I feel like I’m gonna puke. Com’mon, pull yourself together, girl. This is what you want. Don’t give-up just short of the finish line. Think of all the people who helped you get to this point -- don’t let them down. Don’t let yourself down, damn it. If you made it this far, you’ll do fine. Now I’m spouting platitudes, pathetic, but I am calmer.

~Now is everything ready? Let’s see, travel clothes repacked, cycle gear on or at hand, baggage claim ticket for cycle in blouse pocket, no? Try purse in left pannier, no? Don’t panic, girl, how about top inside zipper pocket in my MSG bomber jacket? Whew! ~

I have got to stop scaring myself, deep breaths and relax, Joanie. Got to stop soon and pack my diary/journal/whatever safe in its padded case. Last check: personal care items, oh thank the Ghodess Sara packed those condoms for me, and I thought she was joking, not that I ever will need any but still? What was it they said in Red Dwarf, “You never know” but then I’m no Duane Dibbley. And thank the stars for that. Road map with marked route, check, letters from Sara to Ms. Carson and Dr. Polland, check, letter from Meridian, check. Nearly there now, just watch the scenery and think of the fun you’ll have, just like the sleepover at Mel’s but with older kids, for whole semesters at a time and coed, oh my. Got to go, we’re slowing for the station. I’ll finish this at Whateley.

* * * *

The sleepover was set for 6pm that night. I helped Mel call, I dialed and she talked, trying not to give away her secret. She had me listen in, sneaky girl.

“Mel, you’re acting weird. What’s up?” her friend Lisa asked.

“Nothin’ Lisa: just trying to have fun.”

“I’ve known you since first grade, Mel; you’re only like this when you have a secret you can’t tell. You can tell me, you know I won’t talk.” Mel put Lisa on hold.

“Lisa’s a good friend but can’t keep a secret. She’s almost too nice and honest.” I nodded, and Mel put Lisa back on.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret, and I want to surprise you.”

“Please, Mel, I’ll be good, I can keep it for a day.”

~Oh my, Lisa can talk like she had puppy dog/kitten in the rain eyes, scary. ~

I succumbed to the Silly Side of the Force, “If Mel can’t say I’m here, then she can’t say I’m here, Lisa.”

Mel giggled when she heard my fake girly voice.

“Who was that Mel? She sounds familiar,” asked Lisa.

“Another friend who’s come to visit, that’s why I want a sleepover.”

“I’m from out of town and can’t see Mel often. I hope you come, Lisa, they’re lots of fun.” I tried to sound girly but Joanie kept leaking out.

“Tell me, Mel. Please!”

~Ouch! Lisa could teach a class in whining. ~

“I can’t, it’s a surprise.”

“Then I’ll have to guess.”

“This sounds interesting,” I whispered to Mel.

“I’ll star with the facts,” said Lisa. Mel told me later Lisa read lots of girl detective novels, Nancy Drew and her successors.

“Your friend’s a girl from out of town, probably far away ‘cause she says she can’t see you often. You have no female cousins. I’ve heard her voice before, but she’s disguising it. How am I doing so far?”

“Fair,” I squeaked.

“You’ve been to a sleepover of Mel’s, you said so yourself, Mystery Girl,” Lisa stated.

Mel snickered as she remembered the press calling me that.

“Wait, I remember. I heard you at Mel’s birthday party this September. Most of the kids were from school except for Mel’s brother and a couple others.”

Sharp girl, she was very close. Then I heard doubt in her voice.

“That doesn’t make sense, I must be wrong. The only others were your Mom, Grandfather, those three strange men and ...” the phone went silent. “No, you couldn’t have, I mean she’s so famous now, she wouldn’t.”

I gave in. “I wouldn’t what, Lisa?” I said in my normal voice.

She was a good friend of Mel’s after all. Lisa shrieked and dropped the phone. We could hear a distant conversation.

“Lisa, are you okay? Why did you shriek?”

~Must be her mom. ~

“Mommy, Mel’s invited me to a sleepover, and she has the greatest secret, and I can’t tell you.”

~She’s trying. ~

“That’s nice dear, what can’t you tell me?”

“That Joanie’s visiting her ... “

~She tried. ~

“Joanie from the birthday party: Joanie the singer?” Her mom asked.

“Yes, Mommy, isn’t it great! Can I go? I have to,” Lisa said excitedly and loud; my ears hurt even with the phone on the floor.

“Ok,” Mom said; Lisa shrieked again. “But you have to pick up your room first.”

Mom’s, yah gotta love um. We could hear Lisa running back to the phone.

“You still there?” asked Lisa, breathless.

“I’m still here,” we said in unison and laughed.

“I take it your mon said yes, Lisa?” I asked.

“Mom did, and I won’t tell, Joanie, I promise.”

“See you at six, Lisa. Bye.” Oddly enough she did keep her word; however, some of the other girls…

* * * *

Around 5:30 the first girls showed.

“Can’t be late for your sleepovers, Mel, yours are the best,” they all said or something like it.

Bob was off to a fund raiser, so it was girls’ night out or is that in? Babs handled the door, and Mel led them upstairs to party room, the converted fourth floor media center, mattresses on the floor, snacks on a table, a cooler full of soda, you know. I was ensconced in the Media room wearing the height of fashion, red lace panties — not thong, this was a girls party — matching bra, my own personalized, autographed MSG oversized sleep shirt with my name sewn on the front and pink bunny slippers with eyes, ears, whiskers and tails. Yah, I know the slippers were a bit racy but still.

I know it was Mel’s party and at the Governor’s mansion, Terrace Hill, but I was amazed how many older brothers had insisted on — “helping carry in all the party stuff” - for their beloved younger sisters, such kind hearted boys, sure.

Seven girls were invited; seven came along with eleven older, helpful brothers who just had to carry those heavy snacks and sleeping bags all the long way up and into our party room. Apparently potato chips and snack mix are heavier than I remembered.

“No, no, Mrs. Johnson, we wouldn’t dream of letting our sister Julie carry all this heavy stuff by herself,” said the twin brothers of a petite blood girl.

All the boys were so helpful though once they saw me; it was hard to get them to leave.

~Hum ... could they be here just to, Nah. ~

It was six and the last two, the twins, hadn’t got the hint -- bold action was called for.

“Mel, dear, we’re all girls here right?” I said blatantly ignoring Frick and Frack. Mel nodded. “So we can let our hair down, so to speak, so long as we behave.”

“Sure, Joanie, what you want to do?”

The boys grinned like sharks at a free surfer buffet.

“I got up so early and drove so far to get here, and I’m feeling really uncomfortable; okay if I go braless?”

“Okay, sure,” Mel said.

I reached under the back of my nightshirt to grab the clasp, raising my nightshirt in the process. By the time my navel was exposed, the twins were running down the stairs. I stopped what I was doing, straightened my clothes and started laughing. The girls soon joined in, it was a while before anyone could speak.

“Thank you, Joanie, my brothers were pains all day once they found out you’d be here,” said Julie grinning widely.

Mel spoke. “I keep telling you, Joanie’s the greatest.”

Was I goanna argue with eight teenage girls? Well almost teenagers.

I almost wish I’d started out as a girl because strange as it sounds, I was enjoying this girly stuff or my inner child certainly was. They talked about school and their siblings. A few talked about makeup and pierced ears as they were old enough for their parents to allow it. A couple even talked about which boys were hot ~ooooh? ~ Somehow that got them asking about my makeup, eventually that lead to the inevitable, and no it wasn’t “do you have a boyfriend?”

“Joanie, what’s it like to be you?” a redheaded girl asked.

“Come again?”

“On the news they said you used to be this old guy, and now you’re a teenage girl and a mutant.” She seemed embarrassed asking me.

“It’s okay to ask, Debbie? I might not give a straight answer, but you can ask.” I smiled back. “I’m surprised myself how comfortable I am with this whole girl package. Plus the mutant powers are so kewl.” I said as I gestured along my body. “It was hard at first, learning what to do and not do and it was a change from my previous, um ... experience,” I explained; several girls giggled.

“Weren’t you scared, I’d be?”

“I was more in shock than scared. The transformation took so much out of me; I slept though most of it.”

“I’m amazed how well you’re handling it. If the TV hadn’t reported it I’d never suspect you used to be a man -- Mel had to confirm it, I didn’t believe at first,” Debbie said.

“Truth is I didn’t handle it well at first. I thought I was okay, then the first time I saw myself in a mirror I fainted, really.”

“Like in a movie?” one of the girls asked, it may have been Lisa.

“Just like one, the hospital has it on tape.”

“Why’d you faint? The shock of not being a man anymore or ‘cause you’re so much younger?” A tall and slender blonde asked.

“Kim is it?” She nodded. “Maybe both, the one thing I remember thinking about at the time was how young, pretty and sexy the image was. It was such a surprise how I looked, I thought for a moment that wasn’t me but some big poster like the hot new singers and actresses put out.” I was being very honest.

“Like your poster in my bedroom?” Kim said. Posters, there are more posters?

“You have one too? I thought Mel was the only one, and hers was part of a music store display,” I asked.

“You can get them all over the place now. I bought mine at Sam Goody. Chrissie got hers at some gift shop, and, Julie, where’d you get yours?” asked Kim.

“Walgreens.” the petite blonde said. “Same place I got my Barbie doll of you, Joanie,” Julie said.

“I’m on sale at Walgreens?”

~Ahooga, mass marketing gone amuck! I only signed the contract in September, this was fast. ~

“They sell you CD too; you were in the top 25 countdown last weekend,” Julie said.

“My songs are on the Billboard charts?”

“Crying is number seven this week, up from number 30 on the pop chart. You’re number three on the country chart,” said Chrissie. “VH1 ran the video from Mel’s birthday party last night.”

“Number seven and three after two weeks -- how will I ever go out in public again? I’ll never have another day’s privacy in my life.” This was upsetting, I started to cry.

“Face it, Joanie, you’re famous, like it or not,” Babs said from the doorway. I calmed down some.

“Hi, Babs,” I said.

The girls giggled in response.

“Hi yourself, Joanie, tell you girls something kewl; my husband’s campaign people took a poll this week. You know what a poll is?”

“Where they ask you who you’ll vote for and stuff?” Kim said.

“Exactly, they wanted to know how well known Mel’s Dad is for his re-election planners. More people could identify Joanie, by her name or picture and who she was, than they could Mel’s dad, and that poll was taken in Iowa.”

“Be afraid, be very afraid,” I muttered softly, Babs heard though.

She smiled her big smile and said, “Bob told me he hoped you’re not running for Governor because he might lose,” then Babs giggled.

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, Joanie, cross my heart and hope to die not joking.” Bab’s inner child was staging a comeback.

~Ghod what is she wearing? ~

“Babs, is that a Babs Bunny sleep shirt you’re wearing? Ghod, you’ve got on the exact same bunny slippers I’m wearing, you bitch!”

I mimed a cat scratching. Babs leaned against the doorjamb to keep her balance, she was laughing so hard.

“Mel, your Dad and I were saving this for Christmas, but as all your best friends are here,” she smiled at me, “we thought you could have one early.” Babs smile was like the Cheshire cat, friendly but mildly worrisome.

“What is it, Mommy? Show me, show me, show me, please!” Mel was in full bounce mode.

A security aid wheeled in a large gift wrapped box then left.

“Are you gonna open it, Mel?” she said. Mel tore off the paper; it was a home karaoke machine.

“I have but one life to give for my country,” I said then mock hanged myself.

I was acting very mature ... for a five year old. We all helped set it up, and the words I’d been dreading were spoken.

“What yah gonna sing for us, Joanie?” someone asked.

“Yah got me, arrrrg!” I said in a pirate voice as I mimed being shot and spun to the floor.

The girls and I had lots of fun taking turns singing along with the included discs. Mel’s brother Eric even got in on the fun when Babs wasn’t looking.

“You were making such a racket I had to see what was going on.”

That and since he was a couple years older and girls mature faster, the temptation of so many girls in skimpy night attire was too temping. I just knew what he’d be doing once he got back to his room. Yours truly would likely be featured in his ... fantasizeations. Writing about it months later makes me nervous, and there’s this odd twinge down in my ... Marvelous, I’m fantasizing about underage boys. Must be near my time of the month, euw! But that ended weeks ago, and why now as I’m ... Ghods, I’m fantasizing about Eric. I’ll have to call Sara and ask her about that one.

Before we went to sleep, the girls begged for a demonstration of my powers.

“Ok, I guess but nothing too big, let’s keep it safe,” I said.

I threw a soda can in the air and time-stopped it. I’d been practicing my fine control by time-stopping small objects and was pretty good at it.

“Oh my Ghod, Joanie, that’s so ... uh, can I touch it?” Lisa asked.

“You can try.”

She couldn’t get her hand nearer than a foot due to the time differential acting as a force field.

“Catch, Lisa,” I called then released the can.

She was so startled, she nearly didn’t grab it. They each had to have a try, but I didn’t mind, and they gave me such warm hugs afterward I cried from joy. It’s so nice to have friends.

* * * *

I woke early in the morning, my bladder aching for relief, surprised to find Mel spooned tight against me with an arm around my waist. It felt so nice, Mel was a very cuddly young lady; she’d make a great mother someday.

~Why did I think of that? Don’t tell me I’m warming up to the idea of motherhood already? The Horror! ~

Us gals got cleaned up, ate breakfast and called home for rides. I went to my car to load up, Eric insisting on carrying my bag for me, probably so he could walk behind me and ogle my legs and ass. He made a very astute comment as we approached my Focus.

“Miss Joanie,” he kept calling me Miss Joanie, either he’s very polite or he’s trying to get me to like him. He wants a date?

~Oh this would be wonderful, “Hey Dad, meet my date. He’s only 35 years younger than me.” That would go over great — not. But still? Put it out of your mind Joanie. Ms. Libido, I told you to behave, if you don’t behave, no Mr. Pulsating Shower sprayer tonight. ~

“Miss Joanie,” he said again, “You may want to reconsider leaving right now, looks like the press found out you’re here.”

I carefully turned and saw an army of reporters and the general public. My Focus and I were outmatched. With this mob that A1A Abrams tank would be outmatched.

“Oh lovely, Eric, would you be a nice man and find your mother, then wait with her in the media room, I have an idea.” I gave him as sultry a smile as I could and stared into his eyes.

“Uh, sure Miss Joanie,” he said, his voice cracking.

~Hope I didn’t lay it on too thick. ~

We met in the room minutes later.

“Babs, Eric told you about my pest control problem?” I asked.

“You mean the plague of reporters? Kinda figured that would happen when all those helpful older brothers came last night. Eric says you have a plan? Cum’mon girl, give.”

”Three ways to go I think, bold as brass, diversion or camouflage. Bold as brass is simple but painful. I drive out not a care in the world. Maybe even give the press a quick quote. This is my when all else fails position. Diversion, as the other girls leave I go out the back way. That puts a lot of burden on you to distract the press, and we could have a nasty traffic accident if the press gets wind of my leaving. Camouflage, I dress as non-Joanie as possible and leave with the crowd. My Wisconsin plates are the problem, a dead give away. I’ve considered using my time-stop, but the area I need to cover is too big, and it would strain me so much I might pass out behind the wheel, very dangerous for all,” I explained.

“So what’s the plan? I’d like to help, Miss Joanie,” Eric asked.

~My, he sure wants to look good in my eyes, smart kid. ~

“Camouflage and diversion but I need the loan of some Iowa plates, that and I need you, Mel and Eric, you’re the diversion. You drive to the gate, tell the press they missed me, and you’re going out to eat. Preferably some kid-friendly restaurant the press hates and won’t follow you to, Chunky Cheese perhaps. I’ll drive out with the others right after you, and meet you there or some other place to return the plates or even mail them back. With the Iowa plates, I can be explained as a young campaign volunteer helping out with last nights party -- it’s worth a try.”

Eric left and soon came back with some plates and a screw driver. We went to switch mine when I realized my error.

“This won’t work, Eric; they can see me change the plates. Time for bold as brass, I’ll just have to drive out with the rest.”

We walked back into Terrace Hill, “Thanks for trying, Eric, that was very kind of you.”

I gave him a quick hug and a kiss. I swore he was blushing. Hey, he’d earned that hug.

“Good luck, Miss Joanie.”

“Thanks I’ll need it, Eric.” I gave Babs and Mel quick hugs and kisses, ~must be a girl thing ~ said my goodbyes to the rest of the sleepover guests and finished dressing.

I wore my leather Indiana Joan outfit, It was warm, comfortable and retailored with carbon fiber to short out Tazers. The light weight Kevlar layer didn’t hurt either. I waited until several cars were leaving and got into line with them behind a minivan and prayed for luck. Babs, Mel and Eric made a big fuss over a vehicle loading behind me so the press was distracted. I hoped this would be enough. With sunglasses on and a ball cap I drove to and out of the gate. I’d made it onto the road before I was spotted. I drove off at a safe speed, knowing they now had my make, color and plate. I hope that GG and my other friends at MSG had done their job and protected my records.

“Well there goes the neighborhood,” I said.

I thought of what might happen when the press matched my plates to the Wisconsin DMV records. My ray of hope was if GG managed to expunge all my old records and change the name and address to my current one, which was a PO Box at the University Hospital, at least my dad, sister, old friends and relatives would be safe. The worry was someone might have an old copy of the database, but that was nothing we could do anything about. Some press tried to follow, but the Iowa police kept them on their toes, and I soon lost them. I didn’t speed; I just have a stealth car. It’s nothing hi-tech, no James Bond gadgets, simply a light grayish green — light tundra Ford calls it — four-door car like my Focus is so common, it blends right in. It’s like that old ad parody about the VW Beetle being the perfect get-a-way car.

All the way back to Madison something troubled me, but I couldn’t think what it was. I was soon back to my halfway-house apartment and my car safely in its locked garage. I gave my Dad and sister a heads-up call to be safe and got seriously into researching and financing “The Plan.” Yes, I know “The Gang of Three” called my new look “The Plan”, but it’s not copy-written, so there. I went to bed tired but thankful I’d pulled off my escape, and then I realized what had bothered me all day. Why when I hugged and kissed Babs, Mel and Eric did I kiss the girls on the cheek but Eric on the lips? I still don’t know why, and it’s a over a month later. It scares the willies out of me, am I sexually attracted to men? It was bound to happen, and I know Alex and a few others have excited me, but why Eric? Maybe the doctors at Whateley can help me figure that one out too. Their head doctors will have their hands full with me.

* * * *

To be continued
Next stop Whateley

Revised 09/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 1- Stop/Playback/Rewind - Chapter 14

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie perfects her time-travel power and only causes one tiny oops in the timeline. She devises a scheme to secure her furture financially and checks in with Administration at Whateley.

Story:

Timeout-Stop/Playback/Rewind: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This for pure fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my poor ass - oops, sorry. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. They lost the last five chapters I sent for proof reading, most heinous.

Timeout

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 14-The Plan or How I got to Whateley on Budget

Madison WI — November 12, 2006 — December 13, 2006

December 13, 2006 between Dunwich, New Hampshire and Whateley Academy, 10:45am EST

Stopped off the side of the road to compose myself, I thought a bite or two of a Pearson’s Salted Nut Roll, a sip from my water bottle and a quick entry in my diary/journal/whatever would calm me. Thinking of a code name got me thinking how I’m likely to outlive everyone I’ll ever know. I guess that’s why I cried, not a good thing while riding down a narrow, winding road at 55 mph. It doesn’t pay to linger on it; maybe Whateley will help me get perspective. As to this code name idea, I understand in concept, but somehow it’s not me. Maybe I can use it to keep my pubic persona of Joanie separate from the student/staffer Timeout? Nah, I’ll stay Joanie, but Timeout can be useful when I need anonymity. Maybe it can be my security call sign or web nickname. Joan may even work.

Such a nice day for a ride, but I have a destination to reach, and Sara said the cafeteria is very good, just to be careful what you pick up as they cater to extremes of diet. The truly unusual stuff is not in the normal food lines, but sometimes they screw up.

~Let’s check the map again, I turn left at New Hampshire Hwy ... then four miles to ... got it, the route’s a piece of cake from here.~

I think I’ll call Mr. Karaoke Man and tell him no dice on a second album, at least for now. Like I need more money or publicity -- ghod he’ll probably want me on some big TV network late night talk show, not a chance in hell. The odds of me agreeing to that are about as good as my giving birth to twins in the Whitehouse, and I have yet to have sex with a man. I haven’t even found one I like enough to date, let alone you know. Get yourself established at Whateley, Joanie, then when you’re comfortable with it, you can think about guys or girls or guys and girls.

It never fails, tell a teenager not to do something, and they do the opposite, now how am I going to stop my teenaged libido from thinking about sex? Think of accounting, that’s safe, think about double entry.... Now that was a mistake; time to pack it up and say hello to Whateley.

* * * *

Cue music: Magical Mystery Tour, The Beatles; Who Are the Brain Police? and Lets Make the Water Turn Black , Frank Zappa and the Mothers of Invention; 1712 Overture, P.D.Q Bach - AKA Peter Shickele

The period from mid November 2006 to early December was one of intense preparation for my intended goal of Whateley Academy. I spent long days digging through microfilms of old newspapers, magazines, trade papers and annual reports. I compiled a list of stocks, land sales, business mergers and the like, concentrating on well known, long lived, stable corporations for the most part. I found several hundred good risks and noted when the stocks made big moves. This was critical to the success of my investment scheme.

Dear diary/journal/whatever readers, you’re saying why not just time travel to do the research, invest in a few huge companies just before they made it big, and make a killing the easy way? I know, buy a ton of HP, IBM, Microsoft, Sony and such at their inception, sit back and relax. Wrong, wrong, wrong wrong, wrong, to paraphrase Monty Python. One: time travel despite any, um personal rewards, was and is dangerous; the less I did, the less risk of mucking up the time line. I needed to be selective and discreet. Two: I needed to amass a sizable fortune to insure my long term protection, and remember I may live a very long time. I had to spread my investments widely so not to unduly affect the future economy and the time line. Duh? If I got too greedy in any one investment, it could change the future, plus draw attention to my actions. Millions or billions spread across the whole of the US economy or even just the Standards and Poor’s were drops in the ocean, in a handful of stocks, a Tsunami. And I needed sums that large, sad to say.

I continued working on my self defense and warper training. The self defense came courtesy of the Wisconsin National Guard and MSG. I was fortunate that the male members — pun not intended, but it was true - were not the least adverse to sparing with me, in fact when it came to breaking out of a persons hold, they nearly all volunteered. I learned later of the few whom didn’t --three had jealous wives or girlfriends, and for the other they said, don’t ask don’t tell. The grab-her-from-behind-across-the-chest moves seemed particularly popular. Mind you, I found it unintentionally, ah ... energizing as well. Cold showers worked for all of us — giggle - though they did exacerbate my ‘headlight’ problem. No, I didn’t shower with the guys, though they offered.

My time-stop got easier and more precise, and my ‘research’ trips, as the Gang of Four called them, got better too. Not to say there weren’t a few, ah mishaps and a lot of soaked panty liners. Nothing real serious went wrong, honest. Okay. I admit the Canadian invasion of Japan caught me off guard — just joking. Nixon winning in 1960, that I agree was a serious blunder but then Kennedy must share the blame. Served him right too, what a letch. I never should have attended that rally prior to the Wisconsin Primary. Fortunately I remembered what happened, and with Gin’s magic, we got things back on track. You’d think having a famous man make a pass at you wouldn’t cause much trouble; of course my slapping his face in that never to be famous photo didn’t help. Hey, this girl is not some cheap political groupie, the nerve of him! Anyways, he had a bad back, he’d never have kept up with me, giggle. - I just giggled in my diary again, oh dear — The press photographer was a problem but Gin had a spell to fog photographic film and saved our collective bacon.

With Sara’s and Dairy Maid’s connections, I put together quite a file on Whateley and its current head Ms Carson or should I say Miss Champion and others over the decades. This research plus Sara’s and Dairy Maid’s endorsement of the school convinced me to attend Whateley, but how and as what? I could pass for 15 or 16 with ease, but did I want to go through high school again and what after graduation? I needed something long term or at least indefinite in length.

“Whateley sounds perfect, but how do I get in?” I asked Sara, Carrie and Dairy Maid.

“We could write you a letter of recommendation, as alumna Dari — Dairy Maid’s real first name — and I have some influence.”

“I don’t know if you’d want her endorsement. “ Dari said grinning. The girl could light up a city when she smiled. “I graduated Whateley in 2000, that’s deca …” Sara looked at Dari with a “don’t go there, Girl,“ expression. “That was a number of years later, and our Sara here still had a reputation as a mistress of the practical joke, at least one of which the school head, Ms Carson, fell victim of.”

“It wasn’t anything the students at MIT wouldn’t do if they had access to a gravity inverter,” Sara said then laughed until she cried.

“You okay Sara?” I asked.

“Fine, just remembering the fun I had, you’ll love it there, Joanie. Sorry, as to getting in, I can get Dr. Otto to endorse you; he knows who you are now. Even he follows the news eventually,” Sara said.

“The problem remains, as what? I can’t be a student forever, and please, no jokes about my years in grad school,” I added.

Carrie made a comment that gave us the key. “Pity you can’t get in the way my Mom did for you.”

“What, Carrie?” I asked.

“As a visiting scholar, research assistant, staff worker, something like that.”

“You’ve got something there, Carrie, now how to make it work. It must be ironclad and reasonably permanent,” I said, Dari gave me the final piece.

“It’s unfortunate you’re not rich, or you could do like many retired politicians do and buy a chair at some university.”

“What, bribe my way in?” I said with disgust.

“Joanie, Dari means you could endow a chair at Whateley. With your gifts, the history department‘s a natural, but it takes a lot of money.”

“Why do you think I’ve done all that historic research into securities, land sales and businesses?” It hit me, Eureka! “I knew I’d need money down the line, now I know what for.”

* * * *

From late November 2006 until a week before I left for Whateley, I worked long hours implementing The Plan. Regrettably that meant no holiday ski trip but The Gang with Sara, oh my, promises to come to New England in February and party. Sara claims she’s really coming to see Dr Otto about me but that’s just for a day or two so why book a New Hampshire ski lodge for a week? The girls and I spent considerable time, whipped cream and maple syrup consoling each other over the loss of the winter road trip; I miss them already.

I researched respectable law firms and brokerages that survived and prospered over the span of my investment plan. My investments had to be done with a minimum of direct interaction on my part and sufficiently diffuse to prevent disturbing the time line by distorting the flow of capital. Calls to my dear friend Babs and Senator Joe got me a wealth of legal and business advice and gave me another excuse to talk with her wonderful children. I had to be fair and talk with Eric too. I’ve gotten to know him better, and he’s really quite a nice young man. He’ll have the pick of the girls soon. Mel, well Mel’s, Mel; how else can I describe her? I’ll miss them all, but I may chance flying out for holidays to see them and MSG. My investments should pay for private charters, much safer.

The last three weeks were a whirlwind of activity. If it wasn’t for my mutant constitution, I don’t know how I could have pulled it off -- some days I barely slept. I made many investment trips and in 1902 established The Meridian Trust, a very reputable and stable group of law, brokerage and accounting firms running it, according to a series of detailed letters I “sent” them. I was, of course, the sole owner, but that was kept deep under wraps. The multiple firms served both the diffusion goal and to keep each other honest, i.e. watch dogs to watch the watch dogs. I acquired a sizable collection of vintage clothes and accessories to facilitate my “research and investment” trips, Gin playing an invaluable role. She both assisted me on my ”trips” and as a skilled seamstress, was able to tailor the period clothes to fit us to perfection.

My various aunts, great aunts and great great aunts represented the “face” of Meridian to my proxies. Great Great Aunts Jane and Jenny followed by Great Aunts Jill, Josie and Jessie kept an occasional eye on Meridian from it’s inception through well into the 1950’s. Aunts June, Janet and Jillian brought my scheme up to the present. Odd how all the girls in the family were tall, long-haired strawberry blonds and had names beginning with “J.”

Jillian negotiated with Whateley, proposing the Meridian Chair and the fine print mandating my hiring and acceptance as part-time student. She signed the agreement a week prior to my departure for Whateley. If Ms. Carson saw through my disguise, at the Boston meeting with our lawyers, she didn’t let on. Ms. Carson was upset by the requirement that Jillian’s niece be the first holder of the Meridian Chair, but when she saw a sample of Joan’s “research” into Whateley’s and “Ms. Carson’s” past, she was impressed. It was not blackmail, just a demonstration of Jillian’s niece’s qualifications. I planned on earning my place, but it never hurts to have a fallback. As of the day before my departure, the last time I checked, my personal earnings as Joanie approached two million dollars. Meridian was worth in excess of 17 billion dollars, not bad for a month’s work.

* * * *

I considered stopping myself from meeting my Mom in the 1957, but that was pointless, the time travel paradox again. Even warning her to get a cancer checkup was out; I might never have been in Poniatowski to be mutated in the first place. I might never have saved Mel’s life, as Bill and Ted would say, bogus. Any thing that directly affected me or my past was out, the investment scheme worked because it was so indirect. Thus the irony of time travel power, it was useful to everyone except me.

I did risk one personal perk, I made several carefully prepared “research trips” and learned to whom, when and where my grandfather sold his 1915 Harley. My Great Great Aunt Jenny purchased it from the man he sold it to, “a present for my husband,” she said. Jenny rode it to a remote site “we” knew had not changed over the years, and time traveled it to the present. No sense tempting fate and crossing my own grandfather’s timeline; Mom might never be born. I wanted a tangible reminder of my heritage, and the bike did go well with my leathers. Image is important.

With practice the, um side effect of my time travel could be delayed, which made all this possible, though not eliminated or reduced in intensity. If anything delaying it made it worse, and thank Ghod for that, I’d miss it. — Why are you looking at me like that diary/journal/whatever reader? This girl just wants to have fun. Don’t groan, you knew that one was inevitable. —

* * * *
December 13, 2006 Whateley Academy, 11:05am EDT

I made it, dear diary/journal/whatever readers. I write this from my temporary room in Poe Hall, these quarters are only until they can find something elsewhere as there’s a shortage of space for transgendered students. The girls on my floor say it was a storage room a few days ago. I arrived late morning, parked my grandfather’s Harley and walked into administration, panniers in hand. A few students and staff between classes noticed my arrival but soon ignored me; guess they see a lot a strange stuff at Whateley. I walked up to one of the staff, an attractive, well dressed woman sporting a Greek alpha pin. She had her hair up in a severe bun; it detracted from what could have been an elegant look and made her, well, bitchy. I noticed the nameplate on her desk said A. Hartford.

~Joanie, shame on you, you know better than to trust first impressions. ~

“I’m here to see Ms. Carson.” The woman glanced up from her pc, looking at me dismissively. The eclectic biker gear didn’t help her perception of me a bit.

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked suffering, like I was seriously wasting her time.

“No but I am expected. Hi, my name is Joan Brown.” I put my hand out in friendship, she ignored it.

“If you’re here to interview for admission, I need to see your paperwork first.” I tried to straighten her out.

“I don’t have any paperwork thought I do have a letter for Ms. Carson. I’m not here as a student; I’m here as a new hire,” I said politely.

“You’re awfully young for a staff position; what are you, a cook’s assistant or housekeeper?” My first impression was proving sadly accurate. This woman was not getting on my Christmas card list, but I stayed patient for now.

“I’m sorry if I confused you. I’m Joan Brown, and I’m here as a student, instructor and researcher in the history department, among other duties.” I smiled sweetly.

“I don’t see a hiring memo for you, Ms Brown,” she said with some impatience and …

~Was that a touch of smug self-satisfaction? ~

“I’m a special hire direct through Ms. Carson, you may have to ask her. It was arraigned at the last minute, sorry,” I said apologetically.

“This is most irregular, I’ll see Ms. Carson, but you’d better not be lying, young lady,” She said briskly.

~Oh, young lady? I do not like her tone at all. ~

“Pompous bitc ... “I muttered.

~Whoops, almost said a bad word. ~

While Miss Priss was gone, one staffer asked, “What did you mean by ‘among other duties’?” She asked nicely, so I responded in kind.

“I’m here on a trial basis, Ms. Carson agreed to try and see where I’ll fit in. I’m also here as a student, as I’m a recent mutant, and my doctor recommended I continue my training here. She’s an alumna.”

“You look and sound familiar, but I can’t place you. What did you say your name is?” the staffer asked.

“Joan Brown, lately of Madison, Wisconsin, but you can call me Joanie.” The light bulbs over their heads flashed brightly.

“Joanie, as in the singer Joanie?” a younger staffer asked.

“Yes but don’t tell anyone; it will spoil the fun.” I smiled and giggled.

~These people are alright. ~ I giggled some more. ~Oh dear. ~

“Ms. Hartford will have kittens; she hates celebrities,” said the first staffer to speak.

“I’m hardly a celebrity, more a flavor of the month.”

“I wouldn’t call someone with two or more songs continuously in the top twenty-five for the last month and a half, a flavor of the month,” said the young staffer. They’d released some of the CD as singles, and they’d done okay.

“I’ve had some success, but it’s luck and all that accidental publicity,” I said, trying to remain modest.

I’m not comfortable with my success at all. We could hear bits of Ms. Carson’s and the pri ..., tight as ... not nice person’s conversation, and it was not a happy one.

“Joanie, that was talent that got you were you are. As to the publicity, saving that girl did the mutant community proud. You did from love and a sense of duty; I could see it in the images,” a secretary said.

“You’re one of us now, and we’re glad to have you. I’m a mutant, and I hate it when the press badmouths us. You put them in their place; I loved how you handled the press after your kidnapping. Great outfit by the way,” a cute young brunette said. Her Latino heritage was obvious.

~They must have seen me in the news and remembered it, ouch! ~

“The crinkly orange and silver Mylar wrap around or my birthday suit?” I asked.

~This is interesting. ~

“Decisions, decisions: they were both hot. Seeing anyone currently, hon?” the cute brunette licked her lips alarmingly. It was a stunning effect.

“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; what’s with mutants and lesbianism? Not that I’m complaining. If we’re talking boyfriends, no one currently, if we’re talking a girlfriend, that’s debatable.” I thought fondly of the rest of the Gang of Four.

“So your social calendar is open?” the Latino brunette asked.

“Possibly, I’m not certain, I just got here.” Ms. A mealworm ... Ms. Harp ... Hard ... that fu ... the imperious lady came out of Ms. Carson’s office and motioned me in.

“She’ll see you now,” then muttered something under her breath.

“Thank you, Ms. Hartford,” I said very sweetly.

I looked back as I entered the office she indicated. The staff tried not to stare and laugh but did not succeed.

~Oh, she is not gonna like me, her loss. ~

* * * *

“So you’re the mysterious Joan Brown your Aunt Jillian requested I hire.”

She was a handsome woman of indeterminate age and exuded a sense of business like authority and confidence. As we stood and shook hands I couldn’t help but think how much she reminded me of the actress from that old Wonder Woman series, Linda Carter was it?

“Have a seat, please.” I sat to the side of her desk, less formal that way. Her face lit up as I spoke.

“Thank you, Ms. Carson. I’m Joan Brown, but all my friends call me Joanie.”

“Not so mysterious as I was lead to believe. I see my staff has figured you out, Joanie.” She smiled.

“Sorry about Ms. Hartford; made a bad first impression, I guess.”

“That’s the way she is -- she’s very good at what she does but has an unfortunate attitude. Please understand she went though a harrowing experience some time ago, and it didn’t help matters any,” she said with considerable sadness.

“I’ll try not to be trouble, Ms. Carson,” I said, and smiled angelically, I thought.

She broke out in a most glorious laugh. She quickly composed herself but smiled warmly.

“Oh, I suspect you’ll be a handful. I know who and what you were and who and what you are, Joanie, everything. Dr. Sara and I had a very long phone conversation; I believe she was checking up on her younger daughter,” she said still smiling.

“Daughter?”

~What is this? ~

“A condition of your being here, I decided you needed a sponsor and emergency contact, and she volunteered. She said she often felt like your mom.”

“Sara and her daughter Carrie were very helpful to me during and since my recovery. I like the idea of her as my foster mom.”

“Mind you Ms. Babs was upset when she found she’d been beaten out but she agreed to be Sara’s backup.”

“You talked with Babs, I mean Ms. Johnson-Williams, uh Williams-Johnson too?” she had me rattled. At this rate I’d likely get Ms. Carson’s name wrong and call her Ms. Carter. I am not good at interviews.

“And her daughter Melissa, she insisted I talk with her. That girl worships you, Joanie. Ghods I wish I had her energy.” She said and laughed. I relaxed.

“I like her too, she a sweet girl.” Something clicked in my mind.

“What do you mean by everything?”

“I know your general life history, the nature of your mutation from middle aged man to young woman and your concerns for your safety. And they are justified given your kidnapping and assault. We’ll go into duties and other details tomorrow. Let’s get you settled in and familiar with the campus for now. Temporarily you’re assigned a single in Poe Hall; with your security needs off campus housing is problematic. We’re working on several on campus alternatives. As you’ve offered to be a security auxiliary, we may persuade Sam Everheart to share.”

“You’re thinking of housing me with a man?” This was a surprise.

~Ooooh, a man; settle down libido, I know the trip was hard on y ... now you’ve done it, Joanie. ~

She must have noticed the lust flash in my eyes.

“Sam is short for Samantha, and you have much in common.”

~Did Ms. Carson suppress a chuckle, hum? ~

“You’ll learn it time. I’ve called for someone to give you the quick campus tour, then escort you to your room. My staff will get you ID, so you can use the cafeteria in Crystal Hall. Welcome aboard, Miss Brown.” She stood to shake my hand again.

~Damn but she looks like Linda Carter. ~

“Oh and thank you ‘Jillian’ for the Meridian endowment and say hello to your other ‘aunts’ for me.”

“You know that? I’m impressed, Sara was right to recommend you and Whateley. I hope I’ll fit in.”

“You’ll do fine; there are others here with similar backgrounds, surprisingly. It’s our duty to insure our students acquire the skills to make it in life as a person and mutant.”

“That’s a major reason I’m here, Ms. Carson. I hope I’ll prove a good student and a useful asset on staff.”

“From what Sara said I doubt you’ll be good, but I’m sure you’ll do well.” She held in a laugh. “Babs had nothing but praise but said you have a strange sense of humor. They both told me to watch out for you, I’m not sure which way they meant it.” Now I nearly broke up.

“Thanks, Ms. Carson.”

“Thank you again for the Meridian endowment. When Ms. Hartford hears how much was donated and who the first chair is, she’ll have a whole basket full of kittens. That alone is worth having you here.” She struggled to control her laughter. “Now get out and be a girl, Joanie.”

~Now this is a woman I could like. ~

* * * *

To be continued in,

Timeout-Pause/Record/Fast-forward

Revised 09/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance.

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Other Keywords:

Created by BC staff

Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward
by John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 1

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine gets an odd dorm-room, has fun at lunch, meets some nasty students and gets a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to use a classic catch-phrase. She does all this while keeping a low profile -- NOT!

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA. Just be careful if you use their payphone booth. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 1-Poe, Lunch, the Omegas and Sorry About that Chief

December 13, 2006 Whateley Academy, 12:00pm EST

Dear diary/journal/whatever, when Sara said Whateley was an ‘interesting’ school, she wasn’t kidding. I thought things were pretty strange at MSG -- good thing I started out there because this place would have overwhelmed me then. I could write pages just about the food choices or what some have to eat as food, based on just one lunch and supper’s worth of experience. From what I’ve heard, I missed one of the really strange ones -- there’s this girl who sucks the souls or the life energies out of living things, part demon they claim.

I’m taking time this evening to catch-up on my entries, girl are there a ton of them, busy day. I e-mailed those two polite girls I met on the train; that should blow their parent’s minds. I sent a carbon-copy to Mel and Babs suggesting they might make good pen pals as the two girls are Mel’s age. I’m thinking of setting up an account just for fan e-mail, to keep it separate from my friends and official stuff. Mel’s told me how her friends are begging for my e-mail address -- time to throw her a bone. Instant-messaged Carrie and Sara and gave them the details to ship a big Wisconsin fruit and cheese basket to the AMTRAK Conductress who caught the error in my berthing. I’m mailing a CD on my own from here. Now, what all happened today?

* * * *

Ms Carson’s staff provided me with a campus map and the toughest looking laptop I’d ever seen. They claimed it was nearly bulletproof, but I was responsible for loss or damage. I also received a student ID, visiting scholar ID and staff ID, all with photo, smartcard and biometric features. I’m going to drive people crazy with all these ID’s; I get a security ID later this week. The staff is devising a suggested class list, so I can audit and get a feel for what I need to take when I formally enter class in fall. With the security training, research work, teaching and evaluations, my schedule will be full. I’ll know better tomorrow after meeting with several department heads.

I was given an abbreviated campus tour and introduced to the house mother at Poe, a Mrs. Horton. She led me to the third floor.

“I’m Mrs. Horton, your house mother -- you must be Miss Brown. We got Ms Carson’s memo to find you a room just two days ago. Sorry it’s a bit sparse, Joan, but it’s the best we could do on short notice -- at least it’s a single with a nice view of the grounds.” The sign on the door said linen stores; she seemed embarrassed when I saw it. “Ladies room and showers down the hall; you’ll have to share, but you look like a high school girl so think of it like PE, and you’ll do great.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. Ms. Carson said this would be temporary until they can get me staff accommodations.”

“You’re staff; you look so young, how old are you, Joan?” She looked surprised.

“One week before this Christmas I turn 49,” I said and smiled.

“Forty-nine? Wait a minute, you look familiar, even sound familiar. I swear I’ve seen you before somewhere?”

My inner child took over, reached in my panniers and took out a CD and publicity photo.

~Joanie, what are you doing? Bug off, Joan, Joanie wants to play. ~ She’s willful some times.

“Here, for you.” I started unpacking the luggage I’d shipped ahead. “Mrs. Horton, how late do they serve lunch to, ah Mrs. Horton?”

She snapped out of it. “Sorry, didn’t realize we had another celebrity. They don’t start the switch over to dinner until after two usually.”

She was most pleasant and helpful, so I personalized the CD and photo for her favorite niece, a fan apparently. Meanwhile little Joanie was quietly giggling.

I secured my school and personal laptops, then changed out of my cycle gear. I decided on the stealth approach, so I went the whole Joanie route as Joanie Junior was now fully in charge. That meant leather everything except underwear.

As a going away gift, Gin gave me this kid leather crop top/shorts combo she made she claims I can wear au natural. I modeled it for her and the Gang; it was comfortable, and she did show me how to clean and care for it but still. My nipples and um other items showed right through. Joanie Junior was sorely tempted but listened to reason when I reminded her it was 55F today, warm for mid December but not enough for that. We’ll save it for next time I see them. If Joanie Junior and my libido ever team up, Ghods!

I put on my favorites, the Steve Zink number elevens; Delrin capped five inch Duralumin heels on knee-high black leather boots with a wide cuff on the top right out of an old pirate movie. Form-fitting, butter-soft leather pants, a half-cup lace trimmed bra and panty set, red silk blouse with a deep v-neck, sleeveless leather vest combined with my MSG bomber jacket completed the outfit, a silver banana clip from Mel keeping my hair in check. I carried a silk scarf and leather gloves in my bomber jacket if needed, I considered wearing mirrored aviator shades, but that would have been too much don’t yah think?

~Ghod sometimes I act like such a teenager. ~

I walked the busy third floor corridor, students passing to and fro.

“Hi there, Red, visiting?” a girl coming up called out as I turned down the stairs.

“New student off to lunch, name’s Joanie, yours?” I asked the short-haired Asian girl.

“Steel Lotus, my code name that is, real name Jenny or Jen Chang.”

“I’m Joan Brown, code name, Timeout, but I don’t use it much. Call me Joanie.”

“Glad to meet you, Joanie. I just realized how much you look like that new singer Joanie. You must get mistaken for her all the time, huh.”

“It’s worse than that.” I tried to keep a straight face, not easy.

“How’s that?”

“I am Joanie, catch yah later, Jen.”

Her eyes went wide; I blew her a kiss and sashayed down the stairs. I may have overdone the wiggling ‘cause as I was about to exit, I heard a commotion.

“You see that tall girl with redish blond hair? Damn but she’s the image of that mutant singer Joanie,” someone said.

“She’s visiting or a student?” another asked.

“I think she’s staying in Poe, I heard a new student was assigned here today,” said a third.

“What’s her name?” said another.

“Joanie Brown, the singer,” I shouted back.

~That’ll confuse them. ~

I hurried to the sparkling geodesic dome of the Crystal Hall.

* * * *

Crossing campus, I thought I heard a few wolf whistles. I entered, slipped off my bomber and slung it over my shoulder.

“Excuse me, which way to the food?” I asked a group of older students.

I heard grumbles, then one turned and pointed.

“Over that way, far side.” Then he turned back. ”New student, great!” he muttered.

“Thanks, handsome,” I said very sultry, then I slinked my way towards the food lines, looking back occasionally.

“Yah sure,” he replied, seconds later he spun back, nearly knocking one of his group down and gestured my way. “Shit, it’s her!”

I didn’t hear the rest of their conversation. I grabbed a tray and picked out a few items.

“ID card?” the student cashier asked curtly.

“Oh, sorry I’m new.”

“Just hand me the card, kid.” She swiped it through a reader. “Have it ready next time, Newbie, or you’ll hold up the line.”

~A bit grouchy, needs cheering up. ~

“Hi, I’m Joanie, I just arrived today.”

“Yah and I’m Brittany Spears,” she said in a New Jersey, Fran Dresser voice that projected tough girl attitude.

“See yah, Brittney!” I said happily, turned and left.

“See yah...“

I looked back as her face froze.

“Joanie?”

~She seems flustered, I wonder why? ~

I chose a quiet spot near the windows and waited for the fun to begin. I hung my bomber across my chair back, removed the banana clip and shook out my hair. Adjusting my top and bra got the result I wanted; I heard a crash and looked up to see a bus person had pushed his cart into a table and fallen to the floor. I stood up and bent down.

“Are you okay?” I said as those present got a rare look deep down my cleavage, before colliding with each other.

~I’ll have to remember that move, very useful. Right, that’s what I did to Eric. Can’t be serious all the time, Joanie, got to play sometime -- you don’t suppose I’m becoming a tease? Nah! ~

I finished, tossed my trash and put the tray back; I owed the bus persons after my “stunt.” For the most part the students ignored me or simply noted my passing; I wasn’t the first celebrity here. I planned on spending the rest of the day moving in and checking out the campus. The extended behind the scenes tour would wait until tomorrow. I was putting on my bomber when I heard the radio - over the sound system - playing one of my songs, a new one at that.

“Hey, I don’t sound half bad,” I said to no one in particular.

I was in a good mood, so I started to sing along softly with myself; that sure felt strange. It was one we’d recorded but not used on the CD, I think they released it to persuade me to do that follow up CD. I was soon carried away with my singing not noticing the crowd I was collecting. I realized this when the song stopped and there had to be fifty pairs of eyes staring at me.

“That was a just released remake of the Roy Orbison classic, Running Scared by teen sensation Joanie, who is taking a break from performing to attend a private prep school in New Hampshire. We’ll miss you, girl,” the radio announced.

“If that don’t beat all,” said an onlooker.

“My Ghod it’s her!” said another.

~Maybe I’ve gone too far here? Time to face the music, pun not intended. ~

“As if someone like her would attend school here,” I said in a sarcastic tone and gesturing wildly. “I mean do I look like some six foot tall, busty, strawberry blond, leather clad, mutant teen-temptress singer?” The crowd stared glassy eyed. “What do you take me for, huh?”

~That confused um, they didn’t expect good-ole boldfaced lying. ~

“But who are you?”

“Hi, Joanie!”

“Hi, Jen!” I said to Steel Lotus as she passed.

“Hi, I’m Joanie. Did you like my new single?” I laughed and beat a hasty retreat out of Crystal Hall.

As the doors closed behind me I swear I heard this older-looking security officer say, “Ghod not another one!”

I didn’t know what he meant, but I suspected I would soon find out.

* * * *

I spent the afternoon poking in various buildings and checking out the campus grounds. The weather remained mild for December, so I sat on a bench off a main path people-watching. I saw an incredible range of people passing by, some barely recognizable as human. I realized how lucky I’d been, turning into an attractive girl was nothing compared to what some had endured. I looked normal, as normal as any six foot plus flaming haired sex pot could, but overall I’d come up trumps. I saw people who I’m afraid I momentarily considered freaks, much to my personal shame. I’d learn painfully over the next few weeks that appearance has nothing to do with character. I knew this in my heart and mind, but it’s hard to break long ingrained prejudice despite the best efforts of my parents. I’d sat there a while when a group of students walked up to me.

“You’re sitting on our bench.”

~Our bench? ~

“Did you say our bench?” I asked politely.

“Yes, and if you’re smart, you’ll get off it... now. This is Omega property,” said the obvious leader.

“Sorry, I didn’t know it was yours. I’m new here. Hi, I’m Joanie” I smiled but watched them with care. “Strange but I didn’t see a plaque.”

“Plaque?” the leader asked.

“A little brass, copper, laminated plastic or stainless-steel tag engraved with the name of the owner or who donated it.”

~Not the brightest our leader. ~

“It don’t need no stinkn’ plaque, it’s Omega because we say it’s so. “

~And he was so close to doing the line from The Treasure of the Sierra Madre. ~

My humor got pushed aside by the outrage that was building.

“So it’s really Whateley school property for anyone’s use, and you claim it’s yours by intimidation.”

I’d not moved, and they were getting angry. We were attracting a crowd; I swear I saw someone taking bets.

~Well Sara did say this was an interesting school. Sounds more like the alleged Chinese curse, may you live in interesting times. ~

“So you’re not leaving our bench?” the leader asked.

“Not your bench, sorry, you’re free to use it later, but for now I like it.” I could feel someone pushing me hard, but no one touched me. “Who’s the wise ass trying to TK me off the bench -- naughty naughty?”

I braced myself and held on tight, he or she was powerful.

“Enough with subtlety, kick the bitch off,” the leader barked. One gang member grabbed my jacket collar and pulled hard.

“Stop that, you’ll damage it, it’s a gift.” In the corner of my vision I saw a girl conjure/produce/whatever a ball of multicolored fire. “Awe and this was such a good day,” I exclaimed. The girl started to throw the ball of flame, but they’d made a mistake, they were all close to me. “Timeout!” I shouted, and they stopped.

During the time-stop I rearranged things. When time returned to normal they were sitting in their underwear, tied to their bench with some of their clothes and shoelaces. I stood ten feet away, the remnants of their shoes and their coats smoldering in a mesh trash basket between us.

~Their trash basket, I’ll bet. ~

From my point of reference it took five or ten minutes, from that of the crowd, five or ten seconds.

“Your group is well named: Omega the last letter in the Greek alphabet. You certainly aren’t first rate by any standard. Next time you children try to bully someone, don’t, you’ll get hurt. Sorry about the clothes, but that fireball was going to waste. Send me the bill though I doubt I’ll pay it,” I turned to leave.

“You’re not just leaving us, bitch!”

~So he’s a professional idiot. ~

“You’re lucky I didn’t remove anything other than your clothes, little man.” I made a scissors motion aimed appropriately; Girl was I pissed. I started to shake.

“Don’t worry, security will be here soon, see the CCTV cameras. For future reference the name is Joanie, got it?”

I walked quickly away past a tall clump of bushes, which I ran behind and promptly puked my entire lunch.

~Oh I hate that. ~

I was still shaking, but the vomiting and dry heaves had stopped when I heard someone walk up and cough for my attention.

“Ahem, Miss, are you okay? Do you want a doctor?”

I straightened up, wiped my mouth with a clean handkerchief and looked for the source of the voice. It belonged to a fit, middle-aged man in uniform with a Whateley Academy Security badge pinned on his jacket. From all the doodads on his uniform he was a senior officer, and then I saw the name tag, Chief Delarose.

~Crap crap crap crap crap! Here not one day, and I’m about to be shown the door, endowment not withstanding. So much for The Plan. ~

“Are you here to arrest me, officer?”

I let him do the rest of the speaking; I’d learned something in Carrie’s Woman 101.

“Why would I arrest you, Joanie? I can call you ‘Joanie’, Miss Brown?”

“Ah sure,” I said confused.

~He knows my name? Well it is on the jacket. Hey, he knows my last name, that’s not on anything. ~

“How do you know my name, Officer..?”

“Chief Delarose, Joanie. I talked with Ms. Carson yesterday, seems you’re a pet project. That and I caught the end of your concert at Crystal Hall. If I may say, you have a lovely voice.” He smiled.

“Th_thanks Chief Delarose, You sure you’re not here to arrest me for fighting?”

“The Omega’s; don’t quote me, but serves um right. I’ve enough troubles with fights between individuals, turf wars and the occasional criminal. We get all kinds here, it’s the Whateley way. I saw you on the CCTV, you simply defended yourself. Burning the clothes was a bit much, but you hurt no one, and they clearly would have hurt you. For someone who appears so young and inexperienced, you move incredibly fast. Are you a speedster or energizer? I ask because Ms. Carson said you’d expressed an interest in becoming a part-time or auxiliary officer.”

“I’m older that I look Chief Delarose, much older.“ I paused to let it register. “I’m a warper and manipulate time. I’m really no faster than a normal human.”

So I lied by omission, I’m faster that nearly any human alive, I’m just not superhuman.

“So you’re that ‘Joanie’. I thought I remembered you from somewhere. That’s how you saved Miss Johnson last Labor Day. I see your skills have improved. Very good work, Officer Trainee Brown,” he said, earning some serious brownie points by remembering Melissa’s name.

~Officer trainee? ~

“You’ll give me a try?” I’d calmed some but was excited by his news.

“Absolutely, from what Ms. Carson told me, and what I saw on the CCTV today, and in the news last year, you have potential. Just promise if you’re going to get sick every time you fight, please don’t do it in the Security Office, the carpet is new.” He laughed an amused but world weary laugh. I liked him, he was down to earth in a Dirty Harry Callahan meets Andy Taylor way. He was also very fit in a sexy, older...”

~Not again, down libido, down girl! ~

I regained my composure.

“I’ll try not to, Chief. Nerves I guess, or it’s my time of the month. Sorry about that, Chief.” He gave me an odd look. “I’ve always wanted to use that Get Smart line, but I never had the proper occasion.” I smiled, and we both laughed.

“My pleasure,” he said, smiled and bowed.

~My what a charming man, I wonder if her married? Whoa Momma! ~

“I’m new at this female business, Ms. Carson told you about me?” I asked him.

“You mean that the press was correct about you being a middle-aged man before your mutation? Surprisingly you’re not unique in that, it’s happened before.”

His face lit up like he’d received some wonderful gift, or the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were running towards him, naked in slow motion.

~Ooooh that last image has me feeling all hot and bothered, hormones and a dirty mind, a dangerous combination. ~

“I think I’ll assign Samantha Everheart as your training supervisor. She’s one of our newest officers, but highly qualified and you two have so much in common, it’s perfect.”

He looked supremely satisfied with himself. I choose not to upset him.

“Thank you, Chief Delarose, I’m glad you’re taking an interest. Is it okay if I go to my room in Poe and clean up, or do I need to file a report first?” I asked very respectfully with just a hint of sultriness in my voice.

I wanted to make a good impression, and even if I’d wanted to, it’s hard not to sound sultry with my voice and looks.

“No rush, we can take care of that tomorrow if necessary. You’re tentatively scheduled for introductions in the security office at 10:30 AM sharp, Officer Trainee Joanie.”

I gave him my best salute; I am an ex-Boy Scout, more an ex-boy these days. Gees, maybe I’m one of the X-men? Maybe I can get a cape like Storm’s?

“Very sharp, Joanie, but you’ll find we’re pretty informal. See you tomorrow.”

He walked towards the ‘Omega’ bench, I hightailed it to Poe.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 09/10/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 2

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets one of the nice gals from Administration for dinner, learns of a serious pitfall of telepathy/empathy first-hand, and meets another girl who is just like the first and loves motorcycles.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimus CA. If their phone booth is bad you should see the blue one I tried in England. I thought I’d never get home. Belonged to this doctor, who I’m not sure.

Adult content warning: bits of this chapter are racy and deal with adult sexual topics, but if you’re at this site you know to expect this at times. So don’t have a snit — whatever that is. As to whether Joanie’s an adult... ?

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 2-Twins

April 13, 2006 Whateley Academy, 6:00pm EDT

Tomorrow I meet the department heads I will work with, and the Meridian endowment will be announced officially. That should be fun; Ms. Hartford’s reaction will be worth the cost of admission. As to that, if you assume a flat ten percent per year yield on the endowment, each day at Whateley is costing me 68493 dollars plus change. That’s not considering the present value of the 250 million they get control of in ten years -- once a banker, always a banker. To calculate it, you need integral calculus -- I guess math has its uses.

I hoped for the in-depth tour tomorrow, but that will probably wait until my third day, the medical and lab people heard I’m here, and they’re salivating or so I’m informed. How did the rest of day one go? After leaving the Chief, I went to dinner and met...

* * * *

Back at Poe I rinsed my mouth and sipped a lemon-lime soda to settle my stomach. I got more wolf whistles to and from the shower, and on my end of the floor they’re mostly girls. I’d not unpacked my bathrobe, so I walked the corridor in a towel, beach shoes and nothing else. After my long, intimate shower I changed into casual clothes, boot cut jeans, preppy blouse, a turtleneck and walkers.

~I feel better. Hope they didn’t hear me in the shower; I was, um, vocal. ~

I put on my bomber, tampons and panty liners in the pockets completed my ensemble. Sorry diary/journal/whatever, being silly today, but where else was I gonna put them? I’m not big on purses; it’s either a leftover from being male, or I haven’t found any to match my outfits. Got you, reader, you believed that? I do have quite a few purses in fact; I just haven’t had much need for them yet. Oh, I don’t count shoulder bags and fanny packs as purses; I do use those at times.

I wandered campus for a while, then was off to the Crystal Hall for supper. I was getting my food when I noticed the cute Latina from administration. I paid, then walked to her table. She looked to be 18 to 22 and could be a close relative of J Lo.

“Remember me from this morning, mind if we talk?”

“Oh, sure, Joanie, have a seat. The word’s getting around we have a celebrity in house,” the lovely brunette’s smile was infectious.

I smiled back feeling wonderful.

“Like I said this morning, flavor of the month, and I suspect my reputation will be more the infamous kind after my run in with the Omegas.”

“So you’re the girl who stripped them naked, tied them up and burnt their clothes?” she sounded impressed.

“They still had their underwear on, and I only burned their shoes and coats. They threw a fireball at me because I wouldn’t leave their bench. Does this sort of gang nonsense go on all the time?” I said as I watched her tan, firm breasts rise and fall. I felt warm and slipped off my turtleneck.

“’Fraid so, Joanie; usually it’s no worse than your typical high school except where mutant powers are involved , it can get dangerous.”

“They’re gonna pick on me everyday?”

~Is Whateley not what I’ve been led to believe? ~

I was concerned but the vision’s word soon soothed me.

“You’ll be okay. Your reputation took a sizeable boost from besting the Omegas; they’re not well liked, petty thugs. You’ll get respect from most campus cliques from how you handled them.” She licked her luscious, pouty lips

~Ooooh, tasty. Ummm? ~

“If you have the time, I could use some FYI.”

She looked so attractive in a wholesome centerfold-girl-next-door way, but her intense eyes projected raw animal lust.

~Ghod I want her. Wait, I don’t usually feel this way, well not so intensely. Is it her or my cycle? But Ghod she’s beautiful. ~

A wave of desire hit me. As she described the various campus groups and what to look out for, I realized I didn’t know this Goddess’s name. I also realized something very strange was going on as the close proximity of this magnificent young woman had me on the edge of orgasm; I fought to keep in control...

~Control yourself, Jo_o_o, oh … Too late, ooooooh! ~

People were staring at us, but we didn’t care.

~Damn my panty liner is soaked. ~

My supper companion looked, um... distracted too. I fought to maintain control.

“We’ve been talking for fifteen minutes, and I don’t know your name?”

She looked at me languidly, but she snapped out of it for a moment.

“Valentina Anderson, Tina for short. You’re wondering, Anderson, with my looks? Mom remarried, my late father’s name was Gomez.” ~You’re very beautiful, Joanie. ~

Tina was squirming in her seat; I was building to another climax...

~Ooooh she thinks I’m beautiful... Huh? ~

“That was odd, I heard you say I was beautiful, but you were eating at the time, ventriloquist?” Tina looked embarrassed and … aroused?

“Projecting empath/telepath, sometimes my thoughts and emotions leak out.”

“Um, are you attracted to me Tina, ‘cause something is making me very aroused, not that you’re not a pretty and desirable woman.”

Tina looked flushed and very uncomfortable.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie, I find you very attractive, and your life history makes you rather exotic. I only meant to lower your inhibitions so you could get to know me. I didn’t expect this.”

She looked around and discreetly opened a few buttons on her blouse and pulled down her bra exposing her flushed breasts and painfully swollen nipples. She covered up, I was speechless and turned on, those breasts deserved sonnets.

“This never happened before, it’s like I got some kind of positive feedback from you. The more desire I projected, the more I got back that increased my desire and... Forgive me; I would never force myself on you,” she said, and started crying; my arousal eased.

“It’s okay, Tina, I should be angry, but I’m not and don’t say it’s because of your gifts.” I smiled at the distraught girl.

“Bbbbut I shouldn’t have, it’s so wrong.” Tina was sobbing.

I moved next to her, took her in my arms, pulling her tight to me, her breasts cradled with mine. It felt good; I rubbed her back and tried to console her.

“Tina, dear, it’s not all your fault. What happened is probably due to me. I’ve felt aroused all day; I’m like this between ovulation and the start of my flow. I get it worse than most girls, much worse.”

“You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?” Her eyes were puffy and red.

“Tina, I ran into Chief Delarose after my trouble with the Omegas. I had just hurled my lunch, nerves I guess, Even feeling that awful I still nearly jumped his bones, though for an older guy he’s really built,” I said putting emphasis on “really”. I snickered, Tina giggled and stopped crying.

“What we gonna do, Joanie, I do want you to like me and maybe...?”

“We’ll see, Tina, I’m flattered. Let’s take it easy with the mind powers, okay? I know I had a weird effect on my fellow mutants back home one time. We suspected I might have empathic or telepathic talents but couldn’t reproduce it in the lab. My proven primary and secondary powers are warper class -- that’s how I stopped the Omega’s.”

She was calmer but hadn’t tried to pull away from me.

“Tina, as much as I am enjoying this, maybe we should go someplace less public for our cuddle secession.”

“Oh I’m sorry.” She sat up and moved away, then her eyes flashed. “Did you say we should go somewhere quieter?” Her face lit up and I smiled conspiratorially.

“I can’t promise anything as I don’t want to rush things, but I wouldn’t say no to a good gabfest, a little pampering and a damned good cuddle. How far it goes beyond that I can’t say,” I said sweetly.

“I’d like that very much but where?”

“I’m in temporary quarters in Poe; they evicted the third floor linens for me so that’s out, how about yours?”

“It’s near campus but I have a roomie,” Tina admitted.

“A him, or a her?”

“A her, about my age, to be honest exactly my age; she’s my twin.”

“Ttttwins! Be still my beating heart, my fantasy’s come true!”

I wasn’t totally faking it, but it was mostly an act. Tina looked puzzled and hurt.

“You want to do it with my sister and me?”

~This is bordering on cruel, time to fess up, Joanie. ~

“Isn’t that supposed to be a classic male sexual fantasy?” I giggled; she realized I was teasing.

“Kinda late for that now, Joanie,” she snickered and covered her mouth. I felt my breasts and crotch.

“When did this happen?”

We laughed so hard I cried and Tina’s nose ran. I almost fell out of my chair. Some of those eating near by were looking at us like we were more than a little strange, and that’s saying something at Whateley.

“Think your twin will mind if you bring a friend over, Tina?” I got up and offered her my hand.

So I used to be a guy -- habits are hard to break. I realized she was taller than I thought, a good five foot nine or ten; I’d only seen her sitting.

“You and Chris will get along fine, Joanie.”

“Chris as in Christina?” she nodded. “Then you’re identical twins, not fraternal?”

“Except we don’t dress alike -- Mom wasn’t in to that, thank God. We do have similar... tastes.”

~ Um. ~ I wondered.

“Similar preferences or you taste similar?” I subconsciously licked my lips.

~That was very naughty libido, but I’ll forgive you that one. ~

Tina just smiled back at me as she licked her lips.

~Oh my! ~

“Let’s get cleaned up and head over. You got transport, ‘cause all I’ve got is my bike?” I asked as we dumped our trash and returned our trays.

“I can see how two on a bike wouldn’t work. What you got a mountain bike?” Tina asked.

“A 1915 Harley-Davidson F-head twin cylinder with original factory racing team parts; it was my grandfather’s.”

“This is not a good idea,” Tina said shaking her head.

“Wha’d you mean?”

“Chrisy will have fit knowing my date has a Harley; she is so into motorcycles.”

~Ghods, she’s sexy cute even without the mind fuck. ~

“You think she’ll be jealous? I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“No, I think she’ll make a play for you. She’s totally bi; I’m more into girls but not exclusively.”

Her openness surprised me.

“Isn’t that a bit personal to tell someone you barely know?”

“I want to be open and above board with you especially after what I did back at Crystal Hall,” she said blushing slightly in the fading sunlight.

“That doesn’t answer how we get to your place?”

“The weather’s mild, we’ll walk. It’s only ten minutes away. It’s an old farmhouse just off campus. A professor and her husband own it and live downstairs,” Tina explained.

We walked at a good pace for several minutes.

“The Bellows, I forget what she does; he’s one of Whateley’s psychologists and a pretty nice guy once you know him.”

The campus walls of Whateley fell behind as we walked briskly.

“Um, Tina, Dr Bellows a psychiatrist? I feel I’m having a 60’s LSD flashback and I never did the stuff. That’s way too I Dream of Jeanie for me. Why do you think I picked Joanie instead of Jean for my new name; I used to be John.”

“Then you’re not gonna like their two cats, Tony and Rodger.”

“That’s sick! How many other 60’s sit-com themed households are there at Whateley?”

She made this silly grin.

“You were putting me on, huh?”

“Yah, but they do have a dog named Rodger who’s trained to sit at the command of... Healey,” we said simultaneously.

I was trying to get even with Tina when she spoke.

“Here we are, Joanie; we usually use the side door. Cum’on girl, it’s getting cold.”

We entered an immaculately restored 1880s farm house with wrap around porch and various well maintained out buildings. The house was your typical late Victorian, a hodgepodge of multiple remodels and additions which only added to its eclectic charm.

“Up here, Joanie.”

I followed Tina close behind up the stairs, I enjoyed the view immensely. Thank Ghod for my dirty mind. -- Giggle — She opened the door at the landing, and we entered.

“Chris I’m home, you decent? I’ve got a friend with me, come and meet her, ‘k?” Tina called out.

“Give me a minute, Sis, I was just changing.” said a disembodied, breathy voice nearly identical to Tina’s.

~She sounds like she’s just finished quite a work out. ~

“Care for a drink?”

I hesitated, this was a tricky area for me, but she was so sweet and beautiful that even with out the mind powers I was feeling a flush.

“Only if you are and then a small one, sometimes alcohol and I get on too well.”

“If you’d rather not dear,” Tina replied.

~The way she said dear, oooh. ~

“Makes no difference, today was stressful but arriving at Whateley and meeting you deserves a celebration. You could open a small bottle of wine, if we all share that should be okay.”

My old body tended towards binging, but my new body treated alcohol like most other drugs, it burnt it off so quickly there was little risk. I wasn’t going to let anyone know that yet, best to keep some secrets. Chris talked as she entered the room, she didn’t see me at first.

“Tina, who’d you drag home tonight, not that girl from maint... Holy shit, do you know who she is?”

~My, Chris is a dainty and refined thing. ~

“Yes I do, Christina”

~Must be what she calls her when she’s teasing ~

“I saw her first, no poaching,” Tina declared.

~Where did that come from out of such a sweet girl? ~

“Am I some game animal here, Tina, now really?” I pouted then spun towards Chris. “Hi I’m Joanie, do you usually greet strangers with your mouth open, drool running out one side?”

Tina was giggling enough for two but I joined in, followed by Chris.

After a bit I said. “I met Tina at administration this morning, then again at supper, and we hit it off, so here I am; any questions?”

“You’re her aren’t you, Joanie?” asked Chris.

“If you mean by ‘her’ the singing mutant from Wisconsin, guilty as charged, sorry but I do like Sideshow Bob.”

“Excellent,” Tina said fingertips together, head slightly bowed.

“I’m surrounded by Simpson’s fanatics, Aye Carumba!” Tina and I stared. “Someone had to say it, and you two were having all the fun. What brings a hot young singing sensation to Dunwich, New Hampshire? Tired of the jet-set already?” asked Chris.

“I see you two are gonna drive me crazy, a good kind of crazy.” I smiled, and we sat in their kitchen. “The performing is fun, and I needed the money, but I do not need more publicity. I’m torn about it, part of me loves it, and part of me fears it. I stand out enough as it is and I’ve already been kidnapped and assaulted.” They looked horrified. ”It wasn’t that kind of assault, but it hurt like hell when they tried to cripple me. Than Ghod this new body came with the super fast regen option, part of the convenience group I think.” They looked at me as if I was some space alien. “I don’t mean to sound flippant, but if I can’t poke fun at this it gets depressing. I prefer to look at the upside, there are several -- want to feel one?” I gave my left breast a gentle rub. “Oh that feels nice.”

“Joanie, you’re a loony,” Chris said.

“Yes, but I’m a natural one, I don’t use any chemicals.”

“Huh?” they both said.

“I’m paraphrasing Monty Python, learn your classics.”

“That still doesn’t tell us why you’re here?” Chris wondered.

“She’s a student and teacher at Whateley; Ms Carson told administration after Joanie left to check out the campus, though all those ID’s we made you were a bit of a tip off.”

“You seem a bit young to be a teacher,” Chris said.

“I suppose being nearly 49 seems young to some, but I had this bitch’n makeover last summer, and it did me a world of good.” I struggled to keep a straight face after that nonsense.

“So those press stories were true, I didn’t’ believe them, but Tina did. So you’re a teacher and student, won’t that be confusing?”

“It’s worse than that, I’ve asked and been accepted as an auxiliary security officer. Since my first teaching duties will be that of a substitute, the kids won’t know if I’m coming or going. I may work with maintenance on an as needed basis. I need experience in ever facet of life as a woman I can get; I’ve got almost 49 years to catch up on.”

“I didn’t know about the security duties, thought how you handled the Omegas proves you’re not just a pretty face.”

Tina moistened her lips and gave me a feral grin. I could see Chris seemed in a similar state.

“Please don’t do that, Tina, you’re getting me all you-know-what again, you’re very good at it,” I said.

“Was that what I think it was?” Chris asked, “If it was, can I join in?”

“Sis, I didn’t think you went in for threesomes? I’m surprised, but it’s okay with me if Joanie’s willing.”

Tina said as she slipped off her shoes, untucked her blouse and undid a few buttons. She could give concubines lesions in seduction. I felt my nipples straining the fabric of my bra and ~ooh ~, things were getting interesting down below.

“Chris, are you an empath/telepath like Tina because I’m getting the same feelings I got with Tina at dinner, but they’re slightly different, not that I mind.”

I started feeling real good again.

“You’re interested, Joanie?” asked Chris.

“You don’t need mental powers to see Joanie’s rosebuds are at full bloom and then some,” Tina said while pointing at my obvious pointers.

“Word of warning, go easy on the mental stuff. Tina tried it earlier, and things almost got out of hand.” Chris gave us a quizzical gaze.

“More than almost, if we hadn’t broken off, tongues, lips and other fun stuff would have come into play,” added Tina.

“And in the middle of a crowed cafeteria, it was like I had no control over my desire. My whole world centered on how beautiful Tina was and how aroused she made me,” I said while blushing slightly.

“I only sent out a mental tendril to see if Joanie had any interest in girls and me. I sent an empathic suggestion to help lower any inhibitions. Next thing I felt was a flood of desire and lust coming back that made my desire grow, and that must have fed back to Joanie and so on. It was some kind of psycho-sexual feedback loop.”

Chris’s eyes went wide at this.

“You couldn’t control it?”

“It was controlling us both; we barely were able to stop,” Tina said.

“When was this?” Chris asked insistently.

“Its 7:00 now, we got here just after 6:30, around 6:15 give or take five minutes,” Tina said.

“That’s why I was changing my clothes. I was taking it easy when I suddenly felt extremely aroused, and I had to pleasure myself, I couldn’t stop.” She was almost crying. “I thought I was going mad or someone was attacking me with mental powers.”

“You picked up on us at nearly a mile, that’s kewl,” Tina said.

“Kewl, what’s so kewl about that?” I asked.

“It means you must be like us, empathic/telepathic, possibly quite a strong one to have such range. You acted like a signal booster or repeater, to use radio/telephone jargon. That would explain the feedback and Chris picking up on it. Her brain is so like mine we operate on the same mental wavelength,” Tina said.

“So something like this has happened before but not so extreme?” I said grasping for the right words.

“You know how they say identical twins can sense each others feelings. We can do that and more but never at such a distance and so out of control. You need to get tested, girl,” Tina said to me, concern on her face. “I feel strongly attracted to you, Joanie, but scared. What if that feedback happens again, and we can’t break it. It could be dangerous; we might end up mindless animals or worse.”

“I agree; though once we have a better idea what’s going on, who knows? You are both very attractive, and I’d like be friends at least. I need friends badly.”

I felt bad at the realization all my close friends were out west, then it struck me. “That still doesn’t explain what’s so kewl, just because I may have some powers I didn’t know I had isn’t kewl. Wait, I suppose it could be.” I smiled when I realized what they’d said. “It means since I’m more like you two, that makes me more desirable long-term.”

~You want me as your lover, Tina? ~ I thought.

“Of course I want you...” Tina’s and Chris’s eyes went wide. Tina was excited. “Chris did you hear Joanie ask if I wanted to be her lover?”

“Yes and she didn’t speak, Joanie, you are a telepath and from what happened earlier a projecting empath. We just have to make you an honorary Anderson sister now.”

Chris licked her lips unconsciously. I was getting deliciously um... uncomfortable again.

~Ooooh yes, yes, yes! Meg Ryan, eat your heart out. ~

“Girls, who’s thinking of sex with me because what happened earlier is happening again, I’d better leave until we learn how to control this, okay?”

The urges eased but if this kept up I’d need a long time to cool down.

“It was me... You too... That was kewl, Sis,” they said in lockstep unison.

Tina spoke, “That hasn’t happened in years, Chris and I linked for a moment. It was like I was she and she was me and we were one big whole.”

“I have this desperate urge to sing, I am the Walrus, goob goob a choob. Sorry.”

“Thank you, Joanie,” Tina snickered. “I think you made it possible, girl; you were the server or hub in our personal network. Sorry for the geek talk, but it’s the first analogy I could think of. You need a ride back? It’s not safe out after dark.”

“I might get mugged or assaulted?” I asked, supprised.

“That’s true for young women anywhere; rape is always something to be aware of. It’s fairly safe here from crime but the winding, narrow old roads are dangerous at night. You could get hit by a truck. Chris can take you on her Kawasaki; it’s no Harley, but it will do.”

Tina grinned knowingly at Chris.

~My, what a tease, I like her. Insert sticking out mental tongue at sister; sorry make that her real tongue. My Ghod, she’s got a tongue like Red’s, ooh! Damn, I hope I packed those batteries, or my fingers will be cramped tonight. ~

“Harley, what’s this about a Harley?” Tina giggled, Chris had got the message. “Joanie has a Harley?” Tina nodded.

“You’re from Wisconsin, and you’ve got the bucks. What you got, girl, a Soft Tail or Road King?” Chris asked.

“I have a Soft Tail stored in Madison; the bike I have here is an F-head twin cylinder.”

“F-head, I’m embarrassed, but I’m not too familiar with older models, what year?”

“1915 with original factory racing team parts, it was my grandfather’s, and I last road it today,” I said and smiled; Chris turned to Tina and looked angry.

“Joanie has a running, vintage Harley, and you don’t tell me? I have no sister,” Chris snarled, then she bear-hugged Tina and kissed her. Chris broke the clinch and danced over to me. “Let’s got then; you show me your Harley, and I’ll let you have your wicked way with me, Motorcycle Mama.’ Chris got this predatory look on her.

“Sometime I think I’m just an entrée on the make out buffet, not that I’m complaining, just confused.”

* * * *
To be continued.

Thanks to Babs’ ‘Planetary Agents’ for the inspiration, among others

Revised 09/10/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 3

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine shows her cycle to a friendly twin, trys mending fences with a sour-puss, meets with department heads and finds out why she and Sam are the butt of Carson's and Delarose's jokes.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of my first attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA who are also distributors of the Emperor of Waterslides, the Napolian.

Adult content warning: this chapter, is a little racy and deals with adult sexual topics but if you’re at this site you know this, so chill out.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 3-Twins part 2, Introductions and the Big Joke

December 13 -14, 2006 Whateley Academy, 9:00pm EST

I’m getting tired; it’s been long day even for a regen. I’ve got to look my best tomorrow for the department heads and for the Meridian Foundation announcement. The only press present will be local or specialty press that cover prep schools exclusively, and I’ve been assured my photo and name will not be released without Ms. Carson’s and my approval. Perhaps with time I’ll allow my face and name to be used to promote the school, but for now I need the refuge it provides. Even if we do allow my name to be published, it’s so common that I should be safe. For now mum’s the word.

I took a quick shower to release some tension; I hope that did it because I got some pretty strange looks from other students on the floor, damn did those twins wind me tight. Time to finish my entries and get to sleep, and I do mean sleep.

* * * *

Chris had a midsize bike, 750cc I think, it was hard to tell in the dark. I knew she’d tell me about it later; I could see she was proud of it. Chris lent me a helmet, and we were off. Soon we were back on campus.

I returned the helmet and she spoke, “Where you staying, Joanie?”

“Poe Hall for now, but they’re looking for other quarters as space for transgendered students is at a premium. I’m in a converted linen storeroom; it’s nice, but they need it back.”

Her face lit up. “Stay with Tina and me, we’d love to have you, um, I mean we can spare the room and share on rent.”

~I know what they’d love to have ~

And I didn’t mind in the least, but the events of the evening worried me.

“A temping offer, all of it,” her blush was just visible in the light from the campus lights, “but I have security concerns. The people who paid those Canadian wackos to kidnap me are still at large. We’re not even sure who they are; I could put you and Tina at risk. Ms. Carson is looking at other on campus housing; I might even share with a female security officer.”

Chris frowned then broke in a smile. “I think we could pull it off. Dr. Bellows has a fair alarm system; we could get Whateley to help us upgrade it. We’re near campus, and you could ride with the doctor or Tina. I work part-time for a law office in Dunwich and occasionally do maintenance on vehicles at Whateley. Tina’s always saying I should apply for fulltime there. IT COULD WORK!” she shouted with a maniacal look on her face.

“You’ve seen Young Frankenstein I take it. I’ll run it by Chief Delarose but I can’t promise. Want to see my bike? Follow me.”

Chris was an eager child squeezing my hand like I was her first crush. We walked over to the administration parking lot where I’d secured it to a concrete filled post with a heavy chain and lock Gin had magically re-enforced.

“It’s a beauty; uh... can I sit on it?”

“Be my guest,” I said, grinning.

She got on and carefully balanced it then just as carefully got off.

“Could I ride it someday?”

“We’ll make a date, okay?”

She seemed happy with that. If I had any doubts, her tongue dancing the meringue with mine while the hand not busy pushing our heads together was massaging my butt then slowly working it’s way around and into my panties were strong arguments against that.

“Chris, slow down... ah... ah... ah... ah girrrrll. Let’s not start something... oooh, we can’t finish.” I said between surges of passion.

This was just like with Tina earlier or even more intense, but Tina didn’t have her fingers there, “ooohuummm.”

I tried hard to break free. Chris protested; part of me did too.

“I’ll do you here and noooooww... oooh!” she growled at me.

Chris was out of it; I wasn’t far behind. I shook her gently and tried to rouse her.

“Snap out of it, Chris; is this what you want? Oooooh! Uh, forget that, bad choice.”

That was too close, for a moment the feeling intensified to the point I could barely stand up. I didn’t want this ecstasy to stop, this was beyond bliss, but I had to break the loop.

“Chris, this isn’t you, you have self respect and control” I hoped. “You’re stuck in a mental feedback loop, break the link.” I was on the edge of mindless orgasm, Chris was beyond that. I imagined a wall separating us in my mind and a person pulling out all the plugs at an old fashioned telephone switchboard. And they said watching all those old films was a waste of time, thank Ghod for Village of the Damned and the Computer Wore Tennis Shoes. Somehow it worked, I felt in control and Chris came out of it, unharmed.

~Thank Ghod.~

“Forgive me, Joanie, I didn’t mean to do that. I was just thinking about what happened between you and my sister and must have subconsciously done the same. It happened so fast!”

“Was it as good for you as it was for me?” I said in a husky voice.

“The Earth moved baby, want a cigarette?” we fell to the ground laughing, the tension broken.

“We’d better get back to our respective rooms. Tell Tina to put any plans for my moving in on hold until the campus doctors can figure out why this is happening and how we can control it. It’s either that or invest in soundproofing, waterproof, mattress covers, sex toys, lots of edible lubricants and whipped cream, lots and lots of whipped cream. We’ll save the maple syrup for special occasions.” I giggled furiously.

“Joanie, you have a dirty mind; you’ll fit in perfect with Tina and me,” Chris said as she walked back to her bike and rode off.

~Ghods, two of them! ~

* * * *
The rest of the night was uneventful. I was tired, exhausted to be honest and after working on my diary/journal/whatever went straight to bed. I did have some odd dreams that night. I wonder if my new talent wasn’t picking up on other empath/telepaths on campus? I managed to ignore most of it except for this one dream, but I got a really great nights rest.

The disturbing thing about this dream was how real it seemed, almost like my accidental time trip at Portage. How often does a strange young woman call you by name, all my names in a dream? It was my dream, that’s why I suppose but still. I’ll ask Tina about that, if I truly have empathic/telepathic talents I need to learn to shield my mind. Why did I dream so vividly about this Goth girl? I’ve never seen her before, mind you she was hot. The things we did in my dream; I even did it as a guy with her, and it was so real. I felt great in the morning. Perhaps I picked up on several people’s dreams, and this is how my mind made sense out of it? With dreams like these, who needs sex toys? Wow!

For my first full day at Whateley, I went for the business/preppy look. Conservative but classy undergarments, dark red silk blouse, a just-above-the-knee grey wool skirt, medium tan nylons, practical dress flats, matching grey wool blazer and some simple gold jewelry as accents. An engraved silver banana clip — a gift from Mel, Babs must have helped — kept my long hair from my face as it hung fully down to my rear now. I may shorten it to an off the shoulder or even a pixy cut, but the ex-balding guy in me loves it like this.

* * * *

I arrived in Administration at ten minutes to nine, name tags at the ready, eager to start. The staff was busy, so I walked up to Ms. Hatefu... Hardfar... Hartford and announced myself.

“Good morning Ms. Hartford, Joan Brown here for a 9AM appointment with Ms. Carson as requested.” I handed her Ms. Carson’s handwritten letter. “This is for you, Amelia. Please call me Joanie. I do apologues for the confusion yesterday; you had every right to be upset.”

I was giving her another chance to be friendly; Ms. Carson thought kindly of her, why shouldn’t I? She glared at me. I smiled sweetly.

~I’d tried. ~

She returned the letter to the envelope and handed it to me. Ms Hartford spoke with calm efficiency, but I could tell she was uncomfortable with me. My reaction to her intimidation was not what she expected. I’d remained disgustingly cheerful for so early in the morning. ‘She don’t know me very well,’ to quote a sage cartoon rabbit. It wasn’t all an act; I was eager to start at Whateley.

~Her loss, not that I’ll give up trying, at least it’s good for a laugh. ~

“Ms. Anderson, come here.” Tina walked quickly over, her brown eyes sparkling as they met mine. “Valentina, you are excused from your regular duties today to escort Ms. Brown and introduce her to various departments. The letter Ms. Brown carries explains everything. I expect you both back here by 1 PM, take your lunch before then, until 1,” She said, dismissing us then I handed Tina the letter.

“Thank you, Amelia,” I said garnering another angry look from Ms. Hartford.

“Good day, Ms. Brown.”

“Joan or Joanie, please, Amelia.” I was going to enjoy rattling her.

* * * *

Tina sat at her desk and read the letter, her eyes growing wider as she did.

“If you’ll please follow me, Ms. Brown,” she said trying hard not to giggle.

We walked out the building, and Tina couldn’t contain herself anymore. She gave me a warm hug and a quick kiss on the lips, tongue included.

“Oh Joanie, it’s so good to see you again.”

I returned the hug and kiss.

“Likewise, Tina, you always greet people like that? So what’s on the menu for this morning?”

“I wish it were you, but now is not the time or place,” she said and grinned happily; double entendres double your fun.

~I have got to stop feeding people straight lines; that punch-line should have been mine. ~

Tina snapped me back to the real world. “Our work’s cut out for us; you need to see the head of the history department, Chief Delarose at Security, the Siegel Hall med wing, the head of Physical Plant, and would you believe the head of the music department. I wonder why that one Ms. Flavor of the Month?”

She stuck her long, sexy tongue out and licked an imaginary ice-cream cone.

“Strawberry is it?”

“I hope so.”

“Tina, if you’re gonna say ‘would you believe’ you need to work on your Glick.”

“My glick?”

“It’s what Don Adams called that voice he used as Maxwell Smart. It’s a modified version of an earlier character named Glick, so he called that voice ‘the Glick’. He based the voice on the actor Ronald Coleman, Prisoner of Zenda, Lost Horizon, you know. Sorry, I seem stuck in TV trivia mode.” I gave her a warm smile.

“This morning as I dressed, the radio said you’re number one.”

I had a bad feeling about this.

“Number one what?”

“Your recording of Running Scared is number one on the Billboard Pop and Country charts this week. That gives you at least three songs in the top 25. Face it girl, you’re the biggest thing to hit the record business in years. You’re a star.”

~Me a star? I did sound pretty good on the radio yesterday but me? ~

“If my songs are selling that well, I guess I must have some talent. Still I keep thinking this all will blowup in my face.”

“Joanie, stop looking for the dark cloud surrounding the silver lining. Um, that didn’t come out right did it?” Tina asked, confused.

“I think you meant something like, stop moping, sit back and enjoy the ride?”

“Closer, it will do I guess,” Tina said and giggled.

* * * *

Tina took me to the History department first, Dr. Jean Alden. As Ms. Carson had arraigned for each department chair person to meet with me a particular time and place, it all went pretty smooth. The History chair person - oh heck the head, chair person is so awkward — the head was surprised by how young I appeared, but Ms. Carson’s letter impressed her.

“I see Ms. Carson speaks highly of your abilities as a researcher. “

“I have some special talents in that area, yes,” I replied.

“That’s very helpful, I’m informed that Whateley received a sizeable endowment, a substantial portion is dedicated to a new chair in the department and the department as a whole. We’ll need more staff to take full advantage, so your arrival via Ms. Carson’s office is welcome.”

“I understand there is a formal announcement around 1 PM today,” I said , trying not to smile too knowingly.

“Ah yes, the Meridian Foundation. A mysterious organization, no one knows much about them other than they’ve given sizable charitable gifts for years but without much publicity. How they found out about Whateley is anyone’s guess.”

I decided as a mater of diplomacy to let the cat out of the bag, or at least most of it.

“I know how they found out, Dr. Alden.” The department head looked at me strangely.

“How’s that Ms. Brown?”

“Joanie please, Ms. Brown was my Mom. I’m just Joanie.” I smiled at her.

“Okay, Joanie, call me Jean. I’m game, how?”

“Jean, the formal announcement states Whateley Academy is the recipient of an endowment from the Meridian Foundation of assets equal to 250 million US dollars.” The department head looked like she was about to faint.

“Two hundred and fifty million?” Jean gasped.

“Whateley gets to spend any or all of its earnings. After ten years they can touch the principle as well.”

I gave her some time to digest this. We all got a drink of water then I continued.

“A requirement of the endowment is that Whateley establish in the history department the ‘Meridian Chair’; its purpose is to further research on mutants, aid the preservation of historical documents and historical artifacts related to mutants, to archive their life histories and to study the interaction between mutants and society as a whole. The endowment pays all expenses of the chair and provides additional funding to the department. The rest of the endowment goes to Whateley in general.”

“How do you know this, Joanie?”

“Because Meridian is based in Madison Wisconsin, and I am affiliated with it.”

“You work for Meridian?” Tina said with surprise on her face, it made her look so sexy.

~Joanie will need some therapy time tonight. I hope I brought fresh batteries. ~

“I’ve worked for them since sometime after my mutation; it was my research that led to Whateley’s selection.”

They both looked impressed. I didn’t tell them I was Meridian, a girl needs her secrets.

“Remember that under this jailbait exterior lie the memories of a 49 year old man.” Tina snickered, Jean looked shocked. “Ask Ms. Carson, she’ll confirm my story.”

“I sense you’re not telling me everything.”

“Telepath?” I asked.

“Observant, your body language says so. What is it you don’t want to say?”

“It’s embarrassing but as a condition of the endowment... “

“Yes?”

“The first holder of the Meridian Chair is ... Ms. Joan Brown, most recently of Madison, Wisconsin. Sorry.”

“No wonder you’re uncomfortable,” Tina said.

“It’s worse; I recommended I be appointed. I was going to Whateley anyways, it seemed logical.” Hey, that wasn’t a total lie.

“If it helps, there’s an escape clause. If I can’t do an acceptable job, I can be replaced on a 2/3 vote of the entire Whateley department heads, Ms. Carson holding an absolute veto.”

“Seems fair, Girl, for 250 million dollars I’d hire you if all you were good at was sweeping floors.” I knew then we’d get along fine.

“Joanie, it’s nearly ten, and we have four more departments to see this morning. We’re burning daylight, if you’ll excuse us please.” Tina hustled me out. “Girl, you are full of surprises. Anything else you’re hiding under all that flaming hair?”

“Nothing important, if there ever is I tell you personally.” I purred that last word.

~Um, better make that two therapy secessions. ~

Before stopping at Security, we detoured to the Siegel Hall med wing to schedule a preliminary medical and powers exam. The doctors were eager to see me as Ms. Carson had passed copies of Dr. Sara’s and Dr. Otto’s findings on to them. I was considered a challenge to classify, and this had them salivating, that and my highly exposed cleavage.

“I have got to remember to button my blouses all the way or wear a scarf, and why didn’t you tell me I was flashing everyone, Tina?”

“I liked the view.”

“Oh, when I get my hands on you...”

“Yes please.”

“Arrrrrg! Let’s go see the Chief.”

* * * *

“Good morning, Ms. Brown, Ms. Anderson, take a seat,” the Chief said then used his radio, “Officer Everheart to Security.” There was an acknowledgement then the Chief spoke. “Ms. Everheart will be here shortly, she’ll evaluate you and design and supervise your training. The serious stuff starts in a few days after we work out your schedule with Administration. Today is just for introductions. Ah, Samantha, prompt as always. Officer Everheart, meet Ms. Joan Brown; you’re to evaluate and train her as an auxiliary officer. Don’t let either’s appearance fool you, you’ll find you have a lot in common.”

I swear Chief Delarose was suppressing a laughing fit. He was very amused about something.

“Ms. Brown, follow me so we may talk freely,” Ms. Everheart instructed me.

“Tina, wait here please, I won’t be long.”

“Remember we need to meet with Physical Plant at 11:05,” Tina called back.

* * * *

Officer Everheart led me to a back office; she closed the door behind us. “I’m Samantha Everheart, Sam for short. I’m your supervisor for evaluation and training.” She gestured to me.

“Joan Brown, just Joanie usually, I’m here primarily as a history researcher and instructor, but I will work with security with some regularity.” Sam nodded. “I’ll be working with physical plant on an as needed basis, emergencies mostly, I will be a student here as I’m a recent mutant and for some strange reason Ms Carson’s assigned me to the performing arts department.”

“Performing arts?”

“The music department, specifically -- I can sing.”

Sam appeared deep in thought for a moment then broke into a huge laugh. She spoke after calming down. “You have a strange sense of humor, much like Chief Delarose. Know why the Chief said we have so much in common, Joanie?”

“You’re about to tell me?”

“Eventually, how old do I appear to you?” she asked, half-laughing.

“Physically you look about 18 to 20. At first glance you’re a college girl, a rather cute one in fact, but you sound and act far more mature. My own experience tells me that looks are deceiving and particularly so with mutants. How old do I look?” I asked in my turn.

“Physically you’re as young as 15. Your, um, developments suggest 17 to 19 but you are much older, Hive informs me.”

“Hive?”

“Hive is... let’s say it’s a special network I have access to. I’ll fill you in later if necessary. “

“Oh, a woman of mystery, sorry, Sam, I use humor as a defense mechanism when I’m nervous but sometimes I’m just in the mood. What did this Hive tell you, as I have concerns about personal safety?”

“Chief Delarose was being funny as in ha ha, ho ho funny. Prior to your mutation last July third you were a 48 year old man... John.”

~Hive got that from a network data base? Oh oh. ~

“Prior to my accident I was a man not many years younger than you.”

“Ms. Carson and Chief Delarose implied I was not unique on campus.”

“It’s worse than that, Joanie. By a sick twist of fate I am a clone of my 18 year old daughter as she looked two weeks prior to her death. You, I understand, bear a strong resemblance to your late mother.”

“I’m so sorry, Sam.”

She nodded in response. I could tell this was a tough subject for her; I needed to put her at ease.

“It seems to me that Chief Delarose needs to be taught a lesion.”

Sam gave me an intense look.

~I wonder if she’s ex-military. ~

“What yah got in mind Joanie?”

“If you’re as well informed by this Hive as you appear to be, you know I’m a warper with time related powers.”

“Yes, you’re confirmed as being able to stop the apparent flow of time over a limited area for a period of at least 30 seconds. You are reported as having other time powers but they are classified and unobtainable. Yesterday’s incident with the Omega’s demonstrated you’ve improved your time stop markedly. You’re a mid-level exemplar and a high level regen -- the later is something we have in common.”

“This Hive network is well informed. My old first name, how did it obtain that? I have security worries for my birth family and old friends.”

“That was from files your Dr. Sara provided Ms. Carson. They are secure, only she, the Chief and I know your old name. That was for background checks, necessary given Whateley’s own security needs. Hive secured your records from further unauthorized review.”

“Thank Hive for me. What say I time stop Chief Delarose and leave him tied to a chair in Crystal Hall at the peak of the lunchtime crowd dressed in my skimpy string bikini and nothing else.”

“Florescent pink?”

“Natch.”

“Tempting, Joanie, let me think about it,” she said and smiled conspiratorially, “oh, and welcome to the department.”

“Thanks.”

Sam had this odd look of concentration again.

“Hive just down down-loaded your CD. Very nice, now get out.” She laughed and started humming one of my songs. I left with Tina for Physical Plant.

* * * *

To be continued.

Revised 09/16/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 4

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets the Princes of Plumbing and the King, the Meridian Foundation endowment and chair are announced causing an assistant administrator to lose her cool and Joanie has one heck of a Sixties flashback in medical.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought I’m getting better, honest. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. I love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents Bill & Ted of San Dimas CA.

P.S. I’d like to 86 these two, know of any better agents? As to Joanie’s reaction to Mr. King, she’s all shook up, thankyouverymuch.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 4-Physical Plant, the King, Meridian and Doctor who?

December 14, 2006 Whateley Academy, 11:05am EST

Physical Plant was confused why I was there, until they read Ms Carson’s letter.

“So you’re an expert historical researcher and can stop time for short periods. Could be useful, you tell us how,” said Stan and Morrie in turn. They were testing me, I like quizzes.

“On an older campus like Whateley, you must have a hodgepodge of systems running through, between and under buildings. Active and abandoned mechanical tunnels, steam lines, water, gas, electric, communications, sewer, ventilation shafts, you name it, much of it direct burial and in unknown condition.” They nodded. “Everything from fiber optics and superconductors to wood and lead water pipes, plus what little I do know about magic, who knows what previous and current students have buried for safekeeping? I can get original lost construction plans, material samples, photos take during construction or remodeling, even photos never originally taken. This is not to go beyond us here, but I can time travel. How do think I got the kewl old Harley of mine?”

I giggled a bit, but I got their attention. I had noticed my cycle was something of an attraction.

“That would be very valuable, could save us time and money,” said Stan.

“It could save lives; in an emergency, or when some task is particularly dangerous, I can be on standby ready to stop time. I can do this over an area of as much as 100 feet in all directions, for a number of minutes. Enough time to shut off a broken gas main or for me to move a victim away from a live power line.”

“You were the gal who froze a highway to save that young ladies life last Labor Day, Joanie.” Morrie said.

“Melissa Johnson, the daughter of Iowa Governor Bob Johnson, a sweet child and a nice family.” I smiled thinking of them.

“Gees Louise, I saw that on TV. Strangest thing I’ve ever witnessed and being from Whateley, that’s saying something, ma’am,” Morrie finished.

“You can use me then? Remember I do have other commitments on campus.”

“We’ll work something out, Joanie.”

“I look forward to it and thank you, Stan and Morrie, for calling me Joanie; I prefer it.”

I saw Stan’s eyes light up.

“Ghod, I know who you are. You’re that new singer who’s so hot now.” He got a devilish smirk on his face. “You’re classic Whateley material.”

“How’s that?” I replied.

“Whateley’s full of the craziest collection of oddballs, eccentrics, flakes, nuts, geniuses, geeks and freaks on Earth,“ he said tongue firmly in cheek, “ You’ll fit in perfect.”

Tina and I left the meeting a little later, all of us still laughing or giggling at random. I’ll have fun with these wackos.

* * * *

We got to the music department around 11:45, the department head was delayed with class, so we followed the secretary’s instructions to Kane Hall where we entered the King Auditorium and quietly closed the doors behind us. The room was hardly an auditorium, it was more a very small theater, if it held 75 it was a lot. Like many of the campus buildings, it was deceptive. Many times as a child and young man, I’d toured the sprawling Allis-Chalmers factory complex in West Allis where my dad worked. Not much is left, some remnants do repair work for Siemens and parts are now shopping and commercial space. There was a Sam’s Club in a part of the plant built for the Manhattan Project; a network TV studio is still in there.

In its dying gasps, they built a massive reinforced concrete and steel over-speed test facility for the steam turbines and motor/generators they built and repaired. They did the over-speed tests to insure everything was perfectly balanced; when hundreds of tons of steel are spinning at 3600 rpm, you don’t want to be anywhere near if something vibrates apart. The tests were at 4000 rpm, achieving that speed meant the tips of the larger turbine blades are going supersonic and could be damaged by heat. To ease the power requirements and solve the heat problem, they built a room with walls over ten feet thick and a heavy vacuum sealed steel and concrete door. The King Auditorium reminded me of it. An A-bomb wouldn’t phase this place; we are dealing with teenagers here.

“No no no, you’re not getting it. You’ve got the notes right, but the feeling’s all wrong.” The man sounded familiar but the afro hair threw me.

“Maybe I can help?” I offered.

“And you are?”

~Oh my, he’s an Elvis impersonator complete with rhinestone studded outfit, his voice is good though. ~

“I’m Joan Brown, I’m a new hire through Ms. Carson.” I handed him the letter. “One of my duties is as a part-time vocal coach and performer.” I held out my hand, he shook it warmly.

“Call me the King or Mr. King, baby, everyone does, ah uh.” I resisted laughing; he was very good at it. “And what are your qualifications?”

Several students were looking at me intensely, then their faces broke into knowing smiles.

“I know her qualifications, Mr. King,” said a young boy eagerly.

“Yes?” I smiled back.

~Gee he’s was cute and... Cute?! ~

“She’s numbers 1, 16, and 23 also numbers 1, 8 and 20.”

~Huh?~

“Ah huh?” Mr. King’s spoken thoughts echoed mine.

“I heard it on VH1 this morning. Joan,“ he fought back a laugh, “holds numbers 1, 16 and 23 on the Billboard music pop chart and numbers 1, 8 and 20 on the country music chart. Joan is Joanie; she’s the hottest singer alive or dead. Sorry, Mr. King.”

“Uh, no offence taken kid.” Mr. King’s face became electric as he looked at me.

“So I’m doing okay then, thanks for the FYI.”

I moved to the boy, bent down and shook his hand, giving him a nice view of my jiggling breasts. At least my top was buttoned this time. I gave him a kiss too because he was so nice.

~and he’s really hot for a young... DON’T go there, Joanie. This looks like job for two vibrators and a can of whipped cream at a minimum. ~

I knew I might eventually have desires for men but so soon and so young? I have got to see if the medical staff here has a solution, or I’ll be on the sex offenders list in no time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you, Joanie. So you’re really Joanie, Joan. I am familiar with your recordings, but the outfit threw me. I guess you’re incognito today.” Mr. King gave a deep laugh.

“I’m not in leather if that’s what you mean. I’m just trying to make a good first impression; sorry to sneak up on you like that. Want me to change into them now?”

Mr. King, the boy and many of his classmates looked very happy, several were girls.

~Dear me, so many minxes, so little time. ~

You don’t want to know what I was thinking of doing with several of the boys, possibly simultaneously. I had a disturbing thought.

“Tina are you?” I whispered.

“No, Joanie, need a break?”

“Yes and soon.” I turned to Mr. King. “So what’s the problem, King?”

“It’s partially your fault, Joanie.”

“My fault, I just got here?” This was strange, so what else was new.

“It’s your songs, they’ve sparked renewed interest in older pop classics, you know, fifties sixties, seventies rock and country.”

~So I’m ancient now? ~

“Ah yes, I remember back in nineteen and ought six,” I said in a little old lady voice. Several kids giggled.

~Hey, at least my arousal has diminished. ~

“It’s kinda hard, Ms Joanie; the song is written for a girl and, I’m a boy.”

~Ah! ~

You’ll notice I did not make a crude comment based on that straight line; maybe my libido is beginning to behave, about time too.

“Tell yah what, I’ll sing a song written for a guy, is that fair?” I offered.

“Sure, Joanie.” He seemed relieved.

“Something pop/country, mid 1960’s okay?” I asked, the King nodded.

I walked to the student accompanists, one at a synthesizer. I whispered my request.

“You got it, girl,” she said.

She started a strong, simple beat on a snare, base drum combo in the synthesizer, then the electric guitar player came in. Next the woman at the synthesizer added in electric piano, and lastly I added my vocal. Less than three minutes later we were done.

“Was that any good? Did I sound convincing? I suppose Oh, Pretty Woman is a little odd for a girl to sing, but it’s a classic. It was number one in September 1964, when I started first grade. They used it as the title song in a Julia Roberts film.” They were silent. “Earth to class, earth to class, come in class?” they still said nothing. “Gotta go, thankyouverymuch,” I said in my bad Elvis.

The King laughed, and Tina and I walked out of the King Auditorium. Just before the heavy doors shut I could hear screams and laughter like I heard at Mel’s birthday party, and cutting through it all was Mr. King saying, “Joanie has left the building!”

~That reminds me, I promised to call Mel tonight. ~

“You know, Tina; I think I’ve still got it. Let me know if my head starts swelling.”

“Oh you!” she said giving me a hug, but I could see she wanted to do much more. Ce la vie.

“Meet you for lunch at 12:30, I’ve got to change for the announcement and get some relief.” I giggled and rushed to Poe.

* * * *

It was noon; time would be tight. I cleaned myself up and changed into a woman’s business suit. I packed the full Joanie workout outfit in my gym bag, medical needed to test me in costume. I did wear my Steve Zink number elevens under my dress pants for fun. My urges had to wait, there wasn’t time.

After a quick lunch, Tina and I hurried to the front of the Administration building where a small podium and PA system was setup for the announcement. It was a low key affair; the dignitaries included Ms. Carson, the head of the history department and heads of most of the other departments. Some representatives from the Whateley board including the community representative were present along with most of the staff from Administration, Ms. Hartford, I mean Amelia, prominent among them. Mr. King made it as well, thankfully not in costume. A small press contingent was present, mostly specialty publications that covered prep schools and a few local reporters, no camera persons, thank Ghod. Tina and I took a position off to the side where we had a good view of the event and of Ms. Har ... Amelia. A few students looked on as Ms Carson began.

“This press conference is called to announce Whateley Academy is the recipient of a sizable endowment from the Meridian Foundation, a philanthropic trust. Ms. Watkins their representative will explain.”

An attractive, very well endowed, blond woman of about 30 stepped forward, she bore an uncanny resemblance to the sexy female impersonator Control agent seen in several Get Smart episodes. She made me look flat-chested by comparison, woo boy! Ms. Watkins was from one of the law firms that supervised Meridian for my “Aunts.” I’d met her few times, last when we negotiated the agreement with Ms. Carson, but she wouldn’t recognize me dressed like this.

“I’m Charlie Watkins.”

I fought to hold in a giggle.

~Ghod this is sooo funny. She even sounds like the actress. ~

“I’m here to disclose the nature of Meridian’s gift to Whateley. After much research and deliberation” — I smiled and snickered slightly — “and a unanimous vote by the entire Meridian board” — I had to cover my mouth to hold it in, I am the entire board. Amelia looked at me like I was a nut case — “Whateley Academy was awarded an endowment worth in excess of 250 million dollars.” That got every ones attention; Whateley had just received one of the largest charitable gifts in US history. “Whateley has full use of any earnings the assets generate but may not touch the principle for ten years.” There were quiet murmurs in the crowd. “As a condition of the endowment Whateley must establish a chair in the history department dedicated to researching, teaching and preserving the life histories, documents and artifacts related to mutants and their interaction with society. The Meridian Chair is fully funded by the endowment and additional funds are provided the history department to make use of this resource.” The crowd nodded in understanding. “Lastly for a period of one year, Meridian reserves the right to name the recipient of the chair. Our appointee may be removed upon a 2/3 vote of the entire Whateley department heads, Ms. Carson holding absolute veto. Thank you.”

Ms. Carson returned to the podium; I managed to collect my wits, to a degree.

“It is my privilege to introduce the first holder of the Meridian Chair. I have met with this individual and reviewed her credentials.”

The crowd started scanning all the women near the podium, which one was it? I was ready to wet my pants if this lasted much longer.

“Do not let her apparent youth deceive you, as she is highly suitable for this position,” Ms. Carson continued.

The crowd was antsy; I looked towards Amelia who had a strained expression on her face that flashed to surprise and anger when I smiled back and winked. Tina tried hard not to laugh.

“Some of you may recognize the woman in question as I understand she has had some small success in the field of music.” Ms Carson smiled broadly at me; I was impressed, how did she get through that completely straight-faced? “I present the first holder of the Meridian Chair, Ms. Joan Brown.”

I waved at the crowd and Amelia as I walked to the podium; if looks could kill, she just committed mass murder. I’ll give her this much, she didn’t storm off, too much dignity, huh?

“I’m sure you have questions, but let’s keep them brief, and before anyone asks, yes, I am that Joanie. Remember the ground rules, no photos and no mention of who I am other than approved by Ms. Carson. If we ever do reveal I’m here, you folks will hear it first, fair enough? Is it true I’m number one on the Billboard pop and country charts, a fellow student told me?”

Some in the crowd laughed. A younger woman reporter spoke up.

“That’s not strictly true, Joanie. You’re number one on three charts, you forgot adult contemporary. Can I have your autograph for my niece, she’s a fan?”

“Uh sure, after the press conference, okay; remember ixna on the oaniej.”

That got a few snickers. Ms. Carson called it off after twenty minutes so Whateley could get back to normal, if there is such a thing. How Amelia could stand holding her lips pursed that tight amazed me; that had to hurt after a while. I’ve seen pictures of “plebes” at West Point who looked more relaxed at attention. She walked into Administration in her usual purposeful, dignified manner, though I swear I heard a stream of profanity from the women’s room soon after.

~The women’s room stalls out of toilet paper? ~

I signed a few autographs and talked off the record with a few guests; thank goodness the weather had remained unseasonably warm. And they say global warming is a bad thing. That over, I left with Tina for Siegel Hall and my preliminary powers exam.

* * * *

“Joanie, it’s not a good idea to cross Ms. Hartford, she tends to get even.”

“Just having fun, Tina, and if she’s as bright as she must be to be the Administrative Assistant here, she’ll soon realize that. It’s not like she can have me expelled, I’m staff, not just an incoming student. Somewhere under that hard-baked preppy exterior must be some spark of humanity, otherwise Ms. Carson wouldn’t keep her here. Maybe I can bring it out; meantime I’m having fun. I won’t push it too far, okay?” We were met by Dr. Pollard, who we’d met earlier and a middle-aged man who smiled happily when he saw Tina.

“What’s my favorite tenant doing here, Tina?” he had a charming, friendly voice. I liked him immediately.

“Dr. Bellows, this is Joan Brown, and I’m escorting her around. She’s here for a preliminary powers exam.”

Dr. Pollard spoke next. “Joanie here is the girl Doctors Sara and Otto are so interested in; you’ve seen their reports, Dr Bellows?” He nodded. “For Dr. Otto of ARC to consider you a mystery is most unusual. I had a conference call with both of them shortly after you left us this morning, and I’m eager to start. This is Doctor Alfred Bellows; he’s an MD and psychologist. He’s here at Dr. Sara’s and Dr. Otto’s suggestion, and he’s also Tina’s landlord.”

“Normally I’m not involved at this stage of the power exams but your Dr. Sara and Dr. Otto recommended an interdisciplinary approach as you’ve proven hard to classify.”

He was very charming but something bothered me.

~Oh yah, I remember. ~

“Doctor Alfred Bellows?” I asked, he knew what was coming.

I crossed my arms on my chest, blinked and head snapped my ponytail. He chuckled.

“Very few ever get the head snap right, very good, Joanie. Yes, that’s my name; although I’ve never been with the Air force or NASA, I am a fan of the old show.”

“I remember when it was on originally. Barbara Eden was one hot babe by 60’s TV standards, pity about the navel,” I said and smiled.

“That’s another reason for the tag team approach; looking at you or your medical results, no one would guess you’re nearly 49 or a former man. By your appearance and tests, you’re physically late teens at most.”

“Do we have to do all those tests over again, I thought Dr. Sara and Dr. Alex were very thorough. I remember all the blood, urine and skin samples they took. Don’t ask about the gynecological and various endoscope exams, ewh! Not exactly the old turn your head and cough.”

I was having some fun at their expense, the tests weren’t that bad, and they were necessary.

“No dear, we’ll just do a few to make sure you haven’t changed since they were last done,” Dr. Pollard relpied.

Dr. Bellows spoke. “I’m here because I have a gift. I can experience what a person felt at critical events in their life by simply touching them. It’s a sort of clairvoyance. I should be able to relive what you felt at the time of your mutation. That may help us refine our research plans for you. May I touch your hand? You may wish to sit down, this can be disconcerting, but it’s harmless, I assure you.”

~Would I argue with those deep, sincere, caring eyes? Oooh, they’re sooo sexy... not again? ~

“Something wrong Joanie,” Dr. Bellows asked.

“Ah, no, it’s just I have this problem, and it’s worse at this point in my cycle.”

“Your file indicates you have, control problems, shall we say,” said Dr. Pollard. I got angry; my emotions were a little hair-trigger today.

“Are you saying I’m a slut?” I snapped.

Dr. Pollard looked shocked, Dr. Bellows looked concerned.

“No offence meant, Joanie. I simply noted you informed Dr. Sara you had difficulties with your new libido. We’ll give you any help we can, so you’re comfortable with it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Dr. Pollard answered.

“Sorry, I’m touchy on that subject at times. I’m ready whenever you’re ready, Dr. Bellows.”

He clasped my hands, and I experienced all those odd aches, pains, headaches, smells, sights, sounds and other sensations from that first day of my mutation. I remembered bumping into my youthful mom, I screamed then nothing.

My next sensations were of waking in a hospital bed wearing one of those fashionable gowns. I was tired but feeling okay. I lifted by head and saw Tina sleeping in a stuffed chair, deja vu all over again.

“Tina, where are we? How long was I out?”

“Thank Ghod you’re okay, Joanie. You’re still in Siegel Hall; its 7pm, that’s nearly five hours. You had us worried; what scared the doctors was how long you were down.”

“What do you mean by down?”

“Your heart, breathing and well, everything stopped for five minutes. They tried to defibulate you, but every time they got close the machine failed. They couldn’t even get a reading from you or perform CPR as they couldn’t touch you. There was a sort of force field around you, but they couldn’t detect any energy signature. After five minutes you were breathing normal, and they could move you.”

“Do do do do, do do do do, sounds very Twilight Zone to me, Tina.”

Dr. Pollard came in, smiling at my joke.

“Glad you’re back with us, Joanie. You’ll be happy to know Dr. Bellows has recovered too.”

“Dr. Bellows was affected.”

“He was like you but for only thirty seconds, then he came to. He’s writing up his experience as we speak. You’re one interesting girl, Joanie.”

“That sums up the last five months of my life, doctor. So what do we do next?” I was not in the best of moods.

“Oh, yes, the mutation, they’re often distressing for a time. We wait for Dr. Bellows to submit his report, and then we decide on a course of investigation. While you were out, Tina advised us of what happened last night. It’s covered by doctor/patient privilege so don’t worry. She thought it might help us understand why this happened today,” Pollard said.

“She told you everything? This is embarrassing doctor; about Chris too?”

“Yes, she mentioned what her sister told her; they are identical twins after all. I suspect your previously dormant empathic powers are behind yesterday’s incidents and your reaction to Dr. Bellows. The feedback may have caused you time-stop yourself somehow, but since you weren’t actively sustaining it, the field wore off as the temporal energy bled away.”

“Will that happen every time Dr. Bellows and I touch?” This worried me.

“No, he knows not do that again,” the doctor assured me.

“You said I may be empathic, my friends at MSG, Tina and Chris thought so.”

“What Tina told us and the reaction you had to Dr. Bellows suggests you’re an empath with limited telepathic abilities, as you did communicate with the twins. That this has happened few times and only in the presence of other empaths/telepaths suggests your talent is powerful but passive. Someone else must trigger it before you can use it. Eventually you may learn how to trigger it at will, but for now it’s dormant unless another affects you. That’s enough for now, Joanie. We’ll schedule more tests after we’ve reviewed Dr. Bellows notes and conference called with Doctors Sara and Otto again. Until later, Joanie, and by the way, I love those boots.” He was grinning like a little boy.

“Great, my doctor’s a pervert.” I laughed, dressed and left with Tina for Poe.

* * * *

Dear diary/journal/whatever, I’m beginning to think the people who named the buildings a Whateley had a warped sense of humor combined with precognition. Most of the buildings are either named for icons of 19th century American literature or influential 20th century comic book artists. How else can you explain the King auditorium, an annex of Kane Hall, where Mr. King teaches music? What were the odds on that? And his hair, didn’t afros go out with the 70’s? I once thought some of my leather Joanie outfits bordered on tacky but Mr. King’s whole hog Elvis impersonator garb with all the rhinestones and the jewelry, euh! He does have good taste in music, I have to admit. Then those guys from Physical Plant, I wanted to press the reset button, they were so video game. I wasn’t sure if they reminded me more of the Mario Brothers, Click and Clack or Abbot and Costello. You don’t want to know the name off the Meridian representative and what she looked like.

Day two at Whateley has been the most fun I’d had in weeks. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of teasing Ms. Hartford. Maybe she’s irredeemable, Ms. Carson doesn’t seem to think that, but then she is a very forgiving person. From the rumors I’ve heard, maybe it’s a case of “the enemy of my enemy is my ally” or even “I keep my friends close, my enemies closer.” I’m not sure; I’ll keep my options open. Perhaps someday Ms. Hartford will come around and be civil because she wants to be and not just because it’s expected; I guess I’m a softy at heart. I’m not holding my breath, but I will continue to be friendly and call her Amelia. It’s less formal, it’s a lovely name, and it drives her crazy. Ain’t I a stinker, to quote the great and powerful Bugs Bunny. As to day two so far, wow!

* * * *
To be continued

Revised 09/09/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 5

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie's 15 minutes of fame go into overtime. she learns a big secret and is given an unexpected honor from her Iowa friends. Oh, she agrees to go on a date with a boy. What was she thinking?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 5-Late One Night and I’ve got a Date for the Prom? Part one

December 14-19, 2006 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, Des Moines IA and Burbank CA

Tina escorted me back to Poe and waited while I dressed for supper. She was worried, and she had got a good look at me while I changed out of that hospital gown.

“I feel like I’m on suicide watch. Can’t I have any privacy here?”

“Not ‘til I’m sure you’re okay,” Tina replied.

I put on basic women’s dark blue jeans, a silk blouse, wool cardigan, walkers and my MSG bomber jacket. I clipped some classic teardrop gold earrings to my permanent sleepers — a concession to my regen powers wanting to close the holes — did a quick braid to my hair and was ready.

“How do you do it, girl? I’m so jealous.” She looked at me longingly.

“What you mean, Tina?”

“40D cups with the high, perky look and no sag -- it’s not natural.” She faked a pout.

“So you’re not interested in my mind?”

“I like that too, Miss Strawberry-Blonde all over.” Tina giggled and blushed.

“That’s not fair, I haven’t seen you naked,” I said defiantly in my Wonder Woman, hand—on-hips pose.

With my figure, it’s impressive, but I still come off like a petulant teen, unfortunately. This got me to thinking.

~If I’m gonna intimidate people as auxiliary security, that pose is out, though it might distract the hell out of them, um? ~

Tina brought me back to the living by untucking her blouse and undoing the buttons. She had my attention now, woooh girl, did she.

“Want to now?”

Tina had her top off and was loosening her bra when I stopped her. I nearly didn’t.

~She’s got to be part exemplar with that body, whoa! ~

“No no, just having fun, Tina. Some other time, sure, but let’s not rush into things, okay?”

I was trying to be a gentleman which is not easy when you’re a girl.

“Okay, Joanie, I’ll wait ‘til you’re comfortable. FYI, I’m a real brunette.”

She stuck her tongue out at me.

~Oooh she is tempting me, the minx. ~

I checked my mailbox as we left Poe and found a Fed Ex package from Dr. Sara marked “urgent.”

“Wonder what this is about? Okay if I eat alone, Tina? I love your company, but it’s been a long day.”

“Sure thing, Joanie, but remember the offer to move in with Chris and me stands. Anytime you want, you’re in, cutie.”

She gave me a gentle hug, a quick kiss on the lips and walked off, her beautiful backside speaking a sensual language of its own as she glided into the night. Ooh, am I waxing poetic tonight dairy/journal/whatever; she is a looker though.

* * * *

I got to the Crystal Hall just before the cafeteria closed for the night. I grabbed a meal, carefully; no hamsters in aspic for me, thank you, paid and found a well-lit table. I opened the packet while I let my food cool; my eyeballs nearly did a cartoon double take. A well-known late night TV show was desperate to contact me. Warners passed it on to Dr. Sara, who passed it on to me. They wanted me on the show to sing at a minimum or as a guest. They would provide all transportation, food, lodging, security and pay a sizable fee if I would agree to terms quickly. They included a private number to their executive producer.

Both Mr. Karaoke and Sara thought it was a generous offer, Warners requested that all my songs and rehearsals be recorded for use in the follow up album they kept begging me to do. The show was enthusiastic in their approval. Sara had contacted Senator Joe for me, and he agreed as well.

~That’s the tenth time at least I know of she’s called the Senator in the last few months, um? He is rather good looking, charming and a widower. They’re not, ah, doing it, do you suppose? ~

It wasn’t like I’d be outing myself any more; I was too well known now. As long as the Whateley connection stayed a secret, I was safe, and MSG had insured that any ties to my old identity and family were well and truly buried. Even if word got out of my visit to the sci-fi club, it was Joanie, not John who was there. Ditto for my MSG and Mutant wing stints: few knew all or even most of my true origin, and they would never tell. I ate, returned to Poe, found a quiet pay phone and dialed.

“Jay here, how may I help you?”

~The executive producer is the show’s star; now how do I say no? ~

“Jay, Joan Brown, um Joanie; you wanted to speak?”

“Joanie, thank Ghod you called, you are not easy to get a hold of. Girl, you are the hottest property in the business; do you have any idea what kind of numbers you generate in the polls?”

“I’m well known then, am I?” I asked, dreading the likely answer.

“Joanie, you’re better known than I am, that’s how famous you are.”

~I knew I was recognizable but this? ~

“So my days of shopping undisturbed in the malls are numbered?”

“Your Q rating is in the stratosphere. If you walked in a crowded room with the President of the United States half the crowd would say, ‘who’s the old geezer with Joanie?’” he laughed, I laughed too, though nervously; it was more of a giggle.

“You interested, Joanie?”

“Yah, I guess, but a few questions first.”

“Shoot.”

“One: when? Two: what do I do on the show? Three: how much do I get? Lastly Four: I understand you have a good collection of cars and motorcycles -- want to see my Harley?”

“To answer them in order, Joanie, one: ASAP. From a practical standpoint that’s this Wednesday the 18th. We’ll send a company jet, limo, security, the whole works. Just give me an address and your approval, and we’re on,” Jay said.

“Continue.” He had my attention.

“Two: what ever you want. Sing, talk, dance naked, anything; it’s up to you.”

“The um, naked bit I’ve done already. Thanks but no,” I emphasized no.

“Your rescue from the kidnappers, may I say, nice legs, Joanie,” Jay said charmingly.

~Legs, he noticed my legs? ~

That got him brownie points, big ones. - Stop tittering, I’m not referring to my nipples, you perverts. Ghods diary/journal/whatever, did I just say tittering? -.

“You’re the first man who’s said that to me, and I thank you for not being crude, Jay. Most guys ask, ‘Are those real?’ or ‘I see you’re a natural blonde.’ And those are the nicer ones.”

“It’s not that I didn’t notice all the rest -- you’re magnificent by the way -- but my Momma raised me to respect women. And my wife would kill me.” He laughed again. “Number three: fifteen thousand per song, no limit; fifty thousand if you stay the whole show as a guest, and that’s separate from the money for the songs.”

~Wow, we’re talking serious bread here! Most guests on the show got a few thousand and the chance to plug something. ~

“Sounds good, Jay, as long as you can guarantee solid security. I do need to inform my new employer and get their okay.”

“Where are you working, Joanie? The reports are you went off to some private school out East.”

“I am, and I’d prefer it not be mentioned by its name or location, though it will get out soon enough. You have a deal conditional on my employer’s approval and one last condition.” He must have though I was upping the ante, “I want my entire paycheck donated to the American Cancer Society in honor of my late mother, who regrettably I can’t name as my father is alive.”

“I understand, and I will personally donate an additional 100 thousand of my own money if you come on as a guest.”

“Deal,” I said without hesitation.

“Joanie, what’s this about a Harley? Being from Wisconsin I assume you know I’ve attended many of the anniversary celebrations. What yah got, a Soft-tail?”

“I have a late 80’s Soft-tail stored back at Madison. My other bike is with me in New Hampshire, it’s an F-head twin with original company racing team parts, it was my grandfathers.”

“F-head twin, that’s very old, Joanie; what year?”

“1915 give or take a year due to the racing parts; I last rode it yesterday.”

“Bring it on the show; it will fit on the jet. I’ll make sure they send a large enough one. If you ride it on to the show, I’ll pay you another 100 grand,” Jay offered with enthusiasm.

“For that kind of money, I’ll let you ride it. Make out the check to the Whateley Academy Scholarship Fund, I’ll deliver it myself when I return. They’re my employer and school. I’m an instructor, researcher and a student, among other things. I can talk about it if you like but in general terms, nothing real specific. I have security concerns, one mention of the name or its location and the deals off.”

I gave him my location, and we agreed on a time and place to be picked up.

“See you this Wednesday then, take care, Joanie.”

* * * *
I called Iowa and let Babs know what was coming up so they could watch; I did warn her that my outfits might be a tad racy. I arranged with Ms. Carson for a couple days absence. So that dear diary/journal/whatever is why I rode a 1915 Harley onto a studio/theater stage on national TV, I hear the numbers for that particular show were the highest in years. They had promoted my appearance heavily, they didn’t say who I was, they used the ’special mystery guest star’ gambit. They did say it was my TV début.

I came on stage partway into the opening monolog. Jay’s telling this deliberately lame series of jokes about Midwesterners and cheeseheads when this tall girl — me duh -- roars onto stage on an ancient motorcycle. I stopped the bike inches from him.

“We’ve had enough of these hick cheesehead jokes back home, and it’s time you stopped.”

“Who’s gonna make me?”

“I am.”

I swung off the bike, took off my gauntlets, old-fashioned goggles and modern helmet, flung my long rider style duster and tore off my breakaway chaps. I wore a variant of the Joanie outfit I’d worn on Labor Day, the Steve Zink #11s, nude hose, skin tight Daisy Duke style black leather low-rider shorts, a black leather bikini top and nothing else. I grabbed his opposite arm, spun him into me, bent his head back and kissed him full on the mouth, my left thigh in his crotch. We broke our tryst, and he called out,

“Ladies and gentlemen, Joanie!”

I launched into Black Leather, the Grandmaster Flash rap/song written for Joan Jett. I did the same simple substation of Joan_ie for Joan_Jett I did in Madison. I hoped Dad wasn’t watching; I didn’t think his replacement heart valve would take it. I stayed the whole show singing six times in total. During the first break I changed into a V-neck halter top and Capri pants and this snappy pair of dress sandals with a 3 inch heel.

~I just called a pair of shoes snappy? I’m becoming one of those shoe obsessed women like my aunt or that girl at the bank. I have to admit I did look great in them; it was sexier in a way than the opening outfit for being less blatant. Now I’m critiquing my own outfits; Ghod, I am a girl. ~

After the break I went straight into I Drove All Night, a song written for Roy Orbison by a pair of song writers who were fans. Released after his death, it’s a little known gem of a song, with the cycle, I thought it appropriate. Jay asked all sorts of questions about what I was doing, how I was handling my mutation and my bike of course. I talked a lot about Whateley but in vague terms, nothing too specific like the name or its location.

I got one big surprise that night, in providing Jay with necessary background material on me; Dr. Sara had given him a particularly embarrassing fact. We were discussing my plans for the near future when he made an announcement.

“I’m very glad you came tonight as I understand today is your birthday.” They rolled out a huge sheet cake, enough so the audience and crew could all have some though I noticed a problem.

“Jay, thanks for the cake, but isn’t that a few too many candles? I’m only 49, not 100.” Then I pouted, laughed and blew them out.

Afterwards we talked more about the difficulties a new mutant faces. Although I dared not give out information on how to reach me, I did leave a web address people could contact if they had family or friends who needed help dealing with a mutation.

“It’s so important the new mutant gets a thorough evaluation and training for any powers they have, for their own well being and the safety of others. I was very fortunate Wisconsin has a State Mutant Program; the specialists there turned my life around. I don’t know what I’d have done without their help. My family’s supportive, but since I became famous, I’ve had to limit contact for their safety. I’d like to send thanks out to my new school, my doctors at the Mutant Wing and ARC, my friends at MSG -- that’s the local mutant group in Madison --and to my dear friends in Iowa who have shown me great kindness.” I started to tear- up.

The Governor’s family?” I nodded my head. I had to snap out of this.

“I’d like to do one last song, may I?”

Jay escorted me to my mark. It’s Over, is a song Orbison often ended his concerts with, the vocal soars powerfully and full of emotion at the finish, a fitting way to end a performance. Tears ran down my face by the end, but I composed myself during the break. We ended the show, the credits running with Jay sitting on my cycle as tape of him riding it earlier that day was shown in a split screen.

I left for New Hampshire at dawn on the 19th, arriving at Whateley on my bike late in the morning. Jay was so pleased with my performance he’s doubled the donation to the scholarship fund.

“Think I need to send a thank you card?” I asked Ms. Carson as I gave her the check.

She laughed and said, “Take the rest of the day off but be here 8AM sharp tomorrow. Playing hooky, and it’s only your first week, shame on you Miss Joan. I expect we will not have a repeat of this behavior unless of course more fat checks accompany it,” she said, smiled and sent me on my way.

Finances were always a concern at Whateley between the unusual needs of the students and their ample talent for destruction. Any extra funds were always welcome, my Meridian endowment helped considerably but was not enough by itself.

I unpacked, cleaned up, caught up on my diary/journal/whatever entries, handwashed my delicates — clothes that is, what dirty minds you have. Okay, I did give those a thorough scrubbing too, all in the cause of hygiene -. I waited until it was 6PM Central then called Terrace Hill.

“Terrace Hill, Barbara speaking.” It was Babs.

“Hi, Babs, how are you and Mel?”

“Not bad, how are you after your trip to LA?”

“Tired but it was fun. You see the show?” I asked.

“Yes, Joanie, that first outfit damn near gave me a heart attack. Ghod I wish I could get away with wearing something like that but after two kids…”

“Don’t sell yourself short, I think you’re very attractive, and Bob seems to think so from what I’ve seen of you two,” I said and meant it; Babs was everything I had desired in a woman but never had the guts to ask out as a man.

“He does, from the way he’s been acting. Oh, Joanie, I have something to tell you as you’re responsible, but I’ll get Mel for you first.”

“Phone, Mel!”

“Who is it, Mom?”

“One of your friends.”

“Okay.” Mel picked up an extension. “Hello?”

“Hello? I haven’t seen you in five weeks, and all you can say is hello? I’m hurt, Mel,” I said with a mock sniffle.

“Joanie?” she shouted.

“Take it easy, Mel, that hurt!”

“Sorry, Joanie. Mom let me stay up and watch you on TV, and you rode out on your motorcycle, and you sang so pretty -- Mom said your outfit was risqué -- I don’t know exactly what that means -- I think it means it’s a little naughty, and you looked so lovely -- Eric went ‘round all day telling everyone he’d kissed you and your friends, and Mom said she’s gonna have a baby in August and...”

~What did she say? ~

“Wait a minute, Mel, your Mom’s pregnant?”

Mel called out. “Mom, you didn’t tell Joanie you’re gonna be a mommy?”

Babs came back on her extension. “Um, that’s what I wanted to tell you, dear. Ever since you saved Mel’s life, Bob’s been, well, frisky. I’m due August 11th.”

“Congratulations, Babs, you have such nice kids, third time’s the charm.”

“Thanks, Joanie. Mel’s already picked names depending on whether it’s a boy or a girl. Want to tell her, Mel?”

I had a funny feeling about this.

“Joan Barbara Johnson if I have a sister and John Robert Johnson if I’m stuck with another brother.” Mel giggled.

“You named your baby brother or sister for me and your parents? I’m honored but why not a grandmother or grandfather?”

“But I have to, Joanie. You’re my bestest, friend and if it wasn’t for you I’d be dead and...“

I could hear her sobbing.

~Now you’ve hurt her feelings, stupid. Great! ~

“Mel, Mel, don’t cry. It’s a nice gesture, but you don’t have to. I’m just happy you’re my friend. You don’t owe me anything. This is very sweet but not necessary.”

“But it is, Joanie.” It was Babs. “The moment Mel told me I knew she was right. Bob and I owe you, like it or not, and we will pay you back somehow. Think of them as a way for you to be remembered long after you’re dead.”

~Now I feel like a heal and why did Babs say ‘them’? ~

“Do what you like, Babs, but if you’re doing this so I’ll be remembered, it’s not necessary. I’ll be around for a long time.”

~Should I tell them, I owe them the truth? ~

“Sure you’re a teenage again, but someday you’ll be gone.”

“I want my sister or brother to never forget that they knew me because of you,Joanie,” Mel said. “Please?”

“Okay, okay,” I said, caving in. Mel squealed in delight.

~Teenagers, arrg! ~

“I need to tell you something in strictest confidence. You’d eventually figure it out, but you deserve to know. You can’t tell anyone, ever. Not even your best friend. Promise, Mel, Babs?”

“Promise,” they both said.

“In a hundred years I won’t look a day older than I the day we met.”

“What?” Babs said as Mel gasped.

“My mutation did a real number on me. The doctors say barring my total destruction I can live indefinitely without change. I’ll look, feel and be the same at 50, 100, 500, 1000, 10000 years old and so on. Even my egg cells regenerate perfectly, so I’ll never go through menopause.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Babs.

“Kewl!” said Mel.

“Kewl?” Babs and I exclaimed.

“Yah, it’s so kewl, Joanie, you’ll always be young and pretty, and you can be my friend forever.”

“But I can’t, Mel. You and everyone I know or will ever know will die eventually, and it will hurt me so.”

“But you’ll remember us, and that’s what matters. As long as you live, we’ll never be forgotten, ever. Who knows, maybe I’ll become a mutant and live real long like you, Joanie,” Mel said excitedly.

“It’s possible but rare. Most mutants live no longer than regular people, very few live really long lives. The Fey, they’re like the magic fairy people of Celtic legend only they’re real and normal sized, can live a thousand years, maybe much more. They’re secretive, so we don’t know much about them, but they do exist. Beyond that I don’t know; I’ve got a lot to learn. That’s one reason why I’m at this special school for mutants.”

“You’re at the Xavier Institute?”

“No, but a place like it, you can still e-mail me, I just can’t tell you where I am, okay?”

“Okay, but you see that you do, I miss you so,” Mel said, sounding disappointed that I couldn’t be with her.

“Enough with serious stuff, Mel, tell me what you thought of the show, and pause for breath once and awhile -- you scare me. You did see it all?” Mel and Babs giggled.

“She did, Joanie, but Bob and I had to carry her into bed later, she was so tired. I couldn’t do it alone, she’s too big now.”

Babs was maybe 5’4’, 5’5’ and 125lb, much like I remember my mom.

“How big are you now, Mel?”

“Mom measures me every Saturday, and I’m five foot six. I’m over an inch taller than when we first met. I weigh 95 pounds, and, Joanie, I’ve got real breasts now, full A-cups. Mom even commented I’m getting a woman’s waist and hips. You should see me now, I look so grown up.”

I could hear the joy in her voice and a snicker on another extension. I took a wild guess.

“Eric, are you listening in?” I asked in a serious tone, which came out more of a sexy purr. I can’t help it, that’s the way I sound, honest.

“Sorry, Ms. Joanie. “ I could hear him try and talk in a deeper voice.

~Is he trying to impress me? ~

“I heard Mom and my sister talking on the phone and realized it was you, and I wanted to say hi.”

“That’s very sweet of you, Eric. I hear you’re going around school telling everyone I’m your girlfriend.” Mel snorted and Babs broke out laughing.

“I did not, Mel’s lying! I just said I know you and you’re kind of a friend, and you look much prettier in person, and you kissed me twice, once to tease me and once to thank me. That’s all, Ms. Joanie, I swear.”

“You swear, Eric?” I asked; this was intriguing.

“When I give my word I keep it; Mom and Dad taught me. I give you my word I haven’t told any lies about you, honest, Ms. Joanie.” He sounded very sincere.

“I believe you, Eric.” I had a naughty thought.

“Eric, do you like me?” I heard a gasp and some muffled giggles, I wasn’t sure who from. “Tell me, Eric, please be honest.”

“Yes, Joanie, I like you, you’re very nice.”

~This is fun, let’s turn up the heat. ~

“You think I’m pretty, Eric?”

“I... um... well I... ah...”

“Spit it out Eric, common, please.”

~I am such a tease. ~

“I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I can’t stop thinking about you!”

~Whoa! Eric has a crush on Moi? ~

“Eric, you have a crush on Joanie?” Babs asked in a motherly tone.

“I even dream of about Joanie and me and... it’s so wrong!” Eric sounded upset, fourteen year old love is a bitch.

“Why is it so wrong that you like me, Eric?” I had an idea I thought might help.

“Because you’re older and famous now and have special powers, and I could never get such a pretty girl to like me.” I swear he was crying.

“Eric, calm down, it’s okay to like me, really. You’re a good looking and honest boy; I’m sure you’ll soon be a very handsome man. Look at your Dad and Grandpa Williams. Physically I’m 15 to 17 years old, so I’m only a little older than you. Your Mom’s a lot younger relative to your Dad. Do you think it’s wrong she dated him?”

“But that’s different,” Eric said defensively.

“Is it, Eric? In four years you could legally marry me in any of these United States, sooner in some. I’m not saying I’m your girlfriend, but I wouldn’t mind going out with you. Maybe when you’re all grown up, who knows? If you’re anything like your parents, you’ll be a catch. The women will be fighting over you; I’d better call dibs now. It won’t hurt your reputation with the boys and ... I mean the young men and women to be seen with me.”

“YYYou’d go out with me, Joanie?” Eric stuttered.

I got silly; meantime Babs and Mel remained oddly quiet.

“YYYes, I’d go out with you, Eric. But no funny stuff, you’re not leaving me barefoot and pregnant.”

I waited for his reply and waited and waited.

~Did I go too far? ~

“Eric? ...

“You still breathing, Eric? I was just having fun, but I’m serious. If you want to go out with me, I’m more than willing. You’re Mel’s brother after all, I’m sure you’re a fine young man.”

~I’ve just asked a fourteen year old for a date? What’s with me? Am I crazy? Though he is kinda cute ... oh my! ~

* * * *

To be continued.

Revised 09/22/2006

Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 6

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie concludes the call to Iowa, agreeing to attend a dance with -- gulp -- Eric. She substitute teaches a class and makes enemies without really trying. And she gets savagely beaten for her troubles.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 6-I’ve got a Date for the Prom? 2, An Offer I Can’t Refuse, Pinky, Adventures in Substitute Teaching, Fade to Black.

December 14 2006 - January 29, 2007 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, Des Moines IA

To recap, I’ve apparently asked Eric for a date. I am crazy. His response was more measured.

“I suppose so,” Eric said sheepishly.

“Act a bit more enthused, hon, a pretty girl just said she likes you. I’d ask her out before she changes her mind,” Babs said.

~She approves? Don’t tell me she’s playing matchmaker? ~

“You okay with this, Babs. I’m 49 years old; physically I’m about 16 or 17 but still.”

“I trust you, Joanie, even if nothing can come of this now, Eric’s reputation at school will soar. Talk about your confidence-boosters, though the other girls will pale by comparison.”

I blushed though they didn’t see it; duh, I was on the phone!

“If you’re okay with it I am, Babs, and I’m not that pretty.”

“Yes you are, Joanie, and if he gets you pregnant, I’ll hold the shotgun on him at the wedding.” Babs laughed.

“Mom!” Eric cried out.

“Mom?” Mel said confused. I needed to act fast.

“Okay if I go out with your brother, Mel, just for fun? I don’t want to hurt either of you.”

“Well, okay I guess, but you have to tell me everything after.”

“Nothing that embarrasses, Eric, deal, Mel?”

“Deal, Joanie.” She paused for a moment then “that” tone came in her voice. “Wow! This could be so great, we stay best friends, and you date my brother, and you can be my sister-in-law when you’re married -- maybe we could have a double wedding if I have a boy friend too -- its so kewl! We can be each others favorite aunties to our kids -- you’d be such a good mommy, Joanie, and your babies would have lots of milk ‘cause you have such nice breasts, and you’d be my real sister forever and ever.”

~Ghod, now Mel is eager for me to go out with her brother? I feel like I should be picking out china patterns... Did I hear “mommy”? ~

“Mommy, Mel, aren’t we jumping the gun a bit here, girl? I said I like your brother, that’s not the same as having his children.”

~I said I like Eric? ~

“Sorry, Joanie, I got excited, but it would be kewl.”

“You know it might at that, Mel.”

~Scary thought for the day, me a mother or me with a man? ~

“You certainly like kids, Joanie, with your new body why not?”

“Let’s not go picking out my trousseau, Babs. So when’s a good time for my first date with Eric?”

“You’re just hanging with me, maybe dancing, but no mushy stuff?”

“Okay no mushy stuff. You act like it’s such a chore to be with me, Eric. Maybe I should change my mind since you obviously don’t like the idea of hugging or kissing me,” I said, teasing him and slightly hurt at his rejection.

~I want him to kiss me and …? Oh, Ghod! ~

“Please don’t, I...“

~He’s got it bad, ouch! I know how you feel, Eric. I think I woke up on the wrong planet today. ~

“I’m looking at Eric’s school calenda,r and there’s a Valentine’s Day dance. Because that’s a school night, they’re holding it on Saturday the 17th, it sort of the middle school Senior Prom,” Babs suggested.

~Strange, I thought Proms were in late May or early June. PROM?! ~

“Tuxedoes and ball gown, Babs, a formal?”

~What have I gotten myself into? ~

“Sport coat and a nice dress, ties optional, Joanie, nothing fancy. It’s from five to nine pm in the school gym. Bob and I are chaperones,” Babs explained.

“So no limo or corsage then, darn.” Now I giggled.

~What a concept, — giggle — oh my! ~

“You want to, Eric, just for fun? I won’t embarrass you, promise,” I said sweetly, no longer teasing the poor boy.

“Well, okay, Ms. Joanie, only no high heels because of the floor.”

“I think you can call me Joan or Joanie now, Eric.” I purred ‘Eric’.

~This teasing the boys is fun. ~

“Thanks, Joanie... um, I gotta go now, bye.” Eric hung up.

“Joanie, I think you’ve scarred him for life. You will be careful won’t you?” said Babs.

“Like he was my own brother, uh that didn’t come out right.” Babs snickered in response. “Babs, Mel, remind Eric he can’t tell anyone I’m coming, for everybody’s safety. If they ask if he has a date, he can say he asked this nice girl from out of town -- it’s the truth without saying much.”

“You should be a politician; Dad couldn’t have said better.”

“Speaking of the Senator, will he have a problem with this or for that matter will Bob?”

“Knowing Dad, he’s trying to figure a way to adopt or marry you into the family. You can do no wrong in his eyes. I think he fancies you as a granddaughter. If he were younger, he’d be courting you -- you do resemble Mom when they first met, except you’re a foot taller. As to Bob, he does anything I ask these days, and thanks again for whatever it was you did to get him so fired up. He’s so energetic, like we were when we first dat... Mel are you still listening?” Babs said.

“Sorry, Mom, don’t feel embarrassed. I may be eleven, but I’m no child. Eric turned fourteen last week; you and Dad will be married fifteen years on May fifteenth. I can do the math and Eric was no preemie.”

“Oh my Ghod, Babs and Bob were living in sin! The shame, I’m shocked.” Babs and Mel laughed.

“I’ll let you and Mom talk in private, Joanie. Call me again, please?”

“Mel, one minute, I forgot the TV show’s making DVD’s of the raw and broadcast footage for me, and Warners recorded all my songs, including the rehearsals. They may use it for that follow up to ‘Timeless’ they keep asking me to do. I’m sending copies for your collection.”

“Thanks, Joanie, you’re the best.”

“You too, Mel,” I replied, and she hung up.

“So what gives, Babs, what have I to do with your love life?”

~This I have to hear. ~

“Ever since Mel nearly died Bob’s been more attentive to all of us. He said he values life more than ever seeing how close we came to losing Melissa and maybe Eric.”

“He loves his sister that much?” I asked.

“They fight each other constantly, but they’re very close -- they just won’t admit it.”

“But why am I to blame for your pregnancy, Babs?”

She laughed in response; I was very curious.

“It was your November visit that clinched it. Bob’s always taken care of himself, but after Mel’s near death he was a fanatic. Rigid exercise schedule, no excuses, and he got very careful about his diet and alcohol. He hasn’t looked this fit in years. That got me working out more, and soon we were at it like rabbits, horny rabbits. Then the night after that sleepover, wow! It’s been wonderful; a week later I was pregnant.”

I pictured her rolling her eyes in ecstasy.

“So Babs and Buster got it on, huh?”

“How’d you know my pet name for Bob?”

“Stands to reason, Ms. Babs Bunny,” I said. Babs giggled nervously. “You weren’t wearing it when you …?”

“’Fraid so, Joanie, it is my lucky sleep shirt after all.”

“Don’t get that ‘lucky’ sleep shirt near me; I don’t want to be a mother yet.” Babs stifled a snicker. I had an insight. “I think I know what I did, Babs. When Bob rescued me from that security monkey, he jogged alongside to escort me in. I told him the new me, Joanie, thought he had a great ass for an older guy. What scares me is I meant it. I’ve got to keep my dirty mouth shut, Babs.”

“So that was it. After the sleepover, he was incredible, I thought he was on Viagra. So Joanie was the aphrodisiac, damn girl you’re potent!” Babs exclaimed.

“Should I have an FDA warning label tattooed on me?” It was a while before we could stop laughing.

“Mel didn’t totally spoil my surprise, those two sets of names she picked; we’ll need them both.”

“Twins, Babs?”

“I found out today, I’m just far enough along to tell with the latest tests. Mel and Eric don’t know yet.”

“Twin boys, girls or one of each?”

“One of each they think, though that’s not certain yet. We should know in another month. Joanie, this is a lot to ask, but Bob and I want you to be their godparent and guardian.”

“Babs, me? I’m not terribly religious; I’m not sure what I believe in... You said Guardian?”

“If anything happens to Bob and me, we want you to care for our children including the twins.”

“You’re crazy, I’m not qualified. I...” Babs’s request had me dumbstruck.

“We believe in you. You don’t have to be in an organized religion to be a religious person; your actions on Labor Day are proof of your commitment to the sanctity of life. You have all these gifts, yet you don’t abuse them, and you share them at considerable risk to yourself. How much more religious do you need to be, girl? Bob and I trust you because you’re a good person not because you’re a devout whatever, Joanie. You’re no angel, but you’re okay in our books.”

“I don’t know what to say. It’s just I feel so unworthy of all this, the thoughts I have some times,” I replied sheepishly.

“I know more about you than you think, Joanie. Dad if anything is a careful man. His people checked you out after we first met, though your past before the mutation is well hidden, we did find out about your active libido.”

“Active, Babs? Saying I have an active libido is like saying the ocean is damp.” To my surprise Babs didn’t laugh.

“It’s your actions that count. You’ve done nothing illegal or immoral, and what relations you’ve had hardly qualify as much more than heavy petting. I’d gone further by the time I was thirteen than you have, much further. You may be tempted, but you show restraint. The sleepover with Mel’s friends proved that; I saw how she snuggled up to you. The way she worships you; you could have done almost anything, but you didn’t. You were like a mother or favorite older sister to her,” Babs said in a tone that spoke of love and respect.

“I’m flattered, Babs, that you trust me.”

“Girl, I’d trust you naked sleeping with Bob, though I might not trust him. Hell I’m not sure I’d trust myself with you,” Babs said, her mischievous nature reasserting itself.

“I seem to have that effect on people, scary isn’t it?”

“Better let you go, Joanie, unless you want to tell them about John and Joan?”

“I’ll leave that to you and Bob. Be careful, I know you’re only 35 but twins? E-mail me if you need me, in an emergency call Dr. Sara or MSG in Madison. I’ll send you the...”

“I have it, I said Dad was careful.”

“I don’t suppose you know my number here?” I asked Babs.

“At Whatley, no but I have the numbers to Administration and Security. How do you like living in Poe Hall? Mel got a kick out of you sleeping in a linen closet.”

“You know all that? I’ve told no one except Dr. Sara, and Jay knows the address to the Academy, but they know to tell no one.”

“Don’t worry, Dad doesn’t even know. Ms. Carson sent it via an encrypted e-mail in case of emergency; the CIA couldn’t crack it with a month on a supercomputer,” Babs assured me.

“I feel better. Tell Eric he’d better not back out on me.” I paused. “I am looking forward to it. Four kids, oh the humanity! Nite, Babs.”

“Nite, Joanie.”

* * * *

December 19, 2006 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, 11:00PM EST

I knew it could happen someday, I’m just surprised it happened so soon. When did I decide I was sexually interested in men? Let’s see, the second day after I woke from my mutation, I was ogling Dr. Alex, so I guess my body was programmed to respond to men from day one. Alright I’ll be honest, programmed to respond period, satisfied d/j/w? Diary/journal/whatever takes too long to type. It took my mind a little longer to come ‘round to acceptance of the men end of the spectrum apparently. It will make a day at the beach interesting; all those half-naked, wet-and-sweaty bodies to ogle and now I’ll have twice as many to choose from — hey, this mutant thing is all right!

I want to take full advantage of this second chance; I do want to have a family. Even if I will almost certainly outlive them all, I can at least enjoy the company of my descendents. Traditionally that will require the, um, services of a man. There always is the alternative of a sperm bank, but as any beer connoisseur will tell you, tap is better than the bottled stuff, not to mention much more fun. I told you not to mention it. Needed the humor break dear diary/journal/whatever as this subject is weirding me out.

If I’m going to find a suitable mate, I’ll need to analyze a statistically valid random sample of men; that means dating. That further implies having sex with some of them; I’m not ready for that yet, thank Ghod, but I do wonder what it will be like. Since I’ll need to date, it makes sense to start out easy, someone I already know, someone I can trust, and Eric fits the bill. He’s too young at the moment, but he’s physically close to the type of man I’m looking for. It’s not like I intend to marry the man, I mean boy, but I must admit if he was say 21 and fresh out of college, he’d jump to the front of the list. He’ll make a good starting reference to compare future men to.

So far I’ve responded strongest to tall men, logical given that I’m tall for a woman, though Senator Joe was ‘interesting’ for a man of just 5 foot 8. Definitely a gentleman -- rude and pushy is a turnoff: the leader of the Omegas was one, all muscle and no grace. I much prefer an honest man, reasonably smart to very smart; fit though not necessarily a jock, reddish or blond hair and a pleasant smile and a good sense of humor.

That last item is a must. I’m not sure on ethnicity; I’m used to northern European descendents, so I’d likely feel more comfortable with one. My experience is the longer I’m with people, the more I get used to them, so Asians, Latinos, African Americans could be attractive in time, but easy on the tattoos and piercings please, they gross me out. Oh yah, eyes, dark soul piercing eyes, green or blue come to mind.

~Eric has a nice pair of sapphire-blue eyes, and his hair’s a lot like mine except for a slight curl and he’s... Joanie, what did we say about obsessing over fourteen year old boys - It’s a perverse quirk of your mind because of your inherent silly streak and it could get you put in prison -. Good girl, have a cookie. ~

It worries me when my inner voice has group discussions.

* * * *

January 01, 2007, Poe Hall, my third floor linen closet, 12:30AM

So I’m being silly with the title to this entry, but these last few weeks have been weird. Ms. Carson and Student Services still haven’t worked out a long-term solution to my housing needs. For now my room is pretty Spartan as I don’t dare customize it should I be moved elsewhere. They did make one concession for me and found a secure spot in the fleet maintenance building to store my Harley when I’m not riding it. There’s talk of building a new dorm/apartment building for those staff members who’d prefer to stay on campus, but it’s only talk. They have a lot more money in the budget since my arrival, but the Halloween 2006 incident did serious damage and exposed flaws in campus security that needed immediate remedy; they don’t have the time for major new construction, maybe in the summer?

Sam Everheart has a lovely spare bedroom in her Kane tower apartment, but I wouldn’t feel right taking it. It’s her place after all and given all that’s happened to him/her in the last few years, I don’t begrudge her. To have your daughter die in your arms while your wife lies dead by your side, all that on top of the horrors of combat is bad enough. Add the deaths of friends in the assault on the lab that led to Sam’s transformation into her late daughter’s clone; I don’t know how she copes. Sometimes she seems comfortable in her new body, revels in it. Other times she’s so melancholy. The Anderson twins’ landlord, Dr. Bellows is one of Sam’s doctors, so I know she’s getting the best Whateley has to offer. Dr. Bellows has me trying several relaxation techniques and a few things I’d rather not go into detail in my d/j/w, and they do take the edge of my sexual urges.

To get back to my housing dilemma, moving in with the lovely twins is okay but only for short periods of time. A weekend is okay, but if I spend too much time in close proximity one of us slips up, and that empathic feedback loop recurs. We know the warning signs now and can delay it, but not prevent it, not entirely. We made the mistake of sharing a large bottle of wine for Christmas. I stayed at Whateley as I’d only just arrived, so they invited me over. I was melancholy as this was my first Christmas away from my family ever. I drank very little, as alcohol doesn’t do much for me as a regen, and I remember my difficulties with it as a man. The several glasses they had weakened their self-control, and we barely got out of it in time. If we’d gotten any further into the loop, there could have been brain damage to the girls, like you can get from excessively frequent epileptic seizures. My regen protects me, but I’d never have forgiven myself if they’d been hurt. I owe Dr. Bellows for that one. Definitely no alcohol for any of us when we’re around each other, it’s too dangerous.

I didn’t have a date and never was much of one for New Year’s Eve, so I worked security that night with Chief Delarose as my partner. He did get a kiss at midnight; it’s tradition. Maybe next year I’ll have a date, but when will I have time for a relationship here? Tina and Chris were a lucky accident, and as much as I desire them, in the long run it won’t work. I know now I want a family, I want to be a mother. It’s Babs pregnancy that’s convinced me, we e-mail each other often as well as Dr. Sara; it’s kind of a triangle. In her mid-thirties, two teenaged or soon to be teenaged kids and all the responsibilities of a political wife, and the thing Babs talks about most are her kids and her future twins. They are boy and girl, it’s confirmed, and they appear healthy. She’s made me promise to come when she’s due; says I need to see what she goes through for when it’s my turn. Oh joy!

* * * *

Hawthorn Hall, January 25, 2007, 8:15AM

Pinky Connors was not a happy camper. She’d had such a carefree childhood, then this... this mutant... thing happened. It was at its worst right after she changed. All those male hormones flooding her system combined with her self loathing for her “male” form made for one angry young person. Her occasional outbursts of mindless rage got her assigned to Hawthorn.

“Every other 28 days I have to endure this,” she said with disgust. “I’m so ugly, why me, Ghod?” she said out loud in her empty room.

Odd thing was her “male” form was every bit as handsome as her female form was pretty; it was all in her mind. Perhaps it was the strangeness of it all and normal teenage angst, but she felt more and more out of place, that her “male” form was so ambitious didn’t help. She was a low level empath with the ability to persuade people to do her will, but this “male” form refused to stay away despite her wishes.

“Pinky, you’ll be late for class,” a fellow student called out. She left her room, still considering her fate.

“Don’s a jerk, I’m only a freshman, and I could do a better job running the Alpha’s. He’s too caught up in the perks and personal glory,” she thought out loud, thinking of his wasting his mind control for sex nonsense. “My aunt’s right, stick to your plans and keep emotions out of it,” she mused.

Pinky’s aunt was one Amelia Hartford, as much as Aunty preferred not to admit publicly. Aunt Hartford was a cold fish to most but good at her job, at getting what she wanted, and a classy dresser, Pinky thought. She straightened her tie, buttoned her school blazer and walked into Administration. Her disgust with her alternating sexes reflected itself in her refusal to accept a boy’s name for this form.

“Ms. Hartford, may I have a few minutes with you in private?” she asked respectfully. Aunty was one for proper formality.

“I can spare five minutes, follow me, Miss Connors.” Ms. Hartford led her into an empty room and closed the door. “What is it; you know I don’t like being disturbed?” Amelia said testily.

“Sorry, Aunt Hartford, but I need your advice.”

“Well, Pinky?”

“I want to continue the family legacy with the Alpha’s, but the current leader, Don, is a fool.”

“My feelings exactly, but I’m staff, I can’t interfere except where school policy has been violated. Even if I wanted to, I can’t, it’s just not done. You need to follow Alpha protocol.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Hartford, it’s just the Alpha’s are a laughing stock under his rule.”

“I agree, but I wouldn’t nominate myself for leadership as a freshman. At most I can suggest ways to strengthen your position, gather allies, discover weaknesses you can exploit in an effort to steer a suitable junior or senior into the post. Be patient, Don has his followers, they may be bad for the Alphas, but they are powerful. Chose your battles with care, in time you may prove worthy of such high responsibility, but there is nothing wrong with being the power behind the throne; far less dangerous for one, Pinky. Being flashy and flamboyant attracts attention, attention you may not want, like one young woman I know,” Amelia said her voice trailing off as she grimaced. “What ever you do, keep emotion out of it. It leads to bad decisions,” she said composing herself.

“Aunt Hartford, you seem upset recently, what’s bothering you?”

“Thank you for asking; she shouldn’t bother me, but she does.”

“She?”

“I know she’s harmless, just having fun at my expense but still, that Joanie.” Ms. Hartford’s expression was one of serious frustration.

“Joanie, that new staff person, Joanie the singer?”

“Yes and her holding the Meridian Chair makes me sick, she’s so immature; a post like that demands quiet dignity. Sometimes I just wish she’d go away or those Canadian kidnappers had killed her. Sorry, Pinky, that was unbecoming. As strenuously as I disapprove of Ms. Brown, she is staff and Ms. Carson’s hire. Our time is up; if your change is still troubling you, see the doctors in Siegel Hall, that’s their job.”

* * * *

That evening Pinky showered and looked at her body with loathing. Instead of her budding curves and peaches and cream complexion here was this darkly tanned, muscular young man with a touch of acne and that “thing“ below where her delicate mound used to be. That her female parts were still there, perfect and functional as ever, merely hidden by her hermaphroditic form’s scrotum and penis didn’t lessen her hatred of it. Even with the complete disappearance of her male organs every time she reverted back to her old self, she could not hide her shame. Being both male and female at once was a cruel joke to her; switching from fully female to fully male would have been easier to understand. To be herself while not herself was a bitter pill.

~Who would want this freak? ~ she thought bitterly.

That several Whateley girls eagerly wanted to date her “male” form made her very uncomfortable; the response of “it” to their advances troubled her more. It was so huge, unfeminine and she had no control over it when it got aroused, which it did frequently. She refused to touch it except for hygiene and to use the toilet yet felt compelled to try it out, to um, “jerk off”.

~Was that what boys called it? ~

Or worse, to take up those girl’s offers of sex.

“I wouldn’t give in, I swear!” she vowed to herself.

The teen years are confusing enough with the pressure of coming of age and sorting out ones sexuality but to have to do it for two sexes was overwhelming Pinky. She refused to admit it her problem or to seek help.

~Not after what happened when I ‘changed’ and that doctor... ~

She put that memory back deep under wraps, revenge could wait. Meanwhile she had her pride and would not give into the pain. Her thoughts turned back to that traitorous “thing” between her legs.

“I need to get my mind off ‘this’ and concentrate on restoring the Alpha’s to respect. If only my aunt would be my mentor, if I could gain her respect and...” she stopped talking to herself as a plan formed in her hormone flooded brain.

That she was going through two puberty’s simultaneously made her short tempered, moody and unpredictable, but her mind was quicker than ever, a side effect of her mutation. Unfortunately her disturbed emotional state was leading her into bad decisions; this one was a whopper.

“That will get Aunt Amelia’s respect; I’ll make that Joanie’s life a living hell, then my aunt will teach me how to restore the Alpha’s. Nothing violent, this Joanie likes making fun of my aunt; let’s give it back to her tenfold. I wonder if my aunt has anything I can use to leverage Peeper and Greasy? If she doesn’t or can’t tell me, it won’t matter, fear may be enough. If not those two, there are others, but they’ll make a good diversion, now to wait for the right moment,” she mused to herself.

* * * *

January 28, 2007 Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, 5pm EDT

Dear diary/journal/whatever, a quick entry to catch up on January. I’ve been busy and got behind. This first full month at Whateley has been crazy -- even compared to my last year. I’m on a limited class schedule as a student for the spring semester because I arrived too late in the fall for a full evaluation. This works out well as I’ve more time for my staff duties, and I never intended to be a full time student, maybe half and half.

Samantha Everheart and her fellow officers have run me ragged; I think they’re warming up to me as an alternative to the Peacekeepers, the student security aids. I thought I was fairly fit, but the few times I’ve worked out with Sam, she wore me out. She’s faster, stronger, and has all that Navy Seal training and experience in her favor. Fortunately my endurance is on par with hers, and my regen means I recover fast, or these workouts would be pure hell. I am very fast and strong by human standards; none of the normal officers can match me in endurance, and I’m faster than most. A few are stronger, but that’s it. I’ve eaten with Sam a few times and her dietary requirements are proof again it pays to be careful in the cafeteria line, as if Sara Waite wasn’t proof enough. The only other person I’ve heard of that consumes what amounts to industrial raw materials was Xora, a character in several TG fiction stories. As to “proof,” I have got to find me a doctor who prescribes hard liquor as a dietary supplement.

Ms. Carson’s been kind and is only slowly building up my scheduled hours. I’ve spent hours talking with Dr. Bellows about my issues, including my growing attraction to men. He gave me some mental and physical exercises to ease my urges when I feel the need. My doctors think it’s a side effect of my extreme physical condition and years of repressing my desires. The theory is the healthier and fitter you are, the more equipped you are for intimacy, thus the greater the desire both physically and emotionally. Add my history into the mix, and it’s like standing in a pool of gasoline while lighting a cigarette. It’s not that quite that bad, but I do need to be careful especially prior to my menses.

I have my own ways of coping, and the Duracell people must love me. I don’t have a lock on my empathic/telepathic powers. I can’t do it at will; someone has to initiate the connection. That makes testing and improvement in control problematic; Tina and Chris have helped out a few times with Dr. Bellows at their rented rooms. Good thing he was there as we lost control sometimes. We may try it in one of the labs this summer when things get slow. I slept over one weekend recently, and problems were minimal. I was at a safer point in my cycle, and we avoided all but the mildest, short term mental stuff. This is a long-term project for my doctors and me.

As an additional therapy, with the enthusiastic help of Mr. King, I’ve taken up playing the guitar and am the proud owner of a Gibson Les Paul electric. It’s well suited to the kind of music I’ve recorded, though it’s reputed to be difficult to play well. It’s sometimes been referred to as the Ferrari of electric guitars. I’ve got the time, the money and the physiology, why not. After several weeks I can play a couple simple tunes, I don’t know any riffs, I’m still learning the cords, but it’s coming, anything to keep my mind off you-know-what. I’ve assisted with some classes; intro history of mutants in America was fun. Documentary reports of mutants go back to at least the American Revolution, amazing stuff.

* * * *

I helped with a PE class today, and I had fun doing it. The kids didn’t know what to make of the tall, long haired girl in the sexy, figure revealing red and black running suit, cleated shoes, ear band and gloves that came to the early morning physical conditioning session the other day. Usually this was a class in hand-to-hand combat, the sort of stuff they teach the Marines. Their instructor was ill and the department was short handed, so I was told to do anything to keep them busy. Most of the students knew who I was, but several were clueless.

“It’s simple,” I said, “just run around the course I’ve laid out around the grounds. Who ever can do more laps in fifty minutes than I do gets a passing grade and is excused from this class from May first on. Everyone else stays on for the full semester.”

This was a big incentive, a month of legal hooky from class. The department would be pissed.

~They were the one’s who told me to do “anything.” Can I help it I took them at their word? ~

“You’re on, Red,” one powerfully built boy said.

I later learned he was a brick. Mentally, I think a mason’s brick would be as bright. Did I ever tell you I can’t stand bricks? Don’t know why but I do. Maybe it’s lingering resentment at the way athletes are treated in many schools? I’ve known some “jocks” who are decent people, but I still have a blind spot here. Oh, right, dear d/j/w, back to the story.

To think that with all I been in the press the last year, he didn’t know me. Did I tell you he’s a blonde? Well, he isn’t, he’s a brunette; there goes that theory out the window.

“What you say, Red, if I beat you, instead of time off you come to my room Saturday night and learn what its like to be with a real man.”

~He is built, I give him that. The worst that could happen is he beats me, we have sex, and he dies happy. Win win for moi. ~

“You’re on, Einstein; remember stay on the course, no running through or knocking over objects or other runners,” I explained.

“Huh?”

“That means you beat me, it’s a deal, but no cheating. You win, I’m you’re personal play toy Saturday night. Ready, set, go!”

I ran at a nice, steady pace, pilling up the laps as a teacher’s aid kept count. I deliberately put a few hairpin curves in the course just to keep the speedsters honest. That part was on a woodchip path, and we’d had a light dusting of snow that night. After the first couple ran headlong into a large oak, the field slowed noticeably.

~They really should have worn cleats. ~

At fifteen minutes I’d done nearly 3 and ¾ miles, nearly a four minute mile pace. Several speedsters had done close to ten miles but looked winded from all that slipping and sliding and smashing into things. Mr. Brick had done six and looked strong. By 30 minutes all the speedsters were long since spent

~Too fast, too spurious. ~

I’d done over eight miles as I’d picked up my pace, the best anyone had done was Mr. Brick at nearly eleven miles, but he was slowing. At 45 minutes I was at 12 plus, ahead of everyone except Mr. Brick, but he was very slow and stiff. At 50 minutes I’d passed 14 miles, and Mr. Brick was out with cramps at 13 and ½. It was time to stop.

“To the showers, and I’m glad to see everyone wants to stay in class to the end of the semester, very commendable. If you want to try again, let your instructor know, and I’ll set up another course. Remember, pacing is everything in endurance events, that and planning; in other words, use your brain. Why do you think I wore these cleated shoes and laid out the course as I did? I noted the conditions before class and used them to my advantage. You’re well advised to keep that in mind if you ever get in a fight. I’d love to join you in a relaxing shower, but I’m late for my five mile run, ta ta!” I said taking of at a high clip as most of the class was massaging their sore and cramping legs.

~I think they’ll respect me next time. ~

* * * *

If you’d told me one year ago that I would agree to a date, at a school dance, with a male, I’d have thought you were not all there and then some. If at the same time you said I’d go on national TV and sing, I’d know you were crazy. The later has happened, the former I’ve agreed to for mid-February. How do I get myself in these messes? Why can’t I say no to these people? The TV was bad enough, my date is fourteen. Admittedly he’s a hunk for fourteen but fourteen? What was I thinking? Problem is if I back out now, he’ll be hurt, and he’s a nice young man, that and I’m kinda best friends with his sister. Joanie, Joanie, Joanie, what are you gonna do, girl?

Wait a minute, what am I so upset about; it’s just the middle school Valentine’s Day dance/senior prom, it’s just for fun? It’s not like a formal Prom where the boys book hotels rooms and smuggle in booze to get their dates drunk for sex. What’s the very worst that can happen; someone spikes the punch, Eric gets drunk, my libido goes haywire, and I end up pregnant and a registered sex offender? What’s so bad about that? Maybe I’ll get lucky, and some one will beat me half to death, and I won’t be able to make it. Nah, I’m a regen, it won’t work, pity.

Then there’s the little bombshell his mom dropped on me. A date is bad enough but what she proposes I do, be her children’s guardian, Ghods! I need my sleep tonight. In my dreams last night the sexy Goth girl promised she’d be back, something about how I was very satisfying. All I know is I slept great. Oh, the things she could do with her tentacles!

Got to go now and eat dear d/j/w, I’m on a 6pm to 2am patrol tonight; mine deliberately overlaps the full time officers, so I can work with more of them. I’m hoping to persuade the watch officer to let me “solo” for a few hours, just to prove to myself I can do it. The weather’s decent for January, the skies are clear, no worries.

* * * *

Whateley Academy Security — February 01, 2007, 8:35pm EDT

“Joanie’s late for call in; try her again,” said Lt. Forsyth, the watch officer. Delarose usually ran the more difficult night shift, but things had been slow lately, and the lieutenant wanted the experience.

“Timeout, you’re late for check in, over... No response sir,“ said Officer Harris working dispatch, he waited for a moment. “Timeout, I know you’re an auxiliary, but you know the procedure, over.”

“Still no response? We’d better check the CCTV, she may have her radio off again,” said Forsyth.

“She’s not at Crystal Hall, she was patrolling there earlier. I’ll check out... Oh Ghod.” Harris switched on the radio. “Officer down, under attack, sector seven just west of Maintenance Storage Shed Eleven; all officers respond.”

The CCTV images were disturbing. Two men were beating a prostrate form mercilessly. They ran off leaving the female in a pool of blood.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 09/27/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 7

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine recovers despite bad medical jokes and devises a plan to capture her attackers that gets her a reputation with the budding inventors on campus. Pinky's nefarious plan continues to fester.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Adult content warning: this chapter contains adult sexual themes or acts. Nothing all that graphic but still not suitable for underage readers. Mind you if you’re at this site, you know this already but still, you were warned.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter7-Fade to Black- conclusion, MacGyver, Pinky part2

Whateley Academy — February 01-07, 2007

8:36pm EST

“Luther here, send EMT’s stat. Officer down, pulse weak and thready, multiple injuries and possible broken neck. Compound fracture left arm, breathing irregular, hurry!”

The radio went silent for what seemed ages. The CCTV showed the EMTs arriving.

“Code blue, cardiac arrest, attempting cardiac shock. Clear! ... Sinus rhythm, breathing shallow, alert medical.”

* * * *
Medical wing, Siegel Hall 8:45pm EST

“Dr. Bruce, how is she?” asked an exhausted Chief Delarose.

“Joanie is stable but critical. We have her on IV’s and are preparing to transfuse, but there’s a catch. She’s AB+, normally that’s the universal recipient, but her blood has some unusual components, possibly related to her warper powers, so AB+ is all she’ll tolerate. We don’t carry much on hand; it’s a rare type. I have to go assist Dr. Pollard, excuse me.”

Even after several months, Delarose still was struck by how similar Dr. Bruce Polland was to Dr. Pollard. If it wasn’t for his strong Australian accent and different first name, they could be twins. Thankfully he didn’t mind being referred to by his first name.

“Why me?” he said quietly. “Why was she patrolling alone -- she should have been paired with an experienced officer?” the chief asked.

“My fault,” answered Lt. Forsyth. “She said she wanted to solo tonight to, as she put it, ‘prove to myself I’m ready.’ You know how stubborn she is, and could you say no to those copper eyes of hers? Ghod I hope she makes it.”

~Damn and I was going to ask her for a date, ~ he thought to himself.

“Do we have the perps?”

“Got them on tape, Chief, a speedster codenamed The Blue Flame, if you can believe it, and a brick code named Rampage, how original,” radioed Harris at dispatch.

“That tears it, locate them and set a perimeter. Get The Peacemakers too. I want them arrested and restrained ASAP; no one harms my officers.”

An odd expression formed on Luther’s face, a cross between anger and regret.

“I sympathize, Chief, believe me I know the feeling.” The Chief nodded discretely.

* * * *

Medical wing, Siegel Hall 8:55pm EST

Dr. Bruce came up to the officers, his face displaying shock and was it relief? The Chief wasn’t sure,

“She’s awake and furious,” announced Dr. Bruce.

“What?” exclaimed the Chief.

“We knew she’s a regen; but this you need to see for yourself.” Bruce was almost smiling.

“Joanie’s going to make it?” asked the Chief.

“Make it? She’s almost fully recovered, and I mean fully. She’s sore, ravenously hungry, tired and spitting furry. We’re doing everything we can to keep her in bed, Chief.”

“Spitting furry?”

“Sorry I meant spitting fury, it’s the other patient who’s spitting furry.”

“Come again?”

“Bad case of hairballs, she’s a cat girl.” Dr. Bruce broke out in a roaring laugh.

“Doctor!”

“You have to have a sense of humor in my job or you go crazy. Ms. Robinson or Calico is a were-cat and is being treated for strep throat.”

* * * *

I’ve seen the CCTV images of my attack, and they’re not pleasant viewing. From interviewing the suspects -- they were both in the PE class I substituted for -- “The Blue Flame”, a speedster, was pissed at falling victim to my simple tree at end of sharp turn trick. “Rampage”, the brick, — there has got to be a copyright on that name somewhere — had his manhood challenged by his defeat to a girl, the same girl he’d expected to get his rocks off with on Saturday had he won.

-- Where do they get these code names? I thought that was the name of a land-speed record car? -- They decided to teach me a lesson, a permanent one and watched me for several days, waiting for a good opportunity. The Blue Flame hit me hard and fast from behind, knocking me cold then Rampage pounded me until most of my bones were broken, according to the campus doctors. They fled at the sight of Officer Luther running up, linear accelerator gun drawn.

Quick work on her part and that of the EMTs got me stabilized after a few scares, and I was transported to our medical unit, which is better equipped than most major hospitals. With Whateley’s diverse population it’s a necessity but an expensive one. They’d run IVs and just finished x-raying me when they saw my body begin to heal rapidly. The bleeding stopped, then my broken limbs realigned themselves and my skin re-grew.

The pain was bad, that’s the best I can describe it. I truly don’t remember much of it, for as soon as I began to wake, I kept passing out. Less than twenty minutes after it started I was awake and furious. If I’d been able to leave my bed, I might have killed the bastards. The doctors and staff managed to calm me; I wonder if one or more weren’t empaths? I was as good as new except for being very tired and hungry and had a few lingering deep aches as my new bone tissue finished calcifying. They remove my IVs, as they x-rayed and ultra sounded me to be certain. I was given high energy sports bars and other supplements to eat to replace what my regeneration had consumed. I ate the energy bars washed down with a chalky calcium rich drink to replenish what I’d lost. A handful of iron pills were my desert. My doctors wanted me to stay the night, but I was mad. Crying could wait.

“Did we catch them on the CCTV, Chief Delarose?” I asked.

He’d been called to the infirmary when they were afraid I might die. It’s rare but possible to trigger a secondary burnout under the right circumstances, and my temperature did get very high for a short while as my regen kicked into high gear.

“They thought they were clever by spray painting the lenses of the more obvious CCTV cameras, but they missed our backups, mini-cams, high mounted telephoto cameras and the various special sensors. We know who they are and where they’ve gone.”

“I want to see them now!”

“I don’t advise it, not until you talked with Dr. Bellows. You need to decompress,” said Dr. Bruce.

“They’re under tight surveillance; once the team is assembled, we’ll get them, Joanie,” the Chief said.

“No, I will get them, or I will never be respected as an officer. Don’t worry, I’m not an idiot, I’ll wait for backup, um, this time.” I worked hard to keep calm. An idea formed. “I need a few quarts of bb’s or the like, a gallon or two of light oil, preferably silicone and something to spread it, some rubber cleated sport shoes and two high power Tazers. Be veyry, veyry quiet, I’m hunting wabbits, he he he he he!” I said in a fair Elmer Fudd.

When I explained my plan, Chief Delarose agreed but insisted I wait for the whole team. I had no problem with that request not after... you know. Physical Plant came through with a backpack garden pump sprayer filled with canola oil, heart healthy and biodegradable, how considerate. They also brought me several quart containers of bb’s they got from the robotics lab. Why they had those I didn’t want to know, I keep imagining a linear accelerator Gatling gun, euh!

We got to Hawthorn Hall -- the trap was ready to set and bait. I snuck in and sprayed the door frame, nearby walls and floor with canola oil, I then carefully scatted the bb’s all along the corridor, which I also sprayed. The rubber-cleated shoes allowed me some traction. As the Peacekeepers and Security guarded the doors, windows and fire escapes, I signaled I was ready and gave the go ahead.

“Blue Streak and Rampage, this is Whateley security. Come out slowly with your hands raised, you’re under arrest,” I shouted.

From what I could make out through the closed door, they sounded surprised I was there, let alone alive. They didn’t say much else; they looked out the windows, saw Security and the Peacekeepers waiting and decided to flee my way. Friction is your friend when you’re fast, strong and stupid; I deigned them that. The reinforced walls of Hawthorne Hall knocked them flat, my Tazers kept them down.

“They resisted arrest, honest!” I told the first officers on the scene.

~It’s amazing what a Tazer will do to even a brick when shot in the... ~

“Oh, that has got to hurt!” said one of the Peacekeepers who came to restrain them; Blue Streak was lucky my aim was off and got it in the upper thigh.

“Reminds me of those two lab techs we used the stunners on outside range three in area 77 last fall, uncomfortably so. Did you have to shoot him there, Timeout?” asked Officer Willkinson.

“I was hungry so I decided to have a, um... wienie roast?” I said with a straight face.

“That is bad girl, remind me never to piss you off,” replied the Peacekeeper.

“Joanie, don’t you think you could have shot him somewhere else?” asked the Chief.

“Call it a target of opportunity.” The men near me winced. “I shot him as soon as I had a clear line of fire as they were clearly trying to resist arrest. Would I do anything unnecessarily cruel and painful to someone merely because they tried to beat me to death, heaven forbid?”

Publicly the Chief chewed me out for taking unnecessary risks, but privately he commended me for minimizing property damage and the risk to others. The Blue Streak and Rampage might be in pain for a while, but I done them no long-term injury, that is if you don’t count the fact that the brick was in no condition to get laid for the next month or two. He’d be in jail all that time, so what was the problem? I must be recovered; my warped sense of humor is back, though I am a warper come to think of it.

My rapid recovery triggered another round of tests by my doctors, who jokingly suggested cutting off a limb to see if it would reattach or re-grow. They even joked of dividing me in two lengthwise like a plant, so they could grow two of me. I came up with a similar suggestion involving splitting parts of their male anatomy, so they might have two of those. My male doctors decided that this was no longer a subject to joke about for some strange reason. Maybe they heard about all the target practice I was putting in at the shooting range.

Tina and Chris were concerned about my attack and surprised how unscathed I was physically. It was only when I woke them screaming one night during a weekend sleepover — I stayed with them at their insistence - they knew all was not well. It will likely be weeks before the nightmares end, Dr. Bellows says. I hope I’m better by the time of the dance; I do want to enjoy it. My inner child badly needs to shake it on the dance floor. I hear they have a ballroom dance course; maybe I should sign up for some lessons and learn the foxtrot, polka, waltz, tango, and rumba. Considering it’s just a middle school dance, the funky chicken, the froog and the monkey should do. Hell I’ll just let it go and see what happens.

* * * *
Whateley Academy — February 04, 2007, 9:45pm EST

Dear d/j/w, idiot does not do justice to describe what I did the other night. Chief Delarose has long adhered to a buddy system for his officers. I violated two cardinal rules of police work; never go into a potentially dangerous situation without back up, and night is always more dangerous than the day. A combination of good procedure by my fellow officers and the extensive network of CCTV cameras and sensors got help to me in time. Being a high level regen didn’t hurt, but I’m not sure if they’d damaged my brain that my memories would have returned or they might have but as they were on July 03, 2006. Dr. Polland thinks the latter would happen; Dr. Pollard, Bruce, is not sure.

Dr. Bruce Pollard is a new hire like my self, been here since the first of the year. Seems they had a bad incident last Halloween and several alumni, alumna and parents felt better if another physician was on hand. Bruce came highly recommended, traveling from the University of Walamaloo in Australia, the leading center for mutant research downunder. His supervisor and mentor Dr. Bender was sorry to see him go, but we offered to pool some of our research data, so he agreed. The final deal sweetener was Ms. Carson having an older flyer friend she knew “hand” deliver a 24 pack of ice cold Fosters. Amazing what people will agree to when half bombed out of their gourd.

I got a big shock today when some of the students kept calling me MacGyver, and I hadn’t a clue why. I mentioned it this evening to one of Poe’s resident devisor/gadgeters, a girl named Bunny. She laughed then said it was probably due to how I helped capture my attackers. Apparently they got a good chuckle out of it, something about it being so low tech, it was brilliant. She said it reminded them of the eccentric genius/junkyard tinkerer methods the character used to get out of tough situations.

* * * *

February 07, 2007 the Crystal Hall, 12:30pm

“Joanie, how’s my favorite staff member doing?” said Tina. She was glad I’d recovered from my assault unscarred but feared for my mental state. We regularly met for lunch each day at 12:30.

“Not the best, listen to this.” I took a digital recorder from my backpack and played it.

“WARS back on the air after far to long with a tasty tidbit about our sexy new staff member, Joanie, It seems her run in with Rampage and the Blue Streak was not as reported. Our source says the tall temptress is one stone cold bitch when crossed. Her supposed assault was justifiable panic by the boys after she threatened them with rape charges after they refused her unreasonable demands for sex. The innocent looking songbird is quite vengeful when she doesn’t get her way. At least she’s as easy on the eyes as she is with her virtue. More as this story develops.”

“What do you make of that? I recorded it off the radio this morning, it repeated for several minutes then stopped, like it was a cheap digital memo recorder,” I asked Tina.

“That’s very odd. Peeper and Greasy were put off the air, their equipment confiscated after a nasty stunt they pulled last fall. Technically it would be easy to build a replacement transmitter; a hopped-up Mr. Microphone would be enough to cover the campus. Even one of those intercoms that transmit an FM signal through household wires would do if you adjusted the frequency right -- the entire Whateley electric grid would be the antenna. What doesn’t make sense is that they did it. They’ll likely be expelled, and I can’t believe Peeper or Greasy want that or are that stupid -- something’s not right here,” Tina suggested.

“Who hates me enough to do something like this?” I sniffled. Tina gave me a warm hug as I cried on her shoulder. I saw a flash of light and turned in time to get another in the face.

“Run out of boys, so you’re seducing lesbians, Joanie? Have you no shame?” said the student paparazzo as he ran off. I tried to rise, but Tina held me tight and projected calm at me.

“Settle down, girl; he’s trying to provoke you. The moment you’d confront him, Peeper, Greasy or whoever’s behind this, would snap your picture and tweak it to make you a fool or worse. Being in Administration, I saw the memo on last fall’s incident. They were told in no uncertain terms that future action anything like what they did to Team Kimba and Sara Waite would result in expulsion. Somebody is pulling the strings here, question is who?”

“Well who then, my learned master?” Tina smiled and I relaxed. If her information was right, somebody was using Peeper as a scapegoat.

“Anyone with access to a photo copier can do posters and flyers, Peeper’s done a few these last months, but this isn’t his style. He’s into titillation not expose’. He sold some posters made from racy photos taken of Team Kimba and made a tidy sum from them. I know he tried an Internet newspaper, but the Whateley network is unreliable due to of all the energizers on campus. I remember them once saying we’re lucky to have electric lights most of the time, and that’s with an electric grid that an EMP bomb would have a hard time frying. Lastly, it’s one thing to smear a student. Such rivalries are expected, but to do it to faculty is suicide,” Tina explained.

I gave her firm hug back and a loving kiss on the lips. I always felt better after I did that, guess I’m all touchy-feely now days.

“When did you get so smart and worldly, ‘Doctor’ Anderson?” she giggled and I felt better. “I wonder who ‘persuaded’ Peeper to do this; from what I’ve heard he’s a sleaze but an honest sleaze?”

~Why did they do this? ~

“I don’t know anyone who could hate me this much; I’ve only been here a few weeks. It’s not like I go out deliberately provoking people. I know I give Amelia a hard time, but it’s in fun, and I’m polite and discrete about it. Maybe Chief Delarose or Sam has a clue?”

* * * *

I got back to my room after supper and was sickened by the sight. One of those ubiquitous Joanie posters was tacked to my door, altered in a very unflattering way; a sign attached said, “Joanie’s Lair -- only those with dicks over 12 inches or dykes may apply.”

I resisted the urge to tear it down or burst into my room and cry, radioing security instead. A female officer arrived soon after, took photos, dusted for finger prints, checked for booby-traps, then entered my room in front of me. She detected no signs of forced entry or disturbance to my room, packed the offending materials in evidence bags, then left.

February 07, 2007, Poe Hall, 8:00pm

Dear d/j/w had a strange day, rather the norm for Whateley. Student taught an early morning mutant history course I’m auditing, more on that another time, and spent the rest of the day training with Security, PE and self-defense taking the remainder of the morning. I was sore by the end, sparring with Samantha, um Sam, was not the best idea. I did learn a lot but ouch! I’ve hear she was a commander of Navy Seals before her change, and I can believe it. After lunch, we reviewed radio and other telecommunication protocols and how to use the Security radio/cell phone system.

I was curious if they’d word on who was behind the smear campaign, as I’d played them my copy of the broadcast from my digital recorder. They had it recorded too, part of increased surveillance since the Halloween assault. I was not completely surprised that earlier today Peeper and Greasy came into Security and confessed to the broadcast claiming that an unknown person had threatened to expose a secret of theirs if they didn’t do as ordered. The investigators wouldn’t tell anyone else what it was, but the rumor was they had photos of the female members of Team Kimba in the shower. How they got them — if they actually had them -- I don’t know, I thought the dorms were protected from that, but just a story leaking that they had them would do. I know what I would have done if this happened to me, revenge first, questions later.

Apparently Team Kimba is a mixed group of Poe freshmen and women; many are supers, one is that half demon that pops up in my dreams. They have a reputation for being good eggs but not ones to turn the other cheek when sufficiently provoked. Sound like my kind of people, I’ll have to meet them someday. We do share the same dorm.

The modified Mr. Microphone and mini digital voice recorder were hidden at a drop, the items concealed in a dark plastic bag in the bottom of a trash can outside a men’s room in the Crystal Hall. The included script was recorded per instructions, and the device was turned on and hung out a particular upper floor bathroom window in Twain Hall at the appointed time. As far as Peeper and Greasy knew, it was still there. Security had looked but only found the remains of the rope. The act of turning on the transmitter must have activated a timer, which released some clamping device, causing the transmitter/recorder to fall into a conveniently open storm drain. Where it was now was anyone’s guess. They’d sent robotic probes down the narrow pipe, but that emptied into a buried creek, and it had likely washed away.

I asked if there was CCTV footage of the poster being tacked to my door.

“Are you nuts, cameras in the dorms? Beyond any privacy issues, the temptation to tap into the system to say, peek in the showers would be overwhelming. We have sensors for fire, flood, gas, teleportation, entry through emergency exits or the roof, underground tunneling, and the like, but no cameras,” said the watch commander.

“Could hidden cameras watch my door on a temporary basis?”

“Beat you to it; cameras are concealed in a smoke detector and a fire alarm strobe/horn unit. They’re actual working fire-protection units we modified, so they are well concealed. We linked them to a touch/proximity, sensor so that anyone near your door turns them on but only then. The moment someone tries to tamper with your door, we’re notified, and we have a great view of your door and the approach down the hallway. If they’re stupid enough to try it again, we have them. Conflict between students is expected and tolerated to a point -- between student and staff, verboten!”

“I feel better; I just wish I knew who I pissed off. I’ve only been here less than a month.”

“Time has little to do with it, lust for power, class politics, intimidation, avarice, prejudice, envy and pure dumb luck do. Sometimes there is no reason, ” explained the officer.

“Gee doesn’t that make me feel warm and fuzzy all over.”

* * * *

February 07, 2007, Hawthorn Hall, 10:00pm

“Very good, Peeper, you’ve served your purpose, now while the heat‘s on you, what’s my next step? Anonymous flyers in the student mailboxes or a tap into the PA system might do.” Pinky thought; her loathing now channeled at another rather than herself. “I’ll let Joanie stew for a bit,then turn up the heat. There’s got to be something with this Meridian Chair I can use, imply she slept her way into it or blackmailed them? That record contract of hers should be even easier; they’d believe a hot looking girl sleeping and muff-munching her way to the top. Show business is rife with such rumors. And her ties to the Iowa Governor’s family, suggest she’s more than friends with the budding Lolita? That should piss her off but good, make her do something stupid. I know a few telepaths I could influence if I’m careful. A telepathic whispering campaign could be devastating.”

Pinky lay naked on her bed, fresh from the showers, subconsciously stroking her swollen and aching maleness. She stopped in shock and wonder, angry with her fate as hot, thick liquid splashed on her chest, her groin pulsing in release, her brain’s pleasure center awash in ecstasy.

“Ewh how gross!” she said out loud. “Ghod I got off as a boy, never again! It’s that damn Joanie’s fault; she’ll pay for ruining my self-control,” she said to herself smiling.

* * * *

To be continued.

Revised 10/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie does a "Tool Time" like Pamela Anderson, travels to Whateley's past to help out Operations, Pinky devises more trouble, and Joanie learns she's not the first mutant in her bloodline.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought every day in every way I’m getting better and better. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe, take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. Love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control. Free Complimentary Factiod: Mel Brooks & Buck Henry wanted agent 69 but this was the navel free 1960’s after all.

Adult content warning: this chapter contains adult sexual themes or acts. Nothing much really but still not suitable for underage readers. Mind you if you’re at this site, you know this already but still, you were warned.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 8 - The Loading Dock, Pinky part 3, Ba Ba Black Sheep 1

Whateley Academy — February 07-March 03, 2007
February 07, 2007

Ms. Carson requested I meet her at Administration 8AM sharp today, wouldn’t say much other than my special “talents” were needed and to dress ready to get dirty. I went with the “Farmer Judy” look, named for this nice girl I knew in high school; my hair in a simple braid, I wore a workman’s flannel shirt, bib overalls, heavy work socks, ear band, fingerless work gloves and ladies safety work boots, a tough, comfortable, practical outfit, and then I looked in the mirror. I looked like a refugee from a tool company poster; I’d forgotten how sexy bib overalls could be on a suitably endowed woman. With a shinny gold hardhat and high heels, it would make a great stripper costume; hey, at least I have an idea for next Halloween. It was too late to change, so I ran to Administration. Ms. Carson almost laughed when she saw me but agreed it was appropriate.

“I thought you’d be in a jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, it is a construction site, but still, Joanie.”

“Can I help it I’m built like this; you said be prepared to get dirty.”

This time half the staff were laughing, the rest covering their mouths while Amelia gave me this look of “oh Ghod why me?” Ms. Carson and I met with the ‘Mario Brothers’, Stan and Morrie at the back of Hawthorne Hall. Vance MerrilI, Assistant of Operations and Sue McClellan, the warehouse foreman joined us. I could see lines painted on the driveway, part of which was already torn up, and out into the lawn and lots of those Diggers Hotline flags marking a route towards the nearest building.

“Morning Ms. Joan, glad you could make it, we really need the help,” said Morrie, his eyes not quite looking high enough to meet my eyes. I noticed most of the other workers doing the same.

“What’s wrong, is it me? Have I got something on inside-out or forget to remove a price tag, I did dress kinda fast this morning?” Ms. Carson whispered in my ear. I felt myself blush. “I’m so embarrassed, I didn’t realize.”

I’d figured with the “get dirty” stuff, a fancy bra would just trap dirt and irritate my skin, so I went bra-less, well almost. I had to wear something to keep from getting, ah, over-stimulated as I moved, so I wore this plain, soft lycra-spandex bra that was little more than an unlined bikini top. A support bra it was not. Not a problem for me as me breasts refuse to sag due to my exemplar and regen powers. I figured the bib top would act like a shelf bra so the jiggling would be within reasonable limits. I forgot that women’s bibs are often more a fashion item than true work clothes and that the fabric these were made of was soft and stretchy, as was the flannel shirt. Oh and it was a little chilly out; I don’t know what stuck out more, the brass snaps on the bib pockets or my... I recovered quickly.

“Enjoying the view are we, boys? That’s all you’re getting, so let’s get back to work,” I chided them.

As they explained what was going on here, I swore I heard a camera shutter clicking occasionally but paid it no mind.

“A janitor was cleaning up after your run in with those two boys,” said Mr. Merrill.

“The Blue Flame and Rampage?” I questioned.

“Exactly, he spotted some cracks in the wall near where they hit,” Mr. Merrill replied.

“They broke a reinforced concrete wall?” I asked.

Morrie spoke next. “More like they exposed an existing problem that had been painted over, our mason inspected the wall and found the foundation near the loading dock was shifting. That’s when the Princes of Plumbing got consulted.” Stan and Morrie chuckled.

“Leaking pipes in the walls or a collapsing sewer the problem?” I asked, Stan took over from Morrie.

“Too many underground utilities though a foundation wall not designed for it, it’s been decided to replace the old dock and buttress the failing foundation section. We also intend to run new services in while we have everything exposed. Fortunately we don’t have much frost in the ground this year.

“The problem is just as you suggested at your interview, Joanie. We gone over the site with metal detectors, magnetometers, ground penetrating radar, gravity meters, thermal imagers, scintillation counters, sonar scans, diviners and dowsers, and it’s your worst nightmare. Sometimes it seems like you’re taking your life in your hands planting flower bulbs around here.” A couple started to laugh, Stan cut them off. “I’m serious, people. Joanie hit it on the nose when we first talked; we have lead water pipes, cast-iron and clay waste pipes, various electrical conduits, including one cryogenically chilled superconductor, a gas line, buried telephone, a steam tunnel and one unknown mystical object. Mr. Lodgeman will explain.”

“I’ll keep the introduction brief as everyone here knows who I am except Ms. Brown. I’m Charlie Lodgeman; I’m a superintendent here and a mage. Ms. Carson thought the two of us could get to the source of the trouble here, so this project may resume.”

I gave him a “huh?” expression while I studied the man. He appeared around 30, and was built like a small football fullback, stocky and muscular but did not project the air of a so-called jock. He exuded a relaxed, humorous, almost whimsical air and dressed like he was fresh from the American West. His obvious Native American heritage gave him an exotic appeal, and he carried it well despite his modest 5’6” frame. I liked what I saw.

~Oh dear, this isn’t gonna be easy. ~

Certain parts of my body echoed my thoughts enthusiastically.

~Good thing I put in a panty liner today, too late for a stiffer bra though. ~

I started to feel a flush but forced myself to listen.

“And just what are ‘we’ doing, Mr. Lodgeman?” I said trying to sound mildly disdainful; it came out like a come-on line.

To his credit, Mr. Lodgeman didn’t skip a beat. He spoke quietly so only those who were trustworthy might hear.

“Ms. Carson, along with Stan and Morrie, want us to travel back to just before the offending object was buried to determine its nature and level of threat.”

“Why not have a sorceress or clairvoyant scan it; don’t we have a half-demon on campus?” I asked.

“In reverse order, Joan, we do and I did and so did several others with magical gifts, but the most they could get was that it was still active and the day when it was buried, nothing else. We could use Miss Waite; but she’s a student whereas you’re available, staff, and you did volunteer. Between your time travel and my magic, the two of us will manage.” He smiled at me, almost a laugh.

~Oh dear, that’s got me going again. ~

“It’s warded or shielded either externally or internally we’re not sure, but we do know it’s powerful. The ley lines in the area are distorted and plain wrong the closer you get to it. You know about ley lines, Joan?”

“A friend back at MSG is a sorceress. So do we, time travel and retrieve it,” I whispered, “Or do we photograph it, note position relative to major landmarks then report back on its nature and true location?” I asked.

“The later, they’ll set up whatever privacy screens you need, then we’re on,” Mr Lodgeman said.

We went to Physical plant and studied the blueprints and scan results. I suggested a spot on campus that had a good view, provided cover and was unchanged over the years involved. The theater group provided Mr. Lodgeman with period clothes, I had my own. Charlie was impressed when I came out dressed like a late Victorian Gibson Girl.

“I haven’t seen someone dressed like that since I was a child,” he said.

“It’s not right?”

~I could have sworn this was period. ~

“No it’s perfect; I am older than I look.” he winked at me.

~So he is that old, come to think of it there is Circe and Dr. Joan Alden. ~

We got our equipment together and waited for campus to quiet down. I used the same relaxation trick Gin and I did for my first “research trip.”

”From these old campus photos, the top of this original section of Siegel Hall offers a good view and ample concealment.”

“Whenever you’re ready, Joan.”

“Call me Joanie; I prefer it, okay, Charlie?” I smiled, and he grinned happily. “Hold my hands and don’t let go unless I tell you to; there’s a chance I could strand you in the past.”

I relaxed and went for the feeling. In minutes I felt a momentary disorientation and we were there, over 100 years into Whateley’s past. There were only a few buildings back then, we settled in to wait as we only had a rough idea of the correct time. Through binoculars and a telephoto camera we observed the site. Several hours passed and I gradually got more and more “stimulated” but hung on. More hours passed, I was resting and concentrating on anything but my condition when Charlie whispered to me. My “side effect” was getting urgent; I’d never been in the past this long or far back. He’d noticed my discomfort.

“Why are you so nervous, Joanie?” he appeared puzzled.

“Umm... for some reason the longer I stay in the past the more, aaah... aroused I get. I hope they’re coming soon, or I’m coming here and nowow ooooh... Oh, that was close. Don’t mind me, I’ll manage.”

I fought to keep some control. I’ll give him his due, Charlie stayed professional though I thought his eyes went wide for a moment and his usual friendly face got even friendlier looking.

~It makes him look so ruggedly handsome; I want to rip off his, oooh, NO!... one plus one is two, two plus two is four, four plus four is...~

It worked, the delightful tension eased, I gained a measure of control.

Moments later he spoke, “They’re here, look.”

We saw a small procession of people in ceremonial robes carry out some rite then carefully bury a lead wrapped container, looked like jar or urn. I could see Charlie concentrating intensely; I was barely holding it together.

~One times one is one, one time two is two...~

I silently recited my third grade multiplication tables to keep my mind off it.

“No wonder our scans failed. That object they magically sealed and buried contains a fairly major demon; some fool must have summoned it, these people captured it and are entombing it as best they can. If we’d damaged it, the wards on the jar might have failed; Ghod knows what harm it would have done.”

He took a few pictures and notes on the objects position relative to Hawthorne Hall and landmarks that survived from the period.

“We can go now, Joanie.”

We held hands; I relaxed and went for the feeling. We returned and after I... ~Oh My Ghod...~ recovered from the ~ooh, oooh, ooooh...~ after effects we came down from the roof and I ~ooh my ~ rushed to the nearest ladies room.

“Excuse me I need to get changed,” I breathed huskily rushing off. I’d anticipated some “reaction” and came prepared with a tote bag of spare clothes.

~I wonder how well soundproofed that women’s room was? ~

Not too well, judging from the look on Charlie’s face. Together we turned in our notes and photos and walked out of Physical Plant.

“Does ‘that’ happen every time you time travel, Joanie?” he asked. Charlie seemed a bit embarrassed.

“Uh uh, what’s worse, the longer I stay and the farther back I go the stronger the, um, reaction. If we’re all done here, I’d like to go back to my room and recover. As they say, travel is sooo rewarding.” I grinned and ran off before Charlie could say anything or I got any more excited.

Ms. Carson had warned me that my time travel might prove too tempting to him. Though a good man who knew better, he desperately missed his late wife and might be tempted to see her one last time. Ms. Carson thought the chance of him asking me was slight but warned me anyway. That would be a very bad idea, she cautioned, as Sherry was a powerful magic user and might misinterpret my “side effect” as coming from a different stimulus.

I got the picture; I did not want someone with that kind of power thinking I was a rival for his affections, let alone the timeline problems it could cause. As to the object, it was decided to recover it, re-enforce the wards around it and re-bury it in military grade reinforced concrete with additional magics added to both entomb it and warn future generations. It is now part of the footing for one of the Whateley perimeter walls and helps re-enforce the wards there.

* * * *

Whateley Academy — February 07, 7:40PM

Pinky sat in a quiet library alcove researching her next move. “I need an angle, a gimmick, something to rattle her cage but keep me in the clear. I may need to back off for a while; I didn’t expect so strong a response from Security or my Aunt. I need her as an ally not an enemy; I miscalculated,” she thought remembering their conversation earlier. She’d caught up with Aunty Hartford as she was leaving Administration for the day.

“Ms. Hartford, a moment of your time please?”

“Only if it is brief, I am off duty.” They walked to her car talking softly.

“Did you hear, Aunt Hartford, someone’s dug up dirt on that Joanie person who’s causing you such grief?” she smiled.

“Who ever it is, is a fool. As much as she irritates me, she is staff and entitled to respect. If a student is behind this, they could be expelled. Conflict between students and staff is intolerable. Is there anything else, Ms. Conners?” Someone was walking past and Ms. Hartford reverted to formal mode.

“No, Ms. Hartford, other than may I have some advice on how to best serve my campus organization? What to do and what not to?”

“See me at 8:45 am tomorrow; I’ll give you an appointment for later. Good night, Ms. Conners.”

* * * *

Back in the alcove, Pinky continued her research. “The best way to destroy someone is to trick them into doing it themselves. What are Joanie’s strengths and weaknesses, and how can I exploit them?”

She was looking through magazine and newspaper articles. Internet research was a last resort because her efforts could be traced.

“She’s a leap-before-you-look do-gooder, and it’s rumored she’s pretty wild sexually with women since her change. She’s certainly not been seen in the company of a man since becoming a public figure. She likes to sing and perform, that’s obvious. She’s fairly athletic, takes an early morning run most days. She’s admitted to still having problems sorting out her sexuality, is reputed to be embarrassed by her good looks and is hurt by having to cut loose from her old friends and family. Those all could be exploited but how best?” A smile grew on her face as it came to her.

“The library is closing in 15 minutes, bring any material for checkout to the desk and shut down all computers, thank you.”

Pinky started putting her materials back, working out her plan as she went.

“If she got caught having sex with a student, preferably a minor but how to do it? I could use my gift to influence someone, but it’s tricky, if another empath tuned in on me, I could get discovered or blackmailed. I need to do this right or not at all, but I can wait,” she thought, then felt an uncomfortable sensation below. “Euh, not again, maybe I should go to Siegel Hall. This damned ’thing’ is out of control,” she though as she rearranged the stiff and annoying ‘thing’ in her pants. “Why does it feel so good when I touch it; I hate it and everything it represents?” Pinky’s anger grew with her unwanted arousal; her self-loathing and frustration boiled over. “Hell if I have to, I’ll seduce her. I can claim I was asking for help from a fellow TG. They’d believe a child over an adult when it comes to rape. Maybe that ‘thing’ might prove useful, after all semen is great evidence. That would be ironic, destroying my Aunt’s tormentor with the very thing I hate most.” Pinky began to laugh to her self, much to the annoyance of the other patrons.

* * * *
February 08, 2007, 9:45PM Poe Hall

Saturday February 17th is nine days away, and I’m beginning to panic. I’ve arranged a private charter jet out of the same airport the TV show used, booking through Meridian to avoid publicity. I plan to take my cycle along to show my Iowa friends. Managed to get the weekend off, I had to trade a few favors to Ms. Carson — she’s one tough negotiator - but I could see she was giving me “The Look.” The kind of look your Mom gives you when you say “it’s just the movies, Mom, it’s nothing serious” but she knows better.

Problem is, forgive me for the cliché, I haven’t a thing to wear. I, Joanie, with all my money and clothes haven’t a suitable dress for the dance. I can’t go as Joanie the singer, those outfits are too wild. They’re by no means obscene but for a school dance? I have a few dresses, but they’re either too adult, i.e. college clubbing gear or too daywear, the sort of thing I wore around the Mutant Wing.

I hear there’s this great seamstress in Dunwich, Cecilia Rogers, many of the harder to fit students go there for uniforms, and she does ballroom dance wear as well. I may try her shop out, “Rogers Fabric Boutique;” Mr. Lodgeman, Charlie, recommended her, and she can make clothes while-you-wait. He assisted me on a “research trip” I took for Physical Plant a few days ago, and Ms. Carson told me to trust his advice as he is far older and wiser than he looks.

I called Gin to see if she could come up with something, but she’s busy teaching a seminar at UW-Stevens Point, “magic wards in the modern age” or some such title and may not have time. My fault, I didn’t think I needed a new dress, but everything I tried on wasn’t it, whatever it is.

I’m investing way too much time and emotion into something that started out as a joke and bit of harmless fun for the girl I never was. The steamroller is picking up speed, and I don’t know if I can stop it. Tina and Chris keep giving makeup tips and dance lessons; they seem to like the slow, close dances best.

~Strange, I thought school dances tend toward dancing separately to fast beats? ~

Their suggestions for a dress are well, biased; biased towards skirts way above mid thigh, open toed high heels and lots of cleavage. I’d look great, but these are eighth graders, not grad students; I’ll find something nice somehow.

I have to remember this is just for fun, this is just to get used to the idea of dating men, this is not that serious, Girl. I need the experience badly if I’m this nervous about dating the brother of a friend where the entire night his parents will be there as chaperones. If I’m this bad now, what would I be like if it was with an adult man and alone? Eric’s a nice boy, helpful and with good manners, I’m sure I’ll be fine. Then why am I so worried? Ghods being a girl is complicated.

Maybe I’d better call Dr. Sara and get her advice. I would prefer to see her in person but the conference/ski trip fell though. She couldn’t get leave to attend as that bird flu epidemic hit Madison, and the hospital is so short staffed the Mutant wing personnel are assisting the public wings.; all vacations are canceled. I hope she can get a refund on the ski lodge.

* * * *

February 09, 2007, Whateley Academy, Wauwatosa WI, Dunwich NH

In recent years my Father spent considerable time researching our family history. This started before my mother fell ill and continued long after. It was nothing morbid, it was sometimes interesting and it gave him an excuse to travel to Germany and Poland in the spring of 2006 to visit friends and look up where our ancestors came from. Strangely most were from near the Baltic, even the Norwegians, maybe that’s why so many settled near the Great Lakes? I got a cryptic e-mail from him last night, what’s up?

“Joan, found something odd in the family background; call me ASAP.”

This was odd for him that he didn’t trust e-mail. He may be 80, but he’s taken to it like a duck-to-water, for hobbies, contacting friends and such. I got permission to use a phone in the security office; I got his answer machine.

“Dad, pick up... Dad... Daddy, it’s Joan. What gives with the e-mail?”

“Oh, Joan, sorry, I almost didn’t recognize...” he sounded embarrassed.

~I said, Daddy? It got his attention, and it does fit now. ~

“It’s okay, Dad, I’ve changed a bit. “ I giggled. “You can call me Joanie; I’m used to it now. So what’s so hush hush?”

“You alone?’

“I’m calling from inside Campus Security, it’s as alone and secure as it gets.”

“It’s your namesake, the John who emigrated from England in the 1840s, he, well I’m not sure who he really was or at least not until yesterday.”

“Dad, you’re talking riddles here.”

“Remember I thought he came from Yorkshire or Cornwall but couldn’t be sure. “

“Yah, you said your side of the family was easy to trace until him, it was like all the records disappeared.”

“That’s it Joan... ie, they did or so he thought.”

~He? ~

“John destroyed his own records, why and how do you know?”

“I found his wife’s diary in some old papers of your grandfather’s. She had suspicions about his past; it was a shock but the conformations are solid.”

“Huh, Dad?”

“He talked in his sleep, she listened. He tracked down his public and private records and systematically destroyed them just prior to emigrating. He cut out his entries in the church registries, burned the family bible, eliminated all his school records -- he even stole his doctor’s file.”

“Pretty thorough but mostly vandalism, so what’s the big deal?” I asked.

“He burnt a court house to get rid of his tax records.”

“Arson?”

~Great, great, great Grandpa John committed a felony? I thought my family was dull. ~

“How do you know her diaries are true?”

“I contacted the original locations, took months, but everything was as she said, including a fatal courthouse fire just prior to his departure for America.”

“But what did he have to hide; he was just a farmer?” I didn’t realize dad had said fatal until later.

“His criminal activity, he was running from former associates, who wanted him dead. What better place to hide than deep in a foreign country near the frontier -- remote, low profile, a perfect hiding place.”

“Why didn’t he move on after a few years?”

“Fell in love, got married and started a family. He truly loved his wife and for him time was not an issue. He was a mutant, Joanie, and a mage.”

“Great, great whatever Grandpa Brown was a mutant and a magic user?” This was a shocker.

“Yes and if the rest of the diary is correct, a murderer.”

“He killed?”

“A watchman died at that fire but of a broken neck before the building burnt.”

“John’s long dead, what does it matter?”

“He may not be, Joan, I think he’s alive.”

“He’d be 203 years old, that’s impos... Ghod it is possible, I should know. What happened to him, he was buried, and I’ve seen his gravestone?” Dad knew of my extreme longevity and powers, I’d told him when I visited last fall.

“That’s it, Joanie, the grave is a sham. The issue of the local newspaper that reported his death is missing from their archives, one of very few they ever lost. His wife’s diary mentions it was a closed casket burial, unusual for a Victorian ex-Brit. That was the height of the fear of being buried alive hysteria. She also noted a sizable portion of the family funds went missing at the same time of his death. There was enough left plus her share of the farm for her to live out her life satisfactorily, but she long suspected the casket was filled with soil and not a body,” my father explained.

“Where did he go?”

“She got strange, cash-filled letters and packages over the years from people claiming to owe John money. Some came from the Colorado silver mining areas, a few from a San Francisco oriental trading firm. The last letter she got before her death came from Dawson Creek just as the word of the Klondike gold strike got out. Her children got similar letters as well and did so for years after her death. Her letters alone totaled in the thousands of dollars, a tidy sum in those days,” he said.

“How do you know he’s alive?”

“The last one came yesterday -- Fed Ex from Tokyo -- and Joanie, the contents are addressed to you.”

“What? He wrote to me; how could he know who I am? How are you certain he’s who he claims to be?”

“He wrote me to forward this message to you, it explains everything. He said his magics in addition to prolonging his life, enabled him to manipulate machines, he was a safecracker among other occupations. He claims he can do vision spells that predict the future like a precognitive but less reliably. You know what a precognitive is?” Dad asked.

“The doctors say I may be one, but they’re not sure; it would fit in with my warper time powers. Precogs see bits of the future,” I replied.

“He wrote, ‘My dear great, great, great granddaughter, you of all people may understand me. My magics have extended my life and permit me to hide my physical appearance from others. I am physically no more than 30 and may live another 500 to 600 years. I was not born in 1804 but in 1623. I was 221 when came to America in the 1840s. I have kept an eye on my scattered descendents and regret having to keep my distance. I have killed many times to protect my secrets and am not proud of it. Your rescue of the girl in Prairie du Chien and subsequent press speculation brought you to my attention.

The results of my vision spells are difficult to interpret and thus imprecise. Fifty years ago a vision predicted a male descendent would transform into a beautiful woman with special powers, but I had no names to put to the images until I saw you in the press. You are exactly as my vision of decades past foretold. I managed another vision spell recently and must tell you in person. As a time traveler, you know the dangers of knowing the future, but I feel I must. I’ll meet you at the Dunwich, New Hampshire train station 8AM Eastern Time this February 12th. Congratulations on the Meridian Chair and as to your singing career, in my over 383 years I’ve managed to acquire a fortune not many times larger than what you’ve earned in little over 100 days. Of course you were a banker, until then, my dearest granddaughter.’”

“Is there more?”

“Just instructions to contact you, please be careful, Joanie, I ...”

“I will, Daddy.”

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 10/04/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 9

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine has pre-dance jitters and talks with a friend, she visits an odd clothing boutique, meets an old relative, does the Security thing to some trouble-makers and becomes the target of Peeper's latest money-making scheme.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought every day in every way I’m getting better and better. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe, take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. Love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control. I wonder if the shoe phone spurred the development of Odor Eaters?

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 9- Don’t Panic, Cecilia, Ba Ba Black Sheep 2, the Chase, the Pizza Prize

Whateley Academy — February 07-16, 2007

February 09, 2007 6:15 PM

I’m starting to panic dear d/j/w, and it’s all about that stupid dance. It’s not like I’m unprepared, transport is arranged, and I’ve got the weekend off. Two things trouble me. One: am I ready for this step and two: the damn dress. Number two should be easy, I considered an LBD toned down with tights and maybe a sweater vest, but it still comes off too mature and sexy. Contouring is the problem; I could wear a sleeping bag and look hot if it fit me tight enough; I simply go in and out too much in all the right places. Not that I mind but for a middle school dance? We don’t want a testosterone explosion, so I’m being silly, but you get the point. I want something comfortable to dance and sit in, age appropriate yet attractive, and I want the other kids to know it’s ‘Joanie’ he’s with. I want us to both have a good time and for Eric’s stock among his classmates to rise. He’s Mel’s brother, it’s the least I can do. It has to be a dress or skirt and blouse, but nothing I’ve tried looks right.

I called Gin the other day, but she has an early summer session course to teach and doesn’t have the time. I could go to Boston and hit the women’s shops and department stores, but I’m not familiar with the city and don’t have the time. I asked around campus and Mr. Lodgeman, Charlie, gave me an idea. A friend, Cecilia Rodgers, has a dress making shop in Dunwich. She does school uniforms and other clothes, even ball gowns, for many of the hard to fit at Whateley and can handle odd materials. He got me an appointment for Saturday, and she can do clothes while you wait. Sounds like my salvation.

As to my anxiety, I’m calling Sara tonight.

* * * *

“Dr. Sara Grobeschmidt-Taylor, how may I help you?”

“Sara, it’s Joanie, I need your advice.” I think she heard the worry in my tone.

“Joanie dear, what can I do for you?”

“I’m scared, and I don’t know where to turn. I can’t think or eat, I’m having trouble sleeping; I’m a wreck.” I was sounding frantic; I could hear it myself.

“Calm down, Joanie, tell Sara what’s wrong. You in trouble, it’s not those kidnapers? Someone threaten you? Tell me you’re not pregnant?”

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I heard that last one.

“Worse, I... I have a date with a boy.” I was fighting back tears. Sara giggled but quickly regained control.

“Gin mentioned something about you needing a dress for a dance. Who’s the lucky boy, some nice mutant at Whateley, a fellow student?

“Eric Johnson.” I thought I hear Sara gasp.

“Eric Johnson of Iowa, Governor’s son, brother of Mel the sugar addict?” she said. I giggled and calmed a little.

~Ghod Sara’s good at this. ~

“He’s just a boy, I know it’s only a dance, just for fun and to get used to dating men, but it terrifies me, and I don’t know why?”

“Is it the thought of having sex? I know you’re still sorting out your sexuality, but you seemed to be getting on pretty well with the rest of Gang of Four.”

“They’re women, Eric’s the first male I’ve ever dated, and I don’t know how to handle it?” I giggled nervously.

“Being a man for 48 years I’d think you’d be expert at handling ‘it’.” Sara burst out laughing and I joined in. After a minute we stopped.

“Damn you, Sara, I wet myself.”

“Sorry dear, you’re feeling better though?”

“Except for the wet panties, I’m fine. Any suggestions -- I know I shouldn’t be so emotional but I am.”

“First date jitters, I got them all the time, still do. Once you’re past the first date, all the rest is a breeze. You’re over-thinking the problem. Sounds like what you said about your old life and dating: you’ve not even been out the one time, and you’re wondering what your grandchildren will look like. It sounds trite, but it’s true, go with the flow, Joanie. Just enjoy it for what it is, a fun night out with a nice young man, nothing more, nothing less.”

“What about a dress? I still haven’t a clue except there is this seamstress in Dunwich Mr. Lodgeman recommends; he teaches ballroom dancing with her.”

“Sounds perfect, Joanie, though a simple dress, blouse and pumps would be fine. Don’t over think things, Girl; I’m sure he’ll like you no matter how you’re dressed. Kids! Night, Joanie, call anytime, except when I’m a sleep. I’m a real grouch then.” I laughed.

“’Nite, Sara, and thanks.”

Something she said bothered me, but I couldn’t think of what it was. Rather like my late mom that way, could calm you and wind you up at the same time. I wish my sense of humor was that subtle.

* * * *

February 10th, 2007, 7:35AM

It was one of those glorious winter thaw days when all is right with the world; I hopped on my cycle and rode the short distance to Dr. Bellows’ house and my friends, the Anderson twins.

“You girls ready, I need to be in Dunwich by eight for my appointment,” I said into the intercom.

“Coming,” said two sleepy, near identical voices. The girls came down looking a little owly eyed.

“Up late last night?”

“We got to talking about your date and didn’t get to sleep ‘til late,” Tina said.

“It’s not a date, it’s a dance. How often do I have to repeat my self?”

“Sure it is, Joanie.” They laughed and I did too, slightly nervously.

Tina got on behind Chris on the Kawasaki, and we roared off to Dunwich. I’d promised them some custom outfits and lunch in exchange for their moral support. The gals would have done it for nothing, but they’d been so kind to me I had to do this. We arrived at “Rogers Fabric Boutique” and walked in. Cecilia was waiting, an attractive mid-twenties woman. I immediately wondered if she and Charlie were an item.

“I’m Joanie and these are my friends, Tina and Chris. Mr. Lodgeman, Charlie, made an appointment for me.” She took a long look at me and smiled.

“Charlie wasn’t kidding when he said you’d be a challenge, what are you, 6 foot one?”

“Add a half inch to that. You know what I want and how soon I need it?”

“A dress suitable for a middle school senior prom yet is distinctly ‘Joanie’. I know of your singing ‘hobby’ as Charlie says you call it. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands. Please step into the booth in the back and follow its instructions and hold still when it says, you will need to be naked for accurate measurements, but you can do that inside.”

Cecilia led met to the back of her shop; graceful does not adequately describe her. I was amazed she wasn’t a high fashion model or professional dancer.

“Does she have to do it in there, we wanted to watch. It’s not like she’s not used to strangers seeing her naked,” the twins said petulantly, and then they laughed.

“I had a run in with some kidnappers last fall, and when I was rescued, I was naked. They kinda, well it’s... “

“She was naked on the national news. We saw it; all of it,” said Tina.

The girls deliberately moistened their lips; I decided to ignore them.

“What is it, Ms. Rogers?” I said pointing at her booth.

“It’s a scanner of my own design, a kind of an automatic CADCAM system. It measures every inch of your body in the various poses it asks for, then its robotic unit produces perfect fitting clothes in moments. All I need to do is input the basic design, fabrics and such; I have something special in mind for you.” She must have seen the concern on my face; I did feel somewhat overwhelmed. “I’ve fitted far more unusual body shapes than you, Joanie. You are fairly tall for a young woman and ample breasts don’t usually hang so high, but you’re not the first I fitted with that peculiarity. Relax and enjoy, dear.”

I stepped in the scanner, disrobed and placed my clothes in the container indicated, which promptly vanished back into the wall of the booth. After several minutes and various poses it finished, returned my clothes and told me to dress.

I had a coffee while the booth scanned the twins in turn. “Why scan them both, they’re identical, shouldn’t one be the same as the other?” I’d realized I said something dumb when Cecilia laughed.

“Even the most identical of identical twins have some slight variations, more so over the years. I have an eye for these things. The scanner confirmed my suspicion; Tina and Chris are mirror image twins. Most women have one breast that’s larger than the other, in their cases it’s the other side. The difference is not great in their cases but adjusting for it will give them the best fit. And one girl is five pounds heavier than the other, but that’s her secret,” Cecilia explained.

The scans complete. Ms. Rogers led us to a platform were we could see an automated machine assemble complete outfits on a self adjusting mannequin. It even made the panties and other under garments and what looked like nylon or silk stockings. I noticed something odd.

“Why no bra?”

“The machine is building that into the top of your dress so it can be open backed. It could make it backless, but this is for dancing at a school event so I went with daring but demure. Joanie, you’ll love it.”

Thirty minutes after we’d started we all had neatly folded outfits to try. The machine produced matching shoes as well. Cecilia pointed to some dressing rooms which were now visible, and we changed. She’d kindly provided care instructions and hints for easy dressing and undressing. I stepped into the dress, fastened the narrow top strap and eased my breasts into the built in cups which fitted perfectly. Once I’d pulled up the rear zipper, the whole dress felt so sensual and comfortable.

I must not have been paying close attention but a garter belt was included with the panties. I followed the instructions and put it on first, then these soft wondrous panties, some kind of micro fiber the care sheet said and next the stockings. They looked fragile but were made of something called bucky-tube carbon filaments, supposedly many times stronger than any other fiber in the world. They looked and felt marvelous, after taking a few steps I could see why some women loved stockings -- it was as if someone was gently massaging my legs. I supposed the feeling would ease overtime, otherwise I’d have a hard time walking around the block without an orgasm. Last was a pair of shinny black leather open toed dress sandals with a modest heel. I looked in the mirror and was shocked; did I really look that good? I came out of the changing room and was soon met by two extremely happy Anderson girls in matching cocktail dresses and high heels, very sharp.

“You gals look gorgeous, I’m jealous.” I pouted then smiled. They’re eyes locked on me and I could see Cecilia’s smile beaming.

“What do you ladies think of Joanie’s outfit?” They said nothing but their hugs spoke volumes. “One of my finest creations I think.”

“I think I’ll take it, Ms. Rogers.” I squeaked.

~Eric’s in for a shock when he sees me in this. If he isn’t the envy of every boy in the school I’d be amazed. He won’t have any problems getting girls to date after they see me. ~

“How did you get this leather and lace top to fit so firm yet feel so soft and what is the skirt made of? It looks like silk with lace trim but its not, is it?”

“Special synthetic leather for the top, it feels like kid leather but is stronger, easy to clean, holds its shape and won’t piss off PETA. I’m sure the goats feel better about it too.” she laughed. “I do clothes in all natural materials for those who prefer or need it, allergies and such, but I usually work with whatever I think best. In your case that was mostly synthetics. The skirt portion is more of that bucky-tube carbon filament. Moves and feels like silk but is far stronger, stronger than the fabric they use for bullet resistant vests. It’s not widely available yet, but I have my sources. The design is ‘leather and lace’ because you’re a ‘leather and lace’ girl, the synthetics make sense for the added strength and ease of care. My clothes cost more, but they last far longer, so they save money in the long haul. I’ll have your other outfits ready and delivered in a few days.”

“Others?” I asked.

~I thought I was just buying a dress. ~

“Charlie said you need a set of Whateley uniforms, as you’re a part-time student; it will help you blend into class. I’m also making some workout clothes for PE and your self-defense and security training, several custom Whateley Security uniforms with slacks and skirts, plus all appropriate footwear and hose. And a set of motorcycle gear; I see you rode one here. I can even special order those Steve Zink custom boots you like so much. I love the ones you have on now, a good choice for on a cycle.”

Cecilia was a born sales person, between the twins and I, the bill came to several thousand dollars. At least she said delivery was included.

“Come to the ballroom and modern dance classes Mr. Lodgeman teaches, I’m assisting again, you’ll love it. I’m not sure if it applies to you, Joanie, but there are several mandatory dances during the year, the school thinks it helps improve social skills, and it can help in business circles,” Cecilia said as the three of us left for lunch carrying our booty.

We had a nice lunch at a nearby café then took a leisurely ride back to Whateley, Chris on my Harley, Tina with me on the Kawasaki. The way Chris hugged and kissed me afterwards told me she enjoyed the ride, between Tina’s hanging on tight on the cycle and Chris’s ‘thank you,’ I enjoyed it too.

* * * *
February 12, 2007, Dunwich NH, Whateley Academy

I followed the instructions meticulously and arrived at the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle station at ten to eight. I parked my Harley and waited. At precisely 8AM a rental car drove up and a wiry, 30 something man got out. He resembled pictures of my grandfather at a similar age. He recognized me at once.

“The press photos do not do you justice; you are an enchanting woman, Joan. I’m John, follow me, dear.”

He certainly was a smooth one, he dressed the part too. That suit must have cost well over a thousand dollars. He drove to a quiet roadside park, the one I’d stopped at the day I arrived. I removed my helmet, and we talked.

“How did you find me, John?”

“I have resources and my magic, with that and what was in the press I figured it out. That’s how I know of your powers, even those not known to the press. Don’t worry; I understand the value of keeping secrets. I let my wife keep the diary because I knew she’d keep it safe long after I faked my death. I hated leaving but my former associates organization tracked me down and were on my heels. I’ve had many lovers, she was the one I was faithful to longest if it counts for anything.”

“What of the night watchman and the others you killed?” I was taking a risk, but he’d opened this subject in his letter, so I figured I was safe.

“An unfortunate accident, he came upon me as I set the incendiary. He tripped and fell on the stairs chasing me. I could do nothing for him; he died so quickly, but I did send money to his widow the rest of her life. The others were assassins and hired thugs of the safe cracking and blackmail gang I foolishly worked for.”

“What do you do now, John?” I asked.

“Live off my investments and dabble in invention. My magics make it easier to understand the workings of machines. Your MSG friends would call it a gadgeteer or devisor trait, but I do it through magic. With my transformational magics I can alter my appearance and that of others for varying lengths of time, with that and some stage craft I faked the signs of aging, so I didn’t need to move constantly. I do admit to the occasional burglary but as a part of a security testing service. I have to return what I steal, though I do get a percentage as my fee.”

“You’re legit?”

“Yes, a bit of a come down, what?” the Brit in him came out for a moment. “I was the best safe cracker in all of England, possibly the world. I still am, I’ve kept up with the times, but the percentages are better as a security consultant.”

“What is so important you had to see me after staying away from the family for 122 years?” This was the big question in my mind.

“Your destiny, Joan, I can’t say much, or I’ll change the future, but my magics foretell a critical juncture in the near future. Two paths shine brightest, one leads to honors, glories and joys you can’t imagine, along with great pain and hardships. The other path is easier for a time but soon goes dark and ... uncertain.” He hesitated. “It’s possible you kill yourself, how I don’t know as you are far longer lived than I can ever hope to be. That is what scares me; you may not kill your self but die in some great disaster with millions of others, possibly another World War,” John explained.

“You’re scaring me, what must I do?”

He paused considering his words.

“Follow your heart; you have a fine mind, but you need to let your emotions guide you here. If you listen to your heart, you will know. That’s all I dare say other than the critical juncture is soon, very soon. I may have said too much. Goodbye my dear descendent, carry on and remember me to your children. I must go, we’re being observed.” I turned to look for the intruder.

“Children, what did you say?” but he was gone.

~Ghods, children, plural! I know it’s possible, and I do want a family someday but still. And children usually imply a man’s involvement at some point. I can’t see myself falling for or making love to man anytime soon; I’m only now taking my first baby steps in dating. Still my life is not as I imagined it even a year ago, and I do think of men sometimes; okay, a lot to be honest. My future will certainly be interesting. Arrrg, I’m beginning to hate magic users; they’re so vague and mysterious. ‘Follow your heart,’ what the hell does that mean? Is it to do with someone or something at Whateley, a decision about my singing career, a lover? This will drive me crazy, thanks a lot, buster. ~

~He said something else, oh yes, we were being observed. ~

I looked around and saw several brief flashes from across a farm field. I saw it again from a shrubby, overgrown fence row.

~Damn a telephoto lens I’ll bet, catching the light like a mirror. ~ I thought. ~If they have a parabolic reflector or machinegun microphone, oh hell! ~

I tightened my helmet and rode in their general direction. I saw two people running at great speed as fast or even faster than my old motorcycle, but I had the advantage if they were from Whateley. I turned onto the quickest route back and pushed the Harley for everything it had. They couldn’t go cross country easily, too many barbed wire fences, stone walls, occasional areas of old snow and the like. I got to the walls of Whateley, turned in the gate, brought my cycle to a halt and waited. I radioed for backup and at the first sign of blurry people approaching, I time stopped the gateway. In moments two students, a pair of brother/sister speedsters were caught in mid-stride. My fellow officers quickly erected an energy absorbing barrier; we wanted them alive and well. I released the time stop, and it was like one of those films of emergency landings on an aircraft carrier or when a bird files into a researchers mist net.

The speedsters’ limbs tangled in the net which gave the other officers ample time to check them for injuries, evidence and weapons before freeing them and handcuffing them. I couldn’t resist.

“Ello, ello, ello, what’s all this then? We have speeding in a posted school zone, oh dear 120 mph is 105 over, you won’t be seeing your licenses for a long while, unless of course you don’t have one yet, in which case I didn’t know if you’ll ever get one.” I was laying it on thick, but these kids needed waking up before it was too late. “Then there’s reckless endangerment, running at high speed on a crowded campus? That machinegun mic wasn’t just for recording bird song was it? The hi-resolution digital camera and telephoto lens were reported missing from the Whateley photo lab -- that’s possession of stolen property. Oh and this is the one I personally like, interfering with a police officer in her sworn duty. Technically as an auxiliary officer in training I’m police and an officer of the courts of New Hampshire. If you don’t want to spend the next decade or so in jail, you’ll tell my fellow officers and I everything, and I do mean everything. Yah, I almost forgot, you have the right to remain silent... “

I read them their rights, but they weren’t stupid, they’d been blackmailed and sang like a pair of mutant canaries, i.e. they told us everything. Though technically brother and sister, they were not blood relations but the result of their parents remarrying after divorcees. The stigma still was present in the eyes of some, and they’d got caught ‘at it’. Having sex on campus happened frequently, but technically it was prohibited. They could be expelled if someone made a stink; unfortunately for us whoever caught them was a master manipulator and worked via indirect channels.

The boy was the same one who’d taken Tina and my photos while taunting me at the Crystal Hall; he claimed he was told to use that line on me. Tina guessed right about a setup; his sister would have shot a photo the moment my hands came near him. The medical staff treated their cuts and scrapes while we questioned them. The trail went cold quickly; whoever it was pulled up stakes and bugged off. We don’t think it was an on campus blackmailer, just someone watching Whateley from a distance and paying snitches for information. I wondered, was it part of the smear campaign, the people behind my kidnapping or something else?

* * * *

February 14, 2007, Whateley Academy

“But, Peeper, we’re on shaky ground already, this is like juggling jars of nitroglycerine.”

“Greasy, if we do this right it’s legit, sleazy, but legit. We need the fundage desperately. You know how well the ‘Negligee Nightingales!’ and those ‘Nikki Reilly: Nature, beautiful but fierce!’ posters sold. We need new ones as the market is saturated.”

“You’re not going after Team Kimba again; the girls are not pleased with us,” Greasy cringed as he said this.

“That’s the beauty of this plan, any photos of the Kimba girls are pure gravy, and the main targets are two of the newest staff members.”

“Staff, that’s worse, we’ll be expelled for sure,” worried Greasy.

“No, for one we built some goodwill coming forward on the WARS broadcast voluntarily, and second, one of the women is already on over half the boys’ walls and even more of the girls’.” Greasy’s face made a major frown.

“Greasy, you worry too much. Pass the word that I’m running a contest for the ‘most interesting’ photo of Miss Joan ‘Joanie’ Brown and Miss Susan Alexis Luther. This is part of the ‘Babes of Whateley’ wall calendar and life-sized posters we will sell to our fellow students, for a modest profit. On second though, skip the calendar as it is March already; let’s do a smaller poster for those on a budget. We’ll offer lesser prizes for other campus babes; Team Kimba comes to mind, a medium cheese and pepperoni per winner, I think. The prize for Joanie or Luther is a deluxe, large pizza with everything. With those two, a prize is not strictly needed, but it deflects Team Kimba’s attention from us, a most worthwhile insurance policy. With luck the pizza’s enough, and we won’t need to offer a cash bonus. I considered adding Samantha Everheart to the list, she’s a serious babe too, but I’m not suicidal.” Greasy did not look any happier.

“Peeper, Luther’s a full time Security officer, one of their better ones so rumor has it. Joanie is, well, Joanie. She’s rich, beautiful, a powerful warper and has equally powerful friends and interests backing her. She’s a pet project of Ms. Carson’s, hint hint. Might as well cover yourself in tuna fish and run into a tiger cage.”

“That’s where you’re wrong; Joanie expects stuff like this, hell she was naked on national TV, and Luther’s too thick-skinned. If we do things right, they’ll complain but not officially. A lecture by either of them I can take; it might even be fun. I sure wouldn’t mind getting a close look at either or both, Greasy. The school expects us to be rebellious, we are just teenagers, and this is harmless fun, for a tidy profit.”

“Ghod I hope you’re right.”

* * * *

February 16, 2007, 9:15PM, Poe Hall

Sorry for any confusion d/j/w reader but this last month has been so busy I may have missed a few entries; forgive me if things are out of order. The smear campaign seems to have stopped for now, I think the subtle reminder Administration sent out to the entire campus about the dangers and consequences of spreading false accusations about fellow students or staff had the desired effect. That both Ms. Carson and Amelia - Ghod I love teasing her - signed it pleased me no end. Maybe I’ll let up on Ms. Hartford, for a while: still haven’t made up my mind about her.

I’m finally ready for my “Valentines Day/Prom” date with Eric; I leave for Iowa early tomorrow. You wouldn’t think finding an appropriate outfit would be so hard, thank the Ghods for Cecilia. I hope he isn’t as nervous about this as I am; I almost lost it the other day. What’s wrong with me? I almost never panic; I’m usually so laid back you could mistake me for furniture. Anticipation, I guess, I was like this before all of my dates as a man -- don’t ask how few -- it’s embarrassing.

Talked with Sara, it helped some, something about first dates being the hardest for her too. What did she mean by that? This is just for fun, to get my toe in the water, metaphorically speaking, and probably a one off with respect to Eric. Why did I say probably? Now she has me doing it. Ghod, I’m starting to panic again, think Girl think - engage panic circuits, panic circuits engaged, Aeeee! - Damn, even Red Dwarf isn’t helping.

All is ready; I’m off to Iowa early tomorrow. Now if I can only survive the next couple days I’ll be fine, the monkey off my back and all that. Now what was it Sara said exactly? I remember...

~Oh my Ghod. ~

“Once you’re past the first date, all the rest is a breeze.” All the rest?

~It’s just a dance, it’s just a dance, it’s just a dance... ~

* * * *
To be continued

Revised 10/05/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 10

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine meets a smooth-talking pilot, gets an update from her sugar-addicted friend Mel, attends a dance and learns something that shocks her, her singing 'hobby' continues to grow and Peepers's pin-up poster scheme picks up steam.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is still sort of first my attempt a TG/sci-fi piece, thought every day in every way I’m getting better and better. Constructive criticism and advice is welcome. This is for fun and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe, take it in that spirit. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents is for purposes of humor or parody, which saves my butt. Love the fair use doctrine. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control. Get 20% off if you tell our contact, “Pussycat pussycat where have you been?” Offer good at any wharfside dive or biker bar.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa

Chapter 10-It’s not a Date it’s a Dance! $59.95 for the Life Size

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, Des Moines IA — February 17-18, 2007

February 18, 2007 somewhere over Illinois, 5PM

Writing this on my charter back to Dunwich is difficult, so much to say, so little time to say it. The dance was far more fun than I imagined and far more complicated. Confusing isn’t it dear d/j/w.? I went in to it with a particular set of expectations and came out of it having experienced something entirely different. Still not certain reader, neither am I, but I’m working on it. It started out clear and simple, then gradually... let me describe what happened, and you can figure it out for yourself, then would you explain it to me please!

* * * *
February 17, 2007, 10AM CDT

Here I am dear d/j/w about to land in Iowa for a dance with a fourteen year old boy. Strange but I’m looking forward to it; more of my lost girlhood? Got up early, 5am, nerves I guess, took a five mile run, showered, dressed, got an early breakfast at the Crystal Hall, then loaded my overnight bag, my notebook computer — how else could I be entering this now — carefully tied down my dress bag and accessories and rode to the local airfield where the private charter jet would meet me. The pilots were surprised to see such a young woman waiting for them, but they been well paid, and after the captain checked my credentials, all went smoothly. They’d arrived on time; we loaded up, tied the cycle down securely and took off. After we leveled off, the copilot came into the main cabin.

“Comfortable, miss?”

He smiled a bit too warmly for my tastes. I knew the reputation of pilots from all those old films and TV.

~Don’t tell me he’s thinking of picking me up? Nah, that’s too cliché. ~

“Just a little nervous, I’ve only flown a few times and only twice in a plane this small.” He turned on the charm.

~Then maybe it’s not. ~

“Where to, miss?”

“Hawaii with my Dad and Sister a while ago; LA and back last December.”

“LA was the charter jet then, there on business? You look like a fashion model; you’re certainly tall enough and most attractive.”

~Does he think a line like that works? ~

He was pouring it on. I caught a glimpse of the captain glancing back and shaking his head.

~It looks like he’s pulled this act before. ~

“I was on a TV show, I sing a little.” He looked confused now.

“You seem familiar, but I can’t quite place you.” He changed tactics. “That’s sure an old Harley you’ve got there. What year?”

~Ah, get the girl to talk about herself, so you can act all enthusiastic about her interests. ~

“1915 with original racing team parts; Jay got a kick riding it before the show.” His smile dropped, I think he realized he was hitting on the wrong girl.

“Jay?”

“The guy with that big network late night TV show, you’d love him. I had a great time.” I smiled sweetly. This was fun.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Joan Brown, but everybody calls me Joanie. You didn’t recognize me? Aaawh!” I pouted. “Isn’t it time you get back in the cockpit? Um, what was it you wanted to ask me?” I said with a predatory gleam in my eye.

“Sorry, I think I’m needed up front.”

~Darn, I spooked him. ~

I thought I heard the captain say something like, “I told you so.”

~Um, what did he mean by ‘up front?’ Oh! ~

* * * *
Arrived in Des Moines, unloaded, confirmed the return charter and rode off to Terrace Hill. The guard at the gate was different than the last time; she recognized me, quickly checked my ID — just to be prudent - and waived me in, smart girl. I suspect Bob had something to do with that. She must have called ahead because Mel burst out of the Mansion and ran out to greet me.

I hardly recognized her; she’d changed so much in the three months since I’d last seen her. We’d talked on the phone back in December, so I knew she was in a major growth spurt but seeing her in person was different. She was at least an inch taller than in November and developing serious curves -- this was no girl anymore.

“Joanie, oh my Ghod, you brought your motorcycle -- this is so kewl you look so pretty and well sexy -- I can say sexy can’t I, Joanie? I mean you’re my bestest friend, and all my brother will just go crazy when he sees you -- you’re just so... oh I wish I was as pretty as you.”

She was grinning widely and acting the excited girl; but I could see she’d been growing like a new born colt. She was still skinny overall but had such long legs under those tapered blue jeans she wore and her cleavage was obvious. Her face was no longer that of a child but of a young woman on the edge of adulthood. She would soon be the envy of her peers, I thought.

“Mel, let me take a look. My word you look lovely; I can’t call you a girl anymore -- you’re too much a lady now. What are you now; I mean how big are you, Mel?”

“Joanie, it’s a dream come true, I’m growing up so fast. Okay, I’m 5 foot 7 almost 8, I weigh 98 pounds and I’m almost a B cup. I wear real ladies bras and panties now, and Mom bought me some pretty ones with lace. And, Joanie, I’m a real woman now, I just had my first period. It was so messy, and I had such awful cramps and felt miserable. It was wonderful!” She gave me a big hug.

~That’s one for the books, she liked it? I knew what she meant though. ~

“Whoa, Woman, welcome to the club. I only became a tampon carrying member last August.” Mel giggled girlishly, but the pitch was lower and more teenaged than I remembered. “Your Mom gave you ‘The Talk’ Mel?”

“Oh, about not letting boys stick their penis in my vagina ‘cause I could get pregnant or sick? Mom told me that a over year ago, and Dad did again right after my you know.”

“When did you have your first one?’

“I just finished yesterday. I feel so happy I could burst, Joanie.”

“I’m happy too, just be careful please it’s your body, don’t let some smooth talker take advantage of you and trick you into sex before you’re ready. You’re so pretty already, believe me, Mel, I used to be a guy, and the old me says you’re a real fox.” Mel blushed, a blush not a giggle.

“Honest, Joanie, the old you thinks I’m hot?” she seemed a bit confused but happy.

“Not that I would ever do anything to harm you as me then or now, but yah, you’re very pretty and sexy and getting more so by the day. Knowing what your Mom and Dad look like, in a couple of years you’ll be a real stunner; you could steal my boyfriend, honest, Mel, you’re that pretty now.”

Her smile grew so wide I was afraid her head would fall off. She gave me another big hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, Joanie, you make me so happy, you really are my bestest... my best friend. Bestest is for girls, we’re ladies now, so you’re my best friend. And don’t you be mean to Eric, he may be a boy, but he’s my brother and well, I love him.”

~Where did that come from? ~

“Best friend or not, you’ll always be my bestest friend.” She smiled back at me. “Let’s go see Romeo, Mel. Don’t worry, I really do want to do to this dance with Eric; I’m not trying to play a joke on him. I think my inner girl wants to make up for what she’s missed, and Eric is a nice young man. He has to be -- he’s your brother.“

* * * *

I didn’t tell her what my inner girl wanted to do with Eric, hell I didn’t want to know. We had slowly been working our way up to the private quarters on the fourth floor when Babs showed up followed closely by Eric. Babs was starting to show seriously, her belly swollen, and her normally ample breasts grown voluptuous. Eric had changed greatly since I’d last seen him, the skinny awkward boy of September was 6 foot 1inch and145 pounds, showing signs of muscle and a more than slight bulge in his...

~Oh my! Am I having that effect on him? ~

He’d also been shaving since Christmas, Mel told me.

“Hi, Joanie, welcome to my home, how do you like my four children?” Mel and Eric gasped.

“Don’t worry, Babs, I mean your Mom, told me she’s having twins. You two will have such fun spoiling them.”

Eric spoke. “I’m so glad you came, Joanie. I had to turn down Kathryn and Diana because you asked me.”

He looked me in the eyes as he spoke, that look did things to me I had not expected. He spoke again, and the spell was broken.

“Kathryn and Diana?” I asked.

“Two of the prettiest girls in his class,” Babs said, Mel nodded her head in agreement. “But Eric said this nice girl had said yes, and he had to be faithful.”

“I’m so happy, Eric, that was very honorable. I know you’re only fourteen, but I’m glad to go to the dance with you, honest, Eric. You’re a very handsome young man you know.”

I gave him a hug. Eric blushed, but his trousers declared his true feelings. The inner girl lurking in my mind was very pleased; she and Ms. Libido conspired to hijack my brain, why else did I say what I said next?

“If you find another girl I’ll understand, but I’d like the chance to be considered, Eric.” I held his hand and kissed him lightly on the lips.

“Ththank you, Joanie, Ah... I have to go, see you later, okay?” He ran off, I think he needed relief as he moved stiffly.

“He’s all hormones now, huh, Babs?” I asked.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Babs replied.

Bits of me were getting stiff too or wet.

~Ms. Libido and my inner girl are not playing fair, damn them. ~

* * * *

I spent the rest of the day catching up with Mel on what had a happened with her and her friends. ‘The Joanie Collection’ now took up two bookcases and half her room. She been scanning the newspaper and magazine articles she’d saved and taking photos of her other Joanie stuff to up load to her web page. Her friend Lisa was helping her found an Official Joanie fan club and web site, with their mothers’ permission. I planned to give Mr. Karaoke a call after the weekend and request Warner’s cooperate with the girls or else. They were after me to do more publicity, and I kept turning them down, this might mollify them.

The last part of the afternoon I bathed then dressed in that wondrous outfit of Cecilia’s for the dance. A gold necklace, diamond earrings, matching bracelets and Mel’s silver ponytail clip from last September topped it off. A little makeup, and I was ready, I looked about 16 except for my ample chest, but I couldn’t hide that. I may have dressed fairly demure, but I knew I was still a teen’s wet dream. I hoped I wouldn’t embarrass Eric.

~Oh Ghod, I think I like him. What did I say to you, Ms. Libido, about this sort of behavior? Stay, good Libido. Inner girl, I’m watching you, behave. ~

I left my guest suite and entered the main fourth floor lobby. Babs saw me and smiled.

“That’s perfect, Joanie, Eric will be the envy of his class.”

“I hope I haven’t overdone this?”

“Don’t worry my son will love you.” I smiled at her approval.

Eric came out of his room in a spiffy sport coat, dress shirt, tie, dress slacks and shoes. He looked about 18 to me, a skinny 18, but you know.

~If he ever looks as handsome as his Dad, I’m lost. Why won’t my hormones give me a break? ~

My inner girl and Ms. Libido were giving each other high fives. Eric met me with his Mom and Dad, his parents looked at me, then he, and I saw them nod.

~Well here goes. ~

“Eric, will you do me the honor of accompanying me to the dance?” I know traditionally the boy asks the girl, but I’m not traditional.

“Mmy ppleasure, Joanie,” he croaked out in a half stutter while nervously looking me in the eyes.

~Oh my, he’s so sweet and good looking. Ghod, look at that smile, he has such dark, blue eyes, and he’s only fourteen -- what are you thinking girl? I’m going out with a fourteen year old, am I crazy? ~ Part of my mind said.

Another part said, ~Go with the flow and have fun. ~

Yet another part said, ~What a young hunk you’ve caught, woman, ride him hard and put him away wet, Gee Haw!~

I’m beginning to appreciate how Sybil felt.

* * * *

We got in a government limo, and an Iowa State trouper drove us to Eric’s school and the dance. We were quiet during the short ride -- all I remember is Babs and Bob holding hands and smiling, and Eric leaning towards me with his mouth slightly open, eyes locked on mine, the look in his reminding me of a deer in the headlights.

When we arrived, I took Eric’s arm, and we walked in. His classmates stared at us like we were royalty. When they realized who Eric was with, the kids gradually went silent. The guys looked at me with lust, and Eric with respect, even awe. The girls looked at me with envy, and at Eric like he was suddenly out of their league. Eric had just gone way up in class status.

The music started, and we didn’t care -- we just danced, Eric moved well for a guy. Being a school dance, most were ones you danced separately, no close stuff. I found myself enjoying it immensely, just letting go and living for the moment, rather like how a felt when singing. Eric impressed me, he didn’t try to show off or act like I was his girl in some possessive way. Every time I looked his way, he looked me in the eyes or looked at the whole me, he never once stared at my chest like so many of the other boys and in this dress I was impressive.

~They seem to, um ... project more than the last time I tried on this dress, and it does seem a tad tighter fit, maybe I ate more today? ~

As the evening wore on, Eric was looking better and better. We’d talked a little between dances and were both fairly comfortable with each other.

After an hour or two Eric asked, “Hungry, Joanie?”

I wasn’t terribly hungry, but he’d asked politely, and I was a little thirsty so we went and got some snacks. As we ate, I could see Eric looking me over very intensely, he spoke carefully.

“Joanie, I want to thank you again for coming. I was afraid this was a joke between you and Mel, I’m glad it’s not.” I smiled, his smile was electric.

“I’m glad too, Eric. Um... before this gets too mushy, you want to dance again?”

“Let me use the men’s room first, meet me here, okay?”

A couple bolder kids wandered over and talked with me. They knew I was friends with the Johnson family but were surprised I was Eric’s date.

“And why not, he’s a very good looking young man.” I emphasized “man.” “It’s not like I’m his girlfriend, but he’s a lot of fun to dance with. I know were both here just to dance and have fun and all, but I’m very glad I came. He’s really quite nice.”

I could feel a smile spread on my face as I thought about Eric and those eyes of his.

~Gees, did I just think of Eric in that way? He’s only fourteen, get a grip, Girl. But he’s very handsome for a young man and the way he looks at you... I have got to get some control here, my inner girl and Ms. Libido are not playing nice tonight. I need a distraction. ~

“Joanie, I couldn’t help overhear what you said to those girls. That was sweet what you said about Eric,” Babs said as walked over to me.

I suddenly felt guilty, and I realized why. “Babs, I meant what I said and it scares me. I’m glad I’m leaving town tomorrow, I’m worried I might be... well... attracted to your son. It’s this damn body of mine, I find my tastes are getting more and more like a teenage girl the longer I’m like this. What do I do, Babs?”

I was fighting back tears but wasn’t successful. Eric came back; when he saw me crying, he looked concerned.

“What’s wrong, Joanie; did someone do something to hurt you? It wasn’t me?” I cried harder, Babs spoke up as I was practically sobbing.

“No, Eric, just a female problem,” Babs explained.

Ah, the universal excuse for all occasions, remember it, girls, it’s a vital tool in your arsenal.

* * * *

“Come with me, Joanie, and we’ll get you fixed up.” She led me to a quiet women’s room, and we sat on a bench. She gave me a hug and I calmed a little. “Am I glad I’m sitting, all that standing is getting hard now with my pregnancy. Speaking of that, is it your time, Joanie? Forget again? Or is it something else?” I felt a cramp.

~Not that too? ~

“It’s both, excuse me.” I ran to a stall just in time, after a minute or so the cramp eased. “Um Babs, could I borrow an um... you know... a...?” That’s one part of being a girl I didn’t have down pat.

“Sure, I always carry some, even when it isn’t my time.”

She handed me a tampon and panty liner under the door. At least that problem was under control; I left the stall and walked to the sinks.

“You okay now, Joanie?”

“Yes and no. Thanks for the female stuff, that’s better for now. It’s me -- that’s the problem. Here I am 49 years old and think I’m falling for a fourteen year old boy.”

I started crying again. Babs sat me down and held me like a hurting daughter.

“No wonder you’re upset, between your transformation, your period and all that’s happened to you the last year, you have every right to cry. I heard about your assault at Whateley, Sara said it was only because of your mutant abilities you recovered without any physical scars, but emotionally I can see it’s still bothering you.“ I slowed to sniffles.

“Babs, he’s fourteen, it’s so wrong!” I started sobbing again.

“Joanie look at me, what do you see?”

“I... I... I see a mother in her glory. Pregnancy agrees with you.” My crying slowed.

“What else do you see?”

“Someone who should be angry with me but isn’t.” My crying stopped.

“Why should I, Joanie? You know what I see, I see a frightened young woman. I don’t think you look more than fifteen except for those gravity deifiers you’ve got.” She smiled wickedly, and I giggled.

“There’s the proof, Joanie, you even laugh like a girl. What’s the old saying, if it looks like a duck and walks like a duck and quacks like a duck it’s a duck? Joanie, you look, sound, act and even think like a girl. So you’re technically older than Eric. In a few years he’ll look as old or older than you. By the time he’s in college, he’ll look like he’s dating a high school girl if you’re still together. If you like him enjoy the feelings. Just go slow for a few years for legal reasons, but otherwise you have my blessing. Mel had the right idea; I can see you as my daughter-in-law in the not so distant future. Anyway, I’m an only child and so is Bob, John and Joan will need an aunty.”

“We’re not registering at Nordstrom’s are we, Babs?” She laughed, and I laughed, okay, I giggled — satisfied -?

“Not quite yet, Aunty Joanie, let’s get you cleaned up, Eric must be awfully worried.”

“Hell, poor Eric! Help me put myself back together; I can’t spoil his dance.”

* * * *

We came out together, we’d been in there over twenty minutes, and Eric looked worried. Then we both smiled at him, and he cheered up immediately.

“What was wrong with Joanie?” He couldn’t look me in the eyes.

~Has he been crying? How sweet. Oh Ghod, I do like him that way. ~

“Honey, you should ask Joanie yourself, just give her some time, okay? Let’s say she had some unresolved issues, and it was her time as a woman, so her emotions got the better of her.”

“It wasn’t me?” Eric asked.

“No dear, it’s rather complicated, but you did nothing to upset Joanie. In fact, she told me she really likes you.”

“Babs!”

“Mom!”

“And what’s wrong with a pretty girl liking you, Eric? Now go out there and have some fun, Kids!” Babs said half laughing, half exasperated.

I pulled myself together, and we danced. After a couple songs I was feeling pretty good, my emotions had settled down. Then the music stopped.

“Eric, I can’t say it enough, I’m glad I came tonight.”

“I’m too, Joanie.”

I grabbed his hand, leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek lightly. His face turned so red. I gave him a quick hug then broke away sticking my tongue out. My inner girl was ecstatic; Ms. Libido was behaving herself for the moment. I think I was in bouncing mode.

“Want to dance some more, Eric?” I asked, swaying ecstatically back-and-forth.

“Huh, sure but don’t we need some music?”

“Wonder why they stopped... Oh no, Eric, they wouldn’t?”

“What’s wrong, Joanie?”

“He’s what’s wrong.”

I pointed to a well dressed man I’d first seen at Mel’s birthday party. He was up front standing near the school principal and the DJ.

“Wasn’t he at Mel’s birthday party running the Karaoke machine?”

“He was and it’s worse, he’s my record producer.”

I tried to lead Eric to the back of the gym, away from the men. Too late, they’d seen me.

“Young ladies and gentlemen,” the principal said through the sound system. “We have a special treat tonight; the vice president for new talent at Warner records is with us tonight with their latest recording.” Mr. Karaoke stepped to the microphone.

“It won’t be officially released until Monday, but as the artist is here tonight,” the crowd gasped, they knew who he meant, “and won’t be attending her premier, here I am.”

~Please let there be a power failure, I’ve been a good girl, mostly. ~

“I’m so sorry, Eric, I didn’t know.” I said burying my face in my hands.

“It’s okay, Joanie,” he said grabbing both hands and smiling.

~Oh, that smile does things to me. Thank Ghod I’m having my time, otherwise...~

My inner girl and Ms. Libido were doing ‘the wave.’

“Most of the songs were recorded during her recent appearance on late night TV. I’m sure this will be another hit for her,” said Mr. Karaoke, I wanted to hide. “Without further ado, here’s the premier of our latest release, ‘Time has Come Again’; let’s listen to Joanie,” he said the evil word, my name. I wanted to die.

“Eric, this was supposed to be your night, I’m so sorry.” I was close to tears.

“What are you sorry for, Joanie, this is way kewl!”

~Oh dear, it’s genetic. ~

“Mel will have a fit when she learns I was at your record premier, and she wasn’t.”

~Well that wasn’t what I expected. ~

They played the whole album straight though; I was very confused. I was upset at Warners for disturbing the dance, yet the kids loved it. They were dancing and listing and having a great time. Many came and told me how much they liked it. I was forced to admit I did have some serious talent, and that made me happy and sad all at once.

Lastly Eric was dancing and enjoying the music, but mostly he was enjoying being with me. The look on his face and in his eyes was both frightening and flattering, I think he realized that he did have a chance with the tall, pretty girl, and he got serious about it. It was late; the dance would end in half an hour when my producer went up to the microphone.

“Wasn’t that great?” They applauded loudly, I was embarrassed and elated. “There is one last song on the album, but as she is here tonight, how about we ask Joanie to sing it live?”

I hid behind Eric, none too successfully with all that bright hair of mine giving my position away like a hunters blaze orange coat. Eric escorted me to the front.

“Eric, no, please!” I pleaded.

“It’ll be okay, Joanie, sing for me, please.” That I couldn’t refuse.

~Those eyes of his again, damn. ~

My inner girl and Ms. Libido started doing the rumba, naked. I was merely terrified.

The record people wanted some more recent material on this recording so I sung the Shania Twain hit, ‘Man! I feel like a Woman.’ Mr. Karaoke had a special disc along with just the music and backing vocals, essentially a Karaoke disc, he cued it up and handed me a wireless mic. After the first line, I calmed down and got into “Joanie” mode. When I finished, it was like at Mel’s birthday party — dead silence - then the kids mobbed me.

~Oh Ghod, I think I have another hit, crap! ~

* * * *

In the limo on the way back to Terrace Hill, we were quiet again. Babs was exhausted, Bob let her rest against him. They were so very much in love and looked so happy. I decided to go for it; I closed my eyes and slowly leaned against Eric. It felt so good and right some how. Eric grabbed my hand and gently held it; already it was bigger than mine. I wondered about the future, but for now I just savored the moment.

“Joanie,” he whispered in my ear. “Are you my girlfriend?”

“Maybe, Eric, maybe I am at that. Be patient.” He put his arm around me, his hand brushing a breast. I didn’t think it was an accident. “What did I say, Eric?” I pouted.

“Be patient?”

“Yes, Eric.” I placed my hand over the back of his moving it to my breast then I gently squeezed the back of his hand, thus indirectly squeezing my own breast. Then I broke away and sat up.

“That’s as far as we go for now, okay?”

The look on his face was priceless; you would have thought he’d won the lottery. Just before I left Sunday afternoon I talked with Eric in private and gave him some kissing lessons, he was an apt pupil.

~I wonder, is he the one? ~

* * * *

February 18, 2007, 7PM EDT, Twain Hall, Whateley Academy

“Greasy, these pics are great, and she’s fully clothed, imagine what a naked photo of her would be like”

“What are you on about?”

“The first entries in our win a deluxe large pizza with the works for the ‘most interesting‘ photo of Joanie and Ms. Luther -- these of Joanie in bib overalls are so hot, they’re smokn’.”

“Fully clothed can’t be very...” Greasy’s jaw dropped when he saw the photo Pepper held. “Damn, that’s scorching!”

“I told you this was a goldmine, and she can’t complain because she chose to wear that outfit in public. The way it clings to her figure is inspiring -- Kerrist, you can see her nipples in this shot.”

Peeper’s head was spinning with thoughts of profit. Greasy tugged on his arm to get his attention.

“Peeper, you think that’s good, look at this holographic image someone took during her morning run the other day. Look at the profile, then rotate around to the front.” Peeper’s face started to twitch.

“My Ghod, the expression on her face, she looks like she’s having an orgasm: talk about your runner’s high. We have got to get these two printed right away. We’ll charge $39.95 for the 24x36 and $59.95 for the life-size, $20 dollars more for each of the holographic ones. Get our contacts in the print shop and photo lab to make 200 of the small and 100 of the large of each. Wait ‘til we get some of Luther.” Greasy would do as Peeper asked, but he felt uneasy. “Tell them to title the hologram ‘Joanie: Runner’s high!’ and the photo ‘Joanie: Denim dreams!’”

“Not ‘Oshkosh My Gosh!’, ‘Drool time!’, ‘The Milk Maid Cometh?’” Greasy said.

“Don’t be sarcastic, Greasy; we have an image to uphold.” Greasy rolled his eyes discretely.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 10/06/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 11

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie contemplates the implications of the school dance with Eric. She and Security Officer Lex risk "baring all" to defeat Peeper's latest fundraising plan and learn a lot about each other in the process. Joanie meets a troubled mutant and tries to help her, while she prepares to frame Joanie in a manner most foul.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

I’m fairly new at writing TG/sci-fi but I’m starting to get the hang of it. Constructive criticism and advice is encouraged. 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 is 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, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control. This space for rent.

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter 11- The pepperoni hits the fan: Revenge of the Blonde, Pinky 4

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, February 18-20, 2007

February 18, 2007 7:30PM

Quick note to d/j/w; returned from Iowa relatively unscathed other that I apparently have a boyfriend. Well color me surprised! May have more later; I better grab something to eat before the cafeteria closes.

* * * *
“What am I gonna tell Dad? This is one conversation I am not prepared for.”

How do you tell a parent you’re dating a boy 35 years your junior? I can scarcely believe it myself.

“Talking to yourself again, Joan?”

“Oh hi, Lex. Can you sit and talk or are you on duty? Guessing from the jeans, blouse, jacket over your shoulder and trainers, you’re not, unless you’re undercover. If you are, I’d rethink my story. Even in that getup no one would believe you’re a student. Maybe Miss April, here on a photo shoot - ‘Playboy’s Guide to College Prep Schools,’ - but a high school student, never.” Lex smiled.

~Was that a hint of sadness behind her smile, I wonder? She’s been so helpful with my training; I wish I could help her. ~

“I was checking the duty roster for the week and saw you on the CCTV. WE have a problem. It’s nothing you’re not used to, but personally I’m pissed. Take a look at this.” Lex unrolled a huge poster covering most of my table.

~It can’t be? ~

“Lex, that’s you? I said you’re good looking but I was wrong, that’s the body of a goddess. Admittedly you’re wet and climbing out of the pool but it is a one-piece and does cover you pret...”

I stopped as I noticed details I’d missed at first glance; I looked more closely at the poster.

“The pool was cold again, wasn’t it? The goose bumps are kinda sexy, girl. As to your twin glass cutters, Wow! I can see why you’re upset. Still, it’s just a poster, and you are clothed; I put up with this everyday.”

Lex was painfully shy about her body at times; a body that made mine look like a doormat, a cute and sexy doormat, mind you. Curse her and her elegant fashion model looks.

“Then you won’t mind having this holographic one plastered throughout the dorms.” She grinned ferally as she unrolled another life-size poster of this totally hot teenaged babe running, chest jutting forward, her face...

“I look like I’m... Who’s responsible? I’ll Kill Him!” Lex was laughing so hard she started coughing. I soon joined in. “Where’d you get these?”

“P & G.”

“Procter & Gamble?” I said trying not to laugh.

“Peeper and Greasy, Ms. Loony Toons. A student in one of our law enforcement courses bought them, Steel Lotus. I think she’s a Poevian,” Lex said mischievously. I giggled. “She didn’t have the cash to buy all three in life size.”

“Three?”

“She’s says they had one of you in bib overalls that positively sizzled, but that was another $59.95. Uh, sorry, Joanie, but she wants them back.” She smiled nervously at me.

“I thought I heard a camera clicking that day, though I’ve only myself to blame for any, um visual effects. I didn’t wear a normal bra because Ms. Carson said to be prepared to get dirty. I didn’t relish the idea of dirt getting stuck in the lace so I wore this stretchy lycra thing that pretends to be a bra. At least I wore normal panties; I’m not into going ‘commando’, if that’s the proper phrase. You’re right that I’m used to seeing sexy posters of myself, but those are under my recording contract, in good taste, and I get a cut of the profits.

“Question is how do we show our collective displeasure with these unauthorized ones without overreacting?” Lex nodded, I continued. “I admit that hologram is a sexy pose, but I would never agree to one with that expression, too close to porn for my tastes.”

~If I ever do get serious with this boyfriend business, I think Eric would like this one. ~

“It’s not the money, I’ve got loads of it. It’s that someone is doing this without our say-so that I find objectionable. I can’t help it I look like this, and neither can you, Lex, but that doesn’t mean Peeper or others can use our image for profit against our wishes. You’re the expert here on search and seizure; am I right in thinking we can raid their dorm room without a warrant seeing as they’re on a private campus and underage? Not that I advocate this, the potential problems are manyfold, it’s just a possibility,” I explained.

“I’d love to put him out of business, but even authorized raids would only delay things and make any unseized materials all the more valuable. They weren’t specifically forbidden to do this, just the malicious radio broadcasts. The student code of conduct could be used, but traditionally Whateley gives the students a lot of leeway, so I have my doubts. Scare tactics would only encourage them. I’m sure I can come up with something that will stick, but it’s not easy, Joanie,” Lex confessed.

“I’d love it by-the-book, too, but just don’t see it. I think our best move is to show them it’s to our mutual benefit they find another way to make a buck.”

An idea formed in my head as a wicked smile grew on my face. I’ve seen it in the mirror; you don’t want to be the target of it.

“What ‘ya thinking of, Joanie? You have that look on your face again, and would you point it another way; it worries me. And please keep that away from babies and the elderly.”

“You’ve read P. J. Wodehouse, I’m impressed. I think I have a plan, but it will take a sacrifice on our parts for this to work. We need bait and, baby, we’re it.”

“I’m not going to like it?” Lex asked.

“You’re self-conscious about your looks; I can’t see why, you’re gorgeous, but I was shy when I was a man, so I can sympathize.”

Lex looked shocked for a moment -- that was odd because she knew of my origins, at least the sanitized version.

“We need to be seen together running and working out in the scantiest outfits regulations allow in our station as staff. That means figure flattering sport tops or bras, not the breast squishing variety. Short, tight, running shorts or body suits and the most feminine running shoes and socks we can stand. I'm torn between a ponytail/braid and letting our hair loose. Oh, and we’ll need to tart our makeup up a notch.”

“Makeup, I don’t know, Joanie.”

“I said it would take some sacrifice. You look fine without it but would look so much better with even a modest application -- remember we’re bait. We’ll stop Peeper but in a way that doesn’t make us look like ogres. With luck he’ll be so embarrassed he’ll never bother us again. Sorry, Lex, but this action calls for our big guns,” I said giving my breasts a lift. “We prove to the student body that Security can take a joke, and maybe it helps you get comfortable with your looks. I don’t know why you’re so self-conscious, but if you ever want to talk, I’m an expert with being uncomfortable with one’s appearance. Fortunately, I got over the worst of it soon after my mutation, but even now I get embarrassed when people say I’m beautiful.” Lex was surprised by my answer.

“You’re self-conscious? You were in People Magazine's top 25 most beautiful women in America for 2006, in the top ten just above J-Lo.”

“I was? Missed it, I was kinda busy back then,” I replied.

That was true. I was concentrating so hard on getting trained for my security duties and learning the paper work behind teaching, I’d missed seeing most of the end of the year best of, worst of lists.

“I was in the top ten, and I’d only been in the public eye less than four months? I’m dreading 2007, what if I slip, I’ll be mortified!”

“I’m glad you’re taking this so well., That was the overall poll, and you were number six by the way.”

“I’m not a number, I’m a free man, um correction, woman,” I said, paraphrasing Number Six from The Prisoner.

“Be serious for once, Joanie.” I giggled in response, and I didn’t mean to, honest. “Okay, that does it; you were number one in their poll of new celebrities. You were number one in all three newbie women categories, best known, most admired and most attractive new female in America,” Lex said rapidly.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about here. I’ve learned my appearance is a blessing and a curse. My youthful good looks,” Lex frowned and shook her head, “Okay my jailbait bod,” she nodded, “is an asset and liability.”

“You’re repeating yourself, Joanie, get to the point, girl.”

“Lex, remember, I’m 49 not 16 -- don’t be patronizing. I’d swear you’re a thirty-something guy rather than a twenty year old girl the way you talk at times, and that’s exactly my problem -- people don’t take me serious looking as I do. That’s also my big advantage, people don’t take me serious. You’ve heard of ‘dress for success?’ I’m proof of that. Unless I dress just so, I look like I’m in high school or a high-class call girl. It’s a very narrow and blurry line that divides the two.

“The ‘Joanie’ leather look is a deliberate attempt to get away from my school girl image; the trouble is it pushes my already high sexual quotient into the stratosphere. This all works to my advantage when people underestimate what I’m capable of, and a pretty face and sexy voice do open doors. It’s not easy, but I have to use what I have and not go around bemoaning what I lack. Your looks are an asset. Use them responsibly, don’t deny them, my young disciple. Help you I can., A help to me have you been.”

“Who are you, the Emperor or Yoda?” Lex laughed nervously. “I’ll consider your offer, Joanie. But getting back to your plan, how does dressing up like girls at cheerleader camp help us trap Peeper?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet, but I thought it be fun to get you get you into that outfit.” Then I giggled. “Had you going there, remember I’m not a blonde, I only play one on television.” Lex let out a soft moan. “It’s easy, we’ll either attract a flood of photographers, is that what you call a group of them?”

“Joanie!”

“Sorry, just trying to take your mind off the scanty attire. If it makes you feel any better, I’ll take my top off.” I reached behind me and removed my ponytail clip. “Oh, that feels so good.” Lex broke up.

“See what I mean, Peeper doesn’t stand a chance as he’ll underestimate us. There are advantages to acting the ditzy blonde. We either put the squeeze on the photographers we flush, or we may nab the big fish himself. As I understand it, Peeper, if anything, is greedy. Why pay others to do what you can do for yourself? When he does, we’ve got him. Oh, he’ll get his photos, nothing too raunchy, but he won’t make anything on the deal. The Whateley Scholarship fund can always use a few extra bucks, and he will donate generously. You know what we’re talking about here, blackmail.” I flashed a predatory grin and Lex laughed delightfully.

“William Demarest in ’It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World’, Joanie?”

“There’s hope for you yet, Lex.”

~How a girl with her looks and sense of humor can be so uncomfortable with her appearance and sexually is a mystery. Maybe I should ask Officer O’Brian -- with the exception of Chief Delarose he’s the only guy she seems comfortable with and he never makes jokes or lewd comments about her lesbianism or looks. There’s some connection between them that goes way back, I wish I knew what it was. I’d swear they’re best buds, brother and sister or something? ~

“How soon can you get the running costume together?” I asked.

“I have most of it already except for the ‘Wonder Jogging Bra’. I have regular cross-trainers, but I suppose I could get some in, Ghods, pink, or buy some lacy ankle socks. I can be ready by the day after tomorrow.”

“Don’t be so enthusiastic, Lex. Seriously, we gals have got to stick together against the menace of police haircuts. I’ll hand it to you, it takes guts to buck the trend and keep your hair that long as an officer. I’m auxiliary, so I don’t have the pressure to conform. I doubt I’d cut it even if ordered, the ex-bald guy in me loves it too much despite all the hassles. It’s a pain at times, but it looks so good. Give me a moment to run my fingers through my hair then toss my head like in those shampoo commercials.” I giggled and smiled at Lex. She got this serious, almost sad look on her face. ”What’s wrong, Lex. I’m just easing the tension, I didn’t mean to offend.”

“I cut it to shoulder length once, but it didn’t work out.”

“It didn’t, why? You must have looked sharp. Why’d you let it grow out?”

“No choice“, she said almost bitterly. “It grew back overnight, made my scalp itch like crazy.”

Lex had just made a major confession to me. I took her hands in mine and gave her my warmest smile.

“You’re a regen like me? I’m so honored you chose to confide this.”

Lex knew I was a high level regen, so did much of the campus as a result of my assault.

“I’m a low level, I don’t have the speed of your recovery, but the effect is much the same. I’m stuck looking like this for the indefinite future or until the magic runs down if it ever does. My regen's due to magic not mutation, but they did give me the full Xavier test. I may tell you the rest some day,” she said quietly.

“That’s a thought, Lex, never tried cutting mine, don’t know what would happen if I did. If you ever want to talk about any of it, this kind of secret I can keep.”

“I’ll consider it. It’s just I... I don’t make friends easily,” she said hesitantly.

“You? You’ve been the nicest of anyone in security including Chief Delarose, and you have trouble making friends?”

“It’s not easy to explain.”

“When you feel comfortable with it tell me, no pressure, Lex. If it helps, I’ll tell you about me. There’s things not even Dr. Sara back in Madison knows, and she’s practically my mother. One day I should tell you about her time here as a student, I get the impression from Ms. Carson that our Belle is following in Ms. Grobeschmitdt’s footsteps.”

“Sara Grobeschmidt is your doctor? There are a half dozen large storage boxes dedicated to her file in the security archives. She’s the only one to ever get Ms. Carson and not get in trouble.” Lex made the sign of the cross. “Be gone from my sight, devil’s spawn.”

“Huh?”

“You are her protégé, aren’t you, Joanie?”

“Come to think of I am. Lex, come to the dork side of the Force.” I know that gags been done to death, but I couldn’t resist. “That reminds me, I need to see if the latest issue of ‘Of Masks and Marvels’ is in, I love Lady Lighting. See you 7AM sharp the day after tomorrow outside of Security.”

“Make that outside of Poe with the outfits we’re wearing.”

“Damn and I wanted to show off my pink bikini to Delarose.”

“In February? Joanie!” Lex looked peeved but was snickering. I faked slapping her with a pair of gloves.

“February 20th, 7AM outside Poe Hall and bring your second. No one insults my pink bikini.”

“What are you on about?”

“It’s traditional in a dual, you know bristols at dawn?” Lex let out a moan.

“That was the worst pun I have heard in ages.” She rolled up the posters. “You don’t stand a chance girl despite your big guns; I’ll give to the evil eye.”

“This looks like the start of a beautiful friendship. In two days then, Lex.”

* * * *

February 19, 2007 7:35AM

Dear d/j/w, still sorting out my feelings about the dance and Eric. What surprised me most was how fast it happened, how quickly he went from brother of my best friend to “I wonder what he’s like in bed and what would our kids look like?” I am such a hopeless romantic, but isn’t that what the teen years are supposed to be like, a time for experimentation and growth? Maybe a good workout will help flush the flowers and butterflies out of my mind.

A few days ago a freshman, Pinky Conners, approached me and asked if we could talk. She’s classified as a shape-shifter or were as in werewolf though in her case she’s a were-boy or more accurately a were-hermaphrodite; she switches between her original female form and a hermaphroditic male on alternate months. Poor kid’s having a hard time, heard I’m an MtF transgender, and figured I could help.

I met with her later that day, and if half of what she says is true, I’m amazed she hasn’t killed herself. She’s scared of doctors, given how she was mistreated after her mutation.; I don’t have all the details yet, but she says she was molested, maybe raped, but no one would believe her and especially so as a mutant. She heard I like to run and has offered to run with me in the mornings, so we can get to know each other better; I’m meeting her in a few minutes. I’m embarrassed to admit but ever since my on-campus assault I’m a bit paranoid about my safety so I’ve asked Security to quietly check out Ms. Conners background to be sure. It’s a typical February morning, so it’s the lycra/spandex cool weather running suit today, sorry leather.

* * * *

“Morning, Pinky. I take it the offer stands? That is just the cutest workout outfit you have, I feel under dressed somehow. What is that called; it looks like a cross between a tennis dress and a girl’s track outfit. I like the coordinated head band, leg warmers and tights, very stylish,” I said.

I had a sport bra with extra wide straps under my bodysuit, necessary to minimize the jiggling of my puppies, not that they’ll ever sag given my regen and exemplar powers but the bouncing is distracting and then some.

~Oooh yesss! ~

I have enough to deal with without excessive nipple stimulation added to the mix. Between the sport bra, bodysuit, soft nylon running shorts and trainers, I felt a bit trashy in comparison and said as much.

“You look pretty, Ms. Brown. Your outfit suits you.”

“What did I say when we met, Pinky?”

“Joanie, sorry, but you’re Whateley staff and my Aunt A... Auntie says to always treat those in authority with respect.”

~Aunt? ~ Alarm bells went off in my mind.

“Who’s your aunt, Pinky?” Pinky looked worried, like she’d said something she shouldn’t.

“She doesn’t like me to say, she’s very private, says it’s a family matter. My aunt is a strong believer in proper behavior and not airing your laundry in public.”

~Pinky looks nervous. Gees, did I scare the girl? Smart going, Ms. Sensitive. ~

“Family is family; I’m protective of my own, too. It’s since the assault on me and the smear campaign I’m a bit paranoid at the moment, sorry, Pinky.”

She seemed better, we stretched and slowly worked up to a good run, not that I needed it but I felt relaxed and alive afterward.

“How come you’re not sweating, Joanie?” I was barely damp.

“The doctors say it’s ‘cause I’m a high level regen and a warper, I rarely get tired either, it’s pretty weird. You could use a good shower, that’s a fair sweat you’ve worked up, but it looks good on you, real healthy.”

Pinky blushed then bent over to retie her shoelaces.

~Wow, that is one fine as... Joanie, stop staring at her tush, no matter how sexy it is -- behave your self. ~

“Pinky, word of advice, don’t bend over like that in a skirt. Ghod knows how often my friends at MSG pounded that into my head after my transformation. You flashed your buns at me; a boy might get the wrong idea.”

“I’m sorry, Joanie, I just feel so safe and comfortable around you. I didn’t think.” She gave me a hug and a peck on the cheek.

~Sweet. ~

“I hope I wasn’t being forward there, it’s just that I like you, and I’m bi, or at least I was until I mutated, and that much hasn’t changed.” She smiled and ran off.

That last bit confused me, was she coming on or just sharing a secret?

* * * *

“That went well”, she said to herself. “Thought I’d thought I’d blown it when I mentioned my aunt. Good thing she didn’t press it; Joanie is way too trusting. If I do this right, she’ll be ready in time for my change, and if I play the ‘poor, suffering mutant,’ I think she’ll consent to sex with me to ‘prove’ its not so bad being that ‘thing.’ The moment she does, I’ve got her. A quick swallow of some vodka dosed with a tranquilizer and Viagra, and those carefully hidden police handcuffs to make it look like she trapped and drugged me, and she’ll be charged with rape. If she won’t agree to sex, I have another method.”

A cruel smile grew on her face as she handled the bottle she stole from a chemistry supply room. For a moment she suddenly seemed sad and embarrassed as she struggled with her thoughts.

“That kind, innocent act doesn’t fool me; she can’t really care how I feel. Don’t fall for it, Pinky, you owe it to the Alphas and your aunt. Stick to it girl, don’t turn all soft and believe that crap she spouts,” she said to her self quietly, trying to fight off the nagging doubts sneaking in that, maybe, Joanie was on the level. “No ones helped me since this curse happened; certainly not that sick doctor back home who molested both mes, claiming it was therapy. No one believed me, not even my ‘loving’ parents, the fuckin’ cops did nothing. This Joanie is just the same; all adults are except for my aunt,” Pinky said with venom.

* * * *

February 20, 2007 6:55AM

Dear d/j/w; Operation “Jeepers Creepers” starts in five minutes. Peeper won’t know what hit him. To hell with the hair clips or braids today, time to let it fly. If they get the right angle to the sun, maybe backlit, it should make for one hell of a picture.

* * * *

“On time as usual, Lex, why the sweats, it’s much too warm out for those? She could see my bare legs from under warm-up jacket.

“I’m not comfortable showing as much skin as you, Joanie, at least until I’m working out hard. And even as warm as it’s been this winter, it’s barely above freezing.”

“We’re doing some of our running inside, Lex; up and down the stairs in Kane, mostly. Plus, once we get going hard, we’ll generate our own heat. When I said I was wearing a bikini, I wasn’t far from the truth.” I open the jacket to reveal a skimpy sport bra and running shorts combo. “Don’t worry, cold doesn’t bother me as much since my mutation. the regen I think.” I gave her an evil grin. “Is Dave ready manning the sensors and CCTV like I asked?”

I knew she trusted him to do his duty and not get distracted by us babes --not that he didn’t notice. I wonder, if they’re not an ‘item’, would he be interested?

~Dave’s such a hunk. Ms. Libido, go back to lusting over fourteen year olds, it’s healthier. I’ve seen Lex on the shooting range with that Cobra 400 linear accelerator pistol. ~

“He’s recording everything. Now that we know what to look for and where, we should catch them in the act. A pity the previous photographers didn’t show up on camera,” Lex sighed.

“Well, the one of you coming out of the pool must have been shot out the boys’ locker-room door, no cameras in there. The shot of me running, given the angle that the sun’s striking me and the time of day, was probably done with a telephoto from the edge of the woods. The bib overalls shot has too many people walking around to tell. This time we’re controlling the time and conditions. We’re at Kane now; time to take off the sweats.” Her outfit was nearly as daring as mine. Pity she had wanted to hide it. “Now that’s what I call bait; do all the girls in your family look like you, Lex?” Lex looked sad despite her smile.

“Mom and Sis are quite attractive; I came by my looks later in life.” She seemed almost bitter.

“That explains a lot, the proverbial late bloomer. You must have been teased mercilessly in school to feel so uncomfortable now.” Lex winced.

“I got along better with most girls back then.”

“Ah, but you weren’t a rival for their boyfriends’ attention before you bloomed. Sorry, I know you prefer women. Before we run, any questions?” Lex’s mood brightened dangerously.

“Just one, what is it you can’t tell your Dad?”

Lex looked much happier now, I was squirming. I could see a twinkle in her good eye. I knew not to look in the other one. I was less affected than most, but it still disturbed me. She had contacts that hid the problem and made her look great but she often wore the eye patch as she said it was more comfortable and how does she put it, ‘to remember’ what ever that means.

“Fair is fair, I suppose. A secret for your secret from the other day. That dance I went to over the weekend.”

“In Iowa, I remember you talking about it. So?”

“I sort of left there with a boyfriend.” I buried my face in my hands in embarrassment.

“You have a boyfriend?” Lex’s eyebrows rose and her eye went wide. “You mean, Eric Johnson, the Governor’s son? What is he, 16?”

“Fourteen.“ I covered my face again. Lex started laughing so hard tears were running down her cheeks. “What the?” I nearly shouted as she slowly stopped laughing.

“Sorry, it struck me, Joanie the 49 year old perpetual jail bait is dating jail bait.” She got this odd look on her face. “So how far did you two go?”

“Hey, he’s fourteen. I maybe permanently in the throws of puberty, but I’m not an idiot. All we did was hug and kiss.”

“Tongue?”

“A little.”

“Okay, safe at first base. Anything else?”

“He got to squeeze my breast once, from outside my dress with my hand on his.”

“Stranded between first and second, you’re okay.”

“I was lucky my period started, his parents were there, and I knew his age -- if he’d been eighteen,” I sighed.

“Home run?”

“With bases loaded to win the World Series, complete with fireworks. I’d have spread my legs so fast his head would still be spinning. 49 years of frustration and a 17 year old girl’s libido are a volatile combination. Ghods, I’m getting wet just talking about him. Maybe I’m in love with the idea of being in love, whatever the reason, I’ve got it bad.”

“I’ve seen photos of him. I don’t blame your 17 year old body, he’s very handsome.” She gave me a sympathetic look.

“Enough of my foibles, it’s time we were trolling for big mouth Peeper.”

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 10/30/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 12

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie brings out her big guns to defeat Peeper. The poster pizza promotion takes off. A homesick Joanie contacts her dad and learns more about Lex while her team plots Peeper's demise. Joanie learns consciousness and chloroform don't mix.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

I started writing this TG/sci-fi in the sping 2005 but only first posted anything as of Christmas 2005. I’m getting much better at it, honest. Your constructive criticism and advice helps. 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, 2005-2006. See my agents 86 and 99 of Control.”It’s Kaos to use anyone else.”

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter12- Revenge of the Blonde 2, Hi Daddy, Pinky 5

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, February 20-March 02, 2007

February 20, 2007 7:10AM

“Ah, Joanie, not that it doesn’t suit you, but are you sure it’s safe to run in that top? It’s a sports-bra top and fine for most girls, but with your... assets, isn’t that temping fate?”

“I am showing a lot of cleavage, aren’t I? I said we’re bait.” I flashed an evil grin.

“Joanie, not only can I see way down — whoa! -- but so much is trying to come out to play. I’ve seen corseted women in historical dramas with less breast flesh pushing up, out and over. I didn’t know they made pushup demi-cup sport-bras. No way they’ll stay in the cups -- you planning on flashing them?”

“It’s an illusion,” Lex stared at me.”

“It’s all me. It’s the way this is cut. There’s a special coating in the cups that’s heat activated. My breasts are essentially glued in. A splash of cold water, and they’ll come right off, and I’ve no plans to enter a wet T-shirt contest. Sorry to disappoint you.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a contest, you’d win hands down and embarrassing bulges up.”

“I don’t know, Lex. Lots of guys go for the curvy but streamlined fashion model look you’ve got. My proportions are a little extreme, not quite as cartoonish as Little Annie Fanny, but close. I dread what I’ll look like during pregnancy.”

“But, you said you hadn’t had, um, sex?”

“I’m just thinking of the future. I do want a family, but not for some time yet. Call me old fashioned... Yes, I know I’m 49, but I want to wait for Mr. Right, not Mr. Right Now, however tempting. I may change my mind and play the field, but I doubt I’d be comfortable with it unless it’s really big and... ”

“Joanie, lets start running before you get any sillier.”

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m in a really good mood I guess. Did I tell you how tall Eric’s getting and how big his hands are. You know what they say about the size of a man’s hands and his...?”

I giggled, Lex rolled her eye, and we started running. First up and down Kane Hall tower; good thing Sam was on duty. We made a lot of noise tromping on the spiral stair. Waking sleeping ex-special ops personnel can be hazardous to your health. Once we were warmed up, we ran outside as much as possible, then ducked into buildings to run their stairs and halls to warm up. We ran for a good hour, gradually faster and faster until I was almost at a sprint. Still, Lex kept up. Oh, she was sweating plenty and breathing a little hard, but she held her own. I motioned for us to slow down and we took several cool down laps then walked back into Kane.

“Let’s get a drink from that bubbler.”

“Bubbler?”

“It’s old Milwaukee slang for a drinking fountain, something to do with a popular street model the Kohler people used to make; they’re all in museums now. You sure you’re a low level regen? The way you kept up with me I would expect you’re a mid to high level and an exemplar 2 or 3 like me?” We stretched and walked around in Kane to finish our cool down.

“Remember, I said my abilities are mostly due to magic, not mutation. That’s all I can tell you for now ,Joanie.”

“As I said before, I’m honored you trust me that much. I’d like you to meet my dad, I’m trying to persuade him to come to Whateley and visit while he’s healthy. He’s 80 now, and I miss him. I’d like to visit him, but if I stop by the old neighborhood too often, someone will catch on, and he’ll be at risk.”

“He knows?”

“I was his son for 48 years; how could I not tell him? I’ll admit it took a couple of months and my sister breaking the ice before I could. He’s cool with it now. It’s just I look and sound a lot like my Mom did at this age, and it brings up memories for him. I wish she’d lived long enough to see the new me.”

I had to sit down, I was crying so hard. Lex tried to comfort me.

“You miss her that bad, Joanie?”

All I could do was nod. She held me tight like a sister as I sobbed. After some time I composed myself.

“Better now?” I squeezed her hand in thanks. “Word in the department is you can time travel. Why not visit her?”

“I already did and nearly was a disaster.” I sniffled. “I was partway into my mutation when my time travel powers kicked in and took me to nine months before I was born. I walked straight into my mother, yet here I am, Ms. Time Travel Paradox in the flesh. It’s these same warper time powers that made me a girl and a regen. It’s too dangerous to try and see her; I was lucky I wasn’t caught in a loop in time by preventing my being born and then never traveling back to prevent it and so on. That’s one of the milder possibilities. I suppose I could view her from a distance but that would be too painful; I’d want to go and warn her about the cancers to save her and my older sister’s life, but I can’t. Those damn time paradoxes. It’s so frustrating. I do what I can financially for my sister and dad but I can’t be seen with my old family, or they’re kidnap targets and worse. The kinds of powers I have are too tempting to the unscrupulous. My regen alone is worth billions if they can ‘harvest’ me for its secrets.”

“All that power and you can’t help your family. I’m sorry.”

“I’m coming to terms with it. Just give me a hug, okay? This will pass, and I’ll be myself soon.” I smiled as she gave me a reassuring squeeze.

* * * *
February 22, 2007 8:10PM, Twain Hall

“Greasy, how many did we sell so far? I need to know if I should order reprints.”

“I sold 155 of the ‘Denim Dreams’ poster, all but six of the life-size, the ‘Runner’s High’ are sold out in both sizes, and the life size were eighty bucks a pop! The last couple I sold for 125 each because some kids bid against each other.”

“The guys really wanted that one, great.”

“It was a group of girls from Dickenson; they bought the last twenty life-size, I could have sold another dozen easy. Those lesbians were drooling over them.” Peeper had to force himself not to laugh, he was so giddy with thoughts of profit. “’Susan Alexis Luther: Wet Dreams’ is sold out in the poster, and we’re down to three dozen of the life—size, boss. The only reason we didn’t sell everything is some of the kids didn’t have enough cash on them and the ATM was down. I’ve got fifty on a list who want me to come back tomorrow.”

“This is better than I hoped. My contacts are ready for similar orders on each these new ones. I’ll have them do a half order on the first three as well. Look at these, Greasy. This backlit shot of Belle shows off her legs and hair, I’m thinking of calling it ‘Belle: Bewitching.’ I thought of ‘Belle of the Ball’, but you know how tough that E.E. Nail, Nal, whatever is -- makes the Tolkien Estate look tame. I’ve got several worthy shots of Team Kimba. This one of Tennyo and Sam’s a go.”

At the mention of Tennyo, Greasy flinched, at the mention of Sam, a nervous tick began.

“Have you gone nuts? That’s Officer Everheart, I seen her lift a truck in the air like it’s nothing, and she’s an expert shot. Rumor has it she’s an ex-sniper, maybe even a mutated Navy Seal. Tennyo with her powers and temper, remember what she did to range three last year? You’d stand a better chance of survival lying on a beach blanket on Enewetak Atoll when they set off ‘Mike’. ‘He’ was only eleven megatons — okay, 10.4, so I exaggerated.“

“Greasy, we’re in the clear on this. It was shot during a self-defense exhibition. It’s not like someone snuck up on them. They’re each in a gi but the pose leaves no doubt they’re babes. I’m calling it ‘Billie and Samantha: Dangerous Damsels.’” Greasy felt sick. “Cheer up. This is the best one yet, unless we get some shower shots. I’m doubling the numbers for this one, it’s another holographic image of Joanie and Lex running in the morning, hair flying in the breeze, muscles flexing, breasts trying to escape their confinement and looks of total joy on their faces. I’m thinking ‘Joanie and Susan Alexis: Dawn Patrol’. I’m so clever.” Greasy rolled his eyes not sure whether to celebrate their good fortune or prepare for their doom.

* * * *
February 25, 2007 10:10PM

Dear d/j/w, met with Lex, Dave O’Brian and the Anderson twins at their rooms with Dr. Bellows. Lex was very uncomfortable when I told her they were empath/telepaths, but after some time I convinced her they could be trusted as they were good friends of the doctor and me. We’d need their talents to help catch Peeper, and this was the closest place to meet off campus and thus undetected. I told her everything that had happened between the twins and me, slowly wearing her down then I came with the clincher.

“Lex, I’d trust these two with my life, and you know Doctor Bellows is a good man -- he’d never take them on as tenants if he didn’t trust them. They’re even helping Dr. Bellows in exploring my other talents.”

“Other talents, Joanie, you’re a regen, exemplar and warper of the subclass time sensitive/manipulator and possible precog. Isn’t that enough, greedy girl? I thought warper powers tend to be narrow in scope?”

“That’s usually true, I’m an exception to the rule, but in my case all these powers appear to be related to my warper abilities. You’ve heard of package deal psychics? I’m the world’s first package deal warper or as close to it as there’s ever likely to be. It’s not like I had a say in this, Lex, I’m an empath/telepath too.” She looked at me like I’d stuck a dagger in her heart.

“Give me a moment, I...”

Lex was agitated, almost angry for a fraction of a second but quickly regained her control. If I hadn’t been looking her in the eye, I wouldn’t have seen it. After a minute she spoke.

“Understand, Joanie, it’s not that I can’t work with people who have those powers, it just, um... it bothers me. I had a bad experience once, very bad.” Lex appeared conflicted but stayed professional -- I’ll give her that.

“Lex, if I’d known you distrusted empaths and telepaths this much, I’d have told you the day we met, I’ll not lie to a friend. I’m a passive empath/telepath; I only can access my gift if someone else triggers it. Though that’s not strictly true, I’d did trigger it one time by myself, but it wasn’t consciously. Did Charlie Lodgeman talk about that ‘research trip’ we did for physical plant?”

“He and Chief Delarose were briefing us on what you found, and the precautions we needed to take as they moved and re-entombed the container with that demon inside. He didn’t say much about how you two found out so much of its history, just that it had been a rewarding experience for you both.”

~~Um, I wonder if I projected some of my side effect? He did look at me oddly after I came out of the woman’s room.~~

“As a side effect of my time travels — gees, this is embarrassing -- I get off.”

“You orgasm?” replied Lex her eyes gone wide and a smirk forming.

“At the end of a particularly difficult test trip back in Wisconsin, I had an orgasm so intense my friends in MSG felt it too. I went into some kind of trance afterward, they... well, let’s say they felt great. So, I’m not a threat except to the dryness of your panties.” Lex looked much happier now.

“That’s one hell of a side effect! That happens every time you time travel?”

I suppressed a giggle and nodded; I could feel I was blushing. Lex looked embarrassed too; I was surprised she’d opened up that much. Anytime the topic turned to sexuality or related topics she got usually got defensive.

“I’m sorry to doubt you, Joanie; as I said, I have my reasons to distrust people with ‘those’ powers.”

“They worry me too; the unscrupulous ones can do great harm.” I got silly. “If you’re worried the Anderson gals have some sinister motive behind their helping us, they do. You don’t want to know what I had to promise them to get their help. It’s so humiliating, sniff, sniff.” I pouted. Lex continued to cheer up.

“What is it you have to do, something truly disgusting, Joanie?”

She gave me a wicked smile. “It’s so degrading, I... I... have to help paint their flat. I feel so used.”

Lex snorted then asked. “That’s it?”

“I am doing it in a string bikini, purely because the weather is getting so hot and humid, honest.”

~~It was 55F for a high yesterday; can I lie or what?~~

“Want to help? I’ve got this florescent pink one I was saving for a special occasion, but it should fit you.”

Lex gave me a look. “Okay, to be honest we’re all wearing bikinis, sort of a painting party. It’s gonna be fun wiping the paint splatters off each other.” Lex shook her head.

“Joanie, you have a dirty mind.”

“Yah, ain’t it great.”

After this, Lex was calm for our meeting, and we fine-tuned the final stages of Operation Jeepers Creepers. By the end of the meeting she was friendly to Tina and Chris, and we seemed back to our previous relationship. If Lex still harbored any distrust towards me, I didn’t see it. It must have been something awful to upset her so; she doesn’t seem the emotional type. She’ll tell me in due time.

* * * *

“What do we need Tina and Chris for again? I’m still confused,” Lex asked as we left for campus.

“They’re our personal DEW line and Peeper-proof lie detectors. They’re also our backup communication. They can telepathically contact each other or me as we’ve done it a few times. When they do, I can answer back for a while. When we start to turn up the heat, he’ll try to weasel out somehow. They’ll let us know when to pounce. We know who two of the photographers are due to our ‘run’ the other morning, and from monitoring Peeper and Greasy on the CCTV and sensor net. We know who his sources for the posters are. Between Dave and our fellow officers manning the cameras and sensors and the girls’ talents, he won’t slip the noose. We merely need to be at the ready when the pepperoni hits the fan, which should be any day now that Sam knows what we want her to do. I’m mildly surprised Delarose okay’d our plan, but then I was still in my morning running outfit when we talked — remember, my apprentice, about using what you have to your advantage.” I tried to keep a straight face then I giggled.

“That was the worst Emperor I ever heard, and I’m still not sure this will work, Joanie.”

“Let me explain it again. What we do is, we wait until Tina or Chris send the go-signal then…”

* * * *

That night I had another dream of that Goth girl, Sara Waite’s her name. She’s the half-demon girl many talk about on campus, but I hadn’t put the name to the face until recently. She’s a lust demon and supposedly can walk the realms of dreams and other mystic places. Don’t ask me how -- magic is not my bag, to misquote Austin Powers. Though she gains much of her sustenance from absorbing the lifeforce of plants and animals, she is not evil and has her protectors on campus. That Delarose and Lex speak well of her is good enough for me. Even Sam Everheart says she’s okay but, um, mischievous. There’s much more to that story I’m sure, but I’ll not press Sam. In my dream Sara apologized for not visiting sooner and seemed pleased with my taste in boys. Somehow that led to her turning into Eric and... I don’t remember the rest except I woke much of the third floor of Poe with my screams and my sheets got very sticky, Ghod what a night.

* * * *

February 28, 2007 8:00PM

“Dad, Dad, pickup the phone!”

“Hello, that you, Joanie?”

“Right the first time, Dad, thanks for remembering my voice, it can’t be easy.”

“Joanie, dear.“

~~He just called me dear? I did call him Daddy the last time we talked but still. ~~

“I can hardly not remember your voice, it’s all over the TV and radio. I was at Suncoast looking for a travel video on Italy, and this life-size cardboard cutout of you standing next to your motorcycle was the first thing I saw as I came in the store.”

~~A video store, I would have thought Sam Goody? ~~

“Why there? I’ve made a couple CD’s but no music videos.”

“It was a display for best-of videos from that late night show you were on. It must be pretty popular because they were sold out. A clerk thought I was interested and said it would be at least three weeks, the backorder was that large. I have one anyway.”

~~That show was barely two months ago!? ~~

“You bought one, Dad?”

“That nice doctor who took care of you sent me one. We’ve talked a few times since your mutation, and she’s very nice, she...“

“Reminds you of Mom, me too, Dad. I want to see you, the semester has settled down for me, and I’m sure I could get a weekend off, but I worry if I come to ‘tosa too often, someone will catch on. I’m too easily recognized these days.”

“Your Doctor Sara said as much, something about you being drawn to the limelight like a moth to the flame. She’s both worried and proud of you, hon.”

“That’s rich, she’s the one who passed on the info about the TV show, but it’s not like I can hide anymore. As long as I choose where and when to appear I should be okay. Those outfits I wore were kinda racy but nearly every piece of it was bullet and Tazer resistant. Most SWAT teams don’t have access to fabrics that tough, even my hosiery is made from the stuff. I know I’m a target, so I’m careful. Don’t worry about having to bury this daughter anytime soon Dad.”

~~He should worry more about me being a teen mom given how I reacted at the dance. ~~

“What’s this about me being on TV? The radio I understand... must be the songs but TV?”

“They repeated your appearance on the show just before they released the DVD. That and the other day Entertainment Tonight showed amateur video from the school dance you went to.”

~~Oh damn, I’ve not gotten around to that little detail. ~~

“I meant to tell you about that, Daddy.”

~~Now I’m doing it, but he has me rattled. ~~

I knew what was coming; he did love to tease, sometimes to the extreme.

“They showed you singing; you were very good, and I’m so proud, Joanie. I’ve never seen a more attractive and confident young woman; your mother would be so happy for you. You were dancing with this tall boy, and it looked like you were enjoying each others company. They said he’s the son of the Governor of Iowa and the brother of the girl you saved. Ah, Joanie, I thought I’d never be asking you this, is he you boyfriend?”

~~Caught one hand in the cookie jar with the other holding a crayon and drawing on the wall, I’m sunk. ~~

“Maybe, Dad, I don’t know, I ‘m very new at this.”

He laughed. “I’m glad for you, about time you got out and found somebody -- so when’s the wedding?”

“Dad!” He was laughing so hard he dropped the phone.

~~Two can play this game. ~~

“Any time before I deliver would be good, Grandpa.”

“What?” He started coughing.

~~Crap, I forgot about his replacement heart valve. ~~

“Dad, can’t you take a joke? That’s what you get for the wedding nonsense. He’s a nice boy, you’d like him, but he’s fourteen. It was a lot of fun, and I won’t deny I have feelings for him, but it’s probably just a very late case of puppy love. I’m not rushing into something like this, geeze! You have to remember that I may be 49, but my body is stuck as a 17 year old girl, and this girl wants to party.”

I wasn’t going to tell him how I wanted to party, but he could read between the lines.

“I know you’re an adult, but be careful. Um, Joanie, are you using protection?”

“I’m still a virgin. “

~~With respect to men at least. ~~

“Well see you stay that way; I don’t want to be an unwed grandfather.”

“Very droll, Dad, I called because I want you to visit me at Whateley. I thought of meeting at a neutral site, but I’m too well known. Here I’m just another mutant and staff, so we won’t have any trouble from the press. The locals are pretty good about us, so as long as we’re reasonably careful — we bring in a lot of dollars to the local economy. I can take you around to see the sites; it’s very scenic, and I know of a couple of quarries that may have marine fossils.”

~~That should pique his interest. ~~

“I suppose I can get a ticket to Boston and rent a car.”

“I’ll pay; I’m swimming in the stuff these days. You can either fly a good commercial flight, and I pick you up at the airport, or I can get a charter jet.”

“Commercial is fine, I can call on my cell when we get in, so you know where to pick me up.”

We agreed, and I made arrangements for him to come in early March. If this works well, I might do the same with my sister and brother-in-law.

* * * *

March 01, 2007 9:00PM, Kane Hall, Security office

“Timeout,” said Officer O’Brian on the police frequency, “Meet me in Chief Delarose’s office in five minutes, acknowledge.”

I was on evening shift patrolling with a pair of The Peacekeepers. I acknowledged the message, and they escorted me to Kane Hall, no more solos for me, not after you know.

“Chief, Officer O’Brian, why am I here?”

~~Have I done something wrong?~~

“Joanie, I understand a student by the name of Pinky Conners has spent a good deal of time with you recently,” said Delarose.

“She came to me several weeks ago, said she’d heard I used to be a man, and she thought I could help her. She's a female to hermaphroditic male were, Chief. I had Dave here check into her background as I’m a bit paranoid after my assault, just to be safe, and I wanted to confirm her story that she may be the victim of a rape. I didn’t violate some code of ethics, did I?”

“No, dear.”

~~Now Delarose is doing it. Am I that in need of a father figure it’s stamped on my forehead? Ms. Carson acts like a favorite aunt, Babs alternates between an ex-college roommate and my mom, this later role she and Sara are tag-teaming me on. ~~

“You’ve done everything well within the student and staff codes; it’s the results of Dave’s research on Ms. Conners we need to discuss. It confirms everything she said with one vital piece she left out. Dave will explain.”

“Ms. Conners was most probably assaulted by the psychiatrist who treated her after her mutation, but she waited too long for a rape exam and the results were inconclusive. As there was no sign of bruising, cuts or vaginal tears, and the doctor had a ‘spotless’ reputation. DNA testing was not done despite the recommendation of the investigating officer. The doctor must have friends in high places. Ms. Conners left home for Whateley soon after she filed her complaint, and the investigation was shelved. I talked to the detective and she said others had filed complaints since then but with similar results. We’ve offered to send one of our people to help, so we’ll see.”

“That’s good news, bad it happened to Pinky, but with her story confirmed, maybe the doctors here can treat her; she’s very distraught.”

“She may be that but she’s, Ghod I don’t want to say this as you’re obviously fond of her as a friend... she’s Amelia Hartford’s niece. The Chief and I thought you should know. We also have suspicions she was behind the smear campaign of last month, but that’s not proven yet, though there’s some evidence to back the supposition. I’m sorry, Joanie.”

I felt sick.

“I’m meeting her tomorrow for a private talk in her dorm room in Hawthorne Hall, and she’ll be in her male form for the first time since we’ve met. If she’s telling the truth, she’ll be very unhappy and need to vent to a friend, but if she’s behind the smear campaign, I’m at risk. I don’t want to accuse her unfairly; is there anything we can do to have it both ways?”

“We have some ideas, Joanie; I don’t want to hurt Ms. Conners if she is the victim of this doctor she appears to be, but I’ll not let her harm you. Just because she’s been hurt doesn’t not give her the right to hurt an innocent. Trust us, Joanie.”

* * * *
March 02, 2007 5:10PM Hawthorne Hall

“Joanie’s here in minutes if she’s on time as she always is. Last check, shirt with the weakened buttons on, so I can fake her ripping it, tight Capri-stretch pants and panties to emphasize my disgust with this form and to show off that thing. Good, for one time I’m glad ‘you’re’ so eager, you treacherous piece of flesh. Handcuffs at the ready and my vodka with tranquilizers and Viagra dissolved. Now to rub my eyes until they’re red and puffy like I’ve been crying, and last one of Joanie’s own handkerchiefs she lent me soaked in that chloroform I liberated from chemistry; I’ll have to get her prints on the bottle once she’s out. I’ve sealed it in this airtight sandwich container, so that’s ready.

“It will look like she drugged me, knocked me out, restrained, then raped me. That’s the one part that makes me sick, having to rape her, but semen is such good evidence when it’s fresh, I know that now, you bastard! I may not get you, but Joanie’s a start, adults are all the same. You can’t fool me with that concerned friend act, Joanie. Once I’m done, I’ll cuff myself except for one hand, and scream rape. I’ll say I came to as she assaulted me, and I knocked her out with the same handkerchief she tried to use on me. Between the semen in her and the drugs in my system, who will they believe? The ultimate smear campaign, I think.”

* * * *

“Ms. Joan Brown to see Ms. Pamela Conners um Pinky, I’m expected,” I asked the house mother at Hawthorne.

“I’ll ring her.”

A few minutes later a wiry boy with a familiar face came down the stairs.

“Pinky?” she raised her, his, um their (?) head and ran to me. Changing and mixed genders are grammatically confusing.

“Oh, Joanie, it’s so bad, I can’t stand it.”

Her eyes were red and puffy and wet with tears. The expression on her face was a worrisome combination of fear, loathing, depression and resignation.

~~Ghod is she suicidal? The poor child is taking this hard; it’s sad because she’s not a bad looking guy -- rather handsome. Not as handsome as my Eric, but she’s... Oh boy, I said ‘my’ Eric, but that revelation will have to wait. Even her voice is deep and manly. ~~

“Pinky, I’m here now. I know you don’t like doctors, but I could go with you to Doctor Bellows together if it...”

“No doctors, EVER!” she screamed. “They, he... Oh, Joanie, I want to die!”

~~She’s serious about it; I’ll have to stay with her until I can get her professional help. ~~

She grabbed my hand and practically dragged me to her room. She closed the door behind us and locked it at once.

“What’s wrong, Pinky, please tell me.” She motioned for me to sit by her on her bed.

~~That wire and micro sound recorder had better be working.~~

I hoped we were wrong in our suspicions.

“I’m so ugly; no one will ever want me. I should kill myself and get it over with. Everyone hates and laughs at me.”

She was verging on hysteria and put her arms around me desperate for comfort. I hugged her back. Next I know I’m on my back, and she’s kissing me hard and biting my lip harder, I tasted blood.

“What gives, Pinky, something’s not right...“

She reached behind her, and I felt this wet cloth that reeked of dry cleaning fluid or something similar cover my face. I tried to yell and struggle from her powerful grasp, but I coughed and inhaled more of the fumes, immediately feeling dizzy and disoriented. I tried to press the panic alarm built into the belt they’d given me, but I don’t remember anymore.

* * * * *

To Be Continued

Revised 11/08/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

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Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 13

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Pinky's plan's for Joanie come to an unexpected conclusion, we learn more why things evolved as they did and what will be done to get justice for the victims. Joanie calls in a favor and meets a judge with an unfortunate name. The anti-Peeper plot goes balistic.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

I started writing this TG/sci-fi in the sping 2005 but only first posted anything as of Christmas 2005. I’m getting much better at it, honest. Your constructive criticism and advice helps. 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, 2005-2006. See my agents at Control, now offering a line of mobile phones, “When you use one of our’s you really put your foot in it.”

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter13- Revenge of the Blonde 3, Pinky 6

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 02-12, 2007

March 02, 2007 5:30PM

“Joanie, wakeup! Joanie, wakeup, please!” someone was saying frantically.

I opened my heavy eyes to a blurry, wobbling Pinky looking at me wide-eyed and on the verge of tears; at least I think so. I couldn’t focus very well. I shoved her away and felt intensely dizzy and queasy from the effort, on the edge of panic.

“Get away from me! Security will be here in moments, don’t compound the crime. You need help, but this will only make matters worse,” I said, my head pounding.

I was angry and terrified. I may be an exemplar, but her male form was stronger than me, and I was still dazed. I tried to sit up and get off the bed, but collapsed and promptly threw up. My head was throbbing with the Daddy-of-all-hangovers.

“They’re on their way. I called them, Joanie. Ghod forgive me, I can’t even do this right. I wanted to ruin you to help my Aunt...”

“Hartford, I know.”

I managed to sit up, my sense of balance improving enough I could sit without the room spinning too fast. I could start holding things in focus.

“You knew?” Pinky asked in shock.

“Since last night, I came here hoping you were on the level. I do want to help. I didn’t want to believe you meant harm, but it looked too much like a trap to ignore. You called them? I thought I signaled them on my wire?”

“You wore a wire? It wouldn’t have worked in here; the whole room’s a Faraday cage. They equipped several rooms here for energizers with uncontrolled electrical powers; it was the first room available when I arrived.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been hurt before; the wire was a precaution in case you were the person behind the smear campaign. Why did you call Security?”

“I was set to frame you for rape. Part of me didn’t want to, but I had to go through with it. Then, these cards fell out of your blouse pocket.”

She held up a pair of doctor appointment cards.

“I saw you’d made an appointment for a joint therapy session with Dr. Bellows. I remembered you talking about your kidnapping and assaults and how talking with Dr. Bellows helped. When I saw both our names on the cards, I just couldn’t.” She/he started crying, “You... do want... to help and I... oh Ghod!” she/he said between sobs and sniffles.

“Open the door, Security!”

“I’m okay, give me a moment,” I called out. “Excuse me, Pinky.”

I managed to get up with difficulty and stagger to the door. I was still muzzy headed, but it was clearing fast.

“Is everything okay, Joanie?” asked Officer Willkinson. I saw several other officers with him.

“I’m fine, but if one of the women officers could wait outside, I won’t be long, five or ten minutes at most.”

“Pinky, we need to talk, but not here. Fix yourself up and come with me.”

* * * *

Ten minutes later we were at Administration. I walked up to Amelia.

“We need to talk with you immediately in private, Ms. Hartford.”

“Using the Royal ‘We’ are we, Ms. Brown? My time is valuable, and I’m nearly done for the day. if this is one of your…“

She saw Pinky with me and motioned us into an empty room. I closed the door.

“Pinky, tell your Aunt Hartford everything, and I do mean everything.”

For the next 30 minutes Pinky poured her heart out, interrupted several times by bouts of tears. She spoke of her fears and her loathing for what the mutation had done to her. When she spoke of her molestations by her doctor, Ms. Hartford was first shocked, then increasingly angry.

“I wasn’t sure the first time he did it. I was like this then,” she pointed at her body, “and I thought I remembered him doing something down there, but I was drugged, tranquilizers to help with the therapy, he said. I couldn’t stay awake and kept nodding off. I felt this growing urge followed by an intense burst of pleasure, but I had nothing to compare to, so I wasn’t sure,” Pinky explained.

“The next time I was my normal self, and I knew what I felt. Ghod I saw him on top of me and... But I was too drugged to struggle. I was so ashamed, I couldn’t tell my Mom until the next day. She didn’t believe me and said if it did happen, it proved I was a whore. And was I her little girl or a mutant whore? Dad was out of town, again. I overheard them argue before he left on that last business trip. I think Mom believes he’s cheating on her. I went to the police the day after that. This nice lady detective tried to help, but I’d waited too long, and the evidence wasn’t conclusive. She came to my house and asked lots of questions, but Mom said I’d probably had sex with one of my boyfriends from school and was embarrassed. Aunt Hartford, I’d never done... you know, not that I didn’t want to. I just haven’t gone all-the-way. I remember Mom saying something like, ‘you know how teenagers are.’

“The detective couldn’t get a court order to test the doctor, and Mom was threatening me if I didn’t recant. I don’t know why Mom was like this; she’d never been mean to me before my... I remembered you’d sent me a ticket to visit Whateley when you learned I mutated. So, I packed my bags that night and left home before she woke. I haven’t said or heard anything from her or Dad since, and I left them word of where I was going,” Pinky explained.

“I thought it odd how your mother reacted when I called to say you’d arrived safely -- I just thought she was being formal. I know she doesn’t approve of mutants. She’s been cool to me since I changed, but to not try and contact you,” Ms. Hartford replied.

“Your mom’s anti-mutant, a Human’s First?” I asked.

“I don’t know, some of her friends used to say nasty things about mutants, but they stopped coming around after I changed. I’m not sure about Dad. I know he doesn’t like my Aunt, but he doesn’t get on well with Mom’s family. Why can’t Mom be proud of me? That’s why I wanted you to be proud of me, Aunt Hartford. You’d helped when no one else did, except for that lady cop. So when I heard Joanie was bothering you, and your campus society the Alphas was in trouble, I got angry and decided to make Joanie look bad, so you’d help me with the Alphas. When you said you couldn’t interfere, I still wanted your approval and advice. So that’s when I decided to frame Joanie for rape. It was the sickest, most disgusting thing I could think to hurt her with. I knew if I pulled it off, I would get your sympathy,” Pinky explained and looked disgusted with herself.

“If you’d told me what happened back home, you would have had my sympathy -- no one deserves rape. But what you did and tried to do leaves me no choice. I have to expel you, my niece or not. It’s the rules. I’m so disappointed, Pinky.”

“I’m not pressing charges,” I said calmly.

“WHAT!” Ms. Hartford shrieked. That was the first time I ever seen her lose control in my presence.

“I’m not bringing any charges. She stopped before she did me any real harm. I was at her mercy, yet she called security. That counts for a lot.” I turned to face Pinky directly. “Pinky, I've confirmed you were sexually assaulted by that so called quack that was treating you. I’m taking steps to make sure he never does that to anyone again. I have plans to make a special ‘research trip’ to obtain solid evidence that backs what your lady detective told Security.” At the words ‘research trip’, a smile grew on Ms. Hartford’s face. “He’ll go to jail for a long time, I promise. The patient he’ll next try to molest will be an undercover officer. A fellow mutant volunteered. I would have done it, but I’m too recognizable. Mindbird is our pigeon.”

Ms. Hartford winced, but I thought I heard a faint chuckle from her.

“How, Joanie?” asked Pinky excitedly. She/he was cheering up fast.

“That’s where your aunt, Ms. Hartford, comes in. As good as my colleagues in Security are, you have Officer O’ Brian and Chief Delarose to thank for finding your detective and obtaining her help, it’s been suggested your aunt’s remarkable computer talents might help us determine who’s preventing a proper investigation and arrest for the assaults on you. The detective told us several complaints about the doctor were filed since yours, Pinky, but with the same sorry results. Lines of inquiry are squashed at high levels. Evidence is thrown out by the courts, or lost, contaminated and so on.

The detective is eager to assist us. She’s sympathetic to mutants. She has a younger cousin at Whateley, our volunteer in fact. The doctor could be using blackmail or maybe is part of an anti-mutant group, who knows? Whatever the case, I’d like to take the whole lot down with your cooperation, Ms. Hartford. Just getting the doctor is not enough.”

A strange look was on Ms. Hartford’s face. She was almost happy, certainly not so sour faced or imperious. Sam Everheart could have done it, but this freed her up for security duties, and Ms. Hartford would be merciless towards her niece’s enemies. It was also good office politics. See, I’m learning.

“It’s gratifying you’re doing this for my niece, but I can’t let her actions slide, as much as I wish. What if the students found out?”

“They won’t, I’m not going to tell, and Security will keep a lid on their people. I’m confident Pinky won’t, and Dr. Bellows is covered by his oath. That leaves you, Ms. Hartford. If you’ll follow the spirit of the rules this time and let it go, I’ll, oh hell, I’ll stop teasing you by calling you Amelia, as much as it will deprive my inner child. Is it a deal?” Amelia nodded.

“We’ll need Ms. Carson’s approval on some of my plan and Chief Delarose’s cooperation. If you could expedite your computer search, Ms. Hartford, I’d be much obliged. I’ll you get a copy of Security’s findings. That should save time. You’ll have it tonight if you stop by security. I’ll call ahead. How soon can you have results for us, Ms. Hartford?”

“If your research is valid, I’ll have something by this time tomorrow Ms. Brown.”

“Good, as soon as you do, inform Ms. Carson and the Chief. I’d like to have a planning session tomorrow evening, if possible. Say 7PM in Security? We can’t bait the trap until we’re ready to get the rest of them. Until then, Ms. Hartford, your niece and I have an appointment with Dr. Bellows at 9AM tomorrow. I’ll make sure her teachers get the appropriate excused absence notices for any future counseling sessions. She is assisting an official police investigation, isn’t she?”

* * * *

We walked from Administration and toward the Crystal Hall.

“He’s a good man, Pinky, and would never hurt anyone. I’ll stay the whole session, hold your hand if you like. You’ll be fine,” Pinkly looked anxious but relieved as we got something to eat.

“Do you want me to stay the night? I have no problems with it as long as you’re comfortable.” Pinky was much calmer, but I still worried.

“No, I’ll be okay. Just promise me you’ll be here early tomorrow, I don’t think I can walk to Dr. Bellows on my own.” I gave her hand a squeeze.

“8AM for breakfast okay? My schedule’s open tomorrow.”

Pinky laughed for the first time I remembered. “Tomorrows Saturday, Joanie.”

“I’m turning blonde. Ghod, I’m becoming my sister!”

Pinky laughed so hard I saw tears.

“If you can laugh, I guess you’ll be okay. If anything comes up, leave me a message with Security or pin a note to the message board my door, third floor Poe. That’s right, you know where it is.”

“I’m so sorry about that poster.”

“It’s okay. What you did to me was pretty clever in a nasty way. It gave me an excuse to decorate the door, so some good came of it. Let’s get that brain of yours working on happier things, okay? That trick with Mr. Microphone was brilliant. If you put as much effort into your studies as you did to that project, you’ll do well.”

I had a thought that might give me a chance to influence her for the better. “Pinky, do you sing?”

“A little, I liked to when I was little, but when I changed...”

“I’m thinking of starting a student rock/country classics band and I could use some volunteers. When you’re feeling a little better, come and see me, and I’ll give you a tryout. As a boy you sound like a low tenor, maybe a baritone. As a girl you’re a soprano of some kind. If you’re even half-way good, I could use you. It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“I had one of your CDs, but I threw it out when I learned you were teasing my aunt.” She/he looked a little sad.

“I can get you a ton of them cheap, which means free, Pinky. My producer sends me all the promo copies I want. I bring you a couple tomorrow, okay?”

I got silly as I saw her smiling. I forced a grumpy look on my face.

“I suppose you’ll want them personalized,” I grumbled; Pinky hugged me so hard it hurt.

~~I have got to learn to be more careful in future, her/his hug nearly had me out of breath.~~

“Not so hard, girl. My breasts are aching from that one.”

“Oh, sorry. You want me to give them a massa…“It was some time before we stopped laughing.

* * * *

March 03, 2007

Dr. Bellows did his best to ease Pinky’s fears, though my being in the room helped. I went first and described my assaults and the fears I had. It was old ground for the most part, but I remembered a few details I’d forgotten.

Pinky’s revelations were staggering; no wonder she’s such a mess. We spent most of the morning with the doctor as a result, but she needed it. I don’t know how she made it this far without killing herself or going insane. Her problems go back way before her mutation. We’re scheduled for twice a day sessions for the next few days until Pinky gets her anger and self-loathing under control. He’s even seeing us on Sunday afternoon at his house. Dr. Bellows thinks if she can get though the next few weeks and sees there is hope, she’ll make it, but it’s a long haul. We told him about the investigation into her doctor and his supporters, and he agrees that Pinky should take as active a role as possible.

“You had the right idea, Pinky, but for the wrong reason and the wrong target. You’re right to not want to play the passive victim, in fact you never did. But, regrettably circumstance conspired against you. Some times you have no choice, if the attacker is bigger and stronger, but you can still fight back after. You can afford to lose a few battles if you ultimately win the war,” Dr Bellows explained.

“Where you went wrong was in seeking retribution against the first convenient target you found, our Ms. Joanie. Retribution is often mindless violence hardly better than the injury that spawned it. Justice is what you seek now, with Joanie’s help. See the irony? If you’d succeeded in harming her, she couldn’t be helping you catch the real criminals. Its sounds easy, and I know it seems hard, but don’t let your anger consume you. A child as clever as you can surely make a success of your life. I’d like to help you if I can. I’ll teach you methods to control your anger and release your frustrations in constructive ways. Will you work with me?”

“Okay.”

“Come on, Pinky, let’s get some lunch then let’s head to one of the music rooms. I’d like to see what you can do. See you at five for dinner with the Anderson’s, Doctor,” I called out.

* * * *

I spent a pleasant early afternoon playing various old recordings and having her sing along. Once we figured out her range, she wasn’t bad. I tried some of the same songs for comparison and found our voices complemented each other's. She had a narrower range. Mine’s extremely wide, so that’s not a fair comparison. And s/he had a husky quality to her/his voice, very sexy actually.

“If you want to, I think I can use you, Pinky.”

“You can? Great! Um, when do I meet the others?” she asked.

“Pinky, meet Joanie. Joanie meet Pinky. There you’ve met us.” I giggled.

“I’m the first?”

“Yah, don’t let it go to your head. If you hear anyone who has a nice voice or plays an instrument, let me know. I’d like to talk with them,” I replied.

I intended to call a friend for a favor later in the day.

* * * *

“Senator William’s office, how may I help you?” the secretary answered.

“I’d like to speak to the Senator, is Joe in?” I asked.

“He’s very busy, do you wish to leave a message?”

~~She’s trying to 86 me. ~~

“It’s very important, tell him it’s Joan from Whateley, he’ll understand.”

“He’s in an important meeting and can’t be disturbed,” she replied firmly.

~~A Saturday afternoon, with the Senate in recess, sure he’s busy. Time to make use of this fame they say I have. ~~

“What’s your name, Ma’am?”

“Betty Jo, I’m sorry but you can’t…“

“You will interrupt whatever he’s doing and tell him Joan from Whateley is on the line, or I doubt you will have a job by later today.“

~~I sound so bitchy, am I near my time again? Nah it’s too soon -- must be me. Didn’t know I had it in me. ~~

“It’s against the law to harass a US Senator, Miss.”

“Who’s that on the phone, Betty Jo?”

~~Sounds like Senator Joe. ~~

“Just some girl saying she needs to speak to you. Frankly, I think she’s a crank. Said to tell you she’s Joan from Whateley, whatever that...”

“Joan? Get her on my line immediately. That’s the girl who saved my granddaughter!” I heard him pickup the line. “Joanie, I’m so sorry my secretary…” I was feeling better now.

“She probably had one crank call too many. Put her on the line… Betty Jo, you okay?”

“Oh my Ghod, you’re her, and I said all those nasty things?”

“It’s okay, I have days like that myself. It’s good you protect the Senator, just be more polite, no matter what an idiot they sound like. I was a little pushy, but it is important, honest.” Then I giggled -- nerves I guess.

Joe was very helpful and gave me the name of a former Federal prosecutor, now a Federal judge, he’d gone to school with out East. Pinky’s house and the doctor’s office were within his jurisdiction, so he could help us obtain the needed warrants. In talking with Chief Delarose, I’d decided an outsider was needed as the corruption had to be fairly high, and I didn’t want this to go wrong. If we had to get Massachusetts subpoenas, the judge would know who to trust, but I preferred a federal case. Maybe we could get them on a civil rights conspiracy charge or possibly the Rico act. Joe would call ahead and explain what I’d told him, so his friend would know to cooperate.

We had a productive meeting that evening. Ms. Hartford’s research was enlightening.

~~When will crooks learn not to use their credit cards for illegal activities? ~~

She’d managed to put together evidence of a series of meetings and payments related to the doctor that correlated well to the reported sexual assaults. This all meshed with the info the detective gave us via a secure telephone. Ms. Hartford also got names of organizations they belonged to or contributed large sums to that required Federal reporting as political contributions. The biggest surprise was that a fellow US Senator was at some of the meetings, and he was of the opposition party. I was going to give Joe one hell of a great early Christmas present with that tidbit.

~~Gee, now I know where a body is buried. ~~

It would take a few days to get all the necessary subpoenas ready and I had a novel idea in mind as I wanted to nail him for both of his assaults on Pinky. But, the evidence was too weak. I hope Ms. Carson doesn’t mind I’m taking a few days off again.

March 06, 2007, a Federal Judges chambers in Boston.

“Chief Delarose, always a pleasure, and this is Ms. Brown, I’d recognize her anywhere. So you’re his newest officer, doesn’t the singing pay well enough?”

“I was the lead detective on a couple cases back when Judge Judy was a prosecutor, it was early in my career but we’ve kept in touch,” said Chief Delarose.

I tried not to giggle. “Judge Judy?”

He was definitely a man.

“Not J U D Y, Joanie, J U D A Y, it’s an old family name that got corrupted by immigrations,” Juday replied.

“Right, if it sounded too un-American or was too hard to pronounce, they changed it. We need a special favor. We need a type of subpoena that I doubt has ever been granted, If you’re willing, I’d like you and the Chief along to witness what I intend to do as it bound to cause a uproar in court,” I said.

“Old Joey said you had some special talents and to accommodate you if I could.”

“Joey?” I asked.

“The Senator.”

~~Ah. ~~

“You know I can stop time?” I asked.

“Joey told me last year, sent me newspaper articles and everything. He thinks the world of you, Ms. Brown. You know you look a little like his late wife?”

I nodded, Babs had told me that as well.

“I can do more than that. I can time travel and transport others with me.”

“You want to go back to your friend’s assaults?”

~~No wonder he’d done well in life, this guy’s sharp. ~~

“Want to come along? We can’t stop the attack. That would cause a time paradox, but if I can prove it’s not a hoax… I’ll need your subpoenas to set up surveillance to record it and several later attacks and some meetings between his suspected conspirators. The chief has the credit card bills and other evidence for that. Oh, one last thing, is your wife a jealous woman?”

“No, we’re happily married 30 years now, why did you ask?”

“As a side effect of my time travel I get... emotional in an embarrassing way.”

The judge looked at me with confusion on his face.

“She orgasms like a porn actress.”

“Chief!” I shrieked.

“Sorry, I saw it on the CCTV -- don’t worry, I erased it.”

~~There’s one in the ladies room? ~~

“The ladies room?”

“No, on a high antenna mast, it looks down on several roof tops to watch for illegal flyers. That took real professionalism to carry on despite the, you know. Joanie was on a research time trip for a construction project, Judge. I saw the ‘side effect’ soon after she and Mr. Lodgeman reappeared in normal time. You were most impressive, Joanie.” The Chief had a silly grin on his face.

“I’m also a projecting empath and at least once I projected my ‘side effect.’ Sorry.”

“I appreciate your concern, but with the Chief chaperoning us, we’ll be fine.”

* * * *

March 10, 2007, Boston

Dear d/j/w won’t go into much detail, but the “research trips” went well. The judge was quickly convinced of my abilities and gave us the necessary subpoenas. When he saw what that doctor did to Pinky, we had no trouble getting any warrant we needed. I felt sick watching, as I knew we could do nothing to stop it, but that he would pay.

We gathered a lot of evidence in less than two days, but what’s time to a time traveler? The hidden cameras and “bugs” worked perfectly. With Judge Juday’s warrants and our evidence, we went to the FBI. They, with the local woman detective, are now mopping up on the last few conspirators. We didn’t even have to send in our undercover plant. The federal prosecutors Senator Joe called in said our case was rock solid. I was very glad of that as I didn’t want to risk harming Mindbird despite her security training and our surveillance.

Juday says I probably won’t need to testify as both Chief Delarose and he are witnesses, and he realizes the risk I took revealing my abilities. If I have to testify, I will. I can always take refuge at Whateley for a while, and I do like it there. It’s so tempting to see what their reactions would be when if they learned a “teenage” girl took them down. I'll tell Pinky and her aunt the good news tomorrow -- if they haven’t heard already. The press is in a feeding frenzy on this one, especially as the corrupt US Senator was arrested earlier today in public. Gee, I wonder who leaked that to the press? Now, how to deal with my other problems, Peeper and Greasy?

* * * *

March 12, 2007 9:00AM outside Twain Hall

I watched from an entry way of a nearby building as the fun unfolded. Sam Everheart is a consummate professional and takes firearms seriously, big red “S” seriously. My Dad’s that way, though a WWII draftee and not a careerist like Sam was. He always told me never point a gun at someone unless you intend to shoot them. Sixty years after the fact, the training still persists. Sam only agreed to this apparent violation of that principle after she was convinced no chance of injury existed, and that it amounted to a Hollywood special effects extravaganza but on a tiny budget. Sam also was upset at the unauthorized use of her picture for profit and agreed my plan had some merit.

Several miles away in an abandoned stone quarry, Whateley and the local police had an outdoor target range. Security did most of its target practice at a range deep in one of the better ventilated of the numerous tunnels that were dug some years back, but not all training could be indoors. We’d rigged a set of remote control targets high on the quarry face so Sam could maintain her skills as a marksman, markswoman, marksperson, or whatever the PC term is. For safety, she shot from the Kane Hall tower and had several spotters to ensure a clear line of fire. This time she was shooting from a standing position slightly to one side of Twain Hall, thus shooting across the main walkway out of it.

The beauty of the plan is it did not look like a plan; it was deliberately chaotic and haphazard, as if we were merely reacting. I wanted Peeper to think we were so upset, that we were not acting rationally. Once he thought we were likely to react emotionally, he was ours. Rational Security officers would not violate the law nor do him bodily harm, but irrational officers? The trick was to make sure he couldn’t see a pattern to our actions.

We had secure voice links between each of us. Dave O’Brian and Lex were our spotters with help from the officers manning the CCTV and sensors. Lex had the additional duty of being our bumper. She would misdirect Peeper at a critical moment, much like a member of a pickpocket gang. Sam was the “star” today, and I was Miss Special Effects. A device attached to Sam’s rifle would send a time-delayed signal to the full stick of ammoniated dynamite we’d rigged at the target range. It was overkill, but at over two miles it had to be loud and extra flashy. The bag of magnesium flash powder surrounding the dynamite insured that. Sam would shoot a special blank load that made far more smoke and flame than normal. She bitched about all the cleaning she’d have to do to her 'baby', but understood the necessity. Peeper walked out the door and Sam fired the moment Dave and Lex said the line-of-fire was clear.

“What the...“ Peeper never finished the line as Officer Lex spun him around grabbing him hard by the shoulders.

“Are you crazy walking into a firing range like that?”

“Firing range, this is a walkway?”

He spun back to see orange plastic snow fencing and warning signs along both sides of the line-of-fire for a hundred feet or so. Lex led him around the back side of Sam’s “range” and safely away.

“But it wasn’t there when I came out the door!”

Then he saw the distant flash and smoke. Ten seconds after that he heard the distant explosion, he looked sick.

“Do you want to go to the infirmary, you must be ill?” Lex asked as they continued on.

We heard everything though our link. Sam packed up her rifle and Dave and I took down the temporary fence, pulling out the post holders and popping back the plugs of grass we’d taken out during the night. We’d prepped it all before dawn, lightweight fence posts with pre-attached clips, pre-cut plastic roll fencing and ready to plant signage. All positioned so yours truly could do the time stop bit and put it up in minutes my time, seconds real time. It only looked serious. It was actually very flimsy, but the illusion of a real warning fence was all we needed. Several members of the Peacekeepers in civilian garb and off-duty security officers had helped divert others away from the area at critical moments. We were taking no chances, and they were pissed at Peeper too.

It was a strain for me, and I needed a good rest soon after. But, Phase one was done. On to Phase two. I changed from my work clothes and into my security uniform, twin Tazers on my hips. They were unloaded, but Peeper wouldn’t know that. I walked up behind him as he exited class.

“Peeper, what am I going to do with you, naughty boy. It’s bad enough you fooled those students into taking candid photos of Lex and me, but Samantha? Officer Everheart is pissed. It’s all we could do to keep her from storming into your room and beating you until you confessed and turned over all your photos and cash. It’s a struggle to keep her calm when anyone mentions the posters.

“Did you know she suffers from post-traumatic shock? You do not want to be near her when she has a flashback, Thank ghod I’m a regen! That last time... don’t ask! As for me, I’m insulted. A measly large deluxe pizza with everything for the ‘most interesting’ photo of me? I’m worth lots more than that as the sales of your posters attest to, what is it now, 400 of the poster-size and 135 of the full-size of ‘Runner’s High?’”

I slowly ran my fingers over the tops of my Tazers one by one, while thrusting my chest out. Rather erotic, I thought. Peeper’s expression went from worried to smug.

“I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to scare me as you can’t touch me without getting in a lot of serious trouble. I did nothing wrong, and you wouldn’t do anything to me. This is pure BS.”

I handed him a sealed envelope. “This piece of pure BS, as you put it, is formal notice of a civil lawsuit for trademark and copyright infringement. You have 30 days to respond. Ta ta.”

Peeper didn’t look so confident. “Lawsuit, for what?”

“When I got the recording contract, we brainstormed a bunch of future album names, Dawn Patrol and Denim Dreams are both copyrighted, at least when my name or image are in combination with it, and you used both, tisk tisk. As to my image, taking my photo other than for personal use -- you dirty boy -- journalistic or purposes of parody then selling it for profit, that’s gonna cost you big. I’m sure, as you can afford to attend an expensive, exclusive prep school, your parents are loaded. It’s only a few million. They'll get their copies of the lawsuit about this time tomorrow, bye.”

Of course I’m not actually filing it, but he doesn’t know. I think having it ‘filed’ as a Wisconsin court case and listing Senator Joe as my chief lawyer was a stroke of genus, all the harder for him to check on it. The reference number to the Wisconsin court is to a judge who’s a friend of Dr. Sara, whose child’s a mutant patient of hers. Now to Phase three.

“Phase three, all stations, phase three.” I called on the radio.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 11/10/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 2- Pause/Record/Fast-forward - Chapter 14

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

The Peeper Pizza Poster Plan comes to an end with help from Joanie's friends, the creative misuse of her mutant powers and some bad acting. She get's an odd request from Ms. Hartford and cautiously builds a friendship with a former enemy. Joanie gets visit from her father.

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

I started writing this TG/sci-fi in the sping 2005 but only first posted anything as of Christmas 2005. I’m getting much better at it, honest. Your constructive criticism and advice helps. 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, 2005-2006. Editors note: no animals were hurt or killed in testing this Fan Fic but readers. Itinerant, when’s your next chapter out?

Timeout 2

By John from Wauwatosa
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter 14- Revenge of the blond 4, Hi Daddy! 2

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 12-21, 2007

March 12, 2007 11:00AM

Phase three was… fun; with intelligence passed to us via our radios and from Tina and Chris telepathically, Lex, Sam, David and I were Peeper’s and Greasy’s elusive, unpredictable but always embarrassing shadows. They’d walk out of class; we were there, singly or in a group. Walking between buildings, one of us would brush against them lightly, just enough to startle, then we’d be gone. My personal favorite was when Pepper went to wipe himself after using the toilet in a men’s room…

”Just my luck the way things are going today, no tissue, and I swore the holder was full when I came in.” Peeper mumbled.

It was; another victim of time stop and a deviant mind.

“Hey, buddy, need some tissue? I’ll pass a roll under,” I said in a fake boy’s voice.

“Thanks, um…” he started to say, then he saw the graceful hand holding the roll had a nice manicure and coral nail polish. The couple of rings and friendship bracelet were just an afterthought. “You... this is harassment! I’ll have you fired for this... my parents… Joanie, Joanie, what the…”

I was long gone from the Men’s room, trying hard not to wet my panties as I walked down the corridor and out of the building, suppressing a giggle fit. Peeper and Greasy tried to avoid us. They must have figured we we’re using the CCTV and our fellow officers to track them. They tried going out freight doors --Lex would be there, camera at the ready. Greasy climbed out a first floor window, Dave snapped a few seconds of video from outside. Peeper even tried using a third floor fire escape. All that got him was a stern warning from Sam Everheart on why those fire escapes are there, and why you shouldn’t play with them “young man.” We did this all morning until it was their lunch period.

“Phase four, commence Phase four.”

If you’re gonna have a grandiose and overblown “cunning plan” it deserves proper code phrases.

March 12, 2007 1:05pm, the Crystal Hall

“Peeper, have J-Joanie and other security been p-popping up around you all day? There hasn’t been a thing I’ve done or a p-place I’ve been that one of them didn’t turn up.” He spoke with a hint of a nervous stutter.

“They’re just trying to spook us. They’ll give up if we don’t rise to the bait. Hang in there, bud,” Peeper replied.

“Yah, well you didn’t come out of the shower after self-defense class to a camera flashing and Officer O’Brian saying, ‘Be seeing you.’ He was dressed in this odd black suit with white trim and this large button with No. 6 on it.”

Peeper almost laughed. “That’s from The Prisoner; 1960’s cult TV.”

“Not, Joanie?”

“Who else.”

“Did someone call my name?” I said standing immediately behind Peeper.

~~I am gonna have so much fun doing this at the next faculty party.~~

“If you think this is going to… Where did you go?”

I’d time stopped myself out of the cafeteria portion of the Crystal hall.

“Okay Lex, you’re on,”

“I’m ready for my close up, Ms. De Mille.”

“Sunset Boulevard. Nice, Lex.”

Then I giggled my approval. Dave, Sam, Tina, Chris and I watched from the kitchen side of the food line as some of the lights dimmed and a huge flat-panel TV on the north wall came on. With Sam’s talents - courtesy of this ‘Hive’ again, I’d wish she’d explain it - she’d mimicked the late Crocodile Hunter’s voice quite well.

“Ta_die we’re searching for the elusive and rare Peeper. It’s often found in close proximity to the North American Lesser Greasy. Me mate, Susan Alexis, will continue.”

Lex stood just to the side of the huge TV dressed in a full set of dessert BDUs, hiking boots and a tan bush hat.

~~Damn that would have looked good on me. But I’d change it to short-short cargo shorts and twin leg holsters, and I’m Laura Croft.~~

Oh, did I mention that TV wasn’t there before either, that’s why I was sitting this bit out; I was tired. This much time stop takes it out of me, though the school can make good use of the TV, and I can afford it.

“Okay dear, time to set the hook.” I whispered to my co-conspirators and Lex via radio.

Lex spoke in a terrible Australian accent. “The Peeper is known for its habit of keeping close tabs on its environment. It serves as a useful early warning to its neighbors or would if it wasn’t so greedy. It lives in a symbiotic, almost parasitic relationship with the North American Lesser Greasy. Here we have rare footage of the Greasy as it escapes its enemies in its preferred backwards defensive crouch.”

The huge screen showed the short digital videos we’d shot of Greasy sneaking out freight doors and climbing out that window. Peeper laughed along with the increasingly substantial crowd of students now watching the screen, but he did not look too happy.

“Lex, good work. Peeper vid next,” I said through her in-the-ear radio.

“The Peeper is not without its own survival skills.” Lex narrated. “This shows the Peeper is used to using great heights to its advantage, though this means of escape is not fool proof.”

The screen showed Peeper climbing onto and down the fire escape straight into a tongue lashing by Sam. I swear you could see him shrinking as Sam read the riot act. He certainly was slumping in his chair now.

“We next show the two species in spit screen to better compare their differences and similarities.” The views were now of the men’s shower and the bathroom stall. “Notice despite their fearsome appearance, the Peeper and Greasy have small and inoffensive…”

“Okay, okay, stop the video! I give in; what are your terms?” Peeper shouted frantically.

I walked back into the cafeteria as the lights came back up.

“Oh, what a spoilsport. It was just getting to the good parts.” I smiled at the two of them, my eyes locked on Peeper. “You know what we want, but perhaps we can come to an understanding?”

“Sorry, folks, show’s over. But we will be showing movies tonight starting at six. Sky High, The X-men and Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure for those of you who prefer the classics. All proceeds from the sales of snacks and soda will go to a fund to renovate the student lounge areas in the dorms, so it’s to your advantage to pig out,” said Lex. The kids clapped and laughed. I turned and spoke.

“Oh, I’m personally matching any funds the snacks and soda raise, so keep that in mind. Be seeing you.”

Lex, Sam, Dave, the Anderson twins and I all broke up. Then we left with Peeper and Greasy to work out a deal.

* * * *

March 13, 2007 7:47AM

Got a strange message when I finished my security shift yesterday evening, I’m to report to Administration 8AM sharp today, no explanation given. I dressed in my School uniform, as I had classes today and walked over.

“Good morning, Ms. Hartford.”

I do keep my promises.

“Ms. Brown, follow me please.” We entered a side office, and she closed the door.

“I don’t like being beholding to anyone. I’m self-sufficient and proud of it.” She hesitated. ”This is one case I’m happy someone intervened. I believe we will often disagree on what is best for Whateley and its students. I am certain there will be times we are on opposing sides of important issues. We are very different people, you and I. On at least one thing we are the same. When you see something you truly believe in, you do what ever it takes to obtain your goal even to the point of great risk to your health and welfare.

“That is in the best tradition of the Alphas, though I suspect you would never fit in -- we are very exclusive and what’s the phrase you might use, ‘upper crust’? You have done my family a service I can never repay. For that I thank you, Joan. And now I must ask a favor, though you’ve done more than enough. My niece needs a mentor.” I tried to speak. “Hear me out, please. I can teach her computer science though she’ll never be as good as I, it’s part of my mutant gifts. I can instruct her in the ins and outs of school and office politics. I can teach her to be a success in the business world if she wishes. What I can’t teach her is how to be a girl or a boy; I don’t know how anymore.”

~~This is a deep admission by her, the ice queen admitting she is one.~~

“She’s a fine girl or boy/girl, whatever. I still don’t have a handle on these mixed genders; it’s not something they covered back when I was in school. But as long as Pinky sticks to her counseling, I have no problem being her, his/her friend,” I said and giggled.

“That’s what she needs, your flippancy, your ‘have fun, don’t take life so serious’ attitude. I want her to determine her own path, unrestricted by her fears and nightmares. You may be irritating and play the dumb blonde act, but we both know you are hardly dumb.”

“And that I’m a strawberry blonde, I’m not a blonde,” I said making quote marks in the air around ‘blonde.’ Then, I giggled, purely by reflex. Ms. Hartford winced then smiled.

“Perfect. Can you teach her that? Since she’s been at Whateley, Pinky acts older than I do. It’s as if the child inside her has died. You have plenty of ‘that’ to spare; will you help her?”

“I would even if you didn’t ask, but I’m glad you did, Ms. Hartford.” We shook hands.

“You can call me Amelia, but not in public.”

~~My word!~~

“Until later, Amelia.”

* * * *

March 13, 2007 12:15PM, the Crystal Hall

“I’m beginning to regret donating that flat-panel TV to Whateley, do they have to put MSNBC on so often. All-news channels spoil my appetite,” I muttered to myself.

“Care for some company?” The voice was deep and masculine.

“Pinky, of course you can sit down. Sorry I haven’t seen you in a while, but I was preoccupied.”

“I know.”

She/he set her food tray down and gave me a warm hug and a kiss on the lips. It wasn’t quite Eric, but it was nice, very nice.

“What’s all that for?” I asked.

“For being you and a true friend, after everything I tried to do to you.” She/he looked ready to cry.

“Forgiven and nearly forgotten. You were hurting and lashed out in your pain, nothing more nothing less.”

Pinky got this excited look on her face. “I followed what you and Security did to catch those assholes.”

“Pinky, your language. They were rapists, obstructers of justice, members of a criminal conspiracy and mother f…,” then I let out a string of every swear word I could remember. “Sorry, forgot myself.”

Then I giggled, and the two of us laughed until I had to run to the bathroom to cleanup. Fortunately, I had some clean panties and a liner in my backpack or more correctly, the purse inside it.

~~I can run in a bikini, but I’m not fully comfortable with a purse, strange.~~

“Please don’t make me laugh like that again, Pinky.” I said as I returned to our table. “I’m out of dry panties.“ We laughed again but not so hard.

“Look, Joanie, it’s on.” She/he held me tight.

“In a Boston Court today charges of conspiracy, possession of child pornography, obstruction of justice and rape were brought against a United States Senator from Massachusetts…”

“Bless you, Joanie. If it wasn’t for you, those, those, men would still be out there doing this to more kids. Lt. Forsyth and Officer O’Brian were very nice when you and Chief Delarose went to Boston and let my aunt and I know what was going on. That nice lady detective even called and said how brave I was and what a good friend I’d made in you.”

“This brings to seven the number of persons arrested and charged in the Boston rape and child pornography investigation. Rumors persist that investigators received significant help in breaking this case from prominent members of the mutant community or their supporters. We will break in should further important information be discovered. For MSNBC this is…”

“I’m still your friend then, Joanie?”

“Only if you promise I can borrow the handcuffs if I ever get serious with a boyfriend; could be fun.”

“Joanie, that’s kinky.”

“Yah, I know. See you 7AM for a run tomorrow outside of Poe?”

“Count on it.”

* * * *

March 17, 2007 12:05PM, Boston MA

I’d dressed low-key to pick up my father from the airport. I thought Dad would get a kick out of my official Whateley Academy school uniform. The blazer and skirt gave me a cute preppy look -- though it came dangerously close to appearing like the star of a pornographic film involving school girls in heat. Charlie Lodgeman kindly drove into Boston with me. He felt bad about having to report on my “side effect” of our “research trip” to Ms. Carson and my doctors. I could have rented a car or bought one, but where would I store it and driving to get my dad alone was risky. Charlie would draw attention away from me, and his old Jeep Wagoneer was distinctive, so Dad would have no trouble spotting us.

We checked that the flight left on time and drove to Logan Airport. Dad called us on my cell just before we got to the arrival terminal saying to meet him outside the Midwest Express entrance as he was a short walk from it. We drove to the loading zone and waited; he didn’t come. Fifteen minutes passed, and I got worried.

“Something’s wrong, even at 80 with arthritis and a cow valve in his heart, he’s not that slow. He said he was a few hundred feet from the door. I’m going in, Charlie.”

I unbuckled my seatbelt and was about to open the door when a female officer knocked.

“Are you Ms. Joan Brown?”

“I’m her, officer. I’m here to pick up an old friend. How may I help you?”

“It’s about your dad, he’s been assaulted. Miss, Miss Brown are you okay?”

I woke in the back of an ambulance. Two EMT’s were checking me over. “What happened?”

~~That was clever, you fainted girl, duh.~~

“You fainted, Ms. Brown, probably from shock. You seem fine otherwise.”

“How’s my dad?”

They knew and they were professional. They’d hold their tongues.

“We’ll take you to him. We’ve attracted a small crowd and a news crew, so it’s best you’re not seen.”

“Please tell Charlie, Mr. Lodgeman, to go back to the school. I’ve no idea how long this will take. I can call for a ride or catch a cab; they like big fares.” One left to give him my message. Thankfully the police kept the crowd back. Mr. Lodgeman burst into the ambulance.

“Joanie, are you nuts? I can’t leave you here alone.”

~~Gee why don’t you shout “Famous mutant singer here, come and get it.” ~~

Fortunately, they didn’t hear.

“Charlie, I got to the Academy on my own and that was from halfway across the country. Please, I’ll be fine.”

I gave him my most resolute yet pleading look. He smiled a sad smile.

“I doubt you’ll change your mind.” I shook my head. “Sherry used to get like that, and I never could persuade her. You call, hear?”

* * * *

He left, and I thought I saw him wipe a tear. We drove to the hospital where I had a long argument with the staff over why I needed an examination.

“Do I look sick or injured to you? It was just a faint; people do that sometimes.”

“Ma’am, it’s hospital policy. It could be a sign of something serious, like a warning stroke or encephalitis. It’s not like we haven’t seen you naked before, oops!”

“Excuse me?”

“What I meant, Ms. Brown, is we all saw the news coverage of your rescue from the kidnappers. We’re not voyeurs, we’re doctors.” There was truth in that.

“I understand the reason for caution, good medicine, lawsuits and all that but why seven of you and all young male doctors?”

“Ah?”

They found a female doctor, and she gave me an exam.

“Can I see my father now? I’m worried.”

She escorted me to his room. He was sleeping. I could see a plastic splint on an arm and bandages on his face. He was on a preventative antibiotic IV because of his heart valve. He’d been mugged, but they’d caught the bastard. Lucky for him he was in jail, if I’d caught him...

“We’re keeping him overnight for observation and to finish the antibiotic treatment. He should be able to leave tomorrow.”

I stayed with him, napping in a stuffed chair. Somehow, his snoring comforted me. I heard him stirring, so I got up and gently shook him.

“Dad, it’s me, Joanie. Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes, smiled and squeezed my hand with his uninjured arm. I couldn’t take it.

“It’s all my fault!”

I broke down in sobs, my emotions breaking through. I stayed the night, sleeping in the chair or at least trying to. I’d get to thinking about what had happened to Dad, then I’d remember my assaults, and I’d cry. I slept poorly. I guess I’m not so tough. In the morning I felt better emotionally, if a bit tired. Even regens need their sleep. Dad was bruised and sore, but alert.

“That’s the last time you’re ever flying commercial.” I moved closer and spoke softly. “I was attacked in the South Boston AMTRAK station in December. He tried to…” The words wouldn’t come. I started to shake.

“Some man tried to rape you?” I nodded. Dad looked furious. I snapped out of it.

“Dad, never piss off someone who can manipulate time.” I grinned. “He’s lucky I turned him over to the police, everything intact.”

My dad gave out with one of his odd laughs. He laughs at the strangest things sometimes, a nervous reaction I guess. There were nastier things I could have done, like strand my attacker a few hundred years or so in the past in the middle of what then was open water. We’d yet to find the limit of my time travel. MSG had never specifically tried to see how far back I could go. Our concern then was control. That was one of several subjects the powers and medical people wanted to explore with me. They also had some ideas on how to mitigate my “side effect,” but hadn’t told me yet.

Dad calmed down, and later that day we drove to Dunwich in a rental car the airport had provided. They did it for free out of concern for our well being and fearful of publicity. Not that I’d dare expose Dad, but could they risk it? Chalk one up on the plus side for being famous.

We spent several days together. I gave him the campus tour but broke it in to reasonable segments; I didn’t want to wear him out. He marveled at some of the equipment we had both above and below ground He was used to huge machines having worked decades at Allis Chalmers, but Whateley impressed him. We have everything from simple hands-on metal lathes to beyond the state-of-the-art in robotic machining centers. As tough as the over-speed test facility at the old plant was, our powers evaluation ranges were tougher still.

“Joanie, are you sure this is a lab? It looks like pictures of the bunkers at Cheyenne Mountain.”

“It’s better. This new door and the entire chamber wall is a sandwich of a super conducting carbon/ceramic composite material, titanium, boron armor steel and a self-repairing advanced electrically conductive polymer flowing in the middle to dissipate heat and energy beams.”

“What, no spent uranium?” Dad laughed.

“Nah, they replaced that with a layer of some trans-uranic element that technically hasn’t been discovered yet by Harvard.”

“Are you about to sing The Elements?”

“I could if you like, or would you rather have lunch?” We went to lunch.

* * * *

For safety and as a courtesy to me, Ms. Carson let him stay in my dorm room. He teased me no end that I was living in a linen closet. He said the dorms reminded him of his time in the army, though the only things he saw flying then were aircraft on training flights. He’d heard rumors of supers in his Army days, but draftees rarely ever saw any.

“Daddy,” I’d had enough teasing for a while. Sometimes he didn’t know when to quit. “For one thing it’s not a linen closet, it’s converted from a linen closet but it’s a dorm room now. Second, did you see any dorm rooms that were singles? I’ve got it pretty good here Dad. Don’t knock my piece of paradise.” I pouted, and he laughed.

“Okay, it’s a castle, Princess.”

~~Ooooo that stung. Next he’ll be calling me “sweetie”, “pumpkin” and his “baby girl.” ~~

Mr. Lodgeman knew some old quarries and rock outcroppings nearby that were known for fossils and a couple sites where various mineral crystals could be collected. He took my dad and me to several as Dad couldn’t ride on my old cycle. It wasn’t built to easily carry two, and he was still on the mend. He had a great time, despite his injuries, and collected several nice specimens. I would have liked him to stay for his birthday, but he was becoming homesick. Seeing me still caused him some confusion.

I took him to the airport the next day, March 21st and made sure a skycap would escort him all the way to his departure gate. He got a very generous tip for his help. Before Dad left, he gave me a precious gift. In a small bag was a framed colorized photo of my mom in a skirt and jacket taken in her mid teens. She was standing leaning against a large tree and looked so innocent yet attractive. It was her parents' favorite picture of her, and I’d remembered seeing it often it as a child. He also gave me a photo of him in uniform and of the five of us when I was still in grade school. All I could do was hold him tight and cry.

* * * *

To be continued

Revised 11/10/2006
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

Attachment	Size
Timeout2cpt14markupax.doc	74 KB

Timeout 3- Continuous Play

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Other Keywords:

Created by BC staff

Timeout 3- Continuous Play
by John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 1

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

See Joanie resume testing her time travel powers assisted by a famous dead person who is not. Experience the horror of Peeper's punishment. Cringe as the foiled Pizza Poster Plot creates problems and opportunities for our heroine and Whateley if Joanie will reveal everything.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Well, here goes part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me. 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, 2005-2006. Transcripts of this program may be obtained by sending a pre-stamped self-addressed envelope to… but who would want one of those ?

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers, but if you’ve read my stuff, you know it’s not very graphic and tends towards the silly, but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial 911 by Itinerant
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 1- The Big Chill pt 1, Revenge of the Blonde: Epilogue, LA Story pt 1: Adventures in Photojournalism

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 22, 2007

March 22, 2007 7:05AM, Siegel Hall

I was summoned to an early meeting at Siegel Hall medical wing with doctors Pollard, Polland, Bellows, and a middle-aged bear of a man who looked vaguely familiar. “Joanie, this is Doctor Korolev -- he’s with the powers lab. We’ve brainstormed your time travel, um ‘side effect.’ Though we can’t see a way to eliminate it, we may have ideas to give you better control,” said Dr. Bellows.

“Control good, eliminate bad. Joanie like ‘side effect’ ummmmm.”

~ ~Sometimes you have to speak like Tarzan. ~~

Pollard, Polland and Bellows smiled, Dr. Korolev stared.

“Joanie acts the empty-headed teen at times -- don’t buy it. She’s as bright as anyone in this room; she chooses not to show It,” spoke Bellows.

“Aww, after that we’re not playing Twister anymore.” Then I pouted and crossed my arms under my chest, very petulant.

“Joanie, Dr. Korolev has something important to say; hear him out, okay?” said Polland. I nodded.

“Your experience with Mr. Lodgeman on your Operations ‘research trip’, and the data sent from Wisconsin, suggest your ‘side effect’ accumulates much like nitrogen gas in a diver breathing compressed air.”

“I hardly look like Jacque Cousteau, but I think I follow you. The deeper back in time I go and the longer I stay the more intense and urgent my arousal. We figured that out in Madison.”

~~Korolev, hum? Sounds like a Slavic -- Russian? -- accent with a touch of Spanish. Nah, must be my imagination.~~

“Yes, Joanie, but the analogy may be closer to the truth than that. In addition the larger the area affected by your time travel the greater the ‘side effect’. All else being equal, you hit ‘saturation’ sooner, correct?”

“Yes, so, Doctor?” I asked.

~~ Him? No, it couldn’t, he died in 1966? ~~

“We suggest you apply a variant of what divers do, purging and decompression stages,” he continued.

“Purging is breathing pure oxygen or exotic breathing mixtures to force the nitrogen out of your tissues faster?” I asked, not totally certain I was right.

“Precisely, Navy Seals and Army Rangers do the same thing for HALO skydives where they jump from extreme high altitude, and for the same reason -- to prevent nitrogen bubbles in the blood,” said Dr. Pollard taking over.

~~Oh, this is rich! ~~

“You’re implying I can stay longer and go further into the past if I get off prior to departure?” I asked with less-than-innocent interest.

“And you may be able to stay longer if you, ah, relieve some of the tension while you’re there — sort of, well, decompress. The total arousal ‘load’ will be greater because you’re in the past longer, but the residual when you return will be more manageable. The trance you went into at Badger Ordinance may be avoided, we believe,” Pollard added.

I giggled nervously. “I’m not one to stand in the way of progress. I don’t mind the ‘purging’ but the ‘decompression’ is a worry. Can you see me saying, ‘General Washington could you hold off crossing the Delaware until I’ve had a quickie?’”

“It’s that or shorten the trips. You told me yourself that the side effect hasn’t lessened over time, just that you can tolerate it longer,” said Dr. Bellows.

“A series of short trips to pinpoint the exact place in time you wish to visit should cause less of a buildup than one long trip to the same general span of time.” There was logic to what Dr. Korolev said.

“Two questions, Doctor. First, why do I perceive time travel as arousal, but time stop as fatigue. And second, is your first name Sergei?” He smiled a huge smile when I said the name.

“It's likely related to how you manipulate time. With your time travel you’re moving up and down within a time stream and often transport a minimal volume of space-time, that is yourself and not much more. Time stop involves simultaneously holding back the flow of time for a portion and moment of the time stream while maintaining your connection to the stream as a whole. It’s analogous to paddling a canoe up and down a stream vs. trying to dam part of the stream. It’s much easier to paddle.

“As to the second question, I’m glad you recognize me. As your great author Mark Twain said, ‘reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’”

I smiled back. “Why can I transport objects to and from the past and not experience a continual ‘side effect’ afterwards?”

“Because you’re no longer opposing the flow of time. Moving objects forward or back in time only requires expenditure of temporal energy while you’re transporting it. Time stop requires a continual application of energy and that requirement increases as the two times diverge, much like stretching out a bungee cord. I assume that the bulk of your transports have been from the past to the present?” said Korolev.

“Yes. I transported my grandfather’s motorcycle from 1920 to the present,” I replied.

“By the conservation of energy and mass, those objects existed in some form in the future, so moving them from the past to the present changed little. Moving something from the present to the past requires energy but the increased mass in the past compensates. When time catches up again, any imbalance cancels out,” Korolev explained.

“That explains the difference in the effort required, but not necessarily the perception.”

“You’re a lucky girl?” Korolev offered then laughed. I giggled joyously at his joke.

“Not to seem nosy, but didn’t you die in 1966?”

“It was a cover, Ms. Joan; I was about to be exposed as a mutant. I’m a gadgeteer and regen level three. How do you think I survived the Gulag? When I couldn’t hide that I wasn’t aging normally, I had to flee. Mutants were a threat to the USSR, unless you were KGB. When Khrushchev fell, I lost a powerful protector, so I made plans. I fled to South America; Rio is lovely this time of year. When the Soviet Union collapsed, a former colleague contacted me discretely, and here I am.”

“Why not rocketry?” I wondered.

“No funding. It’s too frustrating.”

“So you’re a powers theorist?” I snickered.

“Da.”

I broke up. ~~Mock Russian? Sergei’s a card! ~~

“It’s rewarding work and I do consulting in aerospace under an assumed name.”

I was going to say Werner Von Braun, but even I have some restraint.

“How do we test your theories then?” I asked.

Dr. Pollard spoke next.
“Medical has a sensor web you’ll wear during the experiments. Dr. Korolev will supervise. Afterward, you’ll discuss any personal observations with Dr. Bellows or one of us if he’s unavailable.”

“You’ll take a series of increasingly deeper time trips at a remote site we’ve scouted. First, you’ll do a sequence of quick down and back trips; taking photos to confirm your ‘destination.’ We’d like to start these this week yet. It’s possible you can do the deeper trips as series of time hops down or up. This would prove a boon to your historical researches. Until tomorrow, Ms. Brown.” Korolev stopped, then kissed my hand.

~~My, he’s a charmer. ~~

* * * *

March 22, 2007 7:59AM

Dear d/j/w you’re wondering what the deal was we struck with Peeper? The answer should be on the air any moment.

“It’s eight AM exactly, and WARS is on the air. Today’s forecast is for partially cloudy skies with winds light to variable, five to ten mph. Today is a green flag day, so it’s a nice day for flying. The lunch special is macaroni and cheese with three cheeses, bell pepper, onion and fresh mushrooms. The music department is holding tryouts at four PM in the King Annex for any student interested in the new pop/rock/country group that Joanie is forming. Please see Mr. King or Joanie for details. This Peeper for WARS signing off.”

~ ~I especially liked that last bit. ~~

That had to kill him; weather report, flag status, dish of the day and official school events and nothing else. He’ll be doing this twice a day, seven days a week, until the end of the spring semester. Slow torture is so satisfying.

* * * *

March 22, 2007 4:00PM

“Ms. Brown, may I speak with you?”

~~Oooh, so formal are we? ~~

“Sure, Peeper. Here to tryout for my band?” I asked and smiled graciously.

“No, I respectfully request to renegotiate our deal. I don’t mind turning over all the profits to the school and reimbursing it for the materials and supplies the print shop and photo lab used, but it’s nightmare to have to broadcast like that.”

I smiled then giggled. “We made a deal. Did you know we have high resolution still photos? They blow up real good.”

“Please?”

“It can’t be that bad. Give it a month. If you behave yourself, we’ll let you do some campus gossip within strict limits. We may agree to let you do a calendar, or more posters, for a cut of the profits going to scholarship, but all the models must give written permission beforehand. Any violation of good conduct, such as the micro recorder you’re trying to use on me, will only make things worse. I can always file that lawsuit against your parents. Oh, Peeper, Sam is still not happy with the deal we made.” I grinned.

~~I love my gadgeteer friends for that handy electronics detector/jammer they made for me. ~~

Peeper winced, then walked away. The delectable Tina walked in as Peeper left.

“Joanie, dear, you’re wanted in Administration immediately,” she said in her silken voice.

“Any idea why?” She just grinned in an unsettling way.

~~I know how Peeper must feel. ~~

“It would spoil the fun.”

“Thanks a lot, Tina.” She laughed and walked off. My eyes locked on her…

~~Not now libido. ~~

* * * *

“I was requested to be here, Ms. Hartford. May I ask why?” She looked pleased with herself.

“Ms. Carson will explain and, Joanie, dear, you have my sympathy.”

~~Ms Hartford called me “Joanie dear?” I’m in for it. ~~

I swore she was laughing quietly as I entered Ms. Carson’s office.

“How may I help you, Ms. Carson?”

“Please call me Beth. “

~~All three of them, Ghod no! ~~

“Am I dying, first Tina, then Ms. Hartford, now you?”

Ms. Carson laughed. “Hardly, dear girl; we received an unusual request today. Copies of Peeper’s latest money-maker ended in the possession of a magazine publisher. They wanted you, Sam, and Lex as you are of legal age; they both said no, but I told the publisher I would ask you.”

“Who is it, People, Newsweek, Scientific American or National Geographic, perhaps?” I asked. Ms. Carson was struggling not to laugh.

“Playboy,” she said, snickered, then recovered.

“An interview with accompanying photos of me in my school uniform?” I hoped.

“The cover, an interview“, she started to giggle but forced herself to stop, “and centerfold.” She lost it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or bust heads.

“An interview is okay, the cover maybe, but the centerfold? I look like jailbait for one. My proportions are ludicrous for another. And, I’m a freakn’ mutant. I was a guy less than a year ago, and they want my naked body in their magazine? No way! Are they crazy?” I ranted.

“They’re serious. They want you in their first ever all-mutant issue. They’re interviewing Dr. Otto for the scientific angle, and the money is equally serious.”

“What, like a million dollars? Hah!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Joanie. Two million, if you agree to the cover, interview, and centerfold. They’re willing to pay it as a charitable contribution to the school -- no taxes.”

~~Damn, it’s for the school. ~~

“That’s tempting. Can I think about it? How soon do they need a decision, and where would they do it?”

“They need it by Monday to make the July issue. The exterior shots would be here, with security ensuring they don’t photograph students or something sensitive. Whateley won’t be identified, per se. We’ll be ‘an elite college preparatory school for mutants.’ The interviews can be here as well. The candid photos in a studio or anywhere they can set up lights and reflectors. They could do it in your linen closet.” Ms Carson laughed and smiled at me. “If it sells as well as expected, we get 10% of the international sales.”

~~How do I say no now? ~~

“I’ll let you know.” I was torn.

~~How dare they treat me like a piece of meat; it’s so degrading … Am I that pretty? I need a second opinion and my head examined. ~~

* * * *

March 22, 2007 7:50PM

“Terrace Hill, how may I direct your call?” asked the receptionist.

“May I speak with Babs, please? I mean Ms. Johnson.”

“Who may I say is calling?”

“Tell her it’s Joanie from Whateley.” I head a gasp.

“Immediately, Ms. Brown.”

~~They must remember “Rambo.” ~~

“Babs here, how are you, Joanie?”

“Great, Babs, how are you?”

“Big as a house, I may be rezoned as a duplex any day now. You didn’t call just to say hello, what’s bothering you, dear?”

“My mother already? Here goes, got this offer, absolutely legit, to make an obscene amount of money for Whateley for just a few days work. A publisher wants to interview me and take some pictures for two million dollars.”

“If it’s legitimate, do it. Hell for half that I’d pose naked for Playboy…

“Joanie…?

“It’s Playboy?” she asked in amazement.

“The cover, an interview and centerfold for July 2007; I’d be the star of their first all-mutant issue. It’s for a lot of money. They’d pay it as a charitable donation to Whateley, so it’s tax free. We even get a cut of international sales, but I’m not comfortable.”

“Hon, you have a lovely body -- it can’t be that. It’s not a religious or ethical problem?” Babs asked.

“I’m getting used to my looks. I’m not a prude, and you saw what I wore on the TV show. I’m not worried for myself; it’s you, your family and my surviving family,” I explained.

“Once your dad and sister know how much is being donating to Whateley, they’ll be proud of you. I bet your sister will have a high time teasing you about this -- I would. A pity she can’t tell anyone else,” Babs suggested.

“It’s almost worth it for that alone, it will drive her insane. Ex-brother cackles fiendishly. Did I say that out loud, Babs?” We both snickered. “Dad might have a problem, but only because I resemble Mom.”

“Send him an advance copy as a keepsake, you might be surprised. It may bring up sad memories, but more likely lots of happy ones.”

“He did take photos of her in her one piece in her 20s and early thirties, and in a bikini at over forty. Those last ones they kept for themselves. She still looked pretty hot. What about Mel and her collection?” I asked.

“I can buy her a sealed copy to keep it complete; she’s only eleven, but the cover's okay for her room. Those pop star posters are as racy or worse … Sorry, Joanie, but you know what I mean.”

“No offense, Babs; I’ll send you a couple. What of Eric?”

“Ah, the real problem.”

“Okay, I’m, ah, sweet on him.”

“Afraid you’ll ruin your chances if he reacts badly?” Babs asked.

“Exactly.”

“Gotcha! You do like my son, don’t you, daughter.” She laughed from joy, not to taunt. “I see the problem -- his girlfriend naked in a national magazine. He’ll probably want copies to show his friends.”

“Babs, are you giggling again?” I could hear voices in the background.

“Who’s that, Mom?”

~~ That sounded like Mel. ~~

“Let me get them on the phone,” Babs asked.

“Joanie?”

~~ It is Mel. ~~

“Hi Mel! It’s great to hear you. I’ve got a decision to make, and I need to ask you how you feel.”

“Sure, Joanie, what you want to talk about?”

“I got an offer to do an interview, and pose for pictures in a national magazine. My school would get a lot of money, two million dollars, and a chance of more.”

“That’s wow, Joanie, who’d pay that much? Must be a big magazine like Time or People, huh?”

“Oh, it’s big alright. Mel, I’m calling because I’d be … the photos, well, are ....”

“What’s the matter, Joanie?”

“It’s Playboy. I’d be on the cover, do an interview and be the centerfold for the July issue.”

“You’d be naked?” she asked, then giggled.

“I’m glad you’re taking this well. I thought you might be hurt,” I said.

“Eric will go crazy.”

“That’s my biggest worry. I like your brother a lot, Mel. Will it be a good crazy, or bad?”

“Good, I think. My brother’s not the jealous type. He’ll get mad if they make fun of you, or say bad things, but he’ll like the pictures. He keeps asking if I have any new photos of you. He’s found magazines you were in I didn’t think to check, like Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated.”

“I can see the music magazine but Sports Illustrated?”

“Eric bought it for me. Something to do with a poll on who the readers wanted in the next Swimsuit Edition. He’s working out every day with Dad, Joanie, running, lifting weights and stuff, and it’s not because he wants to play football. Dad says it ‘cause he wants to look good for you. You should see him, if he wasn’t my brother, I’d ask him for a date, and I don’t date yet. Mom says maybe when I’m fourteen like Eric.”

~~He wants to look good for me, how sweet. ~~

“What do the girls think of him?” I asked.

“They call him all the time now for dates, but he only goes out in a group for fun or to help his friends. He says a lot of girls will only date in a group, to be safe. He tells me they keep asking him if they can be his girl, but he says he already has one.”

I felt worried, almost angry, but why?

~~That brazen little…! ~~

“He has a girl? I’ll kill her! Who is ...?” Mel giggled uncontrollably. “Oh, you mean me.”

~~I’m jealous? Ghod, I’m jealous of myself. Dr. Bellows will get a laugh out of this. ~~

“Joanie, why were you angry? What’s wrong?”

~~Good question. Why am I so angry, so possessive of … No! But it’s the only answer that makes sense. ~~

“I just figured it out now, Mel. You’re the first to know. I love Eric.” Mel gasped. “I don’t think its infatuation, or the novelty of it. That I felt jealous at the thought of another girl with him confirms it. Given some time, I think you’ll be my maid of honor.” Mel giggled with happiness.

~~Am I serious? There goes the last lingering shred of my masculinity.~~

“You want to talk to Eric?” Mel asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Joanie?” That tingle stared up.

“Eric, dear, Mel said you’ve been working out to impress me. That’s nice of you, but do it for your health, or because you like it. Your other actions impress me more.”

“What do you mean?”

“I heard you’re asked out on lots of dates, but go for the fun and to help your friends get dates -- not because you’re dating the girls. That’s being very faithful, Eric.”

“Why shouldn’t I? I want you to like me.” My nipples began to ache.

~~I’ve got four years of this until he’s 18? If we stay together, I’ll kill him the first time we make love -- death by sexual exhaustion. ~~

“Eric, if I liked you any more we’d be having sex this minute in spite of our ages. I’ll come out and say it -- I love you, Eric. I think I have since the dance.”

He laughed nervously away from the phone. I heard him speak softly, but excitedly, to someone in the room.

“She loves me, Mel!”

“Told Ya.” He came back on. I was hot, damp and tingly.

~~Four years, oh my! ~~

“You love me?”

“Yah, believe it or not I do, stud. Now, what do we do about it? It’s not like we can date in the open. I’m in New Hampshire, and an adult, and you’re in Iowa, and fourteen. The press would hound you, if they found out. Until your 18, we can’t do it, um, have sex, unless you’d like visiting me in prison. It won’t be easy, Eric.”

“We could talk on the phone regularly like a date, say every Friday night at eight, my time.”

“I’d like that, any other suggestions?”

“Come out for the summer, Joanie. Mom could use the help with the twins due, and we could spend time together.”

I felt a mild twinge in anticipation. I snapped my oh-so-willing legs back together.

“I’ll see what my schedule is like, but I’ll try, Eric.”

“I’ll wait for you, Joanie.”

“I hope I last that long. You have no idea what your voice is doing to me.”

“If it’s anything like how I’m feeling, you’ll want to be alone for a while. I better go before I, oh … I love you, Joanie. Gottagobye.”

~~Did he just do what I think he did, and I did it to him over the phone?~~

~~“He’s hooked girl, reel him in,” ~~my inner voices were saying to me.

~~Crap, I forgot to ask him about the magazine‘s offer! I’ll call him tomorrow. ~~

* * * *

To be continued
Revised 11/14/2006

Thanks to Itinerant for copious editorial and proofing aid
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

Readers, Please Remember to Leave a Comment

Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 2

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie performs a series of experiments to refine her time travel power and has a great time doing it. She tell more friends of her, um, magazine offer and hears from her doctor in Madison about some new mutants and the concern over their origins.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Well, here goes part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me. 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, 2005-2006. No puns were hurt in the filming of tonight’s episode.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly, but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial CPR by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 2- The Big Chill pt 2, LA Story pt 2: Adventures in Photojournalism, The Inverters pt1

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 23-27, 2007

March 23, 2007

For our time travel experiments I wore period neutral women’s clothing, something that wouldn’t look too out of place in the last 100 years or so. I also wore a hooded cape which offered protection from the elements and permitted me to blend in further back. Not that it was needed if our research was correct, but it pays to “be prepared” — snaps spiffy Boy Scout salute.

“We’re done fitting the body sensors and your recorder belt pack. The cameras are micro digital units; one in your broach, the other in your hair clip thus giving us views fore and aft,” Korolev said.

“What am I, a ship?” I smiled nervously.

This was something new, a time trip by me in *uncharted waters*, so to speak. I had done a few this way to get the motorcycle, but after a lot of archival research. Dr. Korolev spoke without laughing.

“Your leather belt pouch has a small, hi-resolution manual film camera, in case something happens to the electronics. It also shoots in digital simultaneously, recording sound and up to one minute of HD video, if you wish. In the event you materialize in a bad spot, there is this.” He held up a Walther PPK and an odd chest harness.

“Kewl, somebody else likes James Bond here.” I said in bimbo mode.

“Very funny, ‘Jane Blond’, but we’re serious. What if you are attacked? Obviously, you want to avoid any major interaction with the past. Killing a future parent or something that will save a person from starvation in the future could be disastrous, but your incapacitation in the past would be bad as well, “ Korolev replied.

“Where does it go?” I asked looking at the unusual harness.

“We thought of on the back of your belt, but that’s too obvious if you’re searched. So this positions it just below your, ah ….”

“Well, if I’m concealing it there, you could have gone for something bigger, like an Uzi.” I gave my chest a quick lift for emphasis. “And if any one here tries combining bazooka with bosom, I’m out of here.” Korolev’s lab techs snorted.

“We also included a survival kit with Swiss Army Officers Knife, pocket carbide cable saw, illuminated compass, Mylar space-blanket and plastic ground sheet, compact sewing kit with 200 feet of carbon nano-tube thread and several fish hooks, 100 feet of 10,000 pound test carbon nano-tube line, first aid kit, an LED solar recharged flashlight, signal mirror, waterproof matches, energy bars, a one piece forged combat knife that looks like its part of your belt, and several dozen Spanish pieces of eight and 19th century US 20 dollar gold pieces on the faint chance you’ll need them. It all fits in your bag or on your person and weighs barely two pounds in total. You could be trapped in the past for some reason and be delayed in your return or we may need to flee the test site and you’re on your own for hours. Odds are you’ll never need it, but still. You never know,” said one of Korolev’s techs.

“What, no triple-thick condom?” I said, and then giggled uncontrollably. They stared at me slack-jawed. “None of you’ve seen Red Dwarf? Barbarians!”

We drove to a nearby mountaintop, remote enough not to be easily seen and where the terrain had not changed in millennia. Korolev continued. “You’ve done enough time trips that you should have a feel for how far back you‘ve traveled?” I nodded. “Use that as your guide. Try for the feeling you got on the ‘research trip’ for Operations. I know you call it Physical Plant, Joan, but it is Operations; that trip was what, 115 years?”

“Yes.”

“Do that again, snap a few pictures in each direction and come straight back. If it’s night, shoot the sky as well. We can use it and the changes in vegetation to determine the approximate year. We’ll transfer the data then you’ll try going back further. We’ll repeat this until you feel your arousal nearing intolerable levels, then we’ll stop and let you recover. Another day we’ll try the same series of trips but with you ‘purging’ beforehand. Don’t worry, we’ve got a plan to give you some privacy and we are professionals.” I didn’t like the leer I saw on the face of one tech.

“When we get to ‘that’ experiment, I’m flying solo, got it?”

“Are you ready, Joan?”

“Chocks away.” They stared again. “I mean, I’m ready. Gees guys, no sense of humor?”

“Oh, that was humor?” said Korolev, that made me laugh.

I relaxed and ‘fell’ back in time. I stopped and looked around me. There were far fewer clearings and the trees seemed much taller, virgin white pine? I smelled wood smoke from the farms and mills, and coal smoke from the distant Grand Miskatonic Shuttle and various logging railways. The research Korolev’s team did was sound. The search of deeds, tax records, logging and mining claims proved correct; there were no buildings or fields within a mile of the site and relatively few trees due to the massive rock outcroppings. I did ten trips in quick succession, by the last couple I was hungry, uncomfortable from sitting on the cold, hard rocks and Dr. Korolev and the techs were looking hot.

~~Ooh baby, the size of Korolev’s hands, ummmm. Oh-oh, it’s time. ~~

“Uh, guys, can we take a break? I’m… Let’s say I’m fit to burst.”

“Did you want some time alone? We could continue afterward. I’m surprised you didn’t say anything earlier; your readings the last few trips have been … interesting.” Korolev smiled.

~~Ghod, what virile man. Snap out of it, Joanie! ~~

“I wanted to do my best, but I think one more trip would put me over the top. How well did I do?” Hang in there girl, relief will be soon. “I noticed far fewer signs of civilization after the first few trips and nothing the last few.”

“Hard to say with precision: we don’t know if your ‘side effect’ builds up as a linear progression based on time depth and duration or not, or how fast it dissipates. A preliminary estimate based on your relative increase in arousal, if linear, and in the photos of the changing vegetation suggests you traveled back 2500 years the last time. Joan you can close your mouth, but roll up your tongue first.”

“Sorry.” The surprise of his announcement blunted my arousal somewhat.

“I think we’ll stop for today and let you recover. We’ll analyze the data and plan the next series of trips. Did you want the sensors off now?” asked Korolev.

“They’re mildly irritating, but if I start undressing now, I might not stop with me. You guys are looking awfully good to me, right now.” I laughed, but huskier and sexier than normal.

”We’ll give you 15 minutes with the sensors turned off,” said Korolev.

“Make that half an hour, please. Can I borrow a blanket? The ground’s cold.”

* * * *

“Terrace Hill, how may I…”

“It’s Joanie, Eric Johnson right away please,” I was anxious to hear his voice.

“Sure Joanie.”

“Joanie, I’m happy you called but surprised,” Eric replied enthusiastically.

“You said to call you at eight on Fridays.”

“Joanie, eight Central Time, its seven now, not that I’m complaining. We can talk longer this way,” he laughed, but I didn’t feel insulted.

“This couldn’t wait, dear. You don’t mind me calling you that? I’m not the best with this romance stuff.”

“No, it’s … I like it Joanie,” he said then laughed.

“Good, because if this works out you’ll be hearing it for a long time; I’m not a kiss and run kind of girl. I play for keeps. I forgot to ask you about something important yesterday, and I feel bad about it.”

~~Ghod, I’m getting aroused, and so soon. ~~

“Don’t feel bad, we were kinda preoccupied. What’s the matter?”

“Did Mel, or your Mom, tell you I might be in a major magazine. I’d do an interview, photo spread and be on the cover?”

“They mentioned something, but said you would tell me,” Erid repied.

“Eric, would you mind if I posed for Playboy?”

“Playboy?” Eric sounded … I’m not sure how he sounded.

“I won’t do it, if you don’t want me to,” I offered.

“Why would it bother me?”

“Because I’d be naked; it’s for the centerfold. I’d be on the cover too. It will be their first all mutant issue; I’d be Miss July.”

“My girlfriend, Miss July? It’s okay, Joanie; you’re an adult and all, so it doesn’t matter what I say. You’re doing this for your school, and you are so pretty, why not?” Eric said reassuringly but with a hint of excitement.

“That’s very mature, Eric, but it does matter to me what you think. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you? This decision affects us both, and we should make it together; it’s only fair we discuss this.”

“I won’t be embarrassed. Ah, Joanie, can I have a copy when it comes out, I can’t buy one because I’m under age.”

“If Mom and Dad say it’s okay, sure. I am your girl after all. Say hi to Mel, and your parents, Eric. I love you,” Ghod forgive me, but I do!

“Sure Joanie. I love you too.”

I think I’m getting the hang of this girlfriend/boyfriend thing. As to the up close and naked bit, I’m glad we have to wait. Good thing that was over the phone, I’m gonna need to decompress. Between the ‘research trips’ and this call I’m wound tighter that an eight day clock.

* * * *

March 24, 2007

“Since it's Saturday, we’ll just do a handful of tests and keep it a short day. You’ll do two test trips where you travel straight back in time as far as you can, take your photos, and snap right back. Then you’ll do a couple were you go half as far back, stop, take your photos, then try going at least as far back again, repeating until you can’t go any farther. This is the bounce down technique we discussed earlier. You then take your photos and come back in one shot. We’ll try the decompression-style returns in a few days after the analysis of these experiments. Don’t go any father back than your control permits, Joanie. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Are you ready?”

He must be concerned, he called me Joanie.

“Ready, uh, Sergei, and thanks for calling me Joanie.”

“Be careful, and good luck.”

I relaxed and ’pushed,’ ‘fell,’ -- it’s hard to describe how I do it -- as hard as I could into the past. I saw no sign of civilization in the two trips I made this way.

“We think you went back 4000 years on the second attempt, it’s difficult to tell until the analysis is finished. How do you feel?” Sergei asked.

“I’m fine, there’s a pleasant tingle here and there, but nothing I can’t cope with.” I was beginning to like this research project. I could do this all day, oh yeah.

“This time try the bounce down trick we discussed. Good luck.”

I relaxed and fell into the past, trying for half as intense an experience. I stopped, took photos, and traveled back again. I did this several times until my ”side effect” became uncomfortable, and I came back. After several minutes to compose my self, I tried again. I concentrated on the task at hand, and not what I’d like to put my hands on.

I pushed it as far as I could, to the point where my arousal was urgent. If I’d seen anything resembling a man, I would have stripped in seconds, happily. It would have been damned uncomfortable on top of all that hard, cold ice. It was frigid, and the glare was hard on my eyes even with the dark sunglasses I’d brought. I stood trembling, and not from the cold, shot my photos, grabbed a bag of samples, and came back like a rocket.

Once I’d recovered my senses I was tired, glowing, and sticky. Time travel and quiet dignity did not go hand-in-hand for me. I felt fantastic, but embarrassed.

“Um, how long did I …?” Korolev and the techs looked embarrassed too.

“You traveled at least 10,000 years, give or take a millennium. You were sitting atop the last great North American ice sheet, Joanie. Remarkable! Oh, thanks for the bag of ice. We’ve saved some for analysis, the rest we’ll serve drinks over in celebration back at Whateley.”

“That’s pretty far back, huh?”

I giggled with delight and relief. I was out of it when I’d first come back, oh yeah baby! Sorry d/j/w.

“Did I go into a trance?”

“No, the sensors say you were conscious, but preoccupied,” said the senior tech.

“Preoccupied?” This was too good to pass up.

“You were having one long, continuous…”

“Can’t say it, can you? We’re all adults here.” I gave my “entourage” a vamp’s smile and pose.

“You had a ….”

“Can’t, can you?”

“Sorry, Joanie,” the tech replied.

“Do you need help with that?” I said, pointing at the embarrassing bulge in his pants. He was very embarrassed.

~~My-my! ~~

“Thanks, but I have a girlfriend.” I noticed they all were suffering to varying degrees.

“I take it we try the decompression stops next time?”

“Oh yes, please!” they chorused.

* * * *

“Sis, pick up the phone. It’s Joanie!”

“Joanie, how are you?” It was her husband.

“How’s married life, Tony? Her Royal Pain in the A… Rear driving you crazy?”

“She’s a sweetie, and you know it, Joanie.”

“My Ghod, she’s been replaced by a space alien!” I exclaimed.

“Here she comes, hang on.”

“Stay on the line too, Tony. I need to talk with both of you.”

“What gives, my formerly evil older brother, now my evil younger sister?”

“I’ll be brief,” I replied.

“That’s a miracle!”

“Ha, ha! I have an offer from a major magazine publisher. In exchange for an interview and photos, Whateley gets two million dollars as a charitable gift.”

“So what’s the problem? I assume you’ve checked them out. That is a lot of money. It reminds me of an advance for a Presidential autobiography,” she said, then laughed.

“The interview is fine, and the magazine cover is okay. It’s the centerfold that bothers me. I’d be Miss July.”

“Playboy?” she said, choking.

“Yes.”

“That’s a gift from the gods to me,” my sister said, then laughed.

“Babs thought you’d say as much.”

“Been talking with Ms Johnson again. Are you seeing that boy of hers?” Sis asked.

“Not right now, but I like the young man. I like him a lot.”

“I know you, miss poster child for the shy. Tell me the truth,” Sis teased me but it was near the truth.

“How do you know when you’re in love? I never was before. I think I am now.”

“You love a fourteen year old boy? This gets better and better,” she said half-laughing.

“Tony, I haven’t heard a word from you.”

“I have to live with -- Ouch!”

“No fair hitting, Sis, and this isn’t funny. I don’t want Eric hurt, or to get either of us in trouble.”

“Be careful. It’s your lives and reputations on the line. If he’s worth it, you two can wait.”

“Thanks Sis. I just hope I can last that long. The way I react to him when we’re close, I don’t know why it is, but wow!”

“Joanie, um, are you on the Pill?”

~~So the gloves are off now? ~~

“Some of us have control, Blondie,” I snorted, then continued. “I told you, my new body burns off drugs, any drugs, real fast. The pill won’t work for me. I promise, Sis, as much in lust as I may be, I love him and his family too much to do anything stupid.”

“You’ve got it bad, but I’m happy for you. He must be something special for you to fall for him.”

“I think he is, and the best thing is he’s not Italian.”

“Oh you!” Sis exclaimed.

Did I forget to mention Tony’s Italian-American?

* * * *

March 27, 2007

“Before we proceed with the teleconference, let me give you some background.”

* * * *

March 25, 2007

“Dr. Grobschmidt-Taylor to emergency, stat. Dr. Grobschmidt-Taylor to emergency, stat.” the PA blared.

“I’m here, what is it?”

“We have a pair of new mutants in severe burnout. We’re struggling to stabilize them. The boy is in an ice bath with chilled oxygen and chilled IVs yet his temperature keeps rising; it’s at 105F. His twin sister is nearly as bad but her slightly smaller body mass is letting us chill her more effectively. She’s at 103.5F and steady.” replied the night intern.

“Add salt, good old sodium chloride, to the ice bath, lots of it, and add more ice. The salt will force the temperature down like in an old-fashioned ice-cream maker. Have someone get some dry-ice and a vacuum flask of liquid nitrogen from the lab. If we have to, we’ll use that to chill him, but very carefully. Inject both patients with the highest dosage of metabolic inhibitor their body weights allow, him first. Keep a constant watch on both, I’ll not lose one patient because we were too busy with the other.”

* * * *

“How are they doing?”

“Much better Dr. Sara, he’s at 103 and going down. She’s at 101 and we’re about to wean her from the ice-bath.”

“Any clues to the nature of their mutations, Carrie sweetie?”

“Mom! Don’t do that, it’s embarrassing. Will you behave yourself?” Sara pouted and nodded. “They’re twins and turn fourteen next month. He’s Thomas Allen Smith and she’s Thomasina Alice Smith, Mom.”

“Oh the poor babies. Be glad I didn’t give you a cutesy name to match mine, Carrie. What worries me is, why simultaneous burnouts? I’ll have to do a search of the literature to be certain, but I can’t recall it happening before. Identical twins that’ve mutated often end up with similar or identical powers, but they don’t necessarily mutate at the same time. These are fraternal twins so there’s less reason for twin burnouts.”

“The genetic tests show they’re in that rare class of polar body twins, an egg that split before fertilization.”

“I know my genetics, Carrie, but thanks for reminding me. The synchronized burnouts suggest this was deliberate, and the disappearance of their parents worries me. The police just informed me and advised us to increase our security.”

“Are you saying these are drug, radiation, or virus induced?”

“It’s possible. Are all normal safely precautions in place?”

“Double gloves, disposable gowns, masks, frequent hand washing, and the use of the UV/antiseptic spray airlock to their room.”

“Good. Have Dr. Alex call me when the lab results are back. Until we know they’re not contagious, no one goes home. This unit is under quarantine.”

* * * *

“So that’s what happened. Dr. Pollard, Dr. Polland, Dr. Otto, Mr. Lodgeman, and my dear Joanie, glad you could all make this video conference.”

“You said in the e-mail you needed our help,” asked Dr. Otto.

“We have suspicions, and if they prove true, the implications are frightening. The patients, polar body twins Thomas Allen and Thomasina Alice Smith -- no giggles Joanie -- entered severe burnout within minutes of each other. Salted ice baths and metabolic inhibitors controlled the symptoms and prevented injury. All lab tests came back negative for pathogens and radiation damage but we did find traces of unusual organic compounds. The material is unstable but from what we analyzed it acts similar to, but not as severely as, Ultra-X-Amine.”

* * * *

To be continued
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 3

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

What is Ultra-X-Amine? Why are Joanie's friends so worried? Joanie's tagged to mentor the new mutant twins and members of MSG visit Whateley. Joanie has an easy day with Korolev and learns Ms Hartford set her up but feels like two million bucks after. Joanie has a nightmare, she hopes

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006. Not responsible for any brain damage to readers of my stuff.

Adult content advisory: yet again this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly, but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial necromancy by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 3- The Inverters pt2, LA Story pt 3: Adventures in Photojournalism, The Big Chill pt 3, A Little Nightmare Music

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 28-31, 2007

March 27, 2007

“What is Ultra-X-Amine?” I didn’t like the look on everyone’s faces; they appeared shocked.

“Joanie, ask Mr. Lodgeman if you need details. The Reader’s Digest version says Ultra-X-Amine is a poorly understood compound that induces supers level mutations in individuals with mutant genes. It’s usually fatal except in rare circumstances”

“Charlie, and, I take it, the Mystic Six, being the rare circumstances?”

“Yes, Joanie,” Dr. Otto continued. “Those exposed invariably die from intense burnout. The Mystic Six survived because they were young children when deliberately exposed, as has one other, a current student at Whateley who received a long forgotten sample of the compound as part of a practical joke gone wrong. She survived only due to being a nascent mutant mimic, and because of some unusual aspects of her burnout. That was the last remaining sample, so far as we know, and the knowledge to make the compound was lost long ago.” I saw his name tag in the video feed and smiled.

“So you’re the famous Dr. Otto. Thanks for helping Dr. Sara with my case. I may come to ARC someday for further testing if we can work it out with Whateley.”

“I’d be delighted, Ms. Brown. Our mutual friend, Dr. Sara, told me the most delightful stories about you.”

“I’ll bet she has. Don’t believe her, she lies.” Then I giggled. I can’t help it, I just do.

“Joanie, Otto, to the point,” remonstrated Sara with a chuckle. Dr. Pollard spoke.

“If someone has developed a non-lethal form of Ultra-X-Amine, this is dangerous. Supers made to order or a sudden plague of new supers could overwhelm the health care system. At a minimum, it would be disruptive. How can we help, Dr. Sara?”

“The FBI, CDC, State Crime Lab, and MSG are searching for chemists, biologists, engineers, or anyone else who might be capable of this. They are also tracing shipments of chemicals and equipment that such complex synthesis might require, and for suitable facilities. With so many of each in the area due to UW-Madison’s proximity, it’s a difficult task, but they claim to have leads. Doctors Otto, Pollard, and Polland, I need your detailed analysis of our data and of the trace samples of the compound we recovered from the victims’ blood and urine. Mr. Lodgeman, I need any recollections the Mystic Six have of the original experiments. Also, I need all the notes and any recollections from Sherry’s Ultra-X-Amine related experimentation. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.”

“I understand. I’ll contact the Tanakas and the rest today,” said Charlie. The doctors gave their agreement.

“What am I needed for, Sara, historical research?” I said hinting at my “special” kind of research.

“I need you to help the twins. You’re a recent mutant, a famous one, and you know the stresses involved. They’ve not experienced gender change, but their lives are torn apart. We’ve had at least one kidnap attempt at the hospital. Security stopped them, just. I fear for their safety and that of the staff. They’re on a Wisconsin Air National Guard plane to Whateley as we speak. Dari and Gin are escorting them. Dari, being an alumna, is giving the twins a quick course in Whateley so they won’t be total newbies. They should arrive at Whateley in a couple hours.”

“I’m not needed for a ‘research trip?’”

“Only if absolutely necessary. The authorities claim they’re on the trail. I suggested they make use of your ‘talents’, but you know how stubborn men are.”

“Sara, I used to resemble that remark.”

“Sorry, ah … girl.” Sara said between snickers. “It’s dangerous, Joanie, if they have more of the compound. Regen or not, if they exposed you, it might trigger another burnout, but to those without mutant genes it should be harmless.””

“My own regen might kill me?”

“There is a small risk, yes.”

“Then I gallantly volunteer for the death-defying task of mentoring teenage twins.” We giggled. “Sara, what of their parents?” I asked.

“Their status is unknown. They disappeared soon after our EMTs took the children. The parents knew to call us because of that website you mentioned on TV. If not for that, the children would have died. We barely saved them as it is. A regular hospital isn’t equipped properly. Officially, their parents are missing and possibly kidnapped or worse. There are no leads. See why I need your help?”

“Are any of the blood relatives mutants?” Dr. Polland asked.

“Not that we know. It’s possible the children were targeted at random or for some other reason. It’s all pretty vague so far, sorry,” said Sara.

“What of the kids, how are they?” I asked.

“They turn fourteen next month, and physically appear largely unchanged by the mutation. The only significant difference from their doctor and school records is their eye and hair color. Thomas had brown eyes and hair, while Thomasina had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. They’re eyes are now an intense emerald green and their hair is changing; the roots appear reddish blond. It reminds me of your hair early into your transformation, Joanie. It's growing at a fairly normal rate so we’re not certain of the final color. Their powers are not fully tested either, but Dari and I recommend Hawthorne Hall for now.”

“A pair of strawberry blonds, my kind of … You said Hawthorne? Poor kids. Are they violent, or have uncontrolled powers?”

“A combination. As new mutants we’d keep them here until they gained some control, but the kidnap attempt makes that untenable. Whateley will have to finish the job.”

“But why Hawthorne?” asked Dr. Pollard?

“They’re inverters,” He said.

I saw looks of surprise on everyone’s’ faces.

“That’s a new one on me, inverters?” I asked.

“A rare sub-class of nullifier which is a subclass of PK or Package-deal Kinesis. Nullifiers were hypothesized, but never before confirmed. Instead of damping other mutant’s powers, their power acts like a corner prism and turns that power back toward its source. Theirs appears to be a generalized inverter power that responds to TK, energy beams, telepathy, and physical force. If it’s a threat, their power kicks in,” said Dr. Sara.

“You’re saying their power is passive and defensive by nature, so why Hawthorne?” I asked, Dr. Otto answered.

“They’re natural trouble magnets. Lacking an obvious offensive power, exemplar looks, or a fierce appearance, they seem easy targets. Some bully will try to intimidate them and go too far.”

“Like how the Omegas treated me first day at Whateley,” I said.

“Joanie had a run-in with the Omega’s?” asked Dr. Otto.

“They’ll never make that mistake again. She time stopped them and...” Dr. Sara gave Dr. Otto the “Cliff’s Notes” version of the incident.

“So that’s what the rumors were about. I’d heard a female warper had humiliated one of the campus thug squads, but I didn’t know it was you, Joanie. We do need to bring you in for testing someday,” Dr. Otto replied.

“What of our inverters?” I said.

“When something attacks them, the response is automatic. It’s likely a TK shell or field that reacts instantly to danger. The greater the force striking it, the stronger it reacts. Somehow the attacking energy re-enforces the field. Whatever hits it is returned toward its point of origin with little loss of power. This often infuriates the attacker as they think they’re being mocked. The violence escalates until the attacker suffers serious injury,” Dr. Otto said.

“If the attack occurs in a crowd, it turns into a brawl with many injured, often by accident?” I suggested.

“Exactly, Joanie. The inverter is like the initiator in nuclear bomb and this applies to physical force, too. Throw a ball at them they expect, you have a game. Throw one hard they don’t expect, you’re lucky not to bean yourself,” Dr. Otto concluded.

“I’d think a mild tranquilizer would help,” I offered.

“That would be worse as it’s a fully autonomic reflex. Only if they’re unconscious does the response not manifest. Dr. Alex and I feel though it’s a self—adjusting TK field, with training they may be able to turn it on and off at will, or moderate its intensity. They might learn to dissipate the energy rather than reflect it. As it stands now it’s like that old sci-fi series, Star Trek and the starship deflector shields -- only these shields shoot back.”

“Nasty, Sara, and it could look to observers and the Police that they did it and not the instigator.”

“That’s why they need to be at Whateley until they learn control and the people trying to harm them are captured,” said Dr. Pollard.

“Other than they know of me and my connection to Wisconsin, why me? There are other students or staff better versed on powers theory or psychology.”

“Because you’re bright, friendly, and a warper -- that last quality is crucial. So far that is one of the few powers they don’t react to. Empaths and telepaths are at some risk but your mental powers are passive so that shouldn’t be a problem. A brick or energizer would be a disaster,” Dr. Sara explained.

“But Hawthorne’s full of energizers and violent types, Sara,” I said.

“Yes, Joanie, but they — the students -- know that too. Hawthorne residents are extra careful with each other, and I recommended they have a room just for the two of them -- they are twins. Now that we’re all up to speed here, it’s time we take our leave,” said Sara.

“Wait, how should I dress to meet them? The full blown Whateley school uniform, casual clothes, my Whateley Security uniform, the ‘Joanie’ leather look, or something else?” I saw Carrie walk on camera.

“Ooh, choices, Joanie. Being the only familiar face on campus, the Joanie look toned down with a Whateley school blazer shows your connection to the school yet looks familiar. We miss you girl.”

“Hi, Carrie, I miss you too. Say hi to MSG for me. Be seeing you.”

“Number Six, The Prisoner,” Carrie and Dr. Sara shouted then broke the link.

* * * *

I rushed to Poe and changed into appropriate clothes. I must say the preppy school blazer over my leathers and Steve Zink number 11 boots was downright sexy. I’ll have to remember this look for when Eric is legal. I hustled to Administration to see if we had any info on the twins.

“Ms. Hartford, do we have a registration packet, or any other information on a set of boy/girl twin mutants that are arriving today from Wisconsin, Thomas Allen and Thomasina Alice Smith? I’ve been tabbed as their mentor and advisor, poor kids.”

~~That nearly got a laugh out of her, maybe there’s some hope.~~

“Nothing yet, other than their names and the names of the two members of the Madison Supers Group escorting them, that makes three of you at Whateley, five if you count their escort.”

“They're just visiting. Wisconsin’s not planning an invasion, certainly not this close to the spring walleye season.”

“Walleye, that’s a fish?” asked a secretary.

“Walleyed Pike, the best damned eating fish on earth, with the possible exception of Lake Perch, or maybe Smelt. Sorry, it’s a Midwest thing.” They all looked at me oddly. ”Is there anything else for me while I wait for them to arrive?”

“I have some mail for you, Joanie. It looked important so I wanted to hand it to you, personally,” Ms. Hartford purred.

“It’s not a bomb, is it?” I said then I giggled. The Administration staff fought to keep in control, but Ms. Hartford exploded with laughter.

~~What?~~

Then I saw the Rabbit Head logo in the return address.

~~I thought I forgot to tell them my answer … oh! Okay, “Amelia”, two can play this game.~~

“Thank you for informing them I’d accept their offer, Ms. Hartford. I plain out forgot in the excitement.” I walked over and hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek.

~~Hum, she doesn’t taste of poison, or smell of formaldehyde, definitely not plastic, and she feels warm-blooded. There go four popular theories down the drain.~~

Her cheeks developed a lovely red blush.

~~Game, set, and match to Joanie. Time for me to be a good sport.~~

“I’m just having fun with you, Ms. Hartford. Thanks, and I mean it. I didn’t have the guts to send it in, but Whateley does get a bundle for me taking my clothes off. It seems a fair trade.”

“You’re welcome?” she said somewhat confused.

~~That rattled her cage.~~

I sat in a quiet corner reading the letter. They were pleased I’d agreed so quickly.

~~Damn, Ms. Hartford faxed it in on the 22nd? That’s the day I first heard of it. I wonder … maybe Pinky knows when her Aunt's birthday is, and her real age. Revenge is a dish best served with butter frosting and candles -- lots and lots of candles.

~~They’re willing to do all the photos and interviews at or near Whateley; that’s a plus. These look like airline tickets, and an invite to his California mansion? Nah, I’m not a hot tub kind of gal. I'd better let them know I can’t make that. It pays to be polite. They say this should take three days at 16 hours a day, though possibly longer. I’m a regen, I can handle it. Now, two million divided by 48 hours is … ~~

“Joanie!” Gin cried out as she ran up then hugged me mercilessly.

~~My, that felt good.~~

“You too, Gin, Dari. Everyone listen up please. These two are Ginseng Glory and Dairy Maid, two of the nicest mutants you’ll ever meet.”

“Looking sharp, Joanie, but why the part Whateley, part leather, look?” asked Dari.

“Carrie and Sara suggested it for meeting the kids, mix the familiar with the new?”

Gin led two worried looking teens to meet me. They tried to hide behind her.

“Joanie, may I introduce Thomas and Thomasina Smith.” said Gin.

They were kids-next-door types, no fashion models in training or apprentice monsters, just average kids. Average height and build for their age, he was roughly 5’6”, 120 lb, she was slightly taller at 5’7”, 100lbs, but girls do mature sooner. Except for their shockingly emerald green eyes and the strawberry blond of the new hair coming in they were normal in appearance.

They sat down on a couch in Ms. Carson’s office; she’d kindly invited us in. They seemed happy enough on the surface, but their body language said they were terrified.

“How you two holding up? Were Dari and Gin good to you?”

“We’re okay,” said Thomas, his sister just nodded.

“You’re not okay, even I can tell that. If you two shook any harder you’d fall apart. What’s wrong, you can’t be afraid of me?”

I sat on the floor sort of side-saddle to be less imposing; I’m in a short skirt here people. Dari and Gin found some chairs.

“And it can’t be Ms. Carson, she’s a sweetie. She puts up with me being here, that qualifies her for sainthood.” Dari burst into giggles.

~~Odd, I thought she was a laugher.~~

Gin snickered demurely and Ms. Carson stuck her tongue out and winked but only for a moment before returning to her normal friendly face of authority. The twins smiled weakly. Thomasina spoke up.

“You’re so famous and all, Ms. Joanie, and these last few days were terribly strange.” She took a deep breath. “We felt awful during our mutation, we heard guns going off, and … no will tell us where Mom and Dad are!”

She started crying, her brother moved to hug her and he started sobbing too. Dari and Gin went to comfort them. I used this interruption to my advantage.

“I need to use the ladies room, excuse me.”

* * * *

Well I did, but that’s not why I left.

“Ms. Hartford, do you know where Pinky Conners is now?”

She tapped a few keys on her computer.

“She’s with Dr. Bellows until 11:50.”

“Thanks, I should have remembered. Could you get a message to her to meet me at our table in The Crystal Hall? She’s to meet me there as soon as she’s done with him. It’s important.”

“Certainly, Ms. Brown, I wonder…”

“Yes?”

“Could I have an autographed copy of the July issue when it comes out?”

“Sure, but why would you want one?”

“Insurance,” Ms. Hartford said stone-faced, though I could tell she was straining not to laugh.

* * * *

I fought back the giggles, and returned to Ms. Carson’s office. They were calmer now. I guess they’d cried out their stress.

“Do they have rooms assigned yet?” I asked, hoping they got a joint one as Dr. Sara said.

“For the time being, they’ll share the northwest corner room, third floor of Hawthorne. We’re making an exception on boys and girls in the same dorm room as they are twins,” said Ms. Carson.

“See, I told you she’s nice, “ I said.

“You’ll love it. I had a school friend who lived in Hawthorne. There’s a great view on that end and you’re near the bathrooms and showers, a big plus,” said Dari. “We have to catch the Wisconsin Air National Guard plane by 5PM, but we can stay for a few hours and get you settled in. Want a campus tour?”

* * * *

Tom and Tina, that’s what they preferred to be called ~~Great, another Tina.~~ were wowed when we got to the Crystal Hall, the next to last stop on our tour, the last stop being their dorm room.

“Are they still serving the TaterTots with French-fried onions, and those spicy curly fries? Their's were the best.” You could tell Dari was a gourmand.

“At least once a day. They’re still good, too. Tom, Tina, let’s get you lunch. Grab a tray and have your student ID cards ready to hand to the cashiers. They’re testy sometimes.” I giggled.

“Joanie, what did you do?” asked Gin.

“If a petite brunette named Cheryl is working, call her Brittany Spears.” I covered my mouth until I settled down.

“Tom and Tina, do be careful what you pick out. Some Whateley students have strange dietary requirements. You don’t want a cage of live hamsters on your plate by mistake.”

“Joanie!” Gin cried out.

“She’s right, Gin, but usually the strange stuff is kept out of the normal serving line. Treat yourself to some soft serve ice-cream when you’re done. This is some of the best I’ve ever had. I’m from Wisconsin and I ought to know.” said Dari.

“Are you about to sing the Pabst Blue Ribbon Jingle?” I asked.

We checked out, -- Cheryl was off today, ~~Damn!~~, and sat down at my favorite table. It provided a good view of the main campus commons. We’d been eating a short while when Pinky walked up. She was slowly becoming more comfortable with her situation. Whether it was due to me or Dr. Bellows, I don’t know, but she was dressed more appropriately for her male hermaphroditic form, a touch unisex, but definitely male. She even wore a school tie though many did not. She/he looked sharp and confident, and I said so.

“You look great Pinky. The tie is a nice touch.”

~~Is that silver tie-tack she’s wearing what I think that is?~~

“I can’t wear most of my favorite jewelry or earrings with this body but I still can have some flash.”

She/he smiled happily. Pinky was definitely happier in recent days.

“Pinky, these are Tom and Tina Smith. They’re twins and just arrived today. Since you’re my friend, and live in Hawthorne on the same floor, I thought you could be their friend and show them the ropes; the do’s and don’ts of student life at Whateley.”

“Sure thing, Joanie, I’m so proud what you’re doing for the school. My Aunty told me how much money we’re getting for you posing and giving an interview, and all the guys I’ve talked with say they want to buy one when it comes out, even some of the girls said so, too.”

“Slow down, Pinky. Take a breath. You’re talking so fast I can hardly follow you. Your Aunt told you about my magazine deal?”

“That’s why I’m wearing the silver tie-tack she gave me. Aunty is handing them out all around campus along with a little note telling them why. She said she bought a couple hundred.”

~~I’m sunk.~~

Gin and Dari looked close at the Rabbit Head logo pin and stated giggling.

“It’s not that funny, and it's for two million dollars, minimum. Your Aunt and I are going to have a long talk and she’d better …” I saw Ms. Hartford walking past handing out pins. “Hey, don’t I rate one, Ms. Hartford?” She walked over, smiling happily and handed me one. “This game goes to you.” I made a chalk mark in the air. She nodded and walked off. I pinned it on my blazer’s lapel.

“Ms. Joanie?” asked Tom.

“Just, Joanie, okay?”

“Isn’t that a Playboy logo?”

“Yes, I’m Miss July 2007, and no snickers, girls.”

They all broke up. I could tell the rest of the day would be downhill from here. The things I do to earn a buck.

The rest of the afternoon we worked hard getting the twins set up in their room, and my friends from MSG back to their plane. I’d wished we could visit longer, but they have their own lives. I saw them off then spent several more hours escorting Tom and Tina around campus and arranging for their medical and powers testing. I had evening shift with Security, so I left them in Pinky's capable hands. I knew I could trust her/him now, and there was a chance they could help each other. They could even be each others’ dates for the mandatory school dances, Tina when Pinky was both, and Tom when she was just a she. I gave them all some quick advice before I left.

“Tom and Tina, Pinky is a special kind of shape shifter, she’s a were. Her base form is a girl, but every other 28 days she becomes like she is now, a male hermaphrodite -- both sexes but male in outward appearance. She’s understandably upset about it, but is adapting.”

Tom and Tina each grabbed one of Pinky's hands and gave a friendly squeeze.

“Pinky, FYI, Tom and Tina are inverters. It’s like a nullifier, but their power turns an attack back on its source. That applies to physical and mental powers as well as TK, and energy blasts, so be careful, okay? I’m mostly a warper so I don’t set off their defense. You two know how to contact me if there’s any problem, and Pinky will help too. Wish I could stay but I have to go now. Duty calls.”

“Joanie, after our 7:00AM run, let’s meet with Tom and Tina at 7:45AM, by the main door to Hawthorne then go to breakfast as a group?”

“You bet.”

* * * *

March 29, 2007

“Today is an easy one, Ms. Brown, a review of what we’ve done so far and where we are going next with our tests.” Korolev explained.

“I don’t get to time travel today, darn. I was so looking forward to it.” I licked my lips and pouted.

I like this new and improved body. Oh, I miss the old me, but this body is so much fun. It’s like I traded in the old reliable family minivan for a Ferrari, a Ferrari that it came with its own service garage and mechanic. The options that came standard with this “model” astound me. The range of “entertainment” activities is better, too, and with this body I’ll have no problems getting the guys to “lend” me that one option I don’t have anymore. I’m sure they would if I was “that sort of girl,” which I’m not. A good thing as my contraceptive options are limited to condoms, the rhythm method and abstinence.

Given that I’m far more old-fashioned than I thought, the latter seems the choice for now. I’m amazed at how fast I became a one man woman, and I can’t have “ahum” with him legally for four years. Maybe that’s part of what attracted me to him, his being underage, and it’s not in a perverted way. Having to wait gives us time to mature, and get used to the idea, and believe me, I need it.

~~Gees, is he speaking to me? Korolev must be pissed, my mind wandered off again.~~

“Sorry Dr. Korolev, I was preoccupied.”

“The point I was making is when you knew precisely the ‘when’ you were traveling to or had just a rough date but a particular event, you homed in on it with great accuracy. The Wisconsin State Capitol building fire trip and the research trip for Operations are examples.”

“But what of these recent tests, you had me going purely by “feel”. The ‘go as far as the Operations trip “felt” then double that’ and so on, no specific dates?”

“I suspect if I asked you to revisit those same points in time you would do so with ease. We believe you have an internal ‘time sense’ and an intuitive feel for the flow of time as you manipulate it in either travel or your time stop.”

This sounded intriguing and like a challenge.

“Test me.”

“Okay, Joanie. Give me your best estimate of the year, month, and day you reached on each of the test trips you did for me.”

By now they had analyzed the body sensor data and the photos I took and the ice sample and had a fairly good idea of when I’d traveled to. I’d not seen any of it yet. All I’d got were the preliminary results but nothing precise. Korolev described the test trips, and I gave my answers. He took a few minutes to run some calculations.

“The further back in time you go, the harder it is for us to get precise times for your destination. We have only the limited evidence you could gather on such short-duration trips but at the worst you’re off less than one percent and that’s the deep trip to the continental ice sheet.”

“You mean the noon, July 04th, 10511 BC trip?” I was showing off but Korolev had been condescending at times.

“Give or take 100 years in our measurements. Your internal time sense may well be correct. My fellow colleagues and I suspect it’s a subconscious form of clairvoyance that allows you to guide your travels. It’s logical, if you can travel corporeally though time you can mentally as well, at least in some manner. You also have a ‘feel’ for the temporal energy used, since you could repeat precisely the time traveled in the Operations trip on that first solo trip at the remote site, and that was with no passenger that your passive empathic/telepathic powers might get feedback from.

"Our next series of tests will be for precision, and will involve testing the bounce up, with and with out ‘decompression.’ After those we will test your duration at ‘depth’ using ‘decompression‘ to lengthen the time your can remain. We’ll commence these next week, Joanie.”

“I look forward to it, and thanks for calling me Joanie.”

* * * *
March 30, 2007

Dear d/j/w Tina and Chris invited me to sleepover this weekend, with Dr. Bellows downstairs its safe enough, if we’re careful. Anyways, I like hanging out with them. Maybe we can invite Pinky over some time, she’d or she/he’d have fun.

* * * *

March 31, 2007, 2:53am

“NO! Make it stop, please! It’s horrible! Kill me now!”

“Wake up, Joanie. It’s just a dream, wake up.”

“Aaaaaaaaaeeeee! Nooooooooo!”

Wake up please, Joanie. It’s okay. It’s Tina, and Chris is here, too, calm down.”

“I just had the worst nightmare, Chris, Tina.”

“We kinda figured that out, Joanie.” said Tina. They both looked concerned for me and very sleepy.

~~Damn it’s not even three in the morning!~~

I’d had nightmares before, very few as a child, but I’d had a series of them after my transformation, mostly in the first few days. I never told Dr. Sara -- too embarrassed -- though I suspect she knew. They started up again for a while after my campus assault, but strangely not after the kidnapping, I think I was too angry. Talking with Dr. Bellows helped with that, but this was different, and it was so vivid, like I was there.

“What was it girlfriend, falling, fire, drowning, the campus assault, or your near rape in Boston?”

“No, Tina, nothing like that but it was hideous. She was beautiful but it was so evil.”

“You dream some shape-shifting monster attacked you?” asked Chris.

“She, she, she … it was so bad!”

“What was it, Joanie?” Chris questioned me..

They both gave me a hug. If I still was a guy my underwear would be binding something awful on a part of my anatomy. As it was, I felt more than safe in their embrace.

~~Another time, Joanie, maybe. I’ll have to ask Eric first.~~

“In my dream there’s this slender young woman, Dani. She’s average height, 5’6” or slightly taller. By physical appearance, she belonged on a college campus, or looked like a student teacher. In my dream, she’d been teaching at Whateley for some months on a part-time basis, a History of Early Egypt or some such title, so we were acquainted. She may also have been an expert on mythological races and an archaeologist back in Egypt. Possibly we’d become friends, I’m not sure; it’s all a little fuzzy. She was driving back from a seminar in Boston, something to do with early Egyptian civilization. I think she was a scheduled speaker.

I was in Dunwich on an errand when the weather turned cold, wet and nasty. I waited for the rain to stop; wet roads and motorcycles are not a good match. Dani sees me and offers me a ride. We wrestle my cycle into the back of her truck and drive off. The late fall, early winter rain is pouring by now so she has to concentrate on her driving. Next this song starts playing on her truck’s radio. Did I tell you she had the heater on real high?”

“No, Joanie, but it figures, Egypt, heat,” Tina said.

“Okay, we’re in her truck, she has an oldies country station on, I mean real oldies, 30s, 40’s, some 50s, and they were playing an old Hank William’s hit, Why Don’t You Love Me (Like You Used to Do?) . She started humming, softly, I think it was humming but she didn’t do it for long, thank Ghod. It took all the control I had not to flinch or make a sarcastic remark. I was embarrassed to think that, she was doing me a big favor and was such a nice person and all I could think of was how awful her humming sounded. She stopped humming. I kept quiet so she could concentrate on driving down the narrow, winding, and wet road. A while later, I can’t remember what song was on the radio then, I don’t want to remember, the rain came down harder and she sang. It was just one line of the song, but the damage was done.”

“And that’s what had you screaming in your sleep? What a wuss!”

“You didn’t have to listen to it, Chris.”

“How bad could it be?”

“Since my mutation, my ability to discriminate between notes and tone, and my sense of rhythm are the best they’ve ever been, even compared to me as a child. My music career and teaching duties have sharpened that further. Ever been on a field trip with 40 plus kids in a school bus when they all insist on singing ‘99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ all the way through or ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ non-stop for half an hour?”

“Yeah, the girl’s soccer club in middle school was like that. It was annoying but fun,” said Tina.

“What if in your mind the bus never stopped and the kids never stopped singing those same two songs, ever.”

“That would grate after a while,” Tina admitted.

“It was worse, indescribably worse. She was sharp, flat, a half beat ahead of the music, then a full beat behind, sometimes all at once. And the tone, Gilbert Gottfried with a bad sinus infection and strep throat is angelic by comparison.”

“It couldn’t be that bad. For one, how could she be ahead, behind, flat, and sharp all at the same time, and second, it's just music,” said Chris.

“So I’m exaggerating some.”

“Joanie?” they gave me 'the look.'

“Okay, I’m exaggerating a lot, but she was bad. What was scary is she had this nice speaking voice, and from what little I heard she had the potential to be a decent singer; she had a pleasant tone otherwise, but you had to hear it. You’ve heard the old gag about someone’s violin playing being so bad, they sound like the catgut is still in the cat?” Tina and Chris nodded, “Itzhak Perlman at the height of his ability vs. Jack Benny at his worst.” Tina and Chris looked at me oddly again.

“So she wasn’t that bad, but I’m making a point. She was infuriatingly close to being pretty good, but her timing or pitch was off enough to truly irritate. If you ever heard Jack Benny playing for laughs you’d understand. Her errors seemed chaotic, almost random. She was pretty good for a moment or two, then pain! This was Chinese Water torture singing, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to make her stop -- she so enjoyed the music. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, and drag her off to remedial vocal class, maybe after months of intense lessons?

"Like I said, she sang only a line or so but I couldn’t help myself, and I started moaning. I tried to hold it in, I clamped both hands hard over my mouth and nose but I couldn’t stop. I felt so bad; there was such joy in her voice despite the horrors of it. It was like making fun of a disabled person. I was more upset with myself than with her. The expression on my face must have been memorable, a surrealist mosaic of pain, regret, sympathy and shock. What truly scared me was, soon after she stopped singing, we stopped at an intersection with another road and her expression suddenly changed, I imagined for a moment she had a glowing aura, then as suddenly she was back to her usual self if perhaps slightly embarrassed. Our exchange went something like this,

“I'm sorry, Joanie. Sometimes I forget there are other people in the car. That's a big reason my students let me ride alone.” Then she grins. “You know, with your singing talent you could help me. There's this Willie Nelson number, “On The Road Again”, that I'd like to learn to sing properly ....”

“And that’s when you woke us with your screams?”

“I am not that shallow, Chris. I’m considerate of other’s feelings. I remember saying something like,

“Sure, Dani, I’d like that. I bet with some lessons you’d have a lovely singing voice.”

“I have my doubts. I’d be satisfied with not making my students flinch.” Then she pauses, her smile slowly becoming wicked, almost feral. “You know, Joanie that could take months -- many, many months…”

“That’s when I screamed.”

“A weird dream, Joanie, but still a dream.” said Tina.

“I’m not so certain it was, it was too real. I was there, like in my time travels, I could see her, smell her, feel the vibrations of the music, the cold rain pelting us, the warm air gushing out of the trucks fore, aft, and seat heaters. It was as if she was a cobra, and I was some helpless victim about to be bitten; she was hypnotic. What was so galling is I knew this woman, Dani, was kind hearted, intelligent, a natural teacher, endlessly inquisitive, and a lover of music. I got the impression, lord knows from where, she could sing beautifully, but long ago, something tied to religious worship. It was as if she was detached from time, in some fashion. My doctors said I might have a low level precognitive gift, being a warper with time powers, but it never came out in testing. Why precognitive vision? Ghod help us if I’m right,”

“Back to bed Joanie.” said Tina.

“Can I cuddle with you two, I’m still frightened.”

“Okay, but no funny business Miss ‘I’m being faithful to my boyfriend,’” she replied.

“But I am, honest, why else would I turn down what you offered the last time.” Why did I tell them about Eric, why?

* * * *

To be continued
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 4

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie's time travels to Whateley's past yield an unexpected bonus. Joanie and Pinky's bond grows, Joanie takes a free boat ride and a not so pleasant swim. The Ultra-X-Amine caper hits close to home.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with gratuitous sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text Re-vivification by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter 4- The Inverters pt3, The Big Chill pt 4, What’s New PussyCat? Oops I Did It Again

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 31- April 7, 2007

March 31, 2007

I felt guilty not being around Tom and Tina much their first few days on campus. I did eat breakfast with them every morning, and tried to interest them in taking a morning run with me or Pinky or me, but they weren’t very athletic. Pinky and I did get them to start a regular program of run walks — you know, run, then walk, then run, and so on — and to take up some sort of physical activity to be better prepared for Survival 101, or self-defense for dummies, or Survival Class -- take your pick. The students had even less kind names for it, many of them vulgar, but I understood the purpose behind it.

Mr. Anderson would have a field day with the twins if they weren’t careful, and I did not relish their being picked on. Technically, I could audit that class. My Security training doesn’t preclude it and I might need to substitute teach it someday. I knew what he looked like, as Lex, Pinky, and Tina all had pointed him out at various times, but we had not met. I understood his method of teaching, and though effective, I thought it barbaric and would not sit idly by if he abused it. Sometimes the designated victim becomes tougher and self-reliant, sometimes it scars them.

~~We will see. As he’s fond of telling his class, ‘lack of information can be fatal.’ Well, it will be for him, if he’s not careful.~~

If there is one thing I hated about school, it was bullies.

Their medical and powers evaluations were progressing quickly, along with their psychiatric profiles. As their mentor, I was kept informed, but some things remained under the doctor/patient seal. I don’t like being kept in the dark, but they assured me anything that was a risk to my new friends would be passed on. As a precaution, Security provided them with panic buttons built into watches, and if certain buttons were not pushed in a particular order at regular intervals, it became a radio distress beacon much like those aircraft carry. It still bothered me. Their tormentor or tormentors were at large and had not been caught, despite the FBI's confident words. For my own peace of mind, I introduced them to Tina and Chris Anderson and Steel Lotus. The girls would check-in on Tom and Tina regularly to ensure all was well. Tina meeting Tina was confusing but fun, I think Ms. Anderson will make a good friend/older sister to Ms. Smith. As to Tom, I don’t know many boys on campus -- I think I intimidate them. But he thought Chris was hot. Then again, I do, too. I wish we knew what happened to their parents. Either way, it’s the not knowing that hurts most.

* * * *

April 01, 2007, the rooftop of Siegel Hall

“Ms. Brown, today we enter the next phase of testing, precision and duration.”

“Dr. Korolev, please call me Joan or Joanie, I keep expecting to see my mother standing next to me when you say Ms. Brown.”

“Very well, Joan. Today I want you to travel back 115 years, walk around, observe and take notes, shoot photos and take some samples. Remember to take great care with anything biologically active. We’ve provided sanitary packaging to carry out your own waste. Less chance of disturbing the timeline.”

“By waste you mean all waste, human as well?” ~ ewh! ~ “I have to carry out my own pee and …?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“That brings pack-in-pack-out to a new level. If the South Pole station can do it, I suppose I can,” I replied.

“That’s the spirit. I see you understand the necessity of these precautions. As long as you follow them, I’m confident all will be well.”

I didn’t think Korolev was as confident as he claimed. I made a sudden move, peeked behind him and confirmed my suspicion.

“Doctor, why are your fingers crossed?” He blushed.

~~My, he looks almost cute when he … ~~

“Please be careful. You remind me of my late wife.”

~~ The man has the hots for me, lovely. Then why does that not upset me? He is good looking for an older man and… No! This is not a good time but still … ~~

“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies room, I won’t be long, say 15, ah, make that 30 minutes,” I said.

Korolev stared then smiled knowingly.

~~He knows, the dirty old man. Maybe that’s why we work together so well. ~~

I gave him a kiss and ran to the bathroom.

* * * *

“Now that you’ve decompressed, shall we begin?” asked Korolev.

“My pleasure, Doctor.”

“No, mine. I’m glad to see a pretty woman still finds me attractive, Joan.”

They recalibrated my sensors and I was off.

I traveled to shortly before I arrived on the rooftop with Mr. Lodgeman. I hurried down the stairs, and carefully walked onto the campus. I had excellent reproductions of period documents to “prove” who I was, though I hoped to never use them. The campus was beautiful, though barren by modern standards. Only a few buildings I was familiar with from Whateley of 2007 existed. Some of the buildings that were here now — in the past -- no longer existed. The familiar trees of my time were not there, or if they were, they were much smaller. The great forest near Whateley was as ancient and majestic as usual. I could see other areas near the future Academy that were cut over, yet in my time were in second growth forest and areas in trees that were fields in 2007. The smell of wood smoke and coal smoke was present, but faint.

I was careful to avoid interacting with people, but it couldn’t be entirely avoided.

“Miss, I don’t wish to seem forward, but may I ask what you’re doing here?” asked a tall, slender man in his late teens. Tall for the 1890’s, I was a good inch taller.

“I’m here to check out the school for my nephew; he’s considering attending. I’d like to attend college as well, perhaps a state normal school as I enjoy teaching, but all the ones I’ve visited discourage women. They keep telling me I’m better off having babies or some such nonsense. I want a family, but I want to better myself. What if my husband should die? Where would I be without a skill to fall back on?”

“You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”

“No, but I respect their beliefs. Society would be better off it we made full use of all our Ghod given talents. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers, why trap them in a role they’re unsuited for?”

~~I have to break this off soon, we’re attracting a crowd and I don’t like the way some of them are leering at me. Who do they think I am, some girl from a French postcard? Oh, come to think of it, I will be in 115 years. ~~

“Excuse me sir, I’ve taken too much of your valuable time. Good day.”

~~That was too close; I hope I haven’t messed up someone’s future romance, and thus those unborn or never meant to be born. If Vince Lombardi is born a girl, Green Bay will kill me. ~~

I behaved, and spent nearly a week exploring in and around the old Whateley and environs. I found quiet places to take care of my ”decompression” needs and kept my tension within tolerable limits while avoiding detection. Balling up a silk scarf and biting down on it muffled the sound effectively.

I’m learning to love time travel. It combines business and pleasure most delightfully. I tracked my “need,” and found it becoming more insistent the longer I stayed. A rough calculation showed I could stay this far back for several weeks, before I could no longer be effective as a researcher. I used a little known attic room in one of the oldest Whateley buildings several times for short naps.

On the last day of my “trip” I got to thinking if I could last longer with the “assistance” of a fellow time traveler. A more intense “decompression” might extend the intervals between the need for them. Eric sprang immediately to mind. It’s was less than two weeks after I’d professed my love to him, less than two months since the dance, and a bare seven months since we first met on Labor Day 2006. The thought of him filling my hot …

~~Oh Ghod, we have to get engaged or something. I’m obsessing over him. ~~

Am I so changed since I transformed? I could scarcely imagine myself with a man then, now it’s my fondest wish and with a particular man. Is it this body and pheromones -- specifically Williams-Johnson pheromones? I react some in the presence of good looking men. Okay, I react a lot. Those A-10 pilots had my nipples stiff and aching and my panties damp. But, it took time and a night of drinks and dancing. Governor Bob and Senator Joe get me hot-to-trot in no time, but Eric -- I’m practically dripping at the thought of him… Gees, I am and they’re bullets already and oh, ah … Excuse me, I need “therapy,” stat! Where are the fresh batteries?

I spent over a week in the area taking frequent photos and notes. I took great care not to be seen doing this and to document were they were taken. I camped in the dense forest that was now off limits to most at Whateley. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought the forest sensed my presence somehow and tolerated it. It was as if the trees were sentient, “knew” I was from the future, and that I was friendly. Strange, why had I thought that?

April 03, 2007 the King Annex, Whateley

Korolev was pleased with the results of previous few days test, and decided we’ll go for broke tomorrow. That’s one of the wonders of time travel. I was gone nearly 8 days, but returned moments after I left. Korolev gave me a day off to recover and for his team to analyze my data. The “decompression” worked well, though it was inconvenient, but not unwelcome I must admit.

I’m glad we’re doing these tests now and not a couple weeks ago during my latest menstruation. How would I explain a tampon or pad to someone 115 years ago if I’d been discovered? Knowing me, I’d have run out of them at the most inopportune moment. Ghod, have we got it good nowadays, girls. Notice I did said good and not perfect. As I think of it, a few days earlier than that would have been worse -- can you say horny bitch on wheels? I’m not that bad, but it’s an excellent excuse to fall back on with the guys in security when I’m particularly moody, “Sorry, Guys, it’s the PMS talking.” The fools fall for it all the time.

Having a Little Annie Fanny caricature of a woman’s figure helps me. Once their eyes lock onto my “headlights,” my victims are doomed. I swore I’d never use my good looks to an unfair advantage, but I lied. Most know when I’m doing it, but the guys, and a surprisingly large percentage of the gals, don’t mind. I think they enjoy the show. I’m both relieved and mildly disappointed that so few of the staff or students have hit on me. I’m not exactly ugly. Three reasons I can think of: I’m too famous, I’m one of Ms. Carson’s pet projects, and I’m on semi-friendly terms with the Anti-Christ, Ms. Hartford. She would scare off just about anyone from disturbing me. She scares me. I can’t figure her out. I think she does what is best for her first, then Whateley, and then, begrudgingly, the students. I have to admit she’s competent.

She surprised me yesterday by showing up at the King Annex at the start of another of my open house/practice sessions for my band. We were waiting to audition a percussionist. I was practicing my guitar as Pinky sang along. Pinky is fast becoming an accomplished backing vocalist, and I suspect will be a fine lead singer someday. Ms. Hartford walked in, which shocked me, she rarely conducted business outside of Administration unless it was to hand deliver a letter of expulsion or some other happy news to a student.

“Ms. Brown, may I have a moment?”

~~What now? My dad’s dead, and she’s here to dance gleefully? I’m game; bring it on but first …~~

“Please, call me Joanie or Joan if you must. We know each other too well to be that formal.”

“Very well, Joanie,” ~~Whoa, she must want a big favor. ~~ “I’m attending an emergency computer security conference at the University of Illinois Supercomputing Center, and am unable to care for my niece during the Easter weekend.”

“No luck patching things up with Pinkie’s Mom?”

I looked at them both. Pinkie was sad, something she rarely was nowadays, especially in her female form. Ms. Hartford had that look of utter disdain she reserved for fools and idiots, and it wasn’t aimed at anyone present.

“She still hates mutants -- even her child? I’m so sorry. Sure, Ms. Hartford; I love to take care of Pinkie. I am scheduled to fly to Wisconsin on Good Friday, then drive to Iowa to visit friends. I should be back by Monday at the latest. Is that alright?”

~~I’ll have to visit her Mom. This is ridiculous. What is she, just a baby machine?~~

I turned to Pinky. “I’d love to have you along, girl. You’d get to see Gin, and Dari again, and the rest of MSG. The Johnson family in Iowa is fun, too, and it’s a private charter -- first class all the way. I could give you a lift, Ms. Hartford, it’s not much of a diversion.”

Ms. Hartford almost smiled. I think I’d surprised her.

“I have a DOD plane arranged through DARPA — ah, Miss Nikki Reilly’s dad, but thank you for offering.”

“Pity, it’s a Gulf Stream II, real classy. What you say, Pinky, want to bum around with Ms. Flakey?”

“Please, Aunty?”

“You will keep her safe?”

“Absolutely. I can always do a Boston on any troublemakers and my MSG pals are far more vindictive than I.”

I made a menacing grimace, then I giggled. Ms. Hartford gave me a knowing look. My use of “Boston” meant several things and she knew them all: what I did to my would-be rapist, what I did to the bastards who raped Pinky, and what the police did to my father’s mugger. I hear Pinky’s doctor was severely beaten in jail and had to be moved to solitary for his protection, poor man. As to the mugger, he’s safe in a high security cell, they won’t tell me where. Afraid I’ll go ballistic on him.

“Mind what Joanie tells you, Pinky, and your studies had better be up to date.”

That’s only the second time I ever saw Ms. Hartford blush, when Pinky ran over and hugged her. She may be a class “A“ bitch most of the time, but family means something to her.

* * * *

April 03, 2007

“Joanie, this is the big one. Please no snickers.”

~~Damn him that was my line!~~

“I want you to go back to the continental ice sheet, explore, take photos and some limited, biologically safe samples, then come back in one piece,” said Korolev.

“I’m a trouble magnet then?”

“Be careful, we, I’d miss you. You’re like a favorite niece, dear.”

~~I’m his wife, now his niece? My, he’s charming, or trying to get in my panties.~~

I gave him a bear hug and kiss. His assistants looked surprised. I gave them each one too.

“You’ve got it Sergei. Here I go.”

* * * *

I time bounced back to that same spot, but at a slightly different moment in time to avoid myself. I had glacier goggles, skis, crampons, climbing gear, and a sonar device to warn of crevasses. After several hours I was off the ice sheet, and cautiously negotiating the outwash plain. I found a high, dry spot for my camp and set up the heat and motion sensors to warn of anyone or anything approaching. I explored the area taking many photos and small samples of the sediments, rock, and water.

I was careful around anything living or biologically active to protect the timeline. I ate with great care. I was to make no fires except in dire emergency. All my meals were self heating and self contained, even the water. Total pack-in-pack-out. The human waste part was bothersome, but critical. The everyday healthy bacteria and other micro organisms my body harbored could be devastating to the people of this distant time. Though the risk was remote, I had to treat myself like a plague carrier.

I found a “therapy” session to “decompress” every few hours kept me in control, though I was constantly aroused. This was a fun trip for me, more so than the early Whateley one. I shot a few photos of myself for Korolev to analyze and I sure had that “glow” in all of them. If I can project that into my photo sessions with the magazine, it will be the top seller of all time.

~~This is better than hot chocolate and a whirlpool tub.~~ I thought at the time.

The next morning I had a long “therapy” session, then dressed and packed up camp. I had calculated the time until I would be incapacitated by my arousal, so I planned on no more than a few additional hours of exploration before returning to my transport site. A quick “therapy” session just prior to climbing up the ice sheet would prevent me from being “stricken” while ascending -- dangerous if it occurred.

“This place is so bleak. To think in a few thousand years this will be lush with vegetation,” I said to the desolation.

I explored a while longer, when I spotted human footprints in the soft silts of the outwash plain. I scanned with my infrared enhanced binoculars. It was clear except for a large cooling object, and two smaller hot ones. Several animals I guessed from the blurry distant objects. Against my better judgment, I walked to it, though it took some time. It was a human kill, an adult smilodon — a short-tailed saber-toothed cat — with a Clovis point spearhead embedded in its flank. It was near death, but remained dangerous. I could, and should, do nothing, despite how much its suffering disturbed me. Then I saw them -- her cubs. The mother must have fought off her attacker, and fled with her offspring until the wound overcame her. I approached warily. She was not breathing -- death had claimed her. She was near the unstable edge of the terminal moraine. I knew she’d be soon buried under the ice and sediments along with her starving, mewing kittens. They huddled tight to her fading warmth, hissing as I neared.

“Ghod forgive me.” I cried, kneeling down and scooping up the wet, shivering cats, maybe five or ten pounds each.

They tried to claw me and twist free, but were weak and exhausted. I retreated to a safe distance from the moraine, dried them off and rigged a neck sling to keep them warm, dry, and safe. I offered them some of the condensed milk I carried in a back packer’s bottle for my coffee. They soon licked it eagerly from my fingertips and started to purr. The warmth of my body, the vibrations of my heart, and my breathing combined with the milk to revive them. I closed my coat around them, hefted my backpack, and climbed to my transit point. It was difficult and I stopped several times to offer them more milk. Their loud purrs encouraged me. Several hours later I shot back to 2007, arriving the same day I’d left. I was exhausted, glowing, and ready to screw a grizzly bear, but I held on. I could wait, they could not. Korolev looked at my telemetry, then me, and appeared concerned.

“You need to decompress Joanie, the instrumentation shows you’re flushed, your heart is racing, you’re breathing fast and shallow, and … What? I’m reading two additional, faint, fast heartbeats. What did you do?”

“Nothing major, Sergei. You’re all still here. Get me to Whateley at once; my passengers need medical attention.”

I gave them the “don’t fuck with me or else” look, and we drove to the academy, my coat moving occasionally.

“You sure you don’t want us to stop Joanie? You look, um… in distress,” asked one of Korolev’s assistants.

“Just drive, I’m… Ooh that tickled. Not there kitty, ooh please no! Ah, oooh, yeah, do that again little one.”

I don’t know how they kept the truck on the road with me like that. I hurried into medical, worried for the kittens and frantic for relief.

“Dr. Pollard,” I moaned, “Who here knows the big cats, like lions, and cheetahs?” I was in a bad way, and it felt fantastic.

“Dr. Polland has experience. His parents were zoo keepers.”

“Get him at once,” I demanded, well. More moaned.

~~He has experience, I need experience. Maybe a threesome with these experienced, virile doctors would help.~~ I forced myself to stay focused.

“Why?” Pollard asked.

I opened my coat and my friends mewed in protest. My nipples' protest was more visual.

“What are they?”

I nearly ripped off my blouse and said. “My aching breasts, Einstein. Strip, NOW!” But they needed my help, and I’d made a silent promise to their mother.

“Baby smilodons. Their mother died, and they were about to be buried by the glacier. I couldn’t just leave them to die!”

That horrid thought took the edge off my condition, but I wouldn’t last much longer.

Dr. Polland came in, examined them, and took samples to test for parasites and disease. I examined him closely.

~~Dr. Polland is surprisingly fit for his age and profession and those large, caring hands. What is it they say about men with big hands? Oooooh! What? Not now, Joanie.~~

I shifted my concentration to the kittens, and held on. After some quick research by Dr. Polland, we took a calculated risk and vaccinated them, using vaccines intended for the big cats, and domestic cats where there were none. Even partial protection would help them fight off modern germs. I helped hold them while Dr. Polland administered the vaccinations. They were so well behaved, just a few hisses, not a claw mark or bite .

~~Brave kitties.~~

Medical promised not to harm them or experiment on them, but I didn’t trust the student lab techs. After an hour or so and no signs of an allergic reaction to the vaccinations I took them to my linen closet, locked the door and finally got relief.

“Thank You Ghod!”

~~I think the entire dorm heard me.~~

“You can come out from under the bed, little ones.”

It was now late afternoon. I rushed to Operations and got a sack of Oil Zorb, the predecessor to cat litter, and a clean steel parts washing pan. From the school store, I bought tennis balls and other items suitable as toys. A stiff bristled hairbrush would do for grooming their fur. The Crystal Hall cafeteria supplied condensed milk, corn syrup, baby rice, pasteurized liquid eggs and Purina Lion Cub Chow. They have everything there.

~~I wonder who needs the Lion Cub Chow?~~

I hurried back to Poe and mixed up the ingredients for a large cat baby formula, thickening it with the eggs and baby rice. After some encouragement, they licked it eagerly. I moistened some Chow and put that out. They sniffed, then licked some of it, too. They were hungry -- a good sign. I lay on the floor, and watched as they groomed themselves and each other, licking me as well, then curling by my side and purring intensely. I rigged them a bed with a spare blanket, stripped, and fell into bed. I dreamed I was with Eric, and he …

“Oh! Eric, stop that, you’re driving me wild. I never dreamed you were so oral. Oh Ghod!” then I woke, just as it was getting to the good part.

The kittens had climbed onto my bed, and were clamped on and kneading my breasts expectantly. I extricated them gingerly.

~Ow, milk teeth!~

“Smart kitties, but those tittys are not in the dairy business yet. Cum’on George and Gracie, Mommy will feed you.” They needed names and those suited them, don’t ask me why. I put out some more of the formula, and moistened dry food. I checked my room carefully, but they’d kept it all down from yesterday. When they finished eating, I encouraged them to use the litter box. They caught on almost immediately; which was a relief. I heard a knock on the door, slipped on my robe and answered.

“Coming.“

It was Ms. Carson and Dr. Pollard. He must have told her. They did not look happy.

“Joanie, you know we don’t allow pets in the dorms and for good reasons.” I felt hurt and angry at Pollard’s betrayal and Carson’s words.

“If you’re here to kill them or make me take them back to die, I’m leaving Whateley. How could you?”

I started crying, and threw myself on the bed, remembering back when the vet put down my old, dying cat as I held the frail animal in my lap. That was a dozen years earlier, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt a hand turn my face; it was Ms. Carson.

“No, dear child, nothing so drastic, but you shouldn’t have.”

“What can I do? I couldn’t leave them.” I started bawling again.

~~Get a grip; this is embarrassing, they’re cats -- not my children. I think I’m their mother? ~~

“We’ll make an 'I didn’t see anything, what problem?' exception, but as they grow…” Ms. Carson said as she stroked my head like Mom … I had to get my emotions under control before I lost it. I thought fast.

“My friend, Pinky, is an empath -- so are some in Security. What if we train them as police dogs, big, fluffy, saber-toothed police dogs? They’re very intelligent. I’m also considering building, or buying, an off-campus home near Dr. Bellows. I could board them there when they’re not on duty. Please?”

Ms. Carson approached the cats and kneeled. They came over, sniffed her, rubbed their faces against her, and started purring -- or as much of a purr as big cats have. “Sucker,” they had to be thinking.

“They’re so precious!”

“Told you, Ms. Carson.”

“Okay, Joanie, you can keep them, provided you have suitable facilities for them before they get too big, and that you carry through with their training. I must be crazy.” I felt relieved and mischievous.

“It could be worse.”

“Worse?” asked Dr. Pollard.

“Baby Mastodons are just darling.”

“No!” they both said, and left my room.

* * * *

Good Friday, April 06, 2007

Accommodating such a diverse student body meant Whateley did its best to cater to the spiritual needs of its students. If you consider the avatars, a fair portion of the students are spirits. They were fair about it. If you were an agnostic you got just as many “religious” holidays off as the faithful. Spring Break was a biggie. It usually was the second week in March, though many students also took off Good Friday for the Easter holiday weekend. Technically, class was in session, but any excuse to cut class... The instructors knew this, so most either gave out assignments early in the week, or used Good Friday as an enrichment day. A few instructors were strict about it being a class day, but their students knew and acted accordingly; they ignored the instructor.

I signed excused absence slips for all of Pinky’s classes and hand delivered them to be certain. I wouldn’t have her grades suffer on my account. Ms. Hartford covered her ass as well and, just prior to our departure to the charter jet, we signed formal papers making me Pinky’s temporary legal guardian for the duration of the trip. Pinky was present for this.

“I’m so happy to be going with you, Auntie Joanie.”

“What did you call me?”

“Auntie Joanie, the papers make you my real, legal Auntie, don’t they?”

“If you keep calling me Auntie, I’ll scream, Pinky.”

“Okay, Auntie Joanie.”

~~Ms. Hartford had to have put her up to this.~~

“I’ll take good care of her, Auntie Amelia. Sorry. Hartford.” Ms. Hartford marked an imaginary point on the imaginary chalk score board for me.

* * * *

Pinky was eager to meet my MSG friends having met Dari and Gin at Whateley, and especially eager to meet my “boyfriend”, as if I wasn’t.

“Your boyfriend is how old, Joanie?”

“Fourteen, and if you tell anyone, including your Aunt Hartford, you die.”

Pinky was fully female again and reveling in it. She chose the most feminine and attractive clothing for the trip and was dripping with jewelry. It suited her personality; she was so outgoing now.

“Why no motorcycle, Joanie?” she asked during the early morning ride Mr. Lodgeman gave us to the airfield, while on his way to visit the Tanakas.

“It would be nearly impossible to get both of us and our luggage on my vintage cycle. My friends in Madison will meet us with my car and Red’s F250 pickup. We’re driving to Baraboo for lunch, and, if the weather's good, a hike at Devil’s Lake State Park. It’s part of the Ice Age National Scientific Preserve, sort of a national park. The quartzite cliffs remind me of the area around Whateley. You’ll love it; it’s a fun place. If the weather is bad, we can go to the Circus World Museum. It’s not far from the park in Baraboo. They have way over a hundred colorful circus wagons from the 19th and early 20th centuries and all sorts of costumes and memorabilia. If all else fails, we can go looking for former hippies near UW-Madison.” I giggled shamelessly.

“So it’s a history lesson as well, my Master.”

“Yes, my apprentice. Learn much must you.” So my Yoda sucks.

* * * *

We landed at Truax Field at ten am. The whole Gang of Four plus Dari was waiting. She spoke first.

“My Ghod, Joanie, is that Pinky? You said she was changed to her female form, you didn’t say she was a total babe.” Pinky giggled happily.

I whispered to Dari.

“Thanks, she needs a confidence boost.”

Dari whispered back.

“Who says I’m exaggerating? Pinky’s smoking hot.”

“Looking fine, girl. You’re giving my friend Joanie serious competition in the gorgeous department,” said Gin then she gave us both hugs and kisses.

~~Was that her tongue on my ear?~~

She stepped back then licked her lips.

“Gin, Pinky’s under age. If there’s any of that to be done, see one of the other MSG gals or me.” We all laughed nervously. “We’re all bisexual here, Pinky, just like you.”

“Ahem!” coughed Red.

“Okay, some of us are lesbian. I think, whatever our personal preference is, our heightened desire is because we’re all exemplars. That perfection of the body goes beyond just appearance. I think it does something to our sexuality. If you’re extremely fit and attractive, sex is more rewarding no matter with whom. You’re underage so we need to be careful and not exploit you, but when you’re older, call the girls up; they're real cuddly -- I know.”

Red blushed over her whole body, as did the rest of them to varying degrees. The Gang didn’t know, but Dari and I had fooled around some, and I considered her a cherished member of my circle of love interests. They had better make room for Eric in the center or I’d be disappointed. But I knew they’d respect my decision. Dari, Red, and Carrie were not to be outdone by Gin, and I was subject to a barrage of non-stop sensual hugs. I was ecstatic and my nipples were hot and hard.

~~I like these hugs, oh yes, yes, yes! What is Red doing with her, oh Ghod!~~

“Red, get your hand out of there. I’m saving that for Eric.”

“You’re serious, Joanie?” Red looked hurt. I broke up.
“You were having me on. Shame on you, Joanie.”

“You’re all on the exempt list -- you too, Pinky, if you want to -- but only when you’re legal. He knows about you and my history with these, my MSG special friends. But, I don’t want to hurt him. If we’re discreet, it's okay.”

“Eric sounds very mature,” said Carrie.

“In some ways, he’s older than I am.” Then I stuck out my tongue, and blew a raspberry.

We split up; Pinky sitting up front in my Focus with Gin in the back, the rest riding with Red in the crew cab. I told them to follow me to the ferry. We got off the Interstate at State Highway 60, drove into Lodi, and turned onto State 113 to the Merimac ferry.

“Why are we stopping here?” asked Pinky.

“Because Joanie is a cheapskate, and wants a free boat ride,” said Gin. “And if we drove much further without the boat at the landing, we’d get wet.”

“It’s not a boat; it’s a ferry, though it is free,” I said, then I pouted. “I’ve ridden on it since before I can remember, and that’s back to the Colsac I.” Pinky looked confused.

“It connects Columbia and Sauk Counties, thus Col-sac. The current ferry is the Colsac III,” said Gin.

“It's lots of fun, too. Please be in your seats, belted up, before the loading ramps drop. Okay?” I said.

We drove on the ferry, parked, and got out to enjoy the mild, April day. It was in the 50s F, and sunny, so we moved to the rail to get a better view during the five minute trip.

“This is Lake Wisconsin and that railway trestle is famous for pictures of the Circus Trains from the Milwaukee parade recreations. When I was I child, we used to tow our small speed boat to Decorah... beyond the railway on the north end of the lake, and ride to a clean sandbar. I had so much fun playing… Is something wrong with that woman?”

I pointed to a teenaged girl, Pinky’s age, maybe older. She moved strangely -- drunk or drugged? I saw a man in mirror sunglasses, and a plain suit, get out of a dark sedan -- the kind police use. He walked towards the girl as another man in similar garb got out the other side of the sedan and walked from a different direction towards her. They stared intently at her, mirrored glasses or no.

“Something’s wrong here, Red. Call for backup. I think the girl’s in trouble.”

“You got it, Joanie,” said Red.

I slowly moved towards the girl, Gin and Dari following, Carrie keeping Pinky safe. The two men closed on the girl.

“You’ll never catch me. I won’t go back, I’ll die first.” she shouted in a strained voice, as she backed tight to the rail. They ran at her, and she climbed clumsily over the rail and fell in the lake.

“Man overboard!” I shouted, grabbed a life ring, and jumped. “Damn, the water is cold!” I sputtered.

Then I swam stiffly to her. I’d managed to get my boots off before I jumped, but my clothes interfered with my swimming, and I was quickly numbing in the frigid waters. I caught her, and put her in a lifesaving carry I’d learned over 30 years earlier. I could feel the heat pouring off her.

“My Ghod what’s wrong with you… burnout!” I exclaimed as she struggled with me.

“Let me go. I won’t go back,” she said through chattering teeth.

“I’m not with them, dear. I’m here to help. If you could kick your legs some, I’d appreciate it. I’m getting numb, this water is so cold.”

~~You’re thinking why not time stop, dear d/j/w? How would we get on the ferry? And by the time I was close enough to time stop her, the ferry was too far away. I trusted my friends to do what was needed.~~

We swam toward the cable driven ferry which had reversed and was closing on us. It was hard to keep afloat, despite the life ring. A few minutes in the cold water and I was starting to weaken. My grip on the ring was slipping and I was shivering and getting sleepy. The girl was worse and was almost unconscious. There was a splash as a life ring was tossed beyond our location, and pulled to us. I grabbed for it and just managed to hook my leaden, free arm through the center, dunking our heads in the process. I felt us being pulled through the water, then warm hands lifting us onto the ferry. The girl was unconscious -- I was close to it. Hypothermia is a silent killer.

“Red, burnout.”

“What, Joanie?”

Red was blurry, I was feeling suddenly warm and calm, signs of severe hypothermia. I gathered all the energy I could, and awkwardly pointed at the girl.

“Burnout, mutant.” I don’t remember any more.

* * * *

I woke in the familiar confines of the Mutant Wing or State Paranormal and Mutant Unit at the University Hospital, University of Wisconsin-Madison, with Carrie and Pinky keeping watch.

“I have got to stop doing this.” I was tired, but felt okay. “How’s the girl?”

“You mean Wisconsin's newest mutant and third confirmed case of Ultra-X-Amine homolog exposure? Alive, and expected to recover consciousness at any moment. Her attempted suicide saved her. She was in the early stages of catastrophic burnout, but the cold water knocked her temperature down for a while. Thanks to your passing the warning on to Red, we kept dousing the young woman with lake water until some fellow passengers got ice from a bait shop at the ferry landing. We kept her on ice until the chopper arrived and then we iced her heavily for the flight to the Mutant Wing. You saved her life, Joanie,” said Carrie.

“What of the men she was fleeing?”

“I got them,” said Gin as she walked in the door. “Red and some fellow passengers were busy rescuing you, when the men pulled guns on us -- big mistake.”

Gin gave me that feral grin of hers, and her eyes actually glowed for a few seconds.

“Where are the bastards?”

~~What did Gin mean?~~

“One’s in intensive care, with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the lower abdomen -- nasty. I TK’d him as he fired at you and the girl. He’s lucky -- I was aiming lower.”

“The other?” I asked.

“She’ll be free in, say, 15 years.”

“He couldn’t be in prison already, not even in a dictatorship can a case be … You said she; I'd swear they were both guys?”

~~Gin looks embarrassed, but proud?~~

“I tried out this transformation spell I’ve been learning -- surprised the hell out of me how well it worked. She’ll be released from Children’s Protective Services when she’s eighteen again. I turned him into a preschool girl. Damn, I’m good.”

“You should have seen it, Joanie. It was so Kewl.”

~~Another Kewl freak.~~ I thought.

“One moment he’s this big man about to shoot at Red and you, and the next he’s shrinking, screaming in pain, and terrified. I felt bad for him, Joanie, it was awful,” said Pinky.

“How is *she* then?” I asked.

“Still scared and confused, but oddly happy. I think he hated his old life. He was a brute; she is cute, and will be sexy cute once she grows up. I patterned her on myself. Genetically, she’s my clone. She may have my powers, too. I think the spell rewrites the subjects BIT, as well as their DNA. I thought it would only make him a pubescent girl at most, but she’s like I looked at four, down to the curly hair and button nose. Ghod, I was a cute girl, but now I’m the cutest.”

~~I’m suffering from 'a cute' toxicity.~~

“Another Humong magic and TK wielding sexpot. I’m emigrating to Australia.” I said.

Gin laughed.
“You’re okay, as silly as ever. Dr. Sara says the new mutant you saved should be up and about tomorrow. She’s starting to come to, as the burnout is over. Her family is in the hospital now waiting to see her, and you. Sara told them the woman who jumped after her is a Wisconsin mutant, and friend. They want to meet you.”

“She didn’t tell them who I am?”

“Didn’t have to. It got picked up on by the national news networks. You’re in the headlines again, girl,” said Carrie.

“Oops, I did it again,” I sang. -- I know recent songs, too, people. -- “What of the transformed man?”

“My family may take the former him in and raise her right. She is blood, now,” said Gin.

“Maybe that’s why the spell worked so well. He was unhappy as man because his BIT was female, but never expressed. He was a kind of transgendered, and the spell fixed that. The extreme age reduction was determined by his stuck BIT, she reverted back to a point where she could grow into a normal woman, albeit sexy, cute, and your twin.”

“You may be right, Joanie. Confusing, but right,” Gin replied.

* * * *

I was cleared to leave, so I showered, dressed in some clean clothes, did my makeup, and went to see the state's newest mutant. There were National Guard troops stationed a critical checkpoints at stairs, elevators, and the like. I recognized several as people I trained with. They were careful to check our ID, and congratulated me on my actions. Security was definitely improved since the kidnap attempt the other week. Red was both the head nurse for the girl and the head of the girl’s personal security detail.

“Red, is that bulge in your coat what I think it is?” I whispered.

“44 magnum snub nose, custom made for me by Dari. It has a 24 shot clip loaded with explosive rounds -- they could stop a small tank. After the kidnapping/assault on the hospital, we’re taking no chances.”

“Can your patient have visitors?”

“Sure, she just woke, and we paged her parents. She wants to see them. If Sara or the rest of the Gang didn’t tell you, the girl was a victim of that Ultra -X-Amine homolog again. We have no idea as to her powers yet, as we’ve not had a chance to question or test her, but she has those same emerald green eyes, and that reddish tint to her original blond hair’s roots.” Red led me to her bedside.

“Dear, are you up to a visitor?” Red asked softly.

“What’s her name?” I asked Red.

“Susan, or Suzy, Kenner.”

“Kenner? I’ve heard that name before,” I replied. The girl stirred.

“Are you the lady who saved me? I was pretty sick, but I remember your face and hair.”

“That was me. The names Joan, but you can call me Joanie. My nurse friend, Red, here, says they paged your Mom and Dad. They’re in the hospital now.”

”We were visiting relatives for Easter. Mom’s from Milwaukee originally. We’d come out to Madison to shop, because there’s some really crazy women’s stores in this pedestrian mall down near the big University. You should shop there some time. They say it’s where the singer Joanie got her best outfits. You look a lot like her, what’s your name again?”

“We’d like to know that too, dear lady. We couldn’t believe the press reports at first, but then the police took us here.“

~~That voice, I’ve heard that voice.~~

“Who’s that, Suzy?”

“That’s my mom. We were at this coffee shop when I felt sick. I went out to the car to lie down, and those men you saw followed me. I’d just got my license -- I turned sixteen last month -- so I drove away, but they kept following me. Somehow I ended up on the ferry where I jumped, and you ...“ she cried. I held her hand.

“No one will ever hurt you again, Suzy. You have my promise. Now introduce me to your parents.”

I still hadn’t turned around to see them. This was getting spooky; I knew that name and the mother’s voice was so familiar.

“What’s your mother's name? I’m Joanie.”

“I’m Christine, and this is my husband Greg,” The woman behind me said for her tired daughter. I turned partway around. “I’m so glad to … You are that singer! The news reports were right. Suzy, the lady who rescued you is the singer, Joanie. I tried to get in the business when I was young, but ended up an accountant with the FDIC.”

~~That voice; FDIC?~~ I turned the rest of the way.

“It’s a tough business, you should be proud …”

I saw her; she was older, but I remembered. I’d last seen her in 2005, singing at my mother’s funeral.

“Oh my Ghod!" I gasped, then I blacked out.

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their invaluable assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 5

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets Suzy's mom and bares herself -- literally & figuratively. Joanie and Pinky visit Iowa & the Johnson's. Joanie tries to keep a low profile -- oops! Pinky chaparones Eric and Joanie just-in-time. Suzy comes to Whateley & Joanie learns her kittens are vicious killers.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006. George, Gracie, no scaring the freshmen, that’s the seniors job.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text therapy by Itinerant
Thanks Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 5- Oops I Did it Again 2, The Big Broadcast of 2007, What’s New Pussycat? 2

Madison WI, Des Moines IA, Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 06-09, 2007

April 06, 2007, Madison WI

I awoke back in that same familiar hospital room again; Dr. Sara, Gin, Dari and Pinky were all staring at me.

“Can I get frequent flyer miles for my hospital stays? What happened, I fainted?”

“The question is, why? There’s nothing wrong with you,” said Sara. I glanced around to see if we were clear.

“It’s not everyday I find out Wisconsin’s latest mutant is the daughter of my cousin. Susan’s grandmother is my dad’s sister.”

“Oh Ghod!” said Sara.

“You know how I feel, then. Better bring Christine to my room, but only her for now. I’ll need some privacy when she gets here. Someone please brief Red and Carrie on the ‘relative‘ situation.”

* * * *

“You asked to see me, Ms. Joanie?”

Christine was ten years older than me, but wore it well. She was the oldest of my Aunt’s children, and the best and brightest. She’d made a good life for herself. She sat in a stuffed chair, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed nearly exposing myself in the process.

“Just a moment while I fix this hospital gown. I didn’t flash you, did I?”

She blushed.

“Oh dear, I did. Sorry, but if what her Doctor says is correct, Susan’s will be the same color.”

~~Gee, how glib. ~~

“What did you want? I doubt it was to prove you’re a real strawberry blond? You’re better now I take it. You had us worried, Ms. Joanie.”

“I fainted from the shock of realizing who you and Susan are.”

“You know us?” Christine looked puzzled. I giggled from tension.

“I’ve known you for 49 years, or more correctly you’ve known me. I was just a baby then.”

“How? You’re a teen!”

“Remember the press coverage last year, when I rescued the girl on Labor Day. All the press speculation on my origins -- what was the wildest one?”

“That you were a 48 year old man from Milwaukee … NO!”

“Take Joan. What’s the easiest conversion to a common male name?” I suggested. Her eyes were locked on me. She knew, but couldn’t believe it.

“Well, John I suppose; substitute ‘h’ for the ‘a’.”

“And what’s my last name? I didn’t change that.” She went wide eyed and tried to speak. I got off the bed, and gave her a hug. “I missed you, cousin Chrissie.” Then I kissed her cheek.

We spent the next hour or so talking, crying, and laughing in turns.

“My own cousin saves my daughter. What were the odds?”

“I think someone, somewhere, is yanking my chain. I can’t explain it. What were the odds I’d be in Prairie Du Chein at precisely the right moment to save Melissa Johnson’s life, or be at Merrimac to save Susan’s at the ferry? And my mutation is one for the record books, so late in life, and such rare powers. I have several the press doesn’t know about, and one of them makes my time stop seem a cheap toy. What, if anything, is the purpose to `this’? It’s like some deity is loading the dice of chance, or has his or her thumb on the scales of fate -- not that I’m complaining. So far it’s been great, but I wish I knew if there is a grander purpose to all of this. I’m so glad I could tell you, Chrissie. The only members of my family that know about my mutation are Dad and Sis. You’re number 3.”

“All we were told was you were gravely ill, but recovering.”

“How’s Suzy?” I asked as I got up and started to dress.

“She’s been out of bed a couple times.” She looked away. “You want some privacy?”

“We’re all girls here, now.” She looked at me, and laughed. Chrissie had a carefree laugh. “Stay, I could use the company and some advice. You’ve always been a snappy dresser. I don’t age like a normal person anymore, so how do I make this look adult?” I dropped my robe, and gave her several model’s turns.

“You have the most beautiful body, Joanie. My Ghod.”

“Yeah, but I look, what 17?” I asked Chrissie.

She studied me closely.

“17, maybe 16 given how perfect your skin is, and how high and firm your breasts and rear are. With your tiny waist and skinny butt you could be fifteen, but by your height and the size of your breasts, you’re a college girl.”

“See my dilemma, and why I wear all that tough girl leather stuff?”

“I think you’ve chosen well on the clothes. That LBD you wore for the dance with the Iowa Governor’s son looked exceptional on you.”

“You saw that, Christine?”

“North Carolina is not some backwater; even there you’re big news.”

“Me, I’ll admit to having had my fifteen minutes of fame. I guess my recordings may sell for a while, but I’m hardly newsworthy.”

“Can the false modesty act, cousin, it doesn’t become you. You’ve saved the lives of two people, one I …” She paused and wiped a tear. “The speculation in the East-coast press is that the mutant reputed to be critically involved in breaking the Boston child pornography case is you. Why else would Senator Williams of Iowa be identified as being involved in assisting the prosecution? It’s obvious in the press coverage that the man dotes on you. The whole Williams-Johnson family is your biggest cheerleader, Joanie.” I made a gesture to shush her, she continued anyway. “It all makes sense now. The girl with you, the one they call Pinky, was one of the victims?” I nodded and checked to see if we were still alone.

“For her protection I can’t say much, but, yes, she’s how I found out about the crimes. I’m trying to help turn her life around. The 'incidents'," Christine blanched when she realized it was multiple sexual assaults, “left her in a disturbed mental state. The loving teen was being replaced by a cynical manipulator.

"The bastards who did this to Pinky hurt others, too, and further abused their power in attempting to stop the police investigation. The woman detective who pursued this case after higher ups thought they’d quashed it deserves the credit. I just had access to some investigative tools she lacked, and the Senator had the contacts to get us an honest and sympathetic judge for the necessary subpoenas. With our help, the detective assembled a rock-solid case and nothing can stop it. I’m so happy I could help. Several of the victims are suffering serious mental trauma and are receiving psychiatric help at my expense. I didn’t want them to have to wait for government aid. So far, I hear they’re doing better. I know my friend Pinky is, thank Ghod.

"Despite her fine work, there’s been a backlash against the detective by members of the force. It's regrettable, as my interactions with Boston’s finest have been nothing but professional and positive. It’s a combination of the ‘don’t rat on your fellow officer’ mentality and the fact that there may be supporters of the accused persons on the force. The Senator’s contact, Judge Juday, used his influence to get the detective an indefinite assignment to the Massachusetts Violent Crime Victims Assistance Bureau where she’s helping the other victims recover. She cares, and it’s the best we could do for her now.”

“That’s exactly the point, cousin Joanie. You’ve been a mutant nine months, and look at the impact you’ve had on this country. From my contacts in the civil service, I’ve learned your Senator’s Federal judge friend is on the short list for the next US Supreme Court vacancy, and has moved up within it since the Boston case broke. Governor Johnson is a favorite to win his party's nomination for President, if not for the 2008 election then most certainly for the 2012 race. Flashes in the pan do not run in these high circles. You’ve taken down a US Senator and the speculation is rampant over who’s the next target of the Avengers.”

~~They’re calling me and my cohorts from this case 'The Avengers'? I could see the Senator in a suit and hat like Patrick Macnee’s, and me in a cat suit, meowrrr! ~~

“Christine, that was a cult TV show and movie, and I look much better in leather than any of those actresses did. Oh Ghod, did I just say that?” She smiled. “It’s not like any of this is planned. It just happens,” I added.

“Maybe it’s proof that your unknown deity is yanking your chain. You have all these gifts and he, or she, is ensuring you use them wisely.”

“If that’s the case, why give me these?” I said as I cupped the undersides of my breasts with my hands.”

“To distract your enemies and give delight to your lovers?”

“Christine!” At least she didn’t say Eric’s name out loud, for which I was grateful. “Before we got sidetracked, you were giving me fashion tips.”

“Remembering back to that dress from the school dance, Joanie. I think, um … how old was your … ah, date?”

~~So I’m not dodging that today.~~ I gave her “the look.”

“Sorry, Joanie, that’s none of my business, but that was a good look for you. Perhaps a classically styled formal dress or a woman’s business suit could make you look 20ish. Maybe you could change your makeup, hair style or accessories, but that’s all I can think of.” She got this thoughtful look on her face, then smiled broadly. “Cousin Joanie, with your face, and that body, I’m surprised one of the fashion or men’s magazines hasn’t made you an offer.”

I burst into a giggle fit. It was a while before I was coherent.

“They have?” I nodded.

“You accepted?” I nodded again.

“Tell me which one. You’re driving me crazy.”

“They’ve been around over fifty years, starting originally in Chicago.”

“Chicago? You’re being mysterious, why? Is it embarrassing? It’s not naked photos?” I snorted, trying to hold in the giggles.

“I’m the cover. I’m being interviewed, and I’m the main photo spread of the issue. I’m Ms. July in Playboy. It’s their first all-mutant issue.”

Christine did the dignified, mature, fifty something thing; she broke into giggles. I had a hard time keeping from joining her.

“This is serious stuff, Christine. I’m getting two million, plus a cut of their overseas sales, and I’m donating it all to Whateley Academy, the mutant prep school I’m at. And yes, Eric is too young to buy it.”

“The Iowa Governor’s son? Was that just for fun, or are you seriously dating the boy?”

“He’s not a boy; he’s a man -- a young one, but a man, Christine. I’m very fond of him, okay.”

“Nine months, and you’re dating a bo … man. You’re crazy, but I’m happy for you.”

”Ghod help me, but so am I, when I’m near him. If you think of anything else, here’s my e-mail address.” I handed her a business card. “Let’s see your Suzy.” I dressed, and we walked to Suzy’s room.

* * * *

We walked, hugging each other constantly on the way to Suzy’s room. We caused some commotion in the halls but didn’t care. Her husband, Greg, and Red were the only others in the room. Suzy grinned happily when she saw her Mom and I enter the room holding each other.

“Suzy, Joanie’s back, and she’s fine. She fainted because she knows us.”

“You know my Mom?”

“Red, can you make sure we’re not disturbed?” She smiled, then left the room.

We all sat down, Christine smiling all the while. I let her speak.

“Greg, Suzy, Joanie knows us because she’s your Aunt once removed.”

“You’re my Aunt?” Suzy said. She and Greg locked their eyes on me.

“I’m your mom’s cousin. I went through a similar mutant burnout last July, and ended up looking like this. It was a shock; I used to be a middle-aged guy.”

“John?” asked Greg.

Greg may sound like a Southern Good Ole’ Boy, but he’s a sharp one.

“What you think of my makeover, Greg? Did I come up trumps or not?” Then, I giggled. I was so happy I could burst, then I started to cry. I’d regained some of the family I’d thought I’d lost. “Your Grandma Denny is my dad’s sister, Suzy dear.” I was almost sobbing.

“It's true,” said Christine. I gave Suzy’s hand a squeeze and kissed her forehead.

“I’m not alone, you understand this mutant …” then she cried, too.

I sat next to her on her bed, and held her for sometime until we both settled down.

I explained where I was living, and what I was doing for a living. Since the people behind this Ultra-X-Amine homolog were at large, I felt Suzy should come to Whateley, both for training and her safety. I offered to pay all her expenses.

“We can’t have you do that, we’ll pay,” said Greg.

“I have money coming out my ears. Let me do this as a favor to your family for all they’ve done for us.”

“The press said you’ve made a lot of money off the recordings,” said Greg.

“I’ve had some success.”

“Success, Joanie? You’re the odds on favorite to win Artist of the Year at the next Grammys, and the nominations don’t close until September. You have half a dozen songs in the top 25 spread over four charts. They said so on VH1 the other day,” said Suzy.

“So I’m not likely to be singing at the next family wedding or funeral? Too expensive?”

“You’re number one on two Billboard charts, Miss July, and no one has challenged you for number one on the country chart since you re-took first place six weeks ago. My Ghod, Joanie, you bumped Shania Twain off number one with her own song.”

~~ Man! 'I Feel like a Woman' is doing okay then. ~~

“I may not be a professional singer anymore, but I follow the business. Joanie. You’re number one in Japan, and Australia, and in the top ten in nearly all of Europe. There probably isn’t a more popular singer in the World today. Forbes said you were one of the top grossing entertainers for 2006, and your first recording didn’t come out until Halloween, wasn’t it?” Christine said.

~~Huh?

Of course, I haven’t considered overseas sales; I wonder how much I’ve made? I thought I’ve only made few million. Mr. Karaoke needs to explain this one; I have exclusive worldwide rights. But that is chickenfeed compared to my real assets. ~~

Greg looked at me then his wife and back at me again.

“What did you mean by ‘Miss July’, Christine?” He looked back at her; her face screwed up like a guilty child’s.

“I’m getting two million dollars, and a cut of the overseas sales, to be on the cover, give an interview, and be the Centerfold model for this July’s Playboy. One snicker, mister, and you’re out of here.” He broke out laughing. Susan stared at me like I was a pop idol. Then again, I guess I am.

“Cousin, that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. I made some investments early on and have done real well.” I winked at my cousin. I saw a look of recognition.

“The ‘other thing’ you told me?” said Christine. I nodded. She’d guessed I had some other time power, but I knew she’d tell no one, even Greg. “Okay, cousin, I assume we’re not to tell anyone, even our families?”

“Be certain you don’t, or you’re all at risk for kidnapping or worse -- terminally worse. The people behind Suzy’s mutation and the two before her are dangerous, and I’m a target because of my time stop and for other reasons.”

“Hon, cousin Joanie told me she’s donating all the magazine money to this prep school for mutants where she teaches. I think Susan should attend there,” My cousin Christine finished.

* * * *

We agreed that they’d only say I was doing this as a charitable act for a fellow Wisconsin mutant, should anyone ask. Suzy would stay at the Mutant Wing until Pinky and I returned from Iowa, then she’d fly to Whateley with us.

“You’ll love my kittens, Susan; I rescued a pair the other day,” I told her. Christine spoke next.

“You and cats, Joanie. I swear if you had the money you’d have a pair of lions.” I saw a panicked look flash on her face. “They’re not lions, are they?” I snickered.

“ No, not lions, Christine.”

* * * *

Before I left to check on Pinky, Christine talked to me in private.

“What are you up to, Joanie girl. Just how wealthy are you? That motorcycle you said on TV it was your grandfathers, but I don’t remember ever seeing it, even when I was a little girl.”

“I bought it from the man who bought it from him, soon after grandpa sold it in the 1920’s.”

“But that means… You can time travel?”

“See why I live at Whateley? I’m a big target now. It'll be worse if ‘that’ power ever becomes public. Those investments?” she nodded. “I made them starting back nearly 100 years ago. I may make Bill Gates look a pauper in a decade or so.”

“The Meridian Foundation, you own it?” I told you, Chrissie’s the best and brightest.

“The entire board is here, and present, and it’s all mine -- all 20 billion, give or take a few.” My investments had done well in the last few months. “You can never tell anyone this.”

“If I did, the banking system might collapse. Thanks for trusting me, Joanie.”

“Oh, I was serious about singing at family events. You could claim you’re advising me on my taxes, and investments, as a thank you for what I did for your daughter, and that my singing is a gift in return. You are a former bank auditor after all. Want to do a duet?”

* * * *

As a favor to me, and a safety precaution, MSG held a get together in the mutant wing. They all visited my relatives, and offered their assistance. Only the Gang of Four, Dr. Sara and Dari knew our blood kinship; the others saw Susan as just a fellow mutant, but all made her feel welcome. Suzy was so happy afterward, and said she thought the Cranberry Kid was hot; so did Pinky. Who am I to say?

* * * *

April 07, 2007, Madison WI to Des Moines IA

Pinky and I left for Iowa in my Focus after I’d made quick calls to my sister and dad. I let them know the basics on what happened with my cousin, and her family, and to keep quiet even in his e-mails to the Kenners, unless Christine or I said otherwise. They were happy I had helped family and wished me well. MSG arraigned a diversion so we could get away from the reporters; my car and plate were known to the press since the November Iowa sleepover, so I needed some help. Once on the road, its common shape and color proved effective camouflage.

We arrived in Des Moines at four pm. The Johnsons were just back from some event, and preparations were underway for an Easter egg roll on Sunday. Security was extra tight for the upcoming festivities as a precaution against a terrorist attack, but the officers soon recognized me, and, after verifying my temporary guardianship papers, let us through. We parked, walked to the front door of Terrace Hill, and rang the bell. To my surprise and delight, Eric answered.

“Egg roll registration is at the … Joanie!” He gathered me in his arms and smiled.

~~Is he taller again? We’re eye-to-eye and I’m in heels, and the muscles! Eric’s down right buff. Has it only been seven weeks? My, I feel something else growing too. Sorry boy, but you have to wait a few years. Oh Ghod, I’ve missed this!~~ We kissed, then broke apart. My heart was racing.

“Glad to see you, too. Eric. This is Pinky, a sister student at Whateley. She’s with me for Easter.” Eric gave her a big hug and a kiss.

~~Hey, that kiss is lasting a bit too long.~~ I felt my anger rising.

“Break it up before I hit someone.” Eric quickly came and hugged me; I felt foolish.

“I’m sorry, I’m new at this boyfriend/girlfriend thing, and I get jealous for no cause when I see a beautiful woman with Eric. I shouldn’t, but I do.” Pinky came, and gave me a lovely kiss.

“Thanks, no one ever called me a woman. You said I was beautiful.” Pinky gave me a hug.

“Joanie is right, you're not a little girl, dear lady.” He gave her friendly hug and a peck on the cheek. Then he gave me another powerful squeeze and tantalizing kiss.

~~I could get to like this girlfriend stuff.~~ I thought as we walked into the governor’s mansion.

“Joanie,” she whispered, “Eric’s a hunk, and I see how he looks at you. I envy you, girl.”

“Well don’t. I love Eric.” He heard and smiled. “But it hurts waiting until he’s of legal age. If you think he’s handsome now, imagine what he’ll look like in a few years. You’ll understand when you see his dad and grandfather. Hunks run in the family.”

* * * *

We walked up to the fourth floor private rooms and came upon Babs; was she ever pregnant.

“Joanie, I’m so glad you made it. We saw the video from your rescue of that girl.”

"Huh Babs? I knew there was coverage, but video?”

I’d been so busy with other matters I’d never checked out the news. I think I deliberately stayed away from it.

“You haven’t seen it, Joanie? There were closed circuit cameras on the ferry, and a man shot some home video. How is the girl doing?” Babs asked.

“Susan is fine, and she’s a close relative.”

“Joanie?” Babs asked.

“Her mom’s a first cousin on my father’s side.” I knew Babs would be discreet, and Senator Joe would likely know soon anyway.

“What were the odds of that?”

“I don’t want to know. How are you, Babs? Duplex my ass, you’re an apartment building and your breasts, I’m jealous. I’ve seen strippers with silicone implants less impressive.”

“Bob’s happy too, but these are a pain to carry around, and there are the two gymnasts I’m housing. John and Joan are the most active I’ve carried.”

“That’s wonderful, I’m glad my namesakes are healthy. How are you?”

“Blood pressure is up slightly, but still normal. A nurse checks it every day to be sure. I’ve been lucky and avoided most complications of pregnancy, but we’re taking no chances. The only major one I haven’t avoided Bob is helping me with.”

“Nothing serious, is it Babs?” I asked.

“Only if Bobs refuses me. I’m hornier than a drunken nymphomaniac on aphrodisiacs, but morning, noon or night Bob’s been there for me. It’s a good thing you inspired him to get into top condition; I’d have killed him otherwise. If I knew he’d be like that, I’d have ten kids by now, at least,” Babs said, then giggled softly.

“I take it this is Pinky Connors; she sure fits your description. You’re a lovely young woman, Ms. Conners.” Pinky blushed. “A friend of Joanie is a friend of our family, Pinky. You’re welcome anytime.” Pinky giggled nervously.

“Babs means it, girl, and that’s for both of you.”

“She knows about my other form?”

“Joanie had to tell me, I’ve been giving her advice on how to help you. I do have BAs in sociology and human psychology. I’m not just a pretty face; I’m the Governor’s brood mare, too.” Pinky and I fought to hold in our giggles. “She e-mailed a photo of your hermaphroditic male form, and Pinky, you’re dreamy. I’d go out with you if I was younger and single. I have no qualms of you dating either of my children. If Joanie trusts you, that is all I need to know.”

“I’d have some objections, Mom!” I said. “Mel’s a bit young to date yet, but I’d not object.” I paused for effect. “If you as much as touch Eric, you die.” Then I kissed Pinky.

* * * *

We talked a while, then us kids left Babs and went out to the back lawn to see the preparations. I could see Bob and Senator Joe showing Mel around the site.

I called out, “Is it too late to register?” Mel screamed, ran, and leaped on me, nearly knocking me over. Babs and Eric weren’t the only two growing like weeds. As she’d approached me, it was like watching a rerun of Baywatch and those lady lifeguards running in slow motion. Mel’s figure wasn’t blooming, it was exploding. And she was so tall. She’d be a fashion model in no time if she wanted -- a busty one at that.

~~Mel’s not even twelve? What will she be like at eighteen? Does Victoria’s Secret offer a finders fee? ~~

“Mel! I'm glad to see you. This is Pinky Conners, a friend from my school. I’m her Mommy for Easter.”

“You’re not my Mommy, you’re my Auntie,” said Pinky, then she snickered. I held mine back. Mel smiled at us curiously.

“It’s hard to explain, but I’m her legal guardian for this trip,” I said.

“Hi Pinky, I’m Mel. Isn’t Joanie the greatest? She saved my life, you know.” Mel turned to me and looked mad. “Joanie, are you crazy jumping in freezing water to save that girl?” She paused and broke into a broad grin. “I’m so proud you’re my friend. Don’t ever stop being so brave and sweet. When the press said you almost drowned, Eric cried.” Eric appeared embarrassed.

“Did he?” I laughed. “That’s sweet, Eric, but I was okay, and the poor girl needed my help. I knew the Gang of Four, Dari and Pinky would help me. Speaking of help, want some help with the egg roll? It sounds like fun.”

“Sure, Joanie, let’s see Dad,” He replied. We walked onto the well-maintained grounds.

* * * *

“Joanie, are those two their dad and grandpa?” Pinky pointed to Bob and Senator Joe who were off to one side of a group of workers who were prepping the site. I nodded. “They’re major hunks for older guys.”

“I told you. Why do you think I put my claws into Eric so young? I’m taking no chances.”

“Hello, Joanie, who’s the lovely young woman with you?” asked Bob. Pinky’s blush threatened to overrun the city.

“Pinky, this is Governor Bob Johnson of Iowa, and the equally handsome older man is United States Senator Joseph Williams, also of Iowa and Bab’s father.” The men bowed and kissed the back of her hand. Pinky nearly fainted.

~~If that doesn’t make her feel like a desirable young woman again, nothing will. ~~

“You helped catch that sick man who raped me, my so-called doctor!” Pinky spat out “doctor.” She had this odd smile her face. “I love you!” she exclaimed and hugged the Senator. I could see tears running down her face. The Senator hugged her back and wiped her tears with a hankie. He whispered something in her ear; she giggled and moved next to me.

“I see you did the superhero act yesterday, Joanie. Life getting too dull, is it?” asked the Senator.

“You know me, a sucker for kittens in the rain. I’ll tell you about her someday; let’s say I’m so happy I could help her. A word of advice -- wait a couple months before swimming in any northern lakes, they’re cold now. Are you going out to eat or staying in, Bob? Anything but fish is fine. I feel too much like one at the moment.”

“We're going out. Want to tag along, Joanie? I’m scheduled to appear on a nationally broadcast, live, radio show tonight. They serve a catered meal to the cast, guest stars, and VIPs. A Prairie Home Companion is on its spring tour and is broadcasting from the main auditorium at the local University of Iowa campus. Heard of the show?”

“With Garrison Keillor, Lake Woebegon, the Sidetrack Tap, sure; I’ve listened to it for years. Never been to the show; I’d love to come.” I turned toward Pinky. “It’s a throwback to the golden age of radio, Pinky, you’ll love it. Is Babs coming? I’d hate to think of her all by herself.”

“We’re all going. She wants to get out while she still can. Did you ladies wish to change your clothes? You’ll have to hurry; we need to be there by 4:30 at the latest.” said Bob.

Pinky and I hustled to the guest rooms and put on our best outfits. I went all out and chose the same LBD I wore for Eric’s Prom. Don’t ask me why I packed it. Right, I know why. I danced with Eric in it. I added three inch heeled dress sandals, sheer hose, Mel’s ponytail clip and some tasteful jewelry; very classy. A light touch of makeup and I was ready. I wore a tan cardigan to keep warm and to stop the guys from drooling. Pinky wore a pink sundress, tan stockings, modest heels, a cream V-neck sweater; and loads of jewelry. I helped her braid her hair and touch up her makeup.

* * * *

We rode in a government limo. Pinky and I helped Babs to her seat in the auditorium. The stage manager walked over to us and spoke.

“Governor, thanks for coming, and you, too, Senator Williams. Mr. Keillor would like you to do the same speech and skit you did at the Friday rehearsal show. Here’s a script to refresh your memory. I see you brought some guests with you.” Bob made the introductions.

“This is my wife Babs, our son Eric, and our daughter Melissa. The shy ones over there are our dear friend Joan, and her school friend Pinky.”

The stage manager stared at me then said, “You look familiar.”

“I get that all the time. Who do you think I look like?” Mel giggled, Bob and Joe laughed, while Babs and Pinky held their hands over their mouths.

“The singer, Joanie?” he asked hesitantly. I stood up and took off my sweater.

“Honestly, do I look like myself?” I asked, then giggled.

~~That was subtle.~~

The stage manager looked pale.

~~I do keep doing this to people.~~

Mr. Keillor walked over. I was busy helping Babs and Pinky with their sweaters.

“Good evening, Governor Bob, Senator Joe, wonderful you could make it. Who are your guests?”

“This is my wife Babs, my son Eric, my daughter Melissa, our good friend Joan and Ms. Pinky Connors, a friend of Joan’s.”

The stage manager continued to stare, and then Mr. Keillor turned to me.

“Joan?” I turned and faced the tall writer/performer.

“Hello, Mr. Keillor, I’m a fan, but this is my first time at the show.”

I shook his hand. His bushy eyebrows threatened to stampede.

He, and his staff, worked frantically to rewrite parts of the show. I’d join in several old gospel and country songs, and they wrote me into a skit or two.

“Sorry, gang. Okay if I perform?”

Their hugs told me all I needed to know. Eric’s hug had my motor racing; I’d take on a Panzer division for one of those again. Keillor sang the opening to the tune of Tishomingo Blues, did a comic bit about Iowa, then introduced the Governor.

“Please welcome Governor Bob Johnson, of Iowa.” There was a huge roar of applause as Bob walked on stage, he is a very popular governor.

“I’d like to formally welcome you, Mr. Keillor, and the show, to Iowa, which is pronounced eye_oh_wah despite any confusion caused by The Music Man.”

“I understand you brought a special friend with you,” Keillor said.

I was waiting in the audience, holding tight onto Mel and Eric’s hands, and terrified with stage fright.

“We first met last Labor Day when this dear woman saved the life of our daughter, Melissa, and we haven’t let her forget her mistake. Certainly our Mel hasn’t.” The audience laughed politely. “She’s become famous for other reasons since that day, but as her heroics yesterday reminded us, she’s just a darn nice girl. May I introduce my favorite ex-Wisconsinite and the prettiest school teacher I know, Joanie.”

I walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. My nerves settled down like someone had thrown a switch. Bob gave me a loving hug and the best kiss on the lips I‘d had since Eric. The last of any lingering stage fright was replaced by pure joy at the outpouring of love. I waited for the applause to die.

“I thought for a moment I was being eulogized. Hello, everyone.” I waited a moment. “I’m not prepared as I didn’t know I’d be at the show an hour ago, but I’ll give it a whirl. Mr. Keillor?”

We sang a silly version of 'Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail', complete with wacky sound effects by Tom Keith. Being radio, we could hold the scripts and sheet music in our hands -- a big plus. We next sang the classic gospel, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow', Keillor’s deep voice complemented my soaring vocals to perfection. I’m not a particularly religious person, but the song struck a cord. Later, I returned to the stage for the Ketchup Advisory Board skit. The long running series of fake ads has the premise that … On second thought, why don’t you look it over and judge for yourself, dear d/j/w reader?

* * * *

Garrison Keillor: “… after this word from the Ketchup Advisory Board.”

Tom Russell: “These are the good years for Barb and me. Our children in college, the mortgage paid off, and we’re finally getting enough fiber in our diet. A time for well earned bliss. Then my wife came to me the other day... “

Sue Scott: “Jim, I’m concerned. I’m so stressed these days.”

TR: “Why, Barb, aren’t you getting enough ketchup? Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that make life’s little problems seem less important.”

SS: “I know Jim. It’s our new neighbor, the singer Joanie. She’s up at all hours of the night singing and playing her electric guitar. She was at it until two am last night, and it’s wearing me out.”

TR: “Sounds like she needs more ketchup in her diet, Barb.”

SS: “I’ve tried, but it isn’t working, not even my prizewinning ketchup, macaroni, and green bean hot dish I brought her the other evening, or the ketchup and cottage cheese desert.”

TR: “That’s serious. Barb. Let’s call the Ketchup Advisory Board.”

GK: “I’ve reviewed the case, and I fear your neighbor suffers from KIS, or Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome.”

SS: “Is there any thing that can be done?”

GK: “In cases like these an intervention is in order.”

Joanie: “Hi, Joanie here. The Ketchup people came to my home and explained my neighbors’ fears. Turns out I do suffer from Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome, a side effect of my mutation, but they found a solution. Whenever I feel the need to practice late into the evening, I mix up several pitchers of ketchup cocktails and share them with my neighbors. Ketchup makes the perfect mixer. I find eight ounces of ketchup, mixed with eight ounces of a fine Minnesota Chardonnay, and a jigger or two of an aged Iowa scotch, shaken, not stirred, and served over cracked ice in a tall glass does wonders. After a couple of these, my neighbors wouldn’t care if I did chainsaw sculpture at three am. Ketchup, I never leave home without it.”

Rich Dworsky sings: “These are the good years,
Spring eases winter’s shocks.
Life is flowing like ketchup on the rocks.

GK: “Ketchup for the good times.”

RW sings: “Ketchup … Ketchup …”

* * * *

In the second hour, I sang several country classics, the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit 'Bad Moon Rising', and the 1930’s hit 'Wahoo'. Pinky’s backing vocals were magic. The musicians and professional singers on stage all complimented her on her performance. It gave her long suffering ego a needed booster shot. I was so pleased. I told her back stage, as we waited for our next part.

“I told you you’re good, but you wouldn’t listen. why wouldn’t you listen?”

“A parody of Oscar winner Burl Ives speaking to a dying Chuck Connors in 'The Big Country'.” said Pinky. I exploded in giggles. The cast looked at us like we were loonies.

I played a bimbo 'femme fatale' in the Guy Noir sketch -- a big stretch, huh? Pinky and I sang backup to Keillor and others on several songs. My time on stage was exhilarating. The highlight of the show for me was singing with the University of Iowa-Des Moines chorus and orchestra. I joined with the chorus on a medley of parodies of patriotic and popular American songs as re-written for 'The Songs of the Cat' by Keillor and Co. The Marine hymn, originally a mid19thcentury Orpheus comic-opera tune, now irrevocably linked to the United States Marines after someone rearranged it to fit the poem. 'From the Halls of Montezuma', is not the same after Keillor’s rewrite.

I sang one serious number with the chorus and orchestra, the Roy Orbison song, 'A Love So Beautiful'. By the end of it, I had tears streaking my face as the emotional impact of the music and lyrics got the better of me. For the show's finale, I borrowed an electric guitar and for the first time I played the instrument in public. The show went off the air to the strains of the full cast and I singing 'Dream Baby', another Orbison classic.

* * * *

We were mobbed trying to exit the auditorium; I’d forgot about the live web-cast, but the campus security and police sorted things out, and we returned to Terrace Hill.

“Joanie, that wasn’t just the press, I think most were fans,” said Mel.

“Why do you say that, Mel?”

“I recognized the Joanie Fan Club T-shirts and buttons.”

“Wah, um what, Mel?” I was so coherent.

“You said my friend Lisa and I could start one, and your producer at Warners was real helpful. We give all the profits to big charities, and have sold over two hundred thousand button and T-shirt combos. They’re in kewl colors, and have your face on them.”

“Two... hundred... thousand?”

~~And I thought the Barbie doll was bad.~~

* * * *

April 08, 2007, Terrace Hill, Des Moines Iowa

The Easter egg roll was a sea of screaming kids, parents, and press. I’m not sure who was loudest. I had a great time helping the younger kids, and posing for photos with them. I signed tons of autographs, and I did speak with the press for a while. This made Pinky happy, as she spent most of the day in the company of a friend of Eric’s who came to visit. She was increasingly holding the young man’s hand and giggling as the day went on. They disappeared several times, and the last time they returned her lipstick was smeared, mostly on him. I took her aside.

“Pinky, we don’t need to buy you one of those home pregnancy test kits, do we?”

“Not yet, but almost. He said I was so pretty. Ghod, I love being a girl.”

“He didn’t do anything wrong, or try to take advantage of you?”

“He was a perfect gentleman, though I was a little naughty.” This worried me.

“You didn’t take advantage of him, did you, Pinky? Sometimes those who were physically, or sexually, abused abuse others. They can’t help it; they’re sick in their minds.”

“Never, Joanie, I would never do that to someone. We just talked and kissed. We kissed a lot. It felt wonderful, and I got all tingly.”

“Good for you, Pinky, but go slow, okay? I don’t want you setting your self up for a disappointment when the person you’re going out with finds out you switch forms.”

“I told him before we kissed, and he said he wouldn’t mind, since I’d still be a girl just also a boy. At worst, I could be his friend.”

~~Gees, what nice boy, but I worry she’ll get burned by someone. ~~

“You think your other self could be happy doing something like this?”

“Maybe, Joanie. I don’t hate him anymore. He’s me after all, and it could be fun being both. It’s certainly easier to pee like that.”

“Rub it in, Pinky. I miss that, you bitch.” I pouted, then we both laughed.

~~She’ll be all right. ~~

* * * *

Sunday evening, we kids watched movies on DVD. I fell asleep on a couch next to Eric. I dreamed Eric and I were engaged in lovemaking; one of his hands was massaging a breast, another teasing my womanhood as my hands rubbed his back and stroked his stiff… Something or someone was trying to wake me.

‘Wake up Joanie. Eric, wake up.” It was Pinky.

In our sleep our hands had wandered and were doing exactly what I dreamed, except our hands were outside of our pajamas, thank Ghod. However his hands were on my …

“Eric, Joanie, cool down or get a room.” We both realized where our hands were.

~~What am I doing?~~

“Oh my! Thanks, Pinky. Uh, Eric, we need to break up for the night. Not that I mind your hand rubbing my breast, or my ...“ He retrieved his hands.

“Same here, Joanie. I guess we let things get out of hand?”

“More like in hand, and it felt glorious. Please be patient, Eric, as I can’t be patient alone.” We kissed, lightly, and went to our separate beds.

~~That felt so good, I didn’t want it to stop. Ghod forgive me, I *wanted* him. Fourteen or not, I wanted *him*! What’s wrong with me? … Joanie, you have to be strong, for Eric’s and your sake.~~

* * * *

April 09, 2007

Early Monday, Pinky and I drove to Madison. The Senator made sure no one bothered us. My cousin and her husband reaffirmed Susan should come to Whateley ASAP, so we planned to fly her out on my charter jet as soon as we got the okay from Dr. Sara.

“How’s Suzy?” I asked Dr. Sara.

“Well enough to travel with you, and we have preliminary powers results. She’s a mid to low level shifter, and medium or higher mimic. This means she can consciously, or subconsciously, copy another person’s body so precisely that if she’s given sufficient time, to an MRI or DNA test, they’re nearly identical. The mimic power means she can copy another mutant’s power, though at a slightly lesser ability, at least in the short term. Her copied powers improve with practice. When she copies a male, she’s fully male, down to fertile sperm, and similarly for girls. It’s remarkable. The shifting does deplete her energy levels, but she’s able to draw on the surrounding environment to replenish them, so she recovers quickly. In that respect she’s like an energizer or mage.”

“Does she have control?” I asked.

“So far yes, though in copying powers, she has to be careful when she first uses them. They confuse her initially, but I don’t feel she needs to be in Hawthorne.”

“Can she copy warper's powers?” I worried about this one.

“To a limited extent, and the same for magic. With TK, exemplar, energizer, bricks, and empath/telepath powers, she’s the equal of the original for as long as she retains their pattern, and she doesn’t need to mimic their body or sex to do it. She’s also a low level regen,” added Sara.

“She’s in real danger of being a kidnap target, if word leaks,” I said.

“I agree. Your friends in the National Guard will escort you to your plane, and the Air National Guard has made arrangements to escort you all the way to the Airport near Whateley. They say it’s to repay you for what you did for Susan. The guys you did your ‘graduation exam’ all volunteered to be the air escort.”

“I suppose they want dinner, drinks and dancing again? Mind you they are pretty sexy … oh!”

“Joanie?”

“Sorry, Sara, residual frustration from earlier.”

~~My Ghod, I’m picturing the pilots as Eric. This is ridiculous, I’ll be one insanely jealous bitch by the time he’s 18. I have to talk to Dr. Bellows soon. Screw that, I’ll just have intercourse with Eric and go to prison a happy woman. ~~

* * * *

We arrived at the small airport near Berlin, NH, where officer Lex Luthor, Alexis, that is, picked us up in a Whateley Security squad car. Gas turbine-electric, very fast and quiet, and one of the less sophisticated vehicles we had.

“I hear you did it again. What are you, a serial do-gooder, Ms. Brown?” said Lex shaking her head.

“Sorry, Lex. Next time I’ll let the victim drown. By the way, let me introduce you to the drowning victim, Susan.” I knew Lex was kidding me but I was pissed, and Lex could sense it.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. My apologies, ladies. I was just joking.”

“You’d better be!” Then I whispered to Lex. “Susan’s my cousin’s daughter.” Lex was shocked.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie. Susan, you’ll love Whateley; it’s a great place. Listen to what your friends, Joanie and Pinky, tell you and you’ll be fine. Joanie, Operations” — she said that last word slowly — “needs you to do another ‘research trip'. Something about a cable laying project.” Pinky giggled, she knew what Lex meant.

“’Research trip?’ Aunt Joanie, let me in on the joke, please?”

“I’m a warper. You probably know that from the press reports after I saved Melissa Johnson’s life last labor day.” Susan nodded. “What is not known, and you must never tell anyone, is I can time travel -- real, physical time travel. I did it before for Operations to determine the origin of a magical object buried in an area scheduled for excavation as part of a construction project.”

“Kewl! Auntie, can I come sometime?”

“Maybe, if you live that long -- which you won’t if you keep calling me Auntie. Our blood relationship is potentially dangerous, if the wrong people find out. I’m glad we’re related, but keep it under wraps or you’re more of a kidnap target than you already are.”

“Okay, Joanie. Can I see your kittens when we get to Whateley?”

“George and Gracie? Sure, Susan. How are they, Lex ?”

Lex gave me a queer look.

~~Oh dear, what’s happened? ~~

“Speaking of your ‘kittens’, Joanie; you owe me a couch. They decided mine was the ‘purrfect’ scratching post.”

~~I’ve got to get my own place, soon. ~~

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 6

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie's mutant niece meets the couch killer kittens and the ever gracious Peeper. Tom and Tina meet Suzy -- lust at first sight. A precognitive hints at Joanie's future and Joanie house hunts. A friend of Ms. Carson visits campus, a secret of her past is revealed.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Yes, it’s yet another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/ magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006. I know Joanie likes to sing Roy Orbison but she is not renaming Gracie, Clawdette.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text salvage by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 6- What’s New Pussy Cat? 3, Oops I Did it Again 3, The Inverters 4, Home Improvement, I’m Ready for My Close-up, Mr. Hefner

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 09-10, 2007

April 09, 2007

“How can a pair of kittens tear up a couch? We’ve had cats and they had to be pretty well grown before they could do much damage,” said Susan.

Lex kept her eyes forward, but the tone of her reply was unmistakable.

“Should I tell her, or do you want to, Joanie?”

~~I’m supposed to be the wiseacre tease here, Lex. ~~

“They are kittens. I guess you call them that, or cubs, but they’re not domestic cats. They’re about six weeks old, weigh nearly ten pounds each, absolutely unique, and irreplaceable.”

“Joanie!” Lex replied.

Lex sounded irritated -- or was she baiting me? She does have a strange sense of humor, and I love her for it.

“What are they Aun … Ms. Joanie, tiger cubs? You told Mom they weren’t lions.”

“Oh, they’re not lions,” Lex and I said in stereo.

Pinky was smart, and kept out of it, content to simply snicker.

“Joanie is fine. Don’t ever refer to me by the A_u_blank_blank title again, Suzy, it could get you killed. I love hearing you say the word. It almost makes me cry, but it’s not safe dear. What Officer Susan Alexis Luther wants me to say is, I rescued them during a test of my time travel power. They’re native to North America circa 9500BC. They’re smilodons.”

Suzy looked puzzled then excited. She asked.

“Saber-tooths? You have saber-tooths?”

“They only have their milk teeth so it’s not obvious now. They look a bit like adult Manx cats.”

~~Body-builder Manx cats with a short tail.~~

“They are one of the saber-tooth cats and will get a lot bigger as they mature, nearly as big as African lions. I’m planning on having them trained as police cats, sort of Dobermans on steroids,” I said.

“Aren’t you afraid they’ll try to eat you?”

“They have, actually. My nipples will attest to that.”

“What?” Suzy shrieked.

“They weren’t fully weaned and I made the mistake of sleeping in the nude. I woke to, well, now I know why some women are afraid to breast feed, ouch! … Luther, watch the road, you nearly drove off the edge! I guess that means I’m officially their Mommy now, but I will have several empath/telepaths, and a police dog trainer work with my furry friends and me to get us properly trained. Now that you’ve settled down, Lex, how well have they been eating?”

“They’re both hungry kitties, that’s for sure. They lap up the formula eagerly, and seem to go for the moistened Purina Lion Cub Chow.”

“I hope I can find a satisfactory dry, big cat food. The thought of them ambushing a cow for breakfast several times a week is not an appealing image. I can get some cutter and canner cattle if I have to, but that’s all the more reason I need to find and build a secure home off campus, but near Whateley.”

“Would you take them back to your room before it gets to that point?” said Lex faking sarcasm.

“As soon as I get Suzy settled in, Lex. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for a new couch. Hell, get a whole living room set, I can afford it.” Lex seemed much happier.

When she dropped us off at Administration, I said discreetly, ”Thanks for wearing the contacts, the eye patch would be a bit much for Suzy right now. Oh, how are you and, you know, your girlfriend doing?”

This was a tough area to get Lex to talk about, but I was hoping she’d open up. I was glad for the lovely woman. She seemed so lonely at times. It was as if her life had been turned upside down at some point and the memories occasionally haunted her.

“That’s our business, but we’re fine.”

Gees, she said something about it, finally. Then she got this predatory look in her good eye, I preferred not to see what was in the other. I’d done it one time by accident. It wasn’t pleasant, but I was otherwise unaffected. She told me most people go off-line for a while when they see into the eye the magic affected. She thinks she can use that to advantage in dangerous situations.

“A sort of built in Tazer,” I suggested once, and got one of those looks of amused disapproval she’s so good at.

I may look at it again sometime but it will be when I’m ready, and not one minute before.“How is your BOY friend, Joanie, still under the statutory rape age?”

~~’A full spread of photon torpedoes and phasers? Hard about Sulu, we’re gonna ram this sucker!’ Two can play this game, girlie. ~~

“Yeah Lex, he’s still fourteen and am I glad. He was amazing last night, such stamina, and so energetic, ooooh!” I cooed.

Lex’s jaw dropped, then I laughed so hard I had to run for the nearest women’s room.

“Oh you!” I could hear her shout after me.

* * * *

I offered to help out by sharing my linen closet with Suzy, but Student Services found her something in Dickenson. Her roomie is a sister shape shifter from Savanna, Georgia — say that fast five times.

~~Could be worse, could be Sioux Falls, South Dakota.~~

I swear, someday my sense of humor will get me into serious trouble. Suzy had lived in Atlanta, and other southern cities, for most of her life. Her parents got transferred many times between Federal Reserve Banks, primarily those in the South, so they should get along — the similar cultural backgrounds will help.

Administration got Suzy’s ID and intro package together in record time. Dr Sara had informed Ms. Carson of Ms. Kenner’s’ unique relationship “relative” to me, and Ms. Carson had pulled out all the stops. Ms. Hartford was unusually polite in dealing with an incoming student, but then she knew what I thought about duty to friends and family. She had to know, but said nothing -- quid pro quo, I guess. I gave Suzy the quick campus tour and dropped off excused absence slips for Pinky’s missed morning classes.

* * * *

Suzy and I went to Security to pick up the kittens.
They were in a travel kennel on top of a desk and pawed excitedly through the bars when they saw me.

“I missed you too, little ones. Come and meet my friend, Suzy.”

I took them out of the cage. We sat on chairs next to the kennel.

“Joanie, they’re as big as adult cats -- bigger I think.”

“My, you two have grown! Lex must have taken good care of you,” I said in a cutesy voice.

“Is it okay for me to hold one?” Suzy pleaded.

“Here’s George. The boys are usually more outgoing — at least they are with domestic cats. Be a good smilie, George. Suzy’s precious to me, just like you.”

I scratched him behind the ears and rubbed the side of my face against him, marking him. I kept making soft high pitched sounds to comfort him. Gracie was content to curl up tight on my lap and purr.

“Oooh, George, you have such soft fur. Can I pet you?” Suzy said as she let George sniff her hand.

He settled down on her lap and she gently petted and scratched him. Soon his purr motor was going. Maybe it was instinct, or mother’s intuition, or just maybe my empathic gift kicked in, because I got this sense of absolute love and contentment. It seemed to be coming from the smilodons. I got out the figure eight harnesses and leashes, and carefully put them on my babies.

Dear d/j/w, why did I call them my babies? But I do so want to have a baby; many babies, with Eric and my genes they’ll … He’s only fourteen, he’s only fourteen, he’s built like a Ghod in training but he’s only fourteen.

~~Mental memo to self: never, ever, be alone with Eric for any length of time. I’ll jump his bones for sure. What is it with me? Am I that kind of a girl, the kind of girl that is so in love with the idea that Prince Charming and a baby will make my life complete that I have no control over my desire? I used to think the young women I worked with were so foolish to get pregnant by some slick talking Neanderthal. They’d admit -- after-the-fact -- ‘he’ had nothing going for him other than looks and a dick, and here I am falling for a similar trap. Thank the Ghods Eric is a good person and not some opportunist looking to score. I have got to find an outlet for my passion other than stroking myself. It eases the tension alright, but I find I’m fantasizing about Eric more and more. I worry I won’t be able to separate fact from fiction when we meet again. I could never forgive myself if I violated his and his family’s trust that way.~~

“Come on babies, up on our shoulders. We‘re going home,” I said.

I gently picked up George, and set him on Suzy’s shoulder, and did likewise with Gracie on mine.

“Won’t they fall off, or get scared?” Suzy asked.

“Smilodons were suspected of being excellent tree climbers given their anatomy and claws. It will be easier than carrying the kennel and safer than walking them.”

* * * *

We left Security for Poe, Suzy merrily chatting all the way.

“Wow girls, what a great pair of pussies!” said a familiar voice behind us.

“Excuse me one moment, Suzy. Why don’t you sit on the lawn, and play with George and Gracie?”

I turned to see Peeper grinning at me. That turned to a worried look when he saw who he had just propositioned, then to a look of panic. It wasn’t totally his fault -- well the off-color remark was -- but I was not in my normal Whateley clothes. I was still in stealth mode from our trip and was wearing a baseball cap for my hair which was further tucked inside my blouse.

“I am so sorry, Ms. Joanie, I …”

“Stuff it, Peeper, before I do something we will both regret. Though in your case, you might not live long enough to experience it. I will say this once, and you will remember it. The lovely young woman you propositioned is a new mutant I had the privilege of rescuing a few days back. Naturally, she is very dear to me. If I hear of anyone mistreating her, insulting her, or, Ghod forbid, harming her, they will hear from me. I’m not saying to treat her with kid gloves, just with restraint. Suzy needs to learn to survive in the real world, and I don’t want anything, or anyone, to interfere with that, got it?”

I was livid at his insulting dear Suzy. I didn’t like it either. I didn’t want to see the expression on my face -- certainly Peeper didn’t. I smelled something, and noticed a growing stain near his crotch. Maybe I've learned that trick of Big Red's?

“Go and get cleaned up, and pass the word; anyone who harms Miss Susan Kenner is my personal punching bag. Now go!”

Peeper ran off towards Twain Hall at a full sprint. Somehow, I frightened him; harmless little ol’ me? I restrained myself until he was out of sight, then the dam burst.

“Gees, am I pissed.”

I started laughing so hard I had to lie back on the lawn.
I slowly calmed down and my smilodon friends came and nuzzled me -- two particular parts of me.

“Are they trying to nurse?” Suzy said her eyes wide, and wet from her own tears; she’d been laughing hard, too.

“Yah, smart creatures, aren’t they. Here we go, Gracie,” I said as I sat up, put her back on my shoulders and stood up. “It’s time to get them home.”

* * * *

We got them settled in my linen closet. Suzy got a kick out of the fact the plaque on the door said “Linen Stores”, and not “Room 318 A” or “Joan Brown.” My cork board on the door did have my name and schedule on it.

I posted my schedule for good reason. Those who wished me harm could find it out easy enough, anyway, and I wanted my friends to know were I was. Also, I get preoccupied at times and it’s a great reminder, like sticking a note on the ‘fridge door. I had a small pad of Post-its, a pen, and lots of spare thumbtacks up as well, so people could leave notes. I was always looking for more to tryout for my band.

“I’m surprised they have a simple tan coat. I thought they’d be striped like a tiger,” Susy told me.

“They’re primarily grassland hunters of the far north. Tigers have stripes because they’re jungle and forest hunters. A dull tan with minimal markings is the best camouflage for grasslands. In many ways they’re like African lions, just from a much colder climate.”

We fed them and then Suzy and I headed off to the Crystal Hall for our lunch. I made a mental note to get them a bigger scratching post. I had an idea where I could get one cheap.

* * * *

I was happy to see Tom and Tina Smith sitting at my preferred table, and Cheryl womaning a cash register. Manning didn’t fit somehow and personing is too PC for my taste, and I am from Wisconsin. Doesn’t anyone remember Donna E. Shalala?

“Suzy, see the petite brunette cashiering? Call her Britney Spears when we check out. Don’t bother with the ID card they gave you. Lunch is my treat.”

I tousled her hair, which made her giggle. She tickled me back, I nearly peed.

~~I hope Eric never finds out about my ‘weakness’, I’ll be helpless before him. Hum? ~~

We started picking out our food after I warned her to read the labels carefully. We took our booty to checkout. Cheryl was charming as usual.

“ID card?” she said in her New Jersey accent.

~~Sounds like a lower pitched Fran Dresser. ~~

“Sorry, my friend behind me is paying,” said Suzy.

“Heard that one before. Get out your card newbie, you’re holding up the line.”

“Ring hers up with mine, Britney,” I said from behind Suzy.

“You again? I should have known, Joanie,” Cheryl growled.

~~My, she’s taking this well. ~~

She rang us up then whispered to Suzy.

“Be careful around this one; she’s a bad influence.”

“I will, Ms. Spears,” Suzy whispered back.

“Joanie, you … you …“Cheryl sputtered.

“Yes, I am one, aren’t I. Come on Suzy, lets eat!”

We sat down next to the twins.

“Tom and Tina Smith, this is Susan or Suzy Kenner,” I said. I looked to see if we were clear. “She’s a new mutant from Wisconsin, and an Ultra-X-Amine homolog victim,” I whispered the last bit.

“I’m so sorry,” said Tina.

“Me too, and you’re cute, Suzy. Seeing anyone?” said Tom. He’d been eying her up and down, his smile growing all the while.

~~Making the moves already, Slick?~~

“It’s okay, I look like I used to except for the eye color. I have these great powers and how else would I have met my Aunt… Oh crap!” Suzy said in frustration.

I tried to shush them. Fortunately, the Crystal Hall is noisy at lunchtime and no one else heard her.

“Joanie is your…” Tom stared to say.

I gave him a look that would weld battleship armor plate.

“No one ever mentions ‘that’ fact again. It’s too dangerous, understand?” I tried next to calm them.

“It’s not that I’m unhappy with the ‘situation’,” I made quote marks in the air. “But I have enemies who wish to use my abilities for their purposes, just as you three are vulnerable to that same threat.”

“Like from spies and organized crime, Joanie?” Tina asked.

“Exactly. Anyone closely associated with the public ‘me’ is at risk as well because I’m so well known. Be careful and Whateley will teach you what you need to know to survive. That’s enough of the morbid stuff, gang. Why don’t you tell each other about your selves and your powers, and what it’s like at Whateley?” I said. “Okay if Suzy tags along with you two? I have some things I need to do.”

~~ ‘There’s no need to fear, Underdog is here!’ I must be in good mood if I’m this silly. ~~

“Sure, Joanie. We’ll keep Suzy safe,” said Tom smiling. Tina nodded her head.

“Good. You have my number and Security can always locate me. Call me for any reason; I don’t mind. I’ll try and be here for dinner at six, but let’s agree to meet outside the main door of Dickenson at 7:45AM and have a group breakfast. I’ll probably bring Pinky with me, as we run at 7AM most mornings. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll see if the Anderson twins will host a slumber party Saturday night.”

“What about my brother?” asked Tina.

“Are you interested in police gadgets, Tom? I could have some friends at Security give you a look at what they do. Not the patrolling, but the situation room, CCTV system, and things like that. I could schedule a Saturday night film fest at the Crystal Hall. I donated the widescreen TV.”

“I like gadgets and stuff, sure. Can’t I come to the sleepover?”

“And ogle half naked girls as we oil our bodies and shave each other's privates. I think not.”

Tom's eyes went wide. Then I giggled.

“You’re silly, Joanie. I like you,” said Suzy.

“You too.” Then I gave her a hug, and an Auntie's kiss. I whispered in her ear. “Never forget it. You need me for anything, call -- you're family.”

I broke from Suzy, and saw Tom smiling at her -- too suavely for my taste. I suspected he was eying her as a possible date and more. Then I gazed lower on his body. I was shocked. She was eliciting from him the same tell-tale, um, physical response many men gave me. I raised my eyes to his and glared at him with a ferocity that worries me still.

“Tom, if you get Suzy pregnant, I’ll kill you. Nothing personal.”

* * * *

Ms. Hartford was at her desk, prim and grim as ever, but she almost smiled as I neared her.

“Before you speak, I need to say how grateful I am for you having taken care of Pinky this weekend. I see you managed to maintain your low profile -- cold water rescue on camera, national radio appearance, seen hanging in the presence of major movers and shakers in American politics.”

“These things happen to me. I don’t plan them, I swear!”

“Yes, Ms. Joanie, but please be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“Absolutely, Pinky was gushing like a little girl on Christmas morning describing her adventures with you and your MSG friends. I heard the broadcast, and saw a portion of the web cast of your appearance on 'A Prairie Home Companion'. Your friend, Ms. Tina Anderson, recorded them and insisted we watch some earlier. She’s a big fan of the show and of you, Joanie. Though I’d prefer Pinky remain anonymous, it would be a waste of talent if she did not perform. She sounded and looked wonderful, and the expression of joy on her face was obvious. You’ve restored my happy, carefree, niece, and I thank you for that, as annoying as it will be to have two of you here. What do you want, Ms. Joanie?”

“Who here knows the local real estate market? I’m looking to buy or build a home near Whateley -- the closer the better.”

“Ah, your cats, I take it?”

“That, and I hope to start a family someday. My linen closet would hardly suffice.”

“Ms. Anderson has some knowledge from her and her sister’s search for housing, and some of the Security officers could be sources. Your best contact is the community representative on the Whateley board, Mrs. Potter. I don’t see eye-to-eye with her, but no one knows Dunwich and the surrounding area better.”

“Mrs. Potter sounds ideal, and I thank you for putting personal feelings aside.”

* * * *

~~Just to cover my butt, I’ll ask Chief Delarose and Charlie about Mrs. Potter, though I think Ms. Hartford was speaking the truth.~~

Delarose and Mr. Lodgeman confirmed Mrs. Potter was a good suggestion, so I made arrangements through Charlie to meet with her the next day.

* * * *

April 10, 2007

I had no classes Tuesday morning so, as the weather was mild, I rode my vintage Harley into Dunwich. I parked outside a quaint — the town does cater to summer tourists — coffee shop. I stripped off my riding clothes, brushed my hair, straightened my business suit, slipped on a pair of dress pumps, and touched up my makeup. I checked myself in one of the cycle’s mirrors before I walked into the shop.

~~Not bad, professional and adult -- okay, I still look like a high school girl but at least I look sharp, and presentable. The knee length skirt was the right choice. ~~

“I’m here to meet Mrs. Potter,” I informed the proprietress.

She led me to a table, where an elegant older woman sat. She looked of indeterminate age, though Charlie said she was roughly 60. Mrs. Potter projected an air of confidence and of restrained power. What I knew of her said she was a force in the local scene, but not arrogant about it. She could be a great friend, or a powerful opponent. She gestured for me to sit, and then she spoke.

“Good morning, Ms. Brown, Mr. Lodgeman has told me all about you.”

“Good morning, Mrs. Potter, and thank you for meeting me on such short notice. Mr. Lodgeman told you everything about me and you’re still willing to meet me?” I smiled; she gave me a motherly look.

“Charlie said you don’t take yourself seriously, but to never underestimate you. I take what Charlie says seriously. He’s a good man to have as your friend.”

“I like him too, Mrs. Potter. I act the way I do, because I fear if I take myself too seriously, life won’t be worth living. I’m still getting used to all this.” I motioned along my body. “I’ve been given a great gift and I don’t wish to waste it.”

“From what Charlie says, and what I know of you, you’re doing well. I must applaud what you’re doing for your student friends. I wouldn’t want Ms. Conners to end up like her Aunt.”

“That will not happen, I promise you. Ms. Hartford doesn’t want that either.” Mrs. Potter nodded. “Can you help me?”

“Charlie explained your situation, and I know the very person you need. She’s reliable, and discreet -- a must in your case.”

She handed me a business card with some writing on it, then gently, yet firmly, grabbed my hands. I felt an indescribable sensation. Mrs. Potter got a look of surprise on her face, and then smiled beatifically. She spoke like a mother to her dearest child.

“Don’t worry, my dear. Your life may seem dark at times, but your friends, family, and soul mate will pull you through. My word, Joanie, you’ll be a busy mother!”

She excused herself and left. My thoughts were spinning.

~~First my great, great, whatever grandfather, now Mrs. Potter. How many children will I have? Suzy’s grandmother gave birth to seven. The World record for live births is 63, I think … NOOOOO! ~~

I asked the proprietress, “Mrs. Potter made a prediction about my future; do you know what that was about?”

“Mrs. Potter is a gentle and enigmatic woman, but doesn’t suffer fools lightly. You must have impressed her to get that much personal time. She’s a talented precognitive. I’ve never heard of one of her predictions being wrong.”

“Oh Ghod!” I whimpered.

* * * *

I rode a short distance to the edge of town, several of the residents waving politely at me as I passed. My cycle is distinctive. The address was a lovingly maintained Queen Anne Victorian. The realtor’s offices were in a wing to one side that appeared to be a converted solarium and green house. I got back out of my riding clothes, and rang the bell. A slender woman, in her upper twenties, of Native American ancestry, opened the door. She had a momentary look of surprise and delight. I wondered if she was a fan.

“Ms. Brown, I’ve been expecting you. Mrs. Potter told me of your unique requirements, and I have several possibilities. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Ms. Theresa Juneau.”

She smiled easily, and offered her a hand, then surprised me with a hug.

“My, you are a big girl, Ms. Brown. I wish I had a figure like yours.”

She looked at me intensely; her smile seemed more sensual than before.

“You're no slouch in the looks department yourself, Ms. Juneau. Are you any relation to Solomon Juneau, the French American fur trapper who helped found Milwaukee? Your name is the same as his beloved Native American wife. It suits you well.”

“Thank you, Ms. Brown, and yes, I believe they were distant relatives.”

“Joanie, please,” I replied. Ms. Juneau's smile grew wider.

“That’s where I know you from. The word around town is Whateley has a famous young singer as one of their staff; so it is you. Please call me Tessa. I’m a fan of yours, Joanie. I love my name, but Tessa is so friendly sounding -- a must in my profession. I had trouble pronouncing my name when I was little and it stuck.”

“You understand my needs, Tessa?” I asked.

Her smile became almost feral for a second.

“Near enough to Whateley for safety and convenience -- critical with your being so well known -- a large enough structure, or sufficient land, to build a secure home for your eventual family and guests, and land and buildings suitable to the long term care of two large cats. This last request is odd. Are these exotics, like tigers or leopards?” Tessa asked.
Now Tessa’s smile looked friendly, but professional, that struck me as odd. She appeared as if engaged in some internal struggle with her emotions, but why?

“You could say that. They’re extremely rare and valuable, so I need their quarters to be secure as well,” I replied.

“I have a couple small farms that may do. One is just down the road from your Dr. Bellow's place.”

“The location would be ideal. Can you show it to me today, Tessa?”

“Certainly. You do realize New England properties can be expensive,” Tessa warned.

“If Mrs. Potter says you are the best, I’ll trust you to get me a fair price. I will be paying with a bank check if that helps. I don’t need a loan, or want one -- too much risk of publicity.”

Tessa got a knowing look on her face.

“That’s right, you have been doing well as an entertainer. I can guarantee the owner will be discreet. We don’t want urban sprawl to infest the area, or tacky tourism. The last thing Dunwich wants to be is Branson East.”

I giggled softly in response.

“I’m not planning on building a theater, just a home, Tessa,” I said, then continued to snicker.

“Do you want to ride in my Blazer, or follow on your cycle?”

“I’ll ride with you, that way we can talk,” I said.

She seemed pleased with my decision. I noticed that her truck’s built-in organizer/cup holder/center console held a number of CD’s in their jewel cases. Prominent among them were the distinctive colors and markings of both of mine.
She described various points of interest and properties she had sold, should I want references. She showed me the other farm first. It wasn’t bad, 30 acres with a lived-in house and solid out buildings. But it was on the wrong side of Whate, which would necessitate a longer commute in winter than I’d like. And, it was equally inconvenient to Dunwich and Berlin, where I caught all my charter flights. The farm near Dr. Bellows home caught my eye at once.

~~This is it, I’m home!~~ I thought, though I tried to conceal my enthusiasm.

“I can tell you’ve fallen in love with it, Joanie. I’m a low level empath, your excitement was deafening. And no, I won’t raise the price too much.”

We both laughed and I gave her a friendly hug. She hugged me back and kissed me hard on the lips, her tongue dancing with mine for a moment and then we broke apart.

“Why did you do that? Not that I minded, Tessa. You’re attractive and a great kisser. I find it flattering you think I’m desirable.”

“I prefer women, Joanie, and I just had to try it once with you. You don’t know how your body and voice excite me. I know that’s unprofessional, but I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you.”

I do admire honesty. I was just surprised she admitted her attraction so quickly.

“I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say part of me is tempted to take you up on the implied invitation, but I’m becoming serious about someone and I wouldn’t feel right about it. I could introduce you to the Anderson …”

“Tina and Chris, the minxes. We’ve met. And no, I haven’t slept with them, well not in some time.”

“I’m afraid they never mentioned you.”

I was confused. I knew from how they acted with me they were no virgins, but still... My relationship with the Anderson’s was becoming that of girls who are close friends, and not that of girlfriends and sex partners. It was a disappointment, but safer for the three of us. My intensifying relationship with Eric was the biggest reason I was not their lover.

“We had a minor fight when I moved out of the area for a year, and we drifted apart after that,” Tessa explained.

“I’m sorry you broke up. They’re good friends to me.” We wandered in and out of the buildings.

“I still like the girls, but it’s not to be. What do you think of the place? Fifty three acres, fifteen in second growth mixed hardwoods and white pine. It’s a former dairy farm -- just forage crops for the last few decades. The owner retired and moved south to the Carolinas. Since the last renter left in the mid 1980’s the farmhouse has been unoccupied.”

We walked through the house. It needed a lot of TLC.

“The farm house is in poor shape. The roof is leaking, the plaster is damaged, and a window is partially out. It needs roof repairs, and the window replaced ASAP if it’s to be salvaged. It could make a nice rental property or guest house.
“I’m more interested in the barn. The timber frame looks sound. I think if some of the gadgeteers from Whateley and a structural engineer could look at the place, it may work. I’d jack the building, dig a full basement, pour a reinforced concrete foundation, then reattach the barn to it. The structure would need extensive reinforcement and upgrading, but from the outside it would change little. Give me a detailed land survey and description. I’ll hire an engineer and get my tech friends to check it out. You may have a sale, Tessa.”

I got this wickedly silly thought and couldn’t restrain myself.

“Oh and …”

I gave her a big hug and kissed her back passionately. I threw in a loving squeeze of her firm butt for good measure, then I backed away and smiled.

“Wow, Joanie! I’m not lowering my commission, though I think you just earned a big reduction in the closing costs. If we’d gone any farther, I’d do it for free. If your girlfriend or boyfriend dumps you, give me a call. Being a professional singer is a waste. You should be a professional lover.”

I broke out giggling, and she soon joined me.

She drove me back to my cycle and promised to deliver the papers to Whateley Administration by noon the next day. It was past noon, so I hustled to Whateley for my afternoon classes and to check on my babies.

* * * *
George and Gracie greeted me eagerly and soon purred contentedly as they stuffed themselves with the food I set out. I brushed their fur, cleaned their litter box, and changed for class. I wore my student uniform with its short skirt; my hair held in a banana clip, and looked like a proper student -- or a refugee from a porn shoot. I looked in the mirror and giggled at my appearance.

~~I look like a hybrid of Lolita and Little Annie Fannie with just a touch of Sailor Moon. ~~

Oh well, compared to many on campus, I was normal. I was leaving my second and last class when I got paged on my security radio.

“Timeout to Administration, Timeout to Administration, you have a visitor -- over.”

I acknowledged receiving the message, and ran to Administration.

~~That was a strange message, who would be visiting me? ~~

There was a stretch limo in front of Administration, a bad omen. The next ‘things’ I noticed were a pair of tall, busty young women in designer clothes. I found myself studying them intensely.

~~They have to be models. They’re nearly as tall and busty as me, but my legs are nicer, and she’s not a natural blond, and my breasts are firmer, and real, and the black-haired girl’s wearing colored contacts, no way her eyes are that blue… Ghod, I’m comparing myself to other women. Am I that vain? Anyway, the blonde’s butt is too big, and her waist... I am that vain. When did this happen? Why am I babbling on like this? I’m usually not this way unless I’m nervous about something. What have I got to be nervous about?~~

There was something about what I’d seen that worried me, but I couldn’t bring the thought into focus. A stretch limo and two exceptionally attractive, well dressed women. It smelled of an entourage, but whose? I knew the answer. I just couldn’t think of it at that moment.

“Ms. Brown, you have a visitor. He’s waiting in Ms. Carson’s office.”

Ms. Hartford sounded so cheerful and was smiling.
~~I’m dead. ~~

“Is this where I say, 'we who are about to die salute you?'”

The office staff stifled giggles. Ms. Hartford kept smiling.

“I know, it’s the FBI here to take me to Alcatraz?” I suggested.

“Better,” said Ms. Hartford, then she laughed.

In Ms. Carson’s office was a man my father’s age, trim, impeccably dressed, and frighteningly familiar.

~~Not him? I said I couldn’t make it. ~~

“Joanie dear, this is ...” Ms. Carson started to say.

“Hugh Hefner, I recognize him.”

I now realized what I’d been so nervous about -- the upcoming photo shoot. My mind was so ablaze with conflicting thoughts and emotions that I don’t believe I was thinking straight. Why else couldn’t I resist saying it?

“Visiting a former girlfriend?”

Ms. Carson shot me a look. Mr. Hefner broke out in a laugh.

~~Don’t tell me they were? ~~ I thought, my eyes going wide.

"Ms. Carson posed for us, when was it, dear lady?”

“December 1961,” she said, and then my jaw dropped.

“You were in Playboy?” I asked. My eyes tried to climb out of their sockets.

“She was the Playmate of the Month, and of the Year -- one of our best. I tried to persuade her to date me, but her duties as a super precluded that,” he said.

“Being a super is a bitch, I know. So, I’m not the first mutant to pose, just the first to be publicly announced as one?”

“I did it as a dare under a pseudonym to raise money for the supers group I was with. Government funds were drying up as the Cold War wound down. Mr. Hefner’s been most generous over the years and the photos were in good taste -- nothing salacious,” said Ms. Carson.

“Call me Hugh. My friends do, and Ms. Carson has for years.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

~~Like you don’t know, Joanie. ~~

“I wanted to meet you and your actions last week saving the young woman convinced me to come to you here. I’d like to interview you myself as a preliminary to the big interview our professional writer will do. You’re too important to leave anything to chance,” Mr. Hefner said.

“I’m flattered, but you know I can’t reveal anything about my family, or Whateley for their and my safety,” I replied.

“Ms. Carson and you will have final editorial authority over everything related to you, your families, or Whateley -- text and photos included. I, too, recognize the value of keeping a secret, as Ms. Carson can attest. Before we go any further, Ms. Brown, you are the most attractive young woman I have had the pleasure of meeting, with the exception of Ms. Carson. Your donation to Whateley of every cent we are paying you is a generous act, dear lady.”

Oh my, that had me going. Things stated snapping to attention and making ready for action... all over.

~~I knew I should have gotten some relief after Ms. Juneau and I fooled around. Now, Ms. Libido, if we do what you want to do, it will kill him, though it would be a glorious death. Talk about going out with a bang. ~~

Okay, so my internal voice is a potty mouth, big deal.

“When do we start?” I asked politely.

In my state, I sounded like I was propositioning him. I felt wicked and aroused.

“Security has made arrangements. You can start at any time, Joan,” Ms. Carson said.

~~The things I do to stay faithful to you, Eric. ~~

“Mr. Hefner, are you allergic to cats?”

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their assistance

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 7

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Joanie meets some magazine models and learns of the pros and cons of modeling, then bares her self to the cameras and an interviewer. More nonsense with the kittens, Pinkly and some of Joanie newest friends. She has an amusing time with a grumpy security officer and she teaches a class she's a student in. Boy these are hard to write when you're tired.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006. Joanie says she’s sure glad Playboy doesn’t use staples anymore; those things must hurt.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text remodeling by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing

Chapter 7- I’m Ready for My Close-up, Mr. Hefner, The New New Avengers, The Kids from Wisconsin, Home Improvement, The Substitute

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 10-16, 2007

Mr. Hefner was charming and, well, normal once you got past the carefully crafted public image. His eye candy companions were not your stereotypical silicone bimbos. We spent several hours walking around campus. I showed them the sights as Mr. Hefner and the Playmates described the interview and photo layout process to me. They adored my kitties. I never admitted to what they were, but he knew they were something rare and special. I agreed that, when the photographer arrived, George and Gracie would participate. I claimed they were a cross between a lion and lynx the genetics lab experimented with. The gals weren’t fooled for a moment. The 20-something blonde took to modeling to pay off her mounting medical school debt. She was in training as a neurologist. The surprisingly tall, jet-haired, Amerasian girl was completing her BA in business administration and wanted the money to buy a retail franchise.

“If possible, I’d like to see photos of you in your dorm room, both clothed and naked. It will make you all the more appealing to our readers,” Mr. Hefner said.

“It’s just a room, a converted linen closet at that. I admit George and Gracie are cute, and most cats like the warmth of a lamp so the photofloods won’t bother them. The, um, naked part is obvious, but why my room?” I asked then chuckled; okay, giggled.

“That’s it, Joanie, that's what we need to show our readers. It will show how normal a young woman you’ve become and how unspoiled by the fame. Rather than living in some mansion surrounded by armed guards where you party every night and abuse your servants, you’re here. Here studying with your fellow classmates, teaching, sharing your gift of music while struggling to make sense of your new life. It’s like one of those Horatio Alger boys stories of the late 1800’s, except you’re a girl rising to greatness by the honest sweat of her angelic brow.”

~~And the jiggling firmness of her breasts. Let’s be honest, Mister. ~~

“If you’re trying to get in my panties, Mr. Hefner, that’s a damn good approach. It won’t work, but keep it up; I’m getting all tingly,” I said, and then I spoiled the effect by giggling.

He laughed, got up, gave me hug and well practiced kiss, then excused himself. He and Ms. Carson had a private dinner planned for that evening — destination, “none of your business, Joanie.”

~~Hum?~~

~~Now that I’ve seen her up close, I owe the blonde an apology. Her breasts are natural. The pushup bra fooled me. Still, mine are nicer even without any augmentation… I’m doing it again!

~~Why am I so competitive about my looks? Could it be because I’m in the fertile part of my cycle? That might explain my compulsion to compete with other women. I certainly felt the need to prove to Tessa that I was the dominant female, even if just for fun. That must be the reason. I’m at the peak of my fertility. I’m only four days away from my period. No wonder I’m…. Good Lord, I’m competing for the available males! For a member of a so called ‘civilized’ species, I’m sure letting my hormones do the talking.

~~That also explains my intense arousal, and reaction, to Eric… Thank Ghod Pinky was there. We might have done it if she hadn’t interrupted our sub-conscious foreplay. I’d like to think I have control, but I’m not so confident now. I ‘burn’ for Eric; that’s the best description I can give. It’s a phrase I read some time ago. I can’t remember were, but it fits. At least the readers of Playboy will get their money's worth. I looked hot in the self-portraits I shot during the over-night time trip to the Ice Age, the trip that ended with my rescue of the smilodons. The buildup of my ‘side effect’ showed clearly in them, I was ’glowing’ with desire. I’ve got that look now, though it’s more manageable. ~~

* * * *

The Nordic babe, Candice, “please, don’t call me Candy, it makes me sound stupid”, and the Amerasian, May Lee, “I was born on May first and Dad loved Christopher Lee horror films”, told me what to expect and what not to tolerate from the photographer.

“Male or female, it doesn’t matter. They should never touch you without your express permission and never on or around your genitals. This publication is more a throwback to pinup artistry than sexually explicit erotica. You will be on display in every sense of the word, but if you’re not comfortable doing it, don’t. Remember, Joanie, they came to you. That gives you considerable leverage with your photographer, so use it. Oh, and Joanie, your cats are not what you claim they are. What are they? I almost went into veterinary science and I’ve never seen ones like those,” said the articulate blonde bombshell.

“Those are no lynxons or lionyx or whatever you said, fess up girl,” May demanded politely.

“I can’t say how we got them, but they are the first pair of living smilodons the Earth has seen in nearly ten thousand years.”

“When Mr. Hefner said Whateley was something special he wasn’t joking!” exclaimed Candice.

May spoke next, “If you do continue in the modeling business, be careful, Joanie. I’ve heard horror stories from girls who went into nude modeling to earn cash for college, or to pay for a new car, or wardrobe, and got conned into doing degrading things. The sleazes are clever and say things like 'I’d like to help but you don’t have what we need. If only you had that look of arousal on you. Flushed, sweaty skin, wet, pouty lips and um, more explicit signs of arousal are what sell. I can help you if you’ll let me.'

"A first it’s a few drinks to relax you, and some oil to make your skin glow on camera. Maybe some judiciously applied makeup, spirit gum, or double-faced tape to enhance that wanton look. You feel a little guilty, but the money is good so you do it again. Pretty soon you’re half stoned on drugs, and doing DP’s, and other sex acts you’d never dream of if you were sober. It happens, not all the time, maybe not even most of the time, but even rarely is too often. There are many legitimate photographers and adult film makers, and then there are those who are not. We’ve been fortunate,” said May Lee, a sad expression on her face as she gestured at herself, and Candice.

“This happened to a friend, the bad experience?” She nodded. I could see she was crying.

“Did they force her to have sex or abuse her? How is she?” I had an uneasy feeling about this.

“My... the girl had major debt. She’d lost her student grant on a technicality and had to return it. I don’t know why they wouldn’t give her more time. They demanded she pay it back immediately,” said May.

~~There’s something odd here. Banks would rather spread out the payments than take you to court. What could they gain by suing a student: it’s their future income that’s valuable, and they have no assets to seize? I’d think they’d treat this like a student loan. ~~

“Her family offered to help, but she was too proud to take a handout. The creepy filmmakers she met kept telling her, ‘only one more job and you’ll have enough to be debt free, and a little set aside.’ But there were always, ‘unexpected delays’, ‘the video didn’t sell as expected and the creditors got their money first’, and worst ‘we thought you understood the surgeries were at your expense.’ It was a vicious spiral she couldn’t escape from.” May paused, and then continued. She looked distraught.

“I suspected they were slipping her drugs and brainwashing her. She admitted on the phone to having drinks on the sets and that her memory was giving her problems. This from a girl with a 3.9 average through all her school years. I saw her six months after it started and didn’t recognize her, what with all the tattoos, piercings, and the breast job. I convinced her to see a lawyer about her pay, and they skipped town on her.” May was near tears.

“Who is she, May, a close school friend, or a cousin?” I asked, hoping my worst suspicion wasn’t true.

“My younger sister, Anna. She was engaged to be married and he broke it off when he found out. She wanted a traditional Asian man, they want virgins.”

May was struggling to stay in control. I was right. It was the worst case possible.

“When he dumped her, she tried to commit suicide, but we got her to the hospital in time. Mr. Hefner’s people are paying for her drug rehab and counseling. He has his legal staff looking at her student grant troubles, but she has physical problems too. They ‘persuaded’ her to get breast implants, big ones, and tattoos. It will cost thousands to remove the tattoos, and to remove her unattractive breast implants. It will cost thousands -- maybe as much as ten thousand -- to repair the damage and restore my sweet Anna’s original appearance. She’ll likely have some scarring, and she was so pretty, prettier than me.” The young woman poured out her pain. Candice and I did what we could to comfort her.

~~Her sister was the prettier one, and May’s a Playboy centerfold? I feel sick. ~~

“Mr. Hefner must know her story if he’s helping her, so why tell me?” I asked. I was near tears and getting angry.

“That’s why he asked May to come. He wanted you to know of the bad side of his business as well as the good. We’re also mutants, like you, Joanie. No major powers. We’re both low level exemplars, and that’s about it. He felt you’d be more comfortable hearing all this from someone with a shared background. We’ll be in the all mutant issue with you. Mr. Hefner said it was time for the truth about mutants. I attended the mutant school near Chicago. May attended one on the west coast. Neither is the equal of Whateley, but not every mutant can afford it, or needs it,” Candice explained.

The reasons for their being here were certainly logical and explained their good looks. I suspected there was another reason why they’d been picked.

~~Ms. Carson, you devious woman. Ghod I love you. Hefner knew and told you, and you’re getting me involved on the sly. I do owe you and this Anna needs help. Time to break out the cat suit and boots, and buy a Pierre Cardin suit, bowler hat, and a brolly for Senator Joe. Now, where can we get some kewl theme music? Oh no! I’ve caught the kewl bug from Mel. ~~ Then I giggled quietly.

“What’s so funny, Joanie?”

“May, it’s, um… I have certain connections. Can you get me everything your sister knows about the people who exploited her? Also photos, locations of the facilities they used, any thing might be the key. I’d like to talk to her myself if it’s possible. This weekend after the photo shoot and interviews are over would be ideal. I know some people good at finding the truth. As to her medical problems, I have some friends who might help with several unconventional restorative therapies, and I can help with the financial issues,” I said.

I gave her a warm conspiratorial smile. She looked confused, but interested in what I was saying.

~~If Gin can turn a man into a little girl, the mages, and thaumatologists at Whateley should be able to help restore her looks and physical virginity. ~~

“No, I hear you’re already paying for three students to attend here and Mr. Hefner said how expensive it is,” May said.

“Don’t worry, I have tons of money. I also have connections with a charitable organization, Meridian. They have billions. If you won’t take my money, perhaps you’ll accept theirs. At least let the medical staff here examine her and see if they can restore her in mind and body. Please let me help?”

Candice had been staring at me while I spoke my piece, then her face lit up like she’d had the most wonderful surprise, or the Mother of All Orgasms. Sorry about that d/j/w.

“It was you! You’re the mysterious mutant who broke the Boston child pornography and rape case! Mr. Hefner said there was more to you than what was in the press, and you saved those two girls lives. There was... let me remember… Melissa, the daughter of Iowa’s Governor, and that new mutant girl -- the authorities won’t release her name -- the one who jumped off the ferry boat: I‘m honored to meet you, Joanie,” said Candice with respect, and was it awe?

“Don’t forget the obstruction of justice and ongoing criminal conspiracy charges. I’m especially fond of those,” I said, and laughed. I had to defuse the situation and soon.

“Do you want to meet her, the girl from the ferry? She’s here at Whateley. When you meet her, you’ll see why either of you would have done the same. She’s a precious child.”

Candice gave me a hug. She was a mistress of the art, wow! May stared at me for a moment and then she wrapped her arms around me and cried. Two gorgeous ‘babes’ fawning over me. The old me is having fits as ‘he’s’ not here to enjoy it. She calmed after several minutes, kissed me sweetly, and told me she’d consider my offer. May said she would let me know after the interviews and shoots were over. In the back of my mind I considered ways to get Anna justice.

* * * *

I introduced them to my friends during dinner in the Crystal Hall. This was a great way to get my mind off May’s horror story, and we were hungry. Pinky and Suzy charmed the panties of them, metaphorically speaking -- damn. When Tina and Tom showed up, Tom looked happy, and terrified. It was too much of a good thing for him, I guess. He went up in my estimation by showing proper attention to all present, not just the sexy models. He behaved respectfully, not like a junior Lothario on the make, and I was impressed. I wonder if I’d scared him earlier. Whatever it was, Suzy noticed, too. She whispered something to Tina, and then to Tom as they left. I think she gave his cheek a peck. Tina snickered, but Tom blushed.

~~Suzy seemed awfully pleased with her self afterward. If her mutation has triggered a surge in her puberty, oh girl! Who’s the aggressor now, I wonder? I’d better ask Suzy if she needs to go on birth control.!!

Teens and hormones, who can figure them? I can’t figure myself out half the time, and I’m one of them.

Meanwhile I had my own upcoming trial-by-fire, the photo shoots.

* * * *
April 11-14, 2007

We started the next day with an early morning shoot in my linen closet. This would get the bulk of the critical nude photographs over and done with first, and make me more comfortable for the casual and action shots. It turns out the poster that convinced them to contact me was the one of me running, my face in that expression of pleasure personified, ‘Runners High.’ They hoped to capture something like it, but with higher resolution and less clothing. I was considering it. My kittens got in a number of the shots. They did like the warmth of the flood lamps. I had to discourage their pouncing on the power cords. I think George and Gracie thought they were snakes, or toys. The entire ‘set’ consisted of a woman makeup artist/photographer's assistant, the photographer, the ‘cats’, and me, which was good, given the tight confines of my room.

I saw some of the digital test shots — the photographer shot in both digital and film — and the photos with the smilodons were so cute -- sex kitten cute. A couple of digital video/sound cameras captured everything we did. They intended to edit it down into a DVD of the making of my Centerfold and the interview. They sell quite briskly, I understand. The assistant next showed me some of the glamour/pinup style shots. I was stunning. I knew I looked good, but with these I’d joined the major leagues. I was as good as, or better looking than, the competition. I was speechless.

~~This is worse than when I woke up in the hospital. I’m a freakin’ babe! I look so hot, ‘I’ want me. ~~

“I look like that?”

The assistant nodded, as the photographer repositioned some equipment.

“That’s the real you hon, no illusion. Most girls I’ve worked with have some flaw that needs concealing, some weakness in their beauty that needs a boost. You have none of those. I never seen anyone with such flawless skin, and your hair color is remarkable. See how it seems to glow in these shots. You’re about to set the standard for what is considered beautiful in a woman. A Barbie Doll would be envious of your face and figure. I’ve seen a handful of mutants in my job -- Candice and May Lee are near perfect, as are many exemplars, I understand -- but you’re in your own league,” the assistant said.

“So Candice doesn’t dye her hair, and May Lee doesn’t wear colored contacts?” I said nervously.

“Candice does tint hers to bring out the blonde character of her hair. Her mutation enhanced her overall beauty, and toned her physique, but her light blond hair became darker than she likes -- more a dirty honey blond. May Lee wears tinted contacts, but it’s only to restore her pre-mutation eye color, not that the jet black irises she has now aren’t sexy. Her Dad's parents are from Japan and her Mom’s a former model from Sweden. May used to be a slightly shorter, less curvaceous, blue-eyed Amersian brunette. The mutation gave her the height and build of her Mom and her Dad’s jet black eyes and hair. Other than that, neither girl changed much.

I don’t need to do a lot to make them look great, but with you I did way less. Joanie, you’re the most naturally attractive woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve worked with hundreds of top models. Don’t let the fact that I’m 23 fool you; I’ve been doing this job since I was a kid,” she added.

“Stop it, I feel like you’re worshiping me. I’m pretty but I’m no paragon of perfection, or whatever it is you’re saying. I’ll admit I’m cute, sexy maybe, but I was I guy less than a year ago; how can I be this benchmark of femininity? Give me a break.”

I tried to look upset, honest I did, but it came out as this wickedly erotic pout; I’ve seen the photos. I have got to be more careful with my facial gestures.

“Hold that pose, that’s dynamite, Joanie,” said the photographer. “My assistant’s right, Joanie, you may have been a man but you move, and sound, like what you are, a woman. There is nothing in how you move or act that reminds me of a man, and your body screams woman in it’s every detail.”

I tried to silence him, but he kept talking. I was half expecting them to erect an altar to me, and burn incense. Hey, I don’t mind people stroking my ego but this ‘cult’ was a threat to my sanity.

“When I got this assignment, I told my wife, and she immediately insisted on Wendy as my assistant. Wendy’s our oldest daughter.” He smiled, Wendy laughed and I giggled.

“Tell your mom I’m not dangerous, Wendy. Your dad’s good looking, but I’m no predatory female,” I said, and giggled again.

“No, I’m sure you’re a respectable girl, and I know the ethical lines in my business, but the wife felt much happier with Wendy here.”

“Daddy, stop lying. Joanie, Mom wanted me here because I usually work with him, like she did before us kids came on the scene. She still works with Dad on occasion, but someone had to take care of my younger brother and sister. They’re in middle school, and high school.”

We got along great after that. I stopped whining about how I’m not that pretty, and they stopped pretending I was Aphrodite’s twin sister. I got some great makeup tips and found I could look like I was anywhere from 15 to 21. Prepping for the photos wasn’t much more work than I did in getting ready for the prom, though it held its own surprises. I knew they’d be meticulous, but some things were a shock. I understood the careful brushing and combing of my hair, it’s, well, I’ve never brushed ‘that’ hair before. They wanted things perfect, and took no prisoners. I felt silly afterwards, and the makeup she applied to reduce the shine off parts of my body tickled delightfully as she brushed it on. They didn’t brush anything down ‘there’, though they did apply powder to the tops of my breasts a few times. I liked that -- ooh! Everything was done with the utmost professionalism. They never did anything without explaining its purpose and asking my permission to continue with it.

After spending all morning in my room, they took pictures in the shower room and of me running in that skimpy outfit I wore to bait Peeper’s contestants. With my long hair, I’m sure they got some artistic shots. I certainly had fun doing it. After a break to eat and rest, they followed me around campus the remainder of the day and the next two days as well. We got some strange looks as I walked around campus in a variety of outfits for the “casual” photos. I wore everything from my signature leathers to my school uniform and my ‘Indiana Joanie’ costume. They shot me diving into, and climbing out, of one of Whateley’s pools wearing that fluorescent pink thong bikini, and dancing in my prom dress at one of Mr. Lodgeman’s ballroom dance classes.

We attracted a fair gallery of onlookers, but Security and their class schedules kept them at bay. Sam Everheart made a show of patrolling wearing her twin Glocks -- a thing she rarely did. I half expected her to be marching about with her monster sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. Lex was more subtle in her “no, I am not interested in posing” look, but the photographer got the message in both cases. I got a glorious smile of encouragement from a passing student, Nikki Reilly. She’s a part-time model at Whateley. In a campus full of beautiful young women, her elfin looks stand out. For some reason, I felt like I should rush over and protect her. I thought that odd, until I remembered hearing she projects a powerful glamour.

I knew that model photographers shot lots of photos, I’ve seen the Austin Power’s films -- you’re permitted to laugh now, dear d/j/w reader -- but it was amazing. They followed me everywhere, from the King Annex where I sang for them, to the Crystal Hall with its remarkable array of foods and my table of friends. They spent a whole day just following me around as I carried on in my normal routine, interrupting only to touch up my hair, or makeup. They shot me running with Pinky. Ms. Carson and I will look at the photos and video carefully. We need to be sure none of the students or adults are identifiable. They shot me at breakfast with my ‘gang’, teaching vocal music, teaching history, attending class, and on evening patrol with Lex. She made certain they didn’t take any photos she thought inappropriate, so they mostly shot me.

~~Hey, for two million dollars, they can shoot me naked … Gees, I’m such an airhead today, like whatever. ‘I’m a blonde, yeah yeah yeah.’ Eat your heart out Julie Brown. ~~

* * * *

The informal interview I did with Mr. Hefner that first evening was a warm-up for the big one set for the last day of the shoot, Saturday the 14th -- my fourth full day with them. We set up in a soundproof practice room in the King Annex. This provided privacy and was large enough accommodate the accompanying photo/video shoot. I was glad we would be finished soon, as I was due for my period, and it can be uncomfortable for me. I answered most of the questions. I even confirmed my actual day and year of birth, but not the hospital. I was careful to give them nothing regarding my past and origins that a data miner could use to trace my family. We discussed my mutation and my recovery, and I described what I liked most and least about being a young woman.

“It’s true, then, that you’re a 49 year old former man?” said the writer.

“I’m 49 going on 17, or so it seems. But I’m grateful for this second chance at life. I miss being a man, but the benefits of my new life outweigh the drawbacks, and the powers are fun too.”

“Your powers, can you describe them, how you learned of them, and when you realized you were a mutant?”

“Three questions in one, you don’t waste words, do you? I can’t give you a detailed description of all of them. It‘s rather technical and dull. I will talk about the powers that are public.”

You have more powers than are reported?”

“I have the power to turn grown men into babbling idiots.”

I gave the writer my most sultry look. His face went blank for a moment. His pants soon were tighter fitting, painfully tighter.

“How did you like my demonstration?” I joked, then I giggled.

“That was devastating. Please, don’t tell my wife.”

“I knew something was odd soon after my mutation triggered. When I woke up in the hospital four days later looking like a teenage boy’s wet dream, there was no denying it. I’m a warper class mutant and it gives me some unusual abilities. I didn’t know about my time stop when I saw Melissa run into traffic. It was pure instinct and terror that drove me to make that mad dash into the road. I realized something strange and wondrous was happening, but I was too concerned for the girl’s safety to stop and analyze it. Although it meant the end of any hopes I had to remain anonymous, I’m glad I did it. I’ve received a great gift through my mutation, and saving this wonderful young woman was, and is, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

I paused, and wiped my tears.

“Sorry, I’m such a girl these days.”

“I see you’re very attached to Ms. Johnson, and her family. Are the rumors true about her brother, Eric, and you?”

“And what are those rumors?” I smiled.

“He’s your boyfriend?” the writer asked.

“Right for the jugular, eh? I’m fond of him and the whole Williams-Johnson clan. They treat me as if I’m a long lost child. How can I not love them? I wouldn’t be as comfortable with myself if it wasn’t for their unquestioning love. Mel, that’s Melissa, is my sister in every sense of the word. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. The thought of her lying dead or crippled in the road haunts me and drives me to excel in my new life.

"I hate having to say this, but should anyone get the bright idea of holding my friends for ransom or threatening them with harm to force me to do something -- don’t. I may not look tough, but don’t let that deceive you. I am fierce when it comes to protecting my friends or anyone I see being taken advantage of. Never provoke me. You won’t like what happens. I’m sorry to come off all bitchy, but I value my friends and family, and will do anything to protect them. I want those who might harm them to know I will not stop pursuing them until justice is served. This potential for harm to my friends and family is the only serious downside to my mutation. I can’t visit my birth family often or openly because of the risk, and it hurts. I so wish I could share my new life with them, but I can’t.

"My gratitude to those who helped me during my mutation and those first awkward days and weeks after is why I’m so eager to help other new mutants. My friends in Madison, the doctors and staff at the hospital, and the members of MSG, the Madison Supers Group, the Williams-Johnson clan, and the amazing people at the school I’m at, all made me what I am, and I’m grateful. My teaching and other efforts are a way of repaying their kindness. It was my trust in their abilities that made it possible to jump in after the poor girl at the Merrimac ferry. I knew I could count on their help as much as I knew I had to try and save her. She’s doing very well, as is another friend I’ve made since all this mutant craziness happened.”

~~Time to change the subject; I’m getting aroused thinking of Eric. ~~

“Want to see a demonstration of my time stop?” I asked.

I did the soda can trick, but with an open can. It looked like one of those high-speed photographs the late Dr. Edgerton of MIT was famous for. You’ve seen them, the splashing drops of milk, and a rifle bullet passing through an apple. As an added bonus, I carefully collapsed the field surrounding it and scooped the soda out of the air using a cup. Then I drank it after grabbing the can.

“This is great soda, I’ll not waste it. It also stains the wood floor. Want some?”

~~A certain Atlanta based beverage company will pee in their pants when they see their red cola can in the magazine. I wonder if I can persuade them to give Whateley a discount? ~~

I was vague about my powers, not giving out much more than was public knowledge. My safety was at stake here, so the regen, time travel, and possible mental talents remained secret. I gave them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but no more.

“Your remarkable appearance... can you say what the cause is?”

“I’m an exemplar. My body is a near perfect representation of what my genetics and body image template say I should be as a woman. I’m by no means super human, but it does give me resistance to fatigue and illness greater than most normal people. My doctors say I have the mind and body of a 15 to 18 year old, depending on what they’re measuring. My brain structure and hormone levels are of a healthy 17 year old girl.”

~~That last sentence is an understatement; it’s more like a healthy 17 year old nymphomaniac. ~~

"My skeletal development is more like a 15 or 16 year-old. If it wasn’t for these” — I hefted my generous breasts; it felt wonderful — “I could pass for 15 easy. I am cursed with a skinny-girls butt and tiny waist, oh well,” I said and giggled.

“You look perfectly proportioned to me, Joanie,” the interviewer said.

“Thanks. Overall, the doctors say I’m a 17 year old girl and will remain so indefinitely,” ~Oops! ~

“Indefinitely? How long will you live?” the writer asked.

“Let me put that better. I don’t age the same as the average person.”

I didn’t lie. I simply don’t age.

“You’ll look as you do for a long time then?”

“Remarkable, isn’t it?”

“You said your brain and hormones are that of a 17 year old girl. That implies you’re sexually active.”

“I’m a virgin in that I’ve never had intercourse, that is, sex with a man. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the blessings of this body. I’m attracted to both men and women, but I’m cautious in that area. My body is fertile, and I’m surprisingly old-fashioned. As corny as it sounds, I think I’ll wait for Mr. Right. That may change, but I doubt it.”

“Is Eric Johnson Mr. Right? You do spend a lot of time with his family, and him.”

“How could I not? I saved their daughter and in a way they’ve saved me. They’re decent, honest folks and I’m proud to call them my friends. It’s through my experience with them I decided to enter teaching. My hospital and MSG friends taught me the value of helping others, but I wasn’t sure how. Mel’s energy and enthusiasm started me down this path; the success of my accidental singing career moved me along further. The reaction of Mel’s family and friends last November cinched my decision. The intelligence and eagerness to learn, combined with the girls’ love of life made choosing teaching a snap,” I said.

“Last November, that was the girls’ sleepover at the Iowa Governor’s Mansion?”

“Yeah, it was a blast. You should attend one. Oh, right, you’re a guy. Sorry, sometimes I’m so blond,” I giggled.

~~Blond like a shark. Let them think you’re an airhead. ~~

“Your ‘accidental singing career’, as you put it, has done phenomenally well. You do know you’re currently the best selling recording artist on the charts. Getting back on the subject, what’s your relationship to Eric Johnson?”

“As to Mr. Johnson, Eric’s a fine young man I’m privileged to call a dear friend. I have to remind myself he’s fourteen. He acts so mature most of the time. When he’s eighteen, ask me again. I can say this much, when I do get around to dating men, if he’s still available, he’s on the list. “

None of this was a lie, Eric was on the list. He was the list.

* * * *

April 15, 2007

I spent much of Sunday morning catching up on my laundry and cleaning after the hectic week. Whateley, being Whateley, accommodated the diverse religious needs of its students. Tom, Tina, and Suzy, were able to attend a church service on campus. Happily, it was not conducted by the Rev. Englund. He makes Ms. Hartford look sweet and sympathetic. He’s the kind of man that gives ultra conservative, right-wing religious fanaticism a bad name -- at least that’s my opinion of him. Charlie Lodgeman, the nicest man on campus with the possible exceptions of Chief Delarose, Stan and Morrie, hates the man with a passion. He’s polite and quiet about it, but I’ve learned the Right Righteous Pain in the Posterior was partially responsible for Sherry’s death, and Lodgeman can’t forget, or forgive. So far I’ve avoided Englund’s attention. I suspect he thinks I’m a flake, which is fine with me. I’ve enough complication in my life without a religious nut case on my case. If he should learn of my flirtation with lesbianism, my life here could get complicated. That one of the students, Nikki Reilly, looks like Sherry must complicate things for Charlie.

While I cleaned and washed and generally acted the grumbling bitch — my “friend” was back with extreme prejudice -- Pinky entertained and began training George and Gracie. I “love” my periods, they make me feel so feminine. There are few things more graceful and womanly that shoving a tampon up your… I’m being sarcastic here, dear d/j/w. I do admit it’s a small price to pay for possible motherhood, but it is a nuisance.

I got some advice from one of our Security officers who works with police dogs, and Pinky was helping me implement it. We would start simple, a solid sit/stay command, and build on that foundation. We intended to use a minimum of negative correction, like that would work when they were 450 pounds and had teeth like commando knives, railway spikes, or bayonets -- take your choice of analogy. Pinky was patient and started the many repetitions of the commands and intermittent food rewards given for displaying the desired behavior -- classic Pavlov/Skinner style conditioning.

I’m getting better, dear d/j/w; I didn’t say, “Pavlov, ring a bell?” at least not right away. Cats are trainable if you start early enough. They’ve long been used in magic and entertainment acts. The big cats are a circus staple. Pinky had the added advantage of being able to empathically sense the smilodon’s emotional state and to project back an appropriate emotion. The two of us would train them in the basics and experts would assist us as needed. They were responding well to a harness and leash. We always made it pleasant. They get food treats, playtime, a brushing, and walks in the edge of the woods, anything the cats enjoy. They do eye the squirrels suspiciously, and, given what good climbers George and Gracie are proving to be, the leashes are necessary. The sit/stay should solve that problem. Heel comes next and I think it will go easily as they will walk on the leash for a hundred yards at a time before protesting.

* * * *

Between my loads of laundry, I reviewed the information Tessa sent me about the farm I wanted to buy. The well was fairly recent and deep with good water quality. The tested rate of flow was sufficient for two homes. The septic system was older but in good order and would do for the farmhouse, though I’d probably go for one of those newer mound systems for the barn conversion. Whateley did extend its sewers to Dr. Bellows so an extension to the farm might be possible. I’ll have to see what the zoning laws permit. The telephone and electric lines were modern, though the farmhouse wiring was from the late forties and needed upgrading. The machinery shed was only 20 years old with a concrete floor and would make a great garage or possibly a practice hall for my music. It needed insulation and heat, but that was easy. When the septic was dug I could see about adding a ground to air heat pump system. They’re supposed to be environmentally friendly.

My mind was busy trying out various ideas and possibilities for the place. I shocked my self with a couple of them.

~~That 15 acres of woods could be a great place for a tree house for our children, and they could have ponies, and that old concrete silo would make a great playhouse and lookout tower, or astronomical observatory… I’m not even engaged and I’m thing of my, that’s our, children. Eric, hurry up, I need you beside me. I’m achy, bloated, have a tampon in me, a pantie liner in place, and I’m thinking of children and a husband. Mom, if you could see me now, are you laughing at me or smiling? Ghod, I miss you! I wish you could have met him. ~ ~

I* * * *

In the afternoon I practiced with Pinky and the smilodons. They were fast learners. The sit/stay was shaky, but they grasped the general concept. With luck they’d have it down pat in a matter of days rather that of weeks.

“How did you get so far with them in a few hours? You’re a natural at this.” I gave her an older sister’s hug.

“I had a dog when I was little and I helped train him. He got sick, and died, two years ago last March.” Pinky said. I could see tears on her face.

“I’m sorry, but you have George and Gracie now. I don’t mind sharing. They like you.”

The cats were spending almost equal amounts of time with each of us as we talked. Possibly they’d decided Pinky was my sister, and thus their Aunt. Related female domestic cats and lions sometimes share in feeding and carrying for their young. Pinky had taken care of George and Gracie while I was busy being photographed and interviewed and had formed a strong bond with them. I was happy Pinky had another activity to take her mind off the horrors of the last year and to remind her of the joys of childhood.

“You mean it, Joanie? They’re mine, too?”

“Absolutely, I think they’ve adopted you as their Aunt. I bet they’ll love their Uncle, too. Speaking of that, have you ever had ‘the talk’, the talk about human sexuality, and reproduction? You are an attractive girl and the other Pinky is handsome and exotic. You’re going to turn boys and girls heads. I want you to be prepared,” I told her.

“I had a little in school. The last was female hygiene class when I was 12, but after I mutated, Mom didn’t want much to do with me, at least nothing that reminded her of my change. The doctors here were the first to explain how my male organs work and that there is a chance, a good one, I can impregnate myself if any of my semen gets in my vagina. I turns out I’m just as fertile a female when a hermaphrodite as I am as a normal girl. I’m also a highly potent male, which surprised them at first. They say it’s something to do with my hormones and receptor sites. My male parts and my female parts don’t interfere with each other when I’m both. They think I might even continue changing forms during a pregnancy, at least until the last few months. When my breasts get ready to produce milk, they think I’ll stay a girl, though I might still switch, but keep the breasts. They don’t know for certain. I’m kinda special they said,” Pinky said without any shyness.

“Pinky, you’re special, period. I could talk to your Aunt and get you on birth control, if you want. I can’t take the pill or any of the contraceptive drugs, my physiology is too robust being a regen, but it could be a good precaution for you. Take it slow and easy, please. You’re doing so much better now, I don’t want to see you get hurt by some boy or girl taking advantage of you.”

Pinky looked me in the eyes so intensely I thought she was looking into my soul. I saw tears start to form.

“I promise, Mom,” Was all that Pinky said, and then she hugged and held me tight. I’d never head such beautiful words in my life. We didn’t speak after that, we simply held each other and cried.

~~If her parents don’t want Pinky, could I get custody or possibly adopt her? I’m not a relative, but someone needs to care for her. ~~

We must have been quite a sight when we walked puffy eyed and still sniffling to Sunday dinner with my friends. The Kids from Wisconsin — I know it’s the name of a student singing group at the State Fair, but it fits — Tom, Tina, and Suzy were there, waiting at my favorite table. Pinky and I were getting our food when the Anderson twins, Tina and Chris, came in dressed to the nines, and then some. We checked out then sat at the table. it was crowded, but a good kind of crowded.

“You okay, Au … ah gees, I forgot my, um, ketchup. Be right back,” said Suzy with embarrassment and ashamed.

“It’s fine, dear. No one heard. You wanted to ask if I was okay. I’m fine. I was crying because I’m happy. Girls are allowed to do that, aren’t they?” I asked.

“Joanie, do Tina ‘A’ and Chris know about Suzy?” Tom was learning to keep the secret.

“Tina and Chris know. I had to tell them, Tom. They’re my backups for when I’m not here to help you kids, and Tina’s in Administration, so she knew from the paperwork.”

“Suzy, you need something, or have a question, or problem, call us, or stop by Administration,” said Tina.

“Or stop by fleet maintenance,” said Chris.

“You got the full-time position, Chris? Way to go girl!” I said in congratulation; then I gave her a hug.

“Tina was always bugging me to apply for a full-time position at Whateley. I still work Saturday mornings for the law office in Dunwich and a couple half-shift evenings a week. It’s a lot of hours, but I’m making good money. I plan to have a family someday with or without a partner, and I want to be ready for it. We’re dressed up because Tina’s taking me out to a late night supper club to celebrate. Don’t worry, we’re not drinking. We have a small bottle of champagne chilling at home when we get back. You’re welcome to come over after if you want, Joanie.”

* * * *

That got us talking for hours. They had to kick us out so they could close up for the night and the Anderson gals could leave for their supper club date. It was nearly nine PM before I was back to Poe and my furry friends were fed and cared for. They do like their new scratching post, odd how it looks exactly like a couch. Lex is very happy with her new living room set. I threw in a floor lamp in exchange for her old couch. George and Gracie love it.

~~That was a long week. I forgot something, but what was it? Our Friday night phone call! Damn, where’s my cell? ~~

“Terrace Hill, who may I say is calling?” I’d gotten a Security officer.

“Is Eric Johnson available? I normally call him on Friday nights, but I was busy. It’s Joanie. He’ll want to talk, honest.” I felt so bad.

“Joanie who, miss?” said the officer.

“Sorry, Joanie Brown, I’m a family friend. It’s possible you’ve heard of me, I sing professionally.”

“Yeah kid. I don’t know who you are, but impersonating famous people to harass the Governor’s family is sick. We have caller ID and we will prosecute if you don’t hang up now,” said the man.

~~In a most condescending tone too, ~~ I thought.

“You just do that. I dare you to give the caller ID number to the Governor. Tell him the caller insisted, Officer Dickhead.”

~~That should fix you, jerk. ~~

I was steaming. He was costing me time, time that could be better spent talking with my Eric.

~~Damn the man for wasting our time. Damn me for forgetting. The magazine people would have left early Friday evening if I’d asked, and damn me for falling for a fourteen year old.~~

“You’ve got it, Missy,” he practically spat into the phone.

He was so mad he put it on speakerphone instead of hold. This was going to be such fun. I could hardly keep from laughing. I could hear a distant, but clear conversation.

“Governor, there’s some silly girl on the phone asking to speak to your son. She ‘claims’ to be, Joanie, that singer, but come on.”

“How do you know she’s not? Never assume; it’s dangerous, and foolish to do so in politics,” said Governor Bob.

“I have her caller ID here, the name is blocked, but the area code, and number list as Dunwich, New Hampshire, I mean…” said the officer laughing.

“Officer Miller, did the other officers tell you about an incident that happened here last November?” Bob said in a lecturing tone.

“Oh, that’s the one were a security officer at the gate got sent back to the state police academy because he pulled his gun out, and tried to arrest …”

There was a period of total silence.

“You will be there tomorrow at eight AM sharp to repeat the entire rookie course or you are fired. You will apologize to our dear friend and then you will turn in your gun and badge to your night watch commander, and explain to him why I am requesting your retraining. Got it, rookie?”

I had never heard a word in anger from Bob before, that was impressive in more than one way.

~~Ghod he’s loves me. Uh, why are my legs apart and ... Bob’s done it to me again. Even the voices of the men in this family arouse me. ~~

The officer gave me an enthusiastic apology, which I accepted. Bob was terribly sweet on the phone, but said he was serious about the officer retaking the whole officer boot camp. I made him promise me the officer would be restored to his former rank and pay if he did well. Bob told me he intended to do that all along -- the softie.

“It will do him good to be retrained. Everyone needs a good refresher course once in awhile. I’ll let him know before he leaves. I’m not a vindictive man. You want my son, I’ll get him. And Joanie, can I have one of those magazines when they come out, but autographed on the cover? I’d like to frame it and put it in my official office where everyone can see it. I’d display the centerfold, but Babs might get jealous,” he said, then laughed.

* * * *

If you want to know what Eric and I said, dear d/j/w reader, tough luck, that’s for our ears only. I will say I told him I was sorry for having forgotten to call, and that he was sweet about it. It quickly got sickeningly cute and romantic. Shirley Temple would have died from a sugar overdose on hearing it. Ghod help me, I loved it. I fell asleep that night a tired, but happy woman.

* * * *

April 16, 2007

Taking classes as a student is fun, plain and simple. I’ve made a several friends among the teens, and my girl skills have improved with their help. I usually remember when my period is due and have the tools-of-the-trade at hand, amazing! My growing network of friends and acquaintances provides me with a level of insider information of unauthorized activities on campus that few are privy to. It’s my own informal Distant Early Warning system, or DEW line. Supplemented with information gleaned from Security and my friend Tina in Administration, I’m rarely caught off guard by developments at Whateley. Combining this information with tip-offs from MSG, Dr. Sara, Babs, and the Senator may protect me from future attacks, at least the planned variety. Oh, and now I know which singers are the ‘hot’ items these days. Not as vital to my survival, but if I can get autographed photos and memorabilia — through Mr. Karaoke -- that no-one else can get, I have the spoils to leverage my position in the student hierarchy. At a minimum it improves my safety. Who wants to lose the goose that lays the golden eggs?

Teaching has been both hard work and a hoot. At a small to medium sized school like Whateley — less than a thousand total staff and students — you get to know or at least recognize everyone else in time. Most of the student body and nearly all the staff knew I was staff and something of a celebrity. Many knew me as a student as well. As months passed, the teens I had classes with thought of me more as one of the kids than as staff. This made the first few times I taught classes I was in a treat. It was easier for them to act as if I was one of them. I certainly look the part of a high school girl. I encouraged it so I could get the full flavor of student life.

I was on my way to History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, a required course. It was warm for the 16th of April and the early spring flowers were showing in the woods, lawns, and gardens of Whateley. I had ample time to waste. I had no first period class on Mondays, so I took my time, scouting out new trees the smilodons might wish to place their mark upon. Elms and oaks with their corky bark were favorites and with care, no harm would come to forest or felines.

“Timeout to the Office of the History Department Chairperson, ASAP, acknowledge.”

I occasionally got non-security related messages via the encrypted voice and messaging phone I carried. Mr. Hefner’s visit was a recent example. This was nothing unusual, so I acknowledged and rushed to her office.

“Joanie, I need you to teach History 103 second period today as the regular instructor is ill,” the new Chairperson, Dr. Bakers stated.

“Hir’s time of the month?” I replied.

Our instructor was a true hermaphrodite, fertile both ways. And I thought my sexuality was confusing. Hir worked as well as anything else as a form of address, it was definitely better than herm, or they. I’m simply her, Ms. or miss. Occasionally, I’m 'hey you!'

“Kelly is having a hard time today and asked off. It’s a introductory level class, you’ll do fine.” Said the history Chairpers… said the Head, ah, said Dr. Bakers.

‘I’m a student in that specific class; won’t it confuse them?” I asked.

“Exactly. Have fun, girl.” The head, um, Bakers grinned at me. Sorry, but he only took over from Dr. Alden last week.

I didn't have time to change. Okay, I could have time traveled back twenty minutes, run to my dorm room, changed, run back, and returned to the present but that was a poor use of my gifts and exhausting. To be honest it would be something else more debilitating, but satisfying. However, I simply forgot I could do it. I was dressed like any of the other girls in class, clothes guaranteed to give boys or girls erections, and parents heart attacks. It was subtly slutty. Too outrageous was frowned on as we did get visitors. The color coded lights in the dorms and flags outdoors reminded us constantly. Today was a green flag day, so all bets were off, along with a lot of fabric. I do need to fit in, so I was baring lots of skin. It’s not like I’m a show-off. Well, maybe a little, but it’s for fun.

We chose our favorite seats. Many kids clowned around while waiting for the teacher. At the appointed time I got out of my seat, placed my backpack and laptop on the teacher’s desk, sat in hir’s chair, and put my feet up on the desk.

“Joanie, are you crazy? Dr. Kelly will have you in detention for that. You signed a binding pledge to be treated as a regular student, girl. I remember hir making a big deal out of it. Faculty or not, hir’ll have your ass. You know what a prig hir is,” said one of the girls.

“I don’t care. I hear we have a substitute today, and I‘ll bet you she’ll be eating out of my hand.”

I started eating a bag of corn chips, and opened a soda.

“Hir’ll suspend you from class, please.”

“Nah, I told you I’d be eating out of my hands. I’m the substitute.”

The class quickly got noisy, and rowdy. I fired a toy cap pistol to get their attention. I carried it to get the smilodons used to gunfire. That’s similar to how hunting dogs are trained.

“Word of warning, I can be a right bitch when I need to. Give us all a break, and let’s have a calm, productive class. I promise it won’t be boring, ‘k’?” I said.

I loosened the next to last button on my blouse, just shy of the point where things would get interesting. It got their attention. They calmed down after a few grumbles. I stood up to hold their attention and to show off my outfit.

~~I paid good money for this. It’s cute and almost decent. It’s a proper school uniform blouse. It’s not see-through, not completely. ~~

“See, class, that was a minor example of abuse of power. I had knowledge that you didn’t, and I took advantage of it. Think back to the assigned readings and give me examples of abuse of power that have had an impact on mutant/normal relations. Feel free to speak your mind. There is no wrong or right answer here. The worst that will happen is you’ll make a fool of yourself and I’ll have to comfort you, ooh,” I said that last bit seductively, and the class laughed.

They’re a bright bunch of teens and came up with every example I did, and a few I’d missed. They behaved well, and I was proud of them. For Dr. Kelly’s benefit I took note of who contributed in addition to recording everything on a camera and microphone attached to my laptop. I typed up my notes and e-mailed the works, video included, to Dr. Kelly that night. Hir was pleased and told us so at the next class on the 18th. We’d covered everything hir’d intended and several topics from the next assignment.

“I thank you for showing maturity and discipline, and making the substitute’s job that much easier. As for her, the less said the better, or her head will explode.”

I giggled, and blushed.

“Great effort, each and every one of you, now from our last class, the first record showing knowledge of mutants in the American colonies was where, and when, anyone?”

* * * *

I’ve got an interesting assignment after lunch today. I’m substituting for one of the magic teachers... should be interesting as I know nothing about magic.

* * * *

To be continued
Thanks again to assistance generously provided by Itinerant and Janet Nolan

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

Our heroine gets advice from a very friendly friend. Her substitute teaching takes 'show-and-tell' to extreams. Joanie finds teaching a *breeze* and revealing -- too revealing. She agrees to purchase the farm and begins to recruit a work crew. She phones dad about the magazine deal and learns more of the darkside of modeling. Her new mutant friends develope a lead on a crime and grow as a group.

Story:

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006. Wow, every subchapter is a ’2’, must be having a two-for sale.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Text tweaking by Itinerant
Thanks to my evil blonde sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing

Chapter 8- The Substitute 2, Home Improvement 2, The New New Avengers 2, The Kids from Wisconsin 2

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 17-18, 2007

April 17, 2007

The students' confusion between me as a sister student and a teacher has its upside. I have over three decades more experience than any of them, so I use it to my advantage. They might try to get the better of me, but it costs them.

Today, I’m filling in for one of the magic instructors. I have no magic powers, but I do know something about magic through my time with Gin at MSG. I called her prior to my class, and she said I’d do best to admit my lack of experience in ‘that’ field of endeavor. She giggled a bit when she said 'that’, the minx. She suggested a class I should teach instead.

“Yeah, like they’d let me do ‘that’ in class Gin. I don’t think Ms. Carson would allow it. If I demonstrated *that* with a student I’d be breaking the law, and Monty Python did it in 'The Meaning of Life', so it’s nothing new. Anyway, at best I’m a talented amateur,” I said trying hard not to break up.

“Joanie, you’re not amateur, you’re a mistress of the art -- I know.” Then she giggled.

“I did get a lot of practice between the three of you.”

“And on top, and beneath, and …”

“Gin, this is getting smutty; not that I mind, but I have the magic class to teach?”

“Sorry, Joanie, but you need to understand that most kids with such powers are as uncertain with them as I was when I mutated. Honesty and your unusual mutation should protect you.”

She admitted to using a mild lust spell to encourage me last year when I’d first showed interest in her, but confessed that it had backfired. She said the rebounded magic made me extremely attractive to her, but because she knew it was due to her own spell, she didn’t panic. Fortunately, my own strong libido solved the problem to our mutual satisfaction. She blushed, and stifled a snicker after explaining this to me. Dear d/j/w readers, Gin and I were on a video cell phone so don’t go around with that “how the heck did you know she was blushing” expression on your faces.

“You used magic to seduce me? I do remember feeling unusually attracted to you shortly before we … You sneaky bitch, you did put the whammy on me!” I growled, but felt bad about my outburst moment’s later.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie. It didn’t work, not as I intended anyhow. Somehow your warper powers sent my spell back on me; if anything, it intensified it. Ghod, I’ve never been so horny in my life. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest, but I thought you might reject me,” Gin said apologetically.

“Gin, I’m so very happy you did it.”

“Huh? You’re happy I used a lust spell on you?”

“I’m not happy you resorted to magic. I’m happy you chose to share yourself with me. Gin dear, you make Lucy Lu look plain, not that I’d turn down a romp with her. Did you see her in 'Payback'? She was smokin’, but you’re better. With your looks, and sexy moves, I assure you I was interested. You, Red, and Carrie made me love this body, and what it could do.”

Her tone suggested she thought I was lying. I grumbled, then giggled.

“Okay, Mr. Vibrator gets an honorable mention, and I don’t have to take him dancing or get him drunk.”

Gin snorted, I laughed until my eyes watered.

“All your magic did was jumpstart things. It wore off in minutes, but by then we were, um … Don’t sell yourself short, Gin. I still desire you; you’re my favorite Chinese Make-out.”

“Oooooh, Joanie that was sick. Please, no more puns, I beg you,” Gin said, and then faked a moan.

“I couldn’t resist, and when would I ever get the chance to use that line? Gin, you risked traveling with me on those first, potentially dangerous time trips. You devised the seemingly lethal tank incident at Badger Ordinance that gave me the key to my time stop, and you hooked me up with that funky shop with those incredibly sexy custom boots. I love you, I suspect I always will, but I’m trying to be faithful to … “

“Eric. I saw what you see in him. He’ll be a catch in a few years, I hope I can find as fine a man, or woman. I don’t blame you; I like guys too. Please forgive me?”

“Gin, if I wasn’t afraid of hurting him, I’d be with you now. I’d be standing by your side, dodging the dangers of your sexy curves, and your sorceress powers, risking my life and limb in your bed, constantly in fear for my chastity, ‘and loving it’. I wish you had been honest, but I forgive you. I could have been happy as your long-term lover,” I said.

“Wow, a Maxwell Smart parody! You do love me,” said Gin.

I almost dropped the phone I was laughing hard, and I was feeling aroused. I swear some days I could look at a mailbox and get aroused, but I was fond of the heavenly Humong hottie.

“Don’t doubt it. I desire you, and the rest of the Gang of Four. I love you like sisters -- my gorgeous, insatiable, lesbian, nympho sisters. I still do, and not just for the sex. I could have been happy with any, or all of you as lovers, but Eric is my destiny, my soul mate. I don’t know why, or how, I know, but I do.”

“Promise me, if he gives you reason to doubt, you’ll call me?”

“You and the rest of the Gang of Four will always have a place in my heart. If it was just love, companionship, and fantastic sex, I’d be happy as it was. It’s just that I want to have children, Gin, and a family. I owe my late Mom, and I ache deep in my heart for the touch of a child’s lips on my breasts. I know I could have artificial insemination, or go with a guy, and dump him after I’m pregnant, but I’m used to a two parent home. Can you understand?”

“You have it bad, Joanie. The Mommy bug is unrelenting, and Eric seems an ideal mate. In the short time I knew him he was handsome, smart, and polite, and if it grows with the rest of him, built like a porn star,” Gin said then giggled in her sexy way.

“You should see him now; he’s growing so fast. They say size doesn’t matter? Fuck them! He’s going to be a stud.”

I giggled so hard I wet my self, but not with pee.

“You slut, Joanie; when you do it with him, be careful. He’s a nice bo ... young man, don’t kill him.”

* * * *

I took Gin’s advice, and was honest with the class.

“Like, hi everyone, I’m, ah ... Joanie. You probably don’t know me, for sure,” I said in a sing-song Valley Girl voice. I’m so good at it, I frighten myself.

The class laughed at my cheap joke, but it broke the ice.

”I’m a Warper, not a sorceress. I’m not qualified in magic in any fashion, so that’s why I’m teaching this class. Administration must be desperate,” I said, and smiled.

“I want you to treat today’s class like an advanced version of show and tell. I’d like you to describe the spell you are most proud of, and show it to the class,” I requested, “perhaps we can learn by example. I’m curious to see what you can do.”

The class went well. Several girls demonstrated glamours, and starting, and stopping, fires. The guys manifested false images, and one boy transmuted an orange into an apple, complete with a wriggling Gummi worm.

“Very impressive, I wish I had your abilities. Who hasn’t gone yet?”

An older, tough looking Goth boy, Mystor, volunteered. If it wasn’t for the makeup, and clothes, he’d be a babe magnet.

“Ms. Joanie, could I use you for my demo. I promise you won’t be hurt.”

“Sure, what do I do?”

I should have said no, but I prefer to be a trusting soul — big mistake.

“Stand still for a moment.”

He concentrated, made some arcane gestures, and the room felt cooler and drafty. The class looked embarrassed, then started laughing. I looked down, and saw I was naked. He had made all my clothes disappear, the horny little bastard. I was upset, and envious.

~~Damn, I wished I’d been able to do that in high school. If I could have done that to Deanne, or Julie, whoa Momma! Oh well, I asked for it. Oh, great, my nipples are reacting to the air. ~~

“Impressive, but those are expensive clothes. Those boots alone are over four hundred dollars. May I have them back, please?” I was polite under the circumstances.

“Um, sorry, I transformed them into a Barbie Doll, and it took all the magic I had, maybe tomorrow?”

I saw a lifelike Barbie Doll that was my tiny doppelganger, complete with the outfit I’d been wearing -- the expensive, custom leather outfit I’d been wearing. I got angry, but kept a calm exterior.

“So, I have to stand here naked?”

“That’s the general plan. Sorry, but you are so sexy, Joanie,” he said and smirked.

“You couldn’t wait for the July issue? Fair is fair, Mystor, and you are about my size.”

“What do you …?”

I time stopped him in mid-sentence, and stripped him bare. His underwear I discarded.

~~Yuck! Smelly underwear.~~

The pants were a tight fit on my butt, and loose on my waist. His shirt I used in a Daisy Duke fashion, tying the tails under my breasts. I was covered, but looked like ‘the farmer’s daughter’ of innumerable traveling salesmen jokes, and cartoons. It was a good look for me, too. I thought my stiff nipples accented the ensemble nicely. His shoes didn’t fit, so I put on my running shoes.

~~I have to remember this look for Eric; he’ll go crazy. ~~

I unfroze Mystor.

“Mean?” he finished, then realized he was naked.

“I’m glad to see you ‘appreciate’ my body; I only wish the ‘salute’ wasn’t so small,” I said pointing at his erect penis.

The class laughed uproariously until I shouted for them to stop.

“That’s enough! Let’s not pick on the *boy*. When I was his age, mine was about the same size; Mystor has nothing to be ashamed of. I was average in that department. Size does matter to an extent, but Mystor is still growing. All of us have something about our bodies we’re not satisfied with. Frankly, my ass is too small, don’t you think? And these breasts are way too big.”

I giggled, but they got the point. How could they not?

~~Thinking on it, my laughter must have made my breasts jiggle. Marvelous, I’m gonna be in lots of naughty dreams tonight.~~

I gave Mystor my sweat pants and a t-shirt from my gym bag I’d carried with me since my morning run with Pinky. They needed washing, but the alternative was my athletic bra and my running shorts, neither in his size or color. Sure, I could have slipped on my whole workout outfit, but where’s the fun in that? I couldn’t let a student get the best of his instructor and he deserved some punishment.

“How we look to the world is to a large degree at the whim of our genetics and BITs. It’s not fair to penalize or reward people purely on their looks, though you may worship me, within limits. Absolutely no animal sacrifices!” I giggled again. “Mystor, come with me after class and we can work out how you’ll pay for my clothes,” I said. Then I kissed him on the cheek, and the class went crazy.

“He’ll be doing chores for me, you perverts: I’m not having sex with him, though he is cute. If you got rid of that makeup and dressed sharp, Mystor, you’d be a looker. Class dismissed.”

They got up to leave.

“Wait a moment! I’m about to buy an old farm a short distance from here, and I could use help cleaning up before, and after, the work crews. It will be mostly after afternoon classes are over, and on weekends. It’s possible I might need help in the early mornings, too. I’ll pay a good wage if you’ll work hard, and you get to work with me. Wait until you see me in my bib overall cutoffs. How about it? You can leave a message on my dorm room bulletin board on the third floor of Poe, or get word to me through Security, Administration, or Mr. King in the King Annex.”

~~I’ll need laborers for demolition in the farm house I intend to buy. Mystor has just signed on as one of my grunts, though he doesn’t know it yet. ~~

* * * *

I stopped by Operations after class; they wanted to talk to tell me more about that ‘research trip’ they needed. I told them about the Hennessey farm and that I was close to buying it. When I described my plans for the house and the barn, they got excited and practically begged me to let them do the work. They had a lot of students in part-time jobs, some got work study credit for it. My future homestead was a welcome opportunity.

“The students need the wages, and it’s a chance to show off their new skills,” said Stan.

“We’ll make certain it’s done right, and I guarantee the security and safety features will be better than the best. Stan and I can head out to your place and do a preliminary engineering survey,” said Morrie.

I was hesitant; I knew they were qualified, but this was my baby. They saw my hesitation, and sweetened the pot.

“As we were saying earlier, Whateley has a major cable laying project due to start soon,” said Stan.

“I remember someone telling me a few days back I might need to do a research trip for you guys. Sorry I got off the subject, what do you need?”

“It’s much like what happened during the repairs to Hawthorne. The laying should go quickly; most of it can be done with a vibratory plow, but the usual odd stuff has shown up on the ground scans. We can’t do a thing until the anomalies are checked out. If you and Mr Lodgeman can confirm what we’re dealing with, we’ll cut you a deal on the cost.” said Morrie.

“And throw in a hot tub, gratis,” said Stan.

“A hot tub? Are you thinking of inviting yourself over, Don Juan?” I gave him a sultry smile, and Stan blushed.

“You got a deal, but I have to buy the place first. Go ahead with the survey; it could affect the selling price.” I said, as I gave them each a hug. I am so into hugs these days.

I gave them a description of my plans for the place, and arranged to provide them a copy of the surveys Tessa sent. They gave me a copy of the planned cable routes, and where the areas of concern were. I agreed to do the *research trip* ASAP. Next, I was off to Administration to contact Charlie.

* * * *
The always delightful Ms. Anderson was at her desk.

“Tina, where’s Amelia?”

“Ms. Hartford is at lunch, Joanie. She eats food like the rest of us. I was amazed when I heard; I thought she sucked blood.”

“Tina, I know she’s a bitc … hard woman, but be fair. Can you get a message to Mr. Lodgeman and send him a copy of these construction plans? We need to do another *research trip* for Operations,” I said.

“Sure. Um, Joanie is there something going on between you and Mr. Lodgeman? I know you’re getting serious about you-know-who, but you do spend a lot of time with the man in places where no one else can see,” said Tina.

~~Is she being serious, or trying to prank the mistress? It’s time to shock her, I think. ~~

“I did get off with him the last time trip; you should have heard me screaming -- then again, you probably did. I was loud. Ghod, it felt great.”

I said this straight-faced with a hint of fondly remembered lust in my eyes. Tina’s did a double take, then we broke into giggles simultaneously.

“Joanie, I give up. Please don’t do that again,” she said then leaned close, and whispered. “You know how Chris and I feel about you, if you need to talk about your May-December romance, or if it falls apart, we’re here for you,” she said then hugged me.

“Hey, I’m not December, I’m Miss July!”

* * * *

I had a singing class to teach at 1PM, so it wasn’t until 3:15 PM I got into Dunwich and pulled up outside Tessa’s real estate office. She came out to greet me; I was only half out of my riding suit.

“I take it you have questions about the property, Joanie?” she said, smiling warmly.

I finished removing my jumpsuit and motorcycle boots, slipped on some pumps, and straightened my rumpled skirt.

“Only one, Tessa. Are there any deed restrictions beyond those you listed? Your information packet mentioned historic preservation, business, and subdivision restrictions.”

“That’s it. You can’t subdivide the property without a zoning variance, which is difficult to get, and any new structures have to be superficially similar to existing structures in the area; nothing tacky, in other words. The only permitted commercial business is farming or related business such as livestock, Christmas tree, and nursery stock growing. Recreational businesses are regulated on a case-by-case basis. Hunting is usually allowed, stockcar racing is probably not,” Tessa said.

“May I rent out the farm house?”

“Absolutely, but you can’t sell it separate from the property unless it is to be moved to a different piece of land. Likewise, the land can only be rented for the permitted commercial purposes. You can’t rent it to, say, an auto salvage yard for storing wrecks.”

“How difficult is it to get construction permits? I intend to do extensive excavation. I’m fixing the farm house as a rental, or guest house, but the barn will be my home. “

“Ah, you must watch 'This Old House',” Tessa said.

~~I wonder? I’ll have to contact WGBH. ~~

“Is the price the same as before, and does it include everything: all fees, title, and lien searches, inspection fees, closing costs -- the works?”

“No changes, Joanie,” Tessa said.

“You have a deal. I have some friends from Whateley coming to inspect the place, but I don’t anticipate any surprises. How soon can we close?”

“Is tomorrow at 4PM too soon?”

“I’ll be here, with bells on.” I said.

“Only bells? Sounds kinky; I like it. Oh, you need to bring the check, Joanie.”

* * * *

I stopped by Administration to check on my mail, and to see if Mr. Lodgeman got my message. Ms. Hartford was in, busy at her PC.

“Please have a seat, I’ll be with you momentarily,” said Ms. Hartford almost joyfully.

“I can wait, Ms. Hartford.”

I heard a rapid stroking of keys, like she was rushing to finish, and then Ms. Hartford turned to me, smiling. This did not bode well for yours truly.

“Did you have news for me?” I asked.

“Several things, my dear Ms. Joanie,” cooed Ms Hartford.

I dreaded what was coming, but I took it head on, like a … woman.

“I have a package for you from California, from a Ms. May Lee in care of Playboy. Photos, perhaps?”

“I wish they were photos. They're documents, and I may need your help, Ms. Hartford. It’s possible her sister was the victim of an unscrupulous pornographer, if what May Lee told me checks out. The use of drugs, mind control, and an oddly coincidental financial hardship that made the woman easy prey concerns me. That she was the *star* of a number of extreme hard core sex films could add multiple rapes to the list.”

The mention of rape caused Ms. Hartford to tense.

“If these allegations are true, why not go to the police?”

“That’s something I need to know; I hope these documents will expose the truth. If I need your assistance in researching the case, Ms. Hartford, would you help?”

“Of course, you did my niece a great service; I’m obligated,” she said, then paused. “And I want to. It’s what I’m good at, and I may need your help someday.”

“Thank you. I will honor your request for help, if I can. Was there anything else for me?”

I was confused. Had she admitted, in an oblique way, she wants my good will, or even friendship? At a minimum she’s agreeing to a quid pro quo.

“Mr. Lodgeman says the earliest he’s available for your *research trip* is the morning of Thursday the 19th. Any time after 8AM is agreeable.”

“Tell him 8AM is fine. Is that all?” I asked.

“Except for these, dear.”

She smiled as she placed, one-by-one, a dozen of the nation’s best selling newspapers on the desk. She’d included a wide variety of publications, from the prestigious, such as the Washington Post and LA Times, to sleazy NYC tabloids. Each presented the story on their respective front page; it must have been a slow news day. One of the NYC tabloids put it best. Ms. Hartford made a point of reading that one out loud.

“’Mamnificent Musical Mutant Joanie Magazine Nude.’ Where do they get these words from, mamnificent? You’ll like these two, Joanie,” she said, and handed me the Wall Street Journal and Variety.

“’Playboy Launches Biggest Publicity Blitz in their History to Promote All Mutant Issue Staring Joanie', and ‘Babe Bares Body for Boarding School’.” I read out loud as Ms. Hartford calmly smiled.

~~I hope my sister told Dad. Oh, Ghod, I don’t think I asked her! ~~

* * * *

I called from a secure room in Security.

“… all solicitations please hang up,” said my dad’s voice on the answering machine.

“Dad, pick up; it’s Joanie, Dad! It’s real important.”

“Joanie, what’s wrong? You sound upset.”

“Are you sitting down Dad? This could be a shock.”

I was worried for him. He’s 80, with a replacement heart valve.

“Did my sister tell you I got this offer to pose for a national magazine?” I asked carefully.

“Oh, you mean the Playboy interview and centerfold? She told me the day you told her. She said she had to tell someone, or die trying. It took a couple minutes before she could speak again without laughing.”

~~Dear Sister needs to be brought down a peg or two. I’ll have to think about it. ~~

“Very funny Dad; you’re not upset?” I asked.

“Why should I be? You’re young again, and devastatingly attractive. You’re prettier than your Mom, and you know how I felt about her. Don’t worry, Joanie, she’d approve. She’d probably buy copies to show off when other women bragged too much about what their kids -- the doctor, the lawyer, the athlete -- had accomplished. She’d be nice about it and say, ‘Oh, my middle child, she’s just a teacher, model, singer, and a mutant super heroine. Don’t take my word for it, read this’, hand them the magazine, sit back, and smile sweetly.

"So you’re baring your body to millions. It’s for a respected publisher in the field. I know the photos will be in good taste, because you’re too famous to mess with. That you’re giving it all to your school makes me so proud. I knew we raised you right; this proves it, daughter. It’s a pity they can’t mention Whateley by name, but I understand why. Whateley is a special place; you chose well dear.

"Your sister showed me how to access the Prairie Home Companion web site. I listened to your performance, and they had some photos of you. I wish I’d been there; you were wonderful. I cried when you sang that Orbison song. I'm sorry your Mom can't see you like this; she’d be so happy.”

We talked for an hour or more, catching up on each other. I promised I’d send him a framed, autographed copy for him. I also learned The Evil Blonde was another *cheerleader* for me, though discreetly by necessity, and was frequently calling him with items she’d read, or heard about me. My Dad was his old, teasing, and verbally competitive self again, but I heard the love and pride in his voice. I was told my uncle had nothing but praise for ‘that lovely mutant woman, Joanie’ who had saved his granddaughters life, and was now her sponsor and mentor at some elite school. I had to end the call, as I’d become overwhelmed with emotion. I walked out of the office, and Delarose spoke.

“What’s wrong, Joanie? You look like you’re crying, and your eyes are puffy, bad news from home?”

“My Daddy loves me!” I blubbered as I ran out of security and to my room to calm down.
* * * *

I flopped onto my bed, and sobbed. How can one be so happy and sad at the same time? It seemed the smilodons sensed I was upset, because they jumped on the bed and rubbed their heads against me, finally curling up below my breasts. I calmed down, and played with my furry roommates while I contemplated why I’d been upset. My period was due to end soon, perhaps which was why I’d been so moody? The range in my emotions from high to low was unsettling these last few weeks, and this wasn’t likely to improve soon. I wondered if it wasn’t a case of PTSD flaring up months after my assault. The rescue of Suzy had been stressful, and May Lee’s revelations about Anna were sickening. Maybe they pushed me over the edge?

~~I’ll talk with my friends and, if they say so, I’ll talk with Dr. Bellows or Dr. Sara. I may be a proud woman, but I have to keep my self mentally sound for my friends and family. They count on me for so much, and I’d be lost without them. ~~

I fed George and Gracie and marveled at how the were thriving. He weighed in at over 12 pounds and she was close behind at 11. At a pound a week they’d be full grown in under 18 months. I’ll need that new home, and soon. I sifted their litter, then I read May Lee’s packet. The more I read, the worse I felt. Anna had attached several notes for me. From Anna’s notes I could tell she was a bright and articulate girl, but wounded in spirit. Her attention to detail was remarkable, given the combination of drugs, alcohol, and mind control they’d used on her. She sent copies of her medical tests from after leaving her abusers, and from her required physical for entering college.

Sufficient residual traces of the drugs they fed her, and their breakdown compounds, were in her blood and urine after her sister rescued her. Enough to prove she’d been on multiple drugs. Several were highly addictive and either illegal or dangerous, especially if used long term. One or more had hypnotic -- even hallucinogenic — effects and will and memory inhibiting properties, particularly when used in conjunction with alcohol. They had her on high dose birth control, which had put her at risk for blood clots, and combined with the other drugs would have greatly enhanced her libido.

~~No wonder they were able to con her into doing all those degrading acts. They had her so horny and high she couldn’t think straight. ~~

The psychiatric exams confirmed the implications of the drug tests. The combination of drugs, financial worries, sleep deprivation, and other mind control techniques left Anna nothing more than a drug and sex addicted subservient woman who would do anything for the faintest of praise from her tormentors. Part of Anna’s doctor’s conclusions disturbed me greatly.

“We believe Anna is lucky to have come out of this experience without significant brain or organ damage from the dangerous cocktail of drugs and alcohol used on her. She has been subject to unethical and potentially hazardous plastic surgery that will likely leave permanent scars, and may lead to future medical complications if not quickly corrected. It appears likely she may have difficulty nursing a child or obtaining a normal response from her nipples as some nerve and milk duct damage resulted from one of the implant surgeries.

"It is our conclusion Anna was treated no better than a dog by these people -- worse in that large amounts of painful negative correction were used on her. There is credible medical, and physical, evidence that electric shock devices similar to a canine *invisible fence* were used on a regular basis. Electrical burn marks on her ankles and neck match closely to the position of electrodes in several such devices found in the trash of the location she was rescued from. A private investigative agency hired to assist in her evaluation recovered these and empty containers of several drugs found in her system out of a near by dumpster.”

I stopped reading partway through the documents, and ran out of my dorm room, barely making it to the women’s room where I spent the next 15 minutes vomiting until I had the dry heaves. I was queasy, and angry that the authorities had not caught these people. They’d vanished almost without a trace from the police reports May and Anna included. The few leads investigators had were tenuous and difficult to follow. Perhaps these descriptions triggered a remembrance of my assaults, but I wanted these people bad. I can’t save the world, but maybe I could stop these criminals before any more lives were ruined. I sipped some cold water to settle my stomach and returned to my room.

May added a note saying Mr. Hefner was pleased with the photos and interview, and that some of his top editors would call to setup a time to review their choices. May Lee, and Anna, would accompany them so Anna could be tested, and we could speak. She said Anna had been so out of it during her *modeling career* that she didn’t know of me other than a vague memory of a mutant woman saving a politicians daughter. Anna’s financial troubles had started around the same time as my rescue of Mel, soon after she was well into being deceived, drugged and worse by those criminals masquerading as a legitimate photo studio. With the financial stress, the drugs they had her on and the mind control it was remarkable she remembered anything of that time.

Anna was eager to meet me, and was fast becoming a fan of my music. May Lee was putting her though a crash course on *Joanie,* and Whateley, in preparation for their visit. May felt her sister was coming out of her depression, but was concerned she could relapse from the reaction of others to her appearance. I emailed May Lee back and assured May Lee that on a campus full of mutants Anna would blend right in. I put everything back in the packet, and took it with me to dinner.

* * * *

I got a small soup and sandwich as I was not hungry. I was not good company, and my friends were concerned.

“What’s wrong, Joanie? You’re so down tonight,” asked Suzy.

“Yah, Ms. Joanie, what gives? You’re usually so happy. I’ve never seen you like this, and it scares me,” said Tom.

Pinky guessed, or maybe she didn’t have to; she is an empath.

“It’s the younger sister of the Playboy model, May Lee. You said the other day that she needed help; it must be pretty bad to hurt you, Joanie.”

She slid over next to me, and took one of my hands in both of hers. The rest of my school mates moved in close as well.

“This never leaves this table; you can tell no one else, promise?” I whispered.

They nodded in agreement.

“May Lee’s sister, Anna, went through something similar to what happened to you, Pinky,” I said softly.

“Ghod no!” Pinky cried.

She wrapped her arms around me, and started to shake. I hugged her tight as she sobbed inconsolably.

~~Damn, did I trigger a PTSD attack? ~~

“That’s okay, Pinky, let it all out. I’m sorry I had to tell you, but you’d have found out soon enough. You’re tough; you’ll pull through,” I said as I rubbed her back.

“Was Ms. Anna raped?” Tina asked, looking sick.

“Under different circumstances than Pinky, but yes, they violated her. By the time her tormentors got done with her, she was little more than a drug addicted sex slave working for an unethical pornographer. They tricked her into oversized breast implants, tattoos, and other things that have scarred her. It was with May Lee’s help she escaped. I’ve offered to help her recover and to catch those who hurt her. Would you like to help me, Pinky? The same goes for all of you. There are a lot of receipts, photos, bills, and other evidence to sort through. More eyes will help me get through it sooner, and may spot something I’d miss.”

“Count on it, Joanie. Is my Aunt helping us?” said Pinky, determination on her tear-streaked face.

“Ms. Hartford said she would help. That’s why I need to sort through this mess and look for patterns of activity so she and my colleagues in Security have a starting point for their investigations. One of the practice rooms in the music department should serve us. We need to do this without being disturbed.”

We finished eating, and walked to the King Annex.

“Joanie, do we get to wear trench coats and deerstalker hats?” asked Suzy, giggling at the end.

“Ah man, I was hoping Joanie’d dress up like that lady from ‘The Avengers’?”

“Diana Rigg?”

“No, Joanie, the movie one. What’s her name, Liv Ulman, the same actress who was in 'Kill Bill'. You’d look hot in leather, Ms. Joanie.” said Tom smirking.

His sister Tina gave him an angry look, and I laughed.

“It’s okay, Tina. Tom, from what those photographers told me, I’d look hot in a flannel shirt, blue jeans, and construction boots, but thanks for the compliment. I’m not sure about costumes, but I can probably get us decoder rings, and a secret handshake and door knock.” I laughed again.

We found a room, and set out the papers May had sent.

“First, let’s lay everything out in order from oldest to most recent. Be careful not to lose any, and don’t tell anyone about this unless I, or Chief Delarose from Security, tell you to, okay? I must warn you some of the evidence and Anna’s recollections are grim stuff. If you find something too disturbing, set it down and call for me to look at it. We’re looking for things that are out of the ordinary and patterns in the data. If you see anything like multiple phone calls to the same number, multiple travel bills, or multiple hotel bills from the same destination, let me know.”

“Anything else to look out for, Joanie?” asked Suzy.

“A signed confession with accompanying photos would be nice, but anything that seems odd or catches your fancy, pass it on. It maybe a cliché, but it could be anything. Go with your gut feeling; hunches are big in police work.”

The kids and I worked quietly for an hour or so, sorting out the paper by date, and then by type. I gave them all note pad and pens, and told them to each pick an address, or phone number, and try to follow it across the months.

“Joanie, is this something important? It’s Anna’s credit card bill for travel expenses to the same city in Mexico multiple times over several months. Each time it’s for multiple persons. Don’t they have plastic surgery clinics that cater to Americans? I remember reading about it in a news magazine, and I think I saw something on TV,” said Suzy.

“Wonderful, Suzy, I think you found a lead. Show what you have to the rest, then make careful notes of what you found. Great start, gang, lets find more.”

I looked over what she had: several individuals accompanied Anna to the same city, and hotel, in Mexico, and there were these many thousand dollar charges from the same business each time. I suspected it was the surgical clinic.

“Joanie!” Pinky all but shouted.

“Calm down, what do you have?

“Anna’s phone bills show dozens of calls to the same few numbers in Mexico, and these same numbers show up on a fragment of a bill that isn’t hers; maybe it’s the pornographer’s?” she said, grinning like a cat closing for the killing bite.

I rushed to her side. She showed me what she’d found, and how she did it.

“I could kiss you! What the hell!” I said.

I gave Pinky a big hug and a light kiss on the cheek. I was so proud of her. Then I heard her gasp and felt her stiffen. I looked in her eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw confusion, and fear. I can be so stupid.

~~Ghod, what have I done? I’m an idiot! ~~

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pinky. I shouldn’t have done that. I forget how much you’ve changed in a short time. I don’t ever want to see you hurt again, least of all by me. I feel like I violated your trust,” I whispered to Pinky. I felt sick.

Pinky visibly relaxed, and looked at me like I needed consoling, and not her.

“Joanie, it’s okay. I’ve been on edge since I heard about Anna’s troubles, it brought up bad memories. I know you were just being nice. My mom used to do that when I did something she was proud of, but she stopped after my mutation. I’ve missed it, and I thank you for it. You don’t need my forgiveness,” she replied softly.

Then Pinky smiled, hugged me back, and kissed me sweetly on my cheek. I smiled with relief.

“I’m so proud of you, Pinky, and Suzy. I’m proud of all of you for helping. Keep looking at this stuff; maybe try sorting it a different way, by location or by amount spent? Use your imaginations. If it gets too intense for any of you, let me know, please? I don’t want anyone suffering nightmares. I’m calling this info into Security, so they can look it over. I’ll have them bring back copies so we can keep at it.”

Chief Delarose came into the music room within minutes.

~~The Chief? I must be a favorite, or it’s a slow evening. ~~

“What do you have for me, Timeout? It sounded important.”

“Timeout? Joanie has a *handle*?” said Tom wide eyed.

“She certainly rates one, and it avoids confusion,” Delarose said. “When dispatch passed on your message, I had to come. What do you have for me, Ms. Holmes?” he said with a wry smile.

“She’s Emma Peel, from 'The Avengers', Chief Delarose. Don’t you follow the news?” said Pinky absolutely stone-faced, like her Aunt. Eww!

“Ah, by 'The Avengers' you mean the *mysterious* individuals who helped solve the Boston rape and conspiracy case. I’m glad to have been of assistance to you, Ms. Conners. Joanie’s quite fond of you too. You are right, she’d look much better in a cat-suit and high heeled boots, than a deerstalker and Edwardian hunting garb. I must complement you on assisting in this case; it can’t be easy for you. You’re a special young woman, Ms. Conners.”

Now Pinky was the one blushing for a change.

“May I see the evidence you think you’ve uncovered?”

I handed it to him, and gave a short synopsis of what we suspected.

“The beginnings of a case against a pornographer, drug pusher, sex slave trader, and kidnapper, I hope?” I said.

“This is excellent work; you’re all to be commended. I agree these are significant leads. I’d like to take all this with me; I’ll make two copies of everything, one for our investigators in Security, one for you folks to continue working up leads from, and the originals I’ll lock up as evidence. I’ll get the department working on it at once. Joanie,” he said with an odd smile on his face. “Do I get a suit, bowler hat, and umbrella? I’ll let you know when it’s time to put on the leather cat-suit, and boots,” the Chief said.

“You’re out of luck, that’s the Senator’s outfit. What if I loan you a Walther PPK, a sharp suit, and a hot sports car? You can be Delarose, Chief Delarose. Give me a kiss, 007.”

“If you insist, Mrs. Peel,” he said as he moved toward me.

“Chief, what are you doing? I was only joking. You don’t have to mmfghp!”

It is difficult to talk when you’re being kissed like I was. Chief Delarose was not just a great lawman. He broke off, and I struggled to speak.

“… Oh my Ghod!”

“No, just me, Joanie, but my pleasure,” said the Chief as he walked away.

~~You know, he is a great kisser. Who’da thunk it? ~~

April 18, 2007, 7:00AM

I took care of my *cats*, dressed, and headed out for my morning run. What I saw surprised me.

“Good morning Pinky, Suzy, Tom, Tina...? What’s going on, not that I mind the company.”

“You’ve been so nice to us, and now you’re helping a girl you haven’t met. We thought we should be nice to you,” said Suzy, the apparent ring-leader.

“You don’t have to…” I started to say.

“Tickle attack!” shouted Suzy.

They caught me off guard, and I was soon writhing on the ground laughing so hard I cried and my sides ached. I hadn’t laughed like that in ages. It was nearly as good a sex and carried no risk of pregnancy, however …

“St_st_st_op, p_p_please … I c_can’t … I’ll wet …“

They stopped, eventually, and stood around me, smiling.

“Damn, now I have to go and change my clothes, but thanks,” I said, followed by kissing each of them on the cheek. Poor Tom blushed and looked embarrassed until Suzy winked at him, and he smiled.

~~My niece is going on birth control if I have to drag her in for the shots myself. ~~

I rushed to the nearest bathroom, changed out of my wet panties and shorts, freshened up, and put on a fresh pair with a panty liner to be safe. Except for some grass stains, my shoes and running-bra top, were fine. I put on my school uniform skirt; it would have to do for now. With the sport bra top, it made a provocative outfit. I ran back to the running track.

“Joanie, that’s a different look for you, but I like it. Face it girl, a potato sack looks good on you. You know, Joanie, with some ribbons in your hair and a big bow tied around your waist, that’s practically a Sailor Moon outfit,” said Lex, who’d come late to the party. “Thanks, Joanie, for the living room set, and floor lamp. It was most generous of you. My old stuff was getting thread-bare. How’s the scratching post working out?”

“Scratching post?” asked Tina.

“Officer Luther’s old couch, Tina. My smilodons took a liking to it when Lex baby sat them this Easter weekend. They were a touch enthusiastic,” I said.

“Enthusiastic? The stuffing was falling out of one corner and they’d cut grooves in the wood frame. George and Gracie are a cute, furry, wrecking crew. I’m pleased you did the right thing and replaced the damaged furniture. Buying a whole living room set was a nice touch. What I didn’t expect was the new carpeting they installed. It looks great, Joanie,” Lex replied.

“I called the furniture store before they delivered, and they had carpeting designed to match your set. You’ve been so kind to me, Lex. It’s not that the rest of Security hasn’t been decent, but you made me feel welcome. What’s the point of having money if you can’t do some good with it? And before you say it’s too expensive, that living room set, and carpet, cost less than what I make in a week on my recording royalties. Don’t sweat it. I’ll like to be generous when I can.”

“I could buy a good used car for what that living room cost. Let’s see, times 52 … How much are you making a year, Joanie?” Lex said.

“Forbes said I was one of the top celebrities for 2006 in terms of my earnings. I’m doing much better this year.”

“You mean you’re up there with Oprah?”

“I’m doing far better than her, Lex.”

“My Ghod, I’m working with Billie Gates!”

“Ha, ha, Lex, What do we do now? It’s nearly 7:30,” I asked.

“We can still run, just shorter, but faster. I have a cunning plan, Lord Joanie,” said Lex.

“You’re parodying Black Adder, this can’t be good. You had this all worked out before hand; this is a set up?”

“I’m sorry Aun…, oh hell, no one's here, Auntie Joanie. Pinky told us how you never seem to tire or even sweat much, so we’re giving you a workout the best way we can. Ready to tag-team her?” said Suzy.

“Huh?”

They ran a relay race against me, so that no one ran more than a lap, if even that, before another took over. This way they could run at or close to an all-out sprint continuously. It took everything I had to stay competitive.

“7:45, time’s up, Joanie. Let’s see how we did,” said Lex from behind me, moments after her watch alarm sounded.

They were all sweaty and breathing hard. Lex, despite her magic induced regen, was almost as exhausted; even I was a little damp and tired.

Suzy spoke. “Joanie, you held a sub-four-minute-mile pace for 15 minutes. It took everything I had to keep up, and I’m sure the rest of us feel the same. Are you sure you’re not an energizer?”

"Nope! Boing, boing, boing, boing …”

“Tigger? Now cut that out.”

“Jack Benny, Lex?” I offered.

“Arrg!” Lex cried, throwing her arms up then walking off laughing.

* * * *

To be continued

Notes:

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 9

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie's band and her clean-up crew grow. She learns maybe there is a chance she could become a sorceress, kind of. The investigation into Anna's tormentors heats up. Legal help comes from an older friend. Joanie experiences Tina's inverter power up close and personal -- oh yeah baby! She buys a farm near Whately.

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Grammar by Itinerant
Body by Fischer
Proof positive by Janet Nolan

Chapter 9- I’m Just a Singer in a Rock and Roll Band, The New New Avengers3, Bell Book and Candle, Home Improvement 3

Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 18, 2007

April 18, 2007

Pinky, the kids from Wisconsin and I had a messy breakfast. We kept breaking each other up, and spilled a lot of food in the process. I’ve seen middle school lunch rooms that were better behaved. I fell much happier afterward, the kids were a tonic for my spirit.

“You feeling better now, Joanie?” asked Suzy.

“Yes, much better. I can’t remember when I’ve had a more enjoyable, and insane start to the day.”

“You’d better stay happy or Suzy here has a couple more evil tricks up her sleeve to cheer you up. Wet panties are the least of your worries,” said Pinky trying to look fierce, but coming off petulant and a bit flirty instead.

“It’s my right as an American to be grumpy if I feel like it. Thanks for making me realize I don’t want to feel that way anymore,” I said and smiled at my friends.

“You’d better not feel grumpy, Joanie. When you feel bad, you’re not the only one hurting. You’re the best friend any of us have here, and that includes me and my brother. As much as I love Tom, it’s you I’d turn to with a problem, no offense, brother,” Tina said.

You don’t realize how much we all rely on you, Joanie. It hurts to see you sad,” said Tom.

"I mean that much to you?” I asked back.

"You’re the kewl, pretty, older sister I never had. With Mon and Dad missing, you’re the only one I feel comfortable to come to for help and advice,” Tina replied.

“Do the rest of you feel like Tina?” I asked.

“Joanie, I love my sister, but I’d come to you first if I was in trouble. You’re smart and pretty, and you’re Suzy’s … best friend, so I’d better like you,” Tom said and winked at Suzy.

“You saved my life, Joanie. I can’t stand to see you hurting. That we’re, you know, makes our friendship that much more special,” said Suzy, reminding me I’m her Aunt.

“You know how I feel about you. You helped me put my life together, and didn’t abandon me after the harm I tried to do to you. I couldn’t love you more if you were my real mother,” said Pinky as she wiped her eyes.

“Now look what you’ve done, I’m so happy I’m crying,” I said as tears welled up.

They all moved closer and took turns hugging me or holding my hands as they smiled at me. Tom and Pinky gave me a glorious back rub and I felt the tension melt away. I gradually felt calm and content.

“Okay, okay, I promise to stay happy, are you satisfied?” I asked.

They laughed and moved back to their seats. I paused for a moment, then I spoke.

“I know I usually eat during one of the later lunch periods, but I’ll be here for the 11AM lunch today; I have a closing on a property at four,” I announced.

“You’re getting that farm near campus?” Pinky asked.

“It’s getting crowded in my linen closet, and I do hope to get married and raise a family. The farm will be perfect for the smilodons -- over fifty acres to explore, nearly a third of which is wooded. It will be a great place to unwind. You’re all welcome to come and visit. We could have sleepovers on the weekends. I’ll have lots of room for guests once its all been built or remodeled,” I said excitedly.

“George and Gracie will love it. Oh no, that means ... can I still see them, Joanie?” asked Pinky, looking unhappy.

“They will still be in training for use as police cats, so I’ll bring them to campus most days. You are their primary trainer, Pinky, and I expect you to continue in your duties. The farm is an easy ten minute walk from Whateley and you’re big enough for a mountain bike or, if your Aunt agrees when you turn 15, I’ll buy you a motor scooter. Your birthday is in June, isn’t it? That gives you all summer to get your license.”

“A motor scooter? Oh, Joanie, thank you!” she squealed with excitement.

“Wait until Ms. Hartford says yes. You have to help train and care for the smilodons, if I’m to buy it for you. If I ever see you riding without a helmet, I’ll take it back.”

“I love them, Joanie; I’d do it for free. I don’t mind a helmet; can I have a riding suit, too? Maybe a hot looking jumpsuit like yours? Thanks, you won’t regret getting me that scooter.”

“I’ll get you all the protective gear for both of your bodies, sure, but it’s not a done deal; Ms. Hartford could say no, Pinky.”

“With you asking my aunt? No worries! Hey everybody! I’m getting a scooter for my birthday.”

Pinky stopped in mid-grin, and frowned for a moment.

“Joanie, this isn’t anything to do with last night? I said it was okay, and I meant it.”

”No, this was in my mind as soon as I realized I wanted that farm. How else would you get out to it? My smilies need their trainer, and when the construction is over I hope you’ll want to visit me often. That goes for all of you; we could have mixed gender sleepovers, if you girls can control your selves. Poor Tom is the only boy. Well, half the time he is,” I said and grinned, Pinky blushed.

“Anyway, the earliest the farm house will be rehabbed is a month or two, conventionally. The barn conversion into my dream home could take all summer or more using conventional methods and materials. I will make extensive use of Whateley people and methods, but it still will take weeks, I suspect. I understand Samantha Everheart built her apartment in Kane Hall in a matter of days, but I don’t know if I can use the same people, and my project is much larger. Plus, I can’t lift 1000 pounds like Sam can,” I explained.

I waited a moment to get everyone attention, and got serious.

“Listen up everyone, this is important. You were all there last night when I did something stupid and unintentionally cruel. In my exuberance over the clues you’d found, I could have hurt Pinky. I know she felt uncomfortable. I want you to understand why she felt uncomfortable and why I was wrong to do what I did,” I said, feeling some lingering shame.

“It was when you hugged and kissed Pinky? Because she’d been abused like Ms. Anna, oh Ghod, it reminded her of her rapes!” Tom exclaimed.

“Nothing gets past you kids; that is exactly it, Tom. I’m not saying to treat our Pinky like some antique china doll, I don’t think she’d like that, but keep it in mind. Since my mutation, I’m a touchy-feely kind of girl, and I forget that not everyone is comfortable with that -- especially someone whose trust has been abused. Despite that, I shouldn’t have grabbed Pinky that way without warning; it was too much like an assault, even if the intent was innocent.

“You must remember, it’s almost like I’m a little kid again. I love hugging and kissing, especially the kissing, so I guess I’m not that little,” I said and giggled. “That’s because I’m a teenager, emotionally as well as physically, so please treat me like one. I may know a lot more than any of you, but I’m more like you than you think. That’s no excuse, just an explanation. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I brought up bad memories in a dear friend. I feel like a fool.”

“I like being hugged, especially by you, Joanie, and I like being close to people I know, but sometimes it weirds me out, because ... you know,” said Pinky.

“That’s why we need to be aware that each of us reacts differently to close, personal contact. We’ve all had our share of traumas recently, some more than others. Each of our mutations and their aftermath has been traumatic. We’ve all had our lives disrupted and have each lost something valuable. Many of us have suffered greatly.

“Tom and Tina were victims of unscrupulous experimenters who later tried to kidnap them, and we still don’t know where their parents are or what happened to them. Pinky was assaulted by someone who was supposed to be aiding her, and now she has been rejected and ignored by her parents. Suzy here is also a victim of these people and their drug, and nearly drowned trying to escape them. I was kidnapped and my hands and legs nearly severed as an experiment. In a later attack I was savagely beaten. It’s natural some things will upset us, especially things that remind us of those bad things in our pasts.”

I could see my friends wince as I described how each of us had been violated but they kept their cool and listened to me closely.

“If any of us are doing something that bothers you, ask and we’ll stop. If one of you sees any of us doing something that one of us objects to, tell us to stop. If you see anyone at all abusing someone, call Security at once. In other words, be considerate of each others feelings. That goes for all of us, agreed?” I said, asking for their assent.

They all agreed, though they looked a bit down.

“Sorry about the grim stuff, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t experiment with relationships and flirting and, well, sex, when you’re ready. You’re teens on the edge of adulthood and that’s your decision, but helping Ms. Anna reminded me of the bad times in our pasts, and I want us to put that behind us. What we need is a fun night. Everyone remind me the next time you see me. We never did have that sleep over at the Andersons, maybe this weekend? If the weather is nice, we can hike over and I’ll give you a tour of my farm, it’s just down the road from Dr. Bellows’ place.

“Tom, no sleep over for you for now; the dangly bits between your legs disqualify you. And no saying that Pinky is part guy and shouldn’t attend either, she's in full girl mode now and looking fine. Even in her hermaphrodite form she’s a complete woman and counts as far more of a girl than you. You get to spend the night hanging with my pals in Security, and several are good looking women -- single women. The athletic lady this morning, Lex, is one,” I told them.

Tom grinned; I didn’t tell him Lex prefers females.

~~If he behaves himself maybe I’ll take him and Suzy on a chaperoned date. The alternative is them sneaking behind my back; between their hormones, and some of the inbred old-timers around Whateley, that could mean a shotgun wedding.~~

* * * *

To my amazement, Cheryl the cashier, was friendly, and called out to me as I was about to leave the Crystal Hall.

“Joanie, may I have a moment of your time, please.”

~~Whoa, polite? Cheryl? Is she on drugs? Am I on drugs? ~~

“What can I do for you, Cheryl?”

“I hear you’re a Playboy model. Can I have a couple autographed copies? I have older brother at NYU; he’s a fan, and thinks you’re sexy. He likes tall women.”

“Gladly, but why a couple copies, Cheryl?”

She motioned for me to come closer.

“I think you’re sexy too,” she whispered then pulled me close, and kissed me on the lips.

I think some tongue action and butt grabbing was involved. My memory is vague as to what precisely she did, but as to how it felt, yes, yes yes!

“I … ah … oh my … but … oh wow … Cheryl?” I sputtered.

Cheryl laughed so hard I thought she’d fall off her stool.

“Got you!” said Cheryl loudly. “I still want those autographed magazines, and you are sexy, Joanie,” she whispered.

I was in shock, but smiling when she hit me with the second barrel.

“I heard on WARS you’re still looking for people for your band. No snickers now, Joanie, but I play the French horn and cornet. I was a first in both the marching band on cornet, and in the orchestra on the horn. I can play alto sax, though not as well. I loved being in band and orchestra back in my old school before my mutation, and I still play daily, for the fun of it. Plus, it pisses off the students in the adjoining dorm rooms,” Cheryl said, then she smirked. “I know this one boy who plays the bagpipes and he isn’t Scottish, he does it to get some time by himself away from his roommate.

“Are you comfortable playing rock and country, Cheryl?” I asked.

“I love old fashioned rock, especially the classic stuff from the fifties and sixties. I may look, and talk, like a tough Jersey ‘goil’, but it’s an act. You owe me a chance for all the teasing,” Cheryl explained.

“Okay, Ms. Spears, you get your try out. You got any sharp outfits you could wear if we have a gig?” I asked.

“I’ve got some cute, sexy outfits; not as sexy as yours, Miss July, but pretty hot,” she replied.

“See you tomorrow at four then, Brittany,” I said.

"I’m not a Brittany Spears type; I consider myself more of a short Fran Dresser. And Joanie, because of those last two remarks, I expect three autographed copies. I have a younger brother as well; he has a couple of your posters up in his room, as I do in mine, Ms. Hot-stuff.”

~~Some people, who knows? ~~

* * * *

I was exiting the Crystal Hall when one of the students from the magic class stopped me.

“Ms. Joanie, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, you’re Lonnie from the magic class yesterday?” I asked.

Lonnie reminded me of a gymnast or dancer the way she moved, and her face revealed a sharp and cheerful mind. She was cute in a girl next door fashion; the girl next door you didn’t dare ask out because she was the head cheerleader at school. I had my suspicions she had a touch of exemplar in her.

Something had bothered me during the magic class. Something was familiar about this *Lonnie* but what? Mystor’s hi-jinx had pushed it out of my mind but now it came back in a rush.

“I remember you; you talked to me shortly before Christmas. You asked if I was thinking of starting an oldies band. No wonder the idea came to me so fast when it did, you’d planted the seed. Please ask your question, Lonnie.”

“Yes, Ms. Joanie. Are you sure you’re not a sorceress, or mage, or something, even a little bit?”

“I’m reasonably sure. Nearly all my powers are due to being a warper. None of them are tied to magic, or so I’m told. Why do you ask, Lonnie?” I asked.

“I can see some ley lines and concentrations of magic, but only those generated by or connecting living creatures. You know what ley lines are?” Lonnie asked.

“There are several explanations, some kind of inter-dimensional energies being one, but essentially they are the real world equivalent of Hollywood’s, The Force. That’s two ways of putting it that I know of,” I said.

“That’s not a bad analogy, Ms. Joanie. There was a residue of a magical force, not touching any part of your body, surrounding you at the start of class. When Mystor transmuted your clothing, part of his magic appeared to get *stuck* to this *shell* surrounding you. The use of magic often leaves behind a residue, but this one is odd. I saw a constantly swirling field of magic around you like a skin. Normally the residue is inactive, static, and faint. The *colors* were odd too, like it was the residue of more than one source of magic that was somehow combining, or evolving. At first I though it was evidence of a magic shield, but you said you don’t have any magic powers, and I don’t see it touching you,” Lonnie said.

“Sorry, Lonnie, I can’t do a decent card trick to save my life, let alone real magic.”

“It’s definitely surrounding you; maybe a little weaker than when you left class yesterday, but not by much. The ‘colors’ I saw have changed too. Maybe the several magics are reacting to each other, and becoming wild magic. You’d better get yourself tested,” she advised.

“Is it dangerous?”

“Wild magic is unpredictable, but usually runs down after a while unless something sustains it. By normal standards, after a day you should only show a trace, but there’s a lot more than a trace of magic around you. Eventually it should dissipate, I hope,” Lonnie said.

“Like a battery losing its charge?” I suggested.

“Kind of, Joanie, but if any thing should overcharge that battery bad things might happen. You might not get hurt, but those around you might. The experts on campus may have a way to drain the magic off you. Or, you’ll love this, Joanie, it’s so kewl, you might be able to do real magic.” Lonnie said and smiled.

“But I’m not a sorceress, I’m warper. How can that be, Lonnie?”

“You don’t have to be of a magical bloodline to do magic. Non-magical types can do magic; it’s just a lot harder, and you need spells, mystical objects and stuff. You say you’re a warper, Joanie; I wonder if your ability to manipulate multiple dimensions is acting as a reservoir, or more accurately, a trap, for any stray magic you encounter. You don’t generate it so much as passively capture it for a while. Over time it leaks out, but it’s there for now. Your own warper power may have made you a passive focus for magic, like a magical black hole, well, more of a neutron star as the energy does slowly leak out,” Lonnie hypothesized.

~~I wonder... great, great whatever Grandpa John is a magic user, is there an inheritable family gift? Does that explain my situation, and is it dangerous? ~~

“Can all this magic you say is surrounding me hurt me or others? Does it matter that a blood relative a few generations back was gifted in the magic arts?” I asked with growing concern.

“I don’t think so, but I’m only a student. Most magic users store their magic internally or in a carefully crafted device. Since yours is external, I don’t see how it could easily hurt you. As to your magical heritage, that can skip generations. If it didn’t show up in testing you probably don’t have it, but who knows? You live in Poe, Joanie; ask Belle, or Nikki, they’re both pretty good with magic,” she suggested.

“Belle, she’s an older student, and Nikki is the girl in the school brochure. I’ve seen her; she has a strange affect on me. When I see her, I feel like I should protect her,” I said.

“That is a glamour like I showed you in class, but mine is for disguise. Her glamour makes her more attractive, and makes people want to please her, and do her bidding. I’ve met Nikki a few times, and she’s real sweet. And she’s very pretty without it; she says the glamour is a nuisance at times. Belle helped with a class once, she manipulates ectoplasm, or something like that. She has a wicked sense of humor, a real trickster,” Lonnie rattled off.

“You seem knowledgeable, who’s the best doctor to see?”

“I suggest Dr. Ophelia Tenent, she’s also called Caduceus. She teaches Principles of Magic and is an honest-to-goodness witch. You’ll like her, Joanie,” said Lonnie holding back the snickers.

“Okay, what’s so funny? No! It wasn’t her class I substituted for, was it?” I asked with embarrassment.

“Yeah, it was, and she’ll have a good laugh over what Mystor did to you, and how you got him back,” Lonnie said with a grin.

“Thanks for the advice, Lonnie. What’s your last name?”

“Darnell,” she said.

“Lonnie Darnell?” I asked in my surprise, and then I laughed uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny, Joanie?”

“Your name sounds like the wife and assistant to a 50s/60s TV magician, Mark Wilson. I used to watch him when I was little. You’re built like her; I bet you are, or used to be, a gymnast or dancer?”

“How’d you guess I take dance and gymnastics?”

“You move so fluidly, with grace and precision beyond your years. I noticed it during your magic demonstration in the class, it may have been a simple demonstration, but you had everyone’s attention with your stage presence. You also showed impressive flexibility and strength as part of your demonstration, very useful for doing big box magic tricks on stage. I’ll talk to the people you recommended, Lonnie, is there anything else you wanted?”

“Joanie, can you use a girl on your cleanup crew? I may be small, but I’m strong for my size, and I’m tough. I’m on a partial scholarship, and I need the money -- Whateley is expensive,” she explained.

“If you promise to work hard, and smart, you have a job. By working smart I mean lifting carefully, being aware of your surroundings and fellow workers, and using all necessary safety equipment such as work gloves, safety shoes, safety glasses, dust masks, hard hats, and so on. I’ll supply the gear if I take you on, and I’ll have someone from Operations demonstrate their proper use. I’ll let you know the work schedule soon; I’m buying the property this afternoon.

“By the way, Lonnie, you don’t play an instrument, or sing, do you?”

“I was hoping you’d ask,” she said and grinned. “I know it sounds silly, with me being a girl and all, but I play the drums. I like the old fashioned mechanical drums best, it’s a great workout. I can play the electronic drum kits too. I was in my older sister’s band before I came here, and I’m taking music as an elective course,” she said.

“A gymnast who plays the drums; I’ll bet you’re good, and look good doing it. Tomorrow at the King Annex at 4PM, my band is having a practice. I’d like you to come, and try out. You’ll be among friends; you already know the lead singer, and electric guitarist.”

I pointed at myself.

“Me, play the drums for you? Ms. Joanie, I couldn’t. You’re a professional singer; I’m a kid, I’m nobody. I just thought you’d be directing the band, I didn’t thing you’d be performing.”

“Lonnie, I’m the amateur here by comparison. I’ve only been at this less than a year, you know, being a girl and all it entails. I didn’t realize I could sing this well until last September. The recording contract was a total fluke, and I first took up the guitar in December.

“You do your best, and you’ll be fine. My friend Pinky sings backing, and some lead, and is learning to play the base guitar. My new friend Suzy can play the keyboards, and sings a little. These twins I know from my home state, I’m hoping to get them to try out, and with one other exception, that’s about it for now.

“I think people are intimidated by me, Lonnie, and they shouldn’t be. If there’s anyone you know who has some talent, encourage them to try out. I need horn and reed players, maybe a jazz, or country fiddler, electric and acoustic bass, all sorts of people. Lonnie, I’m desperate, I’ll consider accordion and bagpipe players, if they’re good. Well, maybe not an accordion player, I have my standards,” I said, and chuckled.

“I’m serious, I’m open to all comers, and I don’t bite, well not hard. And please call me Joanie, except when I’m teaching, Lonnie.”

“I’ll see you at four tomorrow at the King Annex, you won’t regret it. I’m playing drums for a superstar!” She shrieked, hugged me, and then hurried off, as I snickered softly to myself.

~~Poor kid needs to perk up, seems kind of down. ~~

* * * *

I taught an early afternoon session of the same introductory history of mutants in America I took the morning. The students were well behaved, though I caught several ogling my ass. I felt insulted, and elated; insulted that they treated me like a piece of meat, and elated they thought risking detention was worth a good look at my butt. This woman business still confuses me. I know I used to stare at the pretty women; checking out the fertile fillies, I guess. It’s natural, but it’s rude. Now that I’m on the receiving end, I understand why some women get upset by it. The line between sexual harassment and hopeful desire is blurry. I imagine I owe a few ladies apologies for my own past behavior. I was happy to see Jenny Chang, AKA Steel Lotus, in the class. We’d exchanged pleasantries in the halls at Poe ever since my first day on campus, but hadn’t socialized.

“Nice to see you again, Jen; you impressed me in class. I made a note of it for Dr. Kelly.”

“Thanks, Joanie. Um, I was wondering. You’ve had these announcements on WARS that you’re looking for musicians and singers for your pop/country/rock band. Could you use a violinist? I play classical, country fiddle and jazz style.”

“If you’re interested, come tomorrow to the King annex at four; I’m holding a practice and open audition. Except for guitars, I don’t have a string player. If you’re as good a player as you were a student today, I could use you.”

“Thanks, Joanie, you won’t regret it. I sing pretty well too,” she said excitedly and ran off to her next class.

* * * *

The rest of my afternoon was open, so I stopped by Security.

“Is there any progress on the *special* project?" I asked the officer on duty.

“Chief Delarose left you a sealed envelope; sign for it please. The chief said it’s important you read it in private, and within the next few minutes. I’m to inform him I’ve delivered it to you as soon as it’s in your hands.”

I signed, took it, and rushed back to my room. I topped off the smilodons' food and water, and then I opened the securely sealed envelope. It told me to meet him in observatory in the Kane Hall tower one-half hour after my signing for the envelope. Samantha Everheart, and her mysterious Hive, would act as a lookout to ensure we were not overheard. I checked the time and realized I didn't have much to waste. I hurried to freshen up, then sprinted over to Kane Hall where I ran up the stairs two at a time, straight into Samantha’s strong arms. She laughed at our near collision and pointed me up the stairs to the observatory level. I saluted, and walked at a more dignified pace up the last sections of stairs to the top. Chief Delarose pointed to a map table and chairs and I sat down.

“Why all the undercover hush-hush, Chief? You’d think we were FBI agents working undercover in the Mafia,” I said, still excited over all the secrecy.

He called down to Sam to begin jamming any eavesdropping, then he spoke.

“These are dangerous people who enslaved Ms. Anna. They have operatives all over the country, even in New Hampshire. If one of them heard of our discovery before we and the authorities take coordinated action, the consequences for your classmates, or families, could be catastrophic. Joanie, you must remember that some at Whateley work for the *other side*, or *straddle the fence*, so to speak. Whateley is neutral ground for all developing supers. Some in Security provide information on promising mutants who may be less than ethical to those in need of such talents. I know who they are, but to be safe we have the need for secrecy for the moment.

“Anna’s cellular bill and the fragment of a phone bill she rescued from her employer’s trash listed numerous calls to a medical clinic in Mexico that specializes in plastic surgery. The multiple hotel bills on Anna’s cards are all for the same hotel in Mexico and it’s a short walk from the clinic. Various other charges on her cards relate to expenses consistent with multiple *chaperoned* trips to and from the clinic in Mexico and the California photo studio.

“This is where it gets serious, Joanie. The hotel is owned by a series of holding companies, the same holding companies that own the clinic, and the now abandoned photo studio Anna recalls working in. They thought they’d covered their tracks with several layers of dummy corporations between themselves, and the true owners, but your fellow officers, with Ms. Hartford’s help, are making the true connections known. There is still much we do not know, but the *Dragon Lady* promises she’ll have everything there is in a couple of days,” Delarose stated.

“And the Dragon Lady is who?” I asked.

“Ms. Hartford; I’d thought you’d approve, Mrs. Peel.,” Delarose said and smiled.

“Thanks, 007; did you want the Baker Street Irregulars to try again tonight?” I asked in my best upper class British accent.

“Sherlock Holmes is it now? Right, I called you that last night. Sure, we appreciate the help of your friends; you got us a couple good leads, but be careful. One of those frequently called numbers is to a suspected money laundering operation used by the drug trade. Another of the leads your friends found is to an organization suspected of procuring young adults, and even pre-teens, for the prostitution and sex slave markets. I know you’re a tough girl, and intelligent, but these people are ruthless, organized, and suspected murderers. If they can’t get at you, they’ll try to harm your friends, and relatives. They won’t hesitate to hurt innocents if they catch you out in the open.

“When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, let the professionals take the risks, Joanie. You will be a professional someday, likely soon at the rate you’ve been learning, but play it safe. I admire your courage, but if you’re seen too often in a prominent role in these investigations, the bad guys will learn you’re not the blond bimbo they think you are. We’re a campus security department for the same reason there's a police force, or the Marine Corps, or trade unions for that matter; there is greater power and safety in working with others,” Delarose reminded me.

“I won’t do anything unilaterally, Chief; you have my promise. As an extra margin of safety for when they might need it, I intend to have Ms. Cecilia Rogers make bullet resistant clothing for my closest student friends here; that’s the kids who are helping me, and maybe those who join my band. MSG’s members can defend themselves, but I’ll give them a heads up. Likewise with the Williams-Johnson’s; they’re a political family, and know about the risks of kidnapping and assassination. My old family is safe because they are untraceable, MSG did a good job, then Sam and Hive did the rest,” I replied.

“Good, then you understand what’s at stake. Following the leads you gave us may soon require subpoenas, Joanie. Does your senator friend have any college chums, or fraternity brothers, in the law in California? We’ll need them for there soon, and for Mexico, though I know a couple honest police officials in the country. Any help is welcome, and the more discreet, the better,” Delarose asked.

“I’ll give the senator a call; I think he’s sweet on me. I suspect he can get us some good contacts in California; I got my record producer indirectly through a Senate pal of his. Let me know what you need and I’ll pass the word on, and thanks for worrying about my friends and me, Chief,” I said.

* * * *

I was anxious all morning from the anticipation of closing on the farm, or so I preferred to believe. With hindsight, I think Chief Delarose’s concerns worried me more than I let on. That morning I’d called my old bank back in Wisconsin, and arranged a transfer of ample funds into my local bank, more than sufficient to cover the purchase, and any foreseeable construction costs or overruns. They had to be dying to know who the owner of Joanie Enterprises LLC was. It had to be one of the biggest accounts at the institution. This was a way I could help my family financially with out much risk of discovery. Sis got a huge bonus for landing my account; the Senator’s office had assisted my MSG pals in setting it all up, yet keeping my identity secure.

I was walking along, absentmindedly toward the Crystal Hall for the 11 AM lunch when I heard an altercation. Nothing unusual for Whateley, or another school with teenagers, but one of the voices grabbed my attention.

“I will not go out with you. I don’t know you, I’m not interested, and you’re acting like a jerk. “

It was Tina Smith, one of my kids from Wisconsin. I saw an older boy, a junior or senior from the looks and attitude, grab her by the wrist.

“No one turns me down, babe. Let’s go someplace quiet, and I’ll show you what you’re missing.”

“Let go or I’ll cry rape,” Tina said loudly.

“And who will care?” he said sardonically.

“I will care. Let the young lady go. This is your only warning,” I said in a commanding voice.

I think things would have gone smoother if it wasn’t for my voice. The problem is, my commanding voice has been described as an unholy trilogy of Sigourney Weaver, Lucy Lawless and Jenna Jameson. I heard a tape of it once, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to obey this woman or have sex with her. Lex and my fellow officers have been working with me on it, but I’m not sure if it’s getting more authoritative or more erotic. I have my suspicions they prefer it dirty, the perverts.

“Who are you to order me around, bitch?” the young man asked angrily.

“Gees, a real news buff, aren’t we? First, the name is Joanie to my friends, and Ms. Smith here most definitely is my friend. You, on the other hand, will call me Officer Brown, I’m with Whateley Security. I’m also a teacher here. I‘ll ask you one last time to let the woman go, or you will be in violation of the Whateley student code, and will be arrested for breaking New Hampshire law; it’s called sexual assault. I’ll overlook the insulting an Officer of the Law, every one's entitled to their opinion,” I informed the would-be lothario.

I pressed a series of buttons on my cell phone/police radio to summon help.

“We can do this sensibly. You let her go, apologize to Tina and me, and if you attend counseling sessions with the doctors here, your record will be clear. The alternative is to be some bigger man’s girlfriend in jail, your choice,” I advised him.

He was lucky I didn’t have my Tazers, I was pissed at him. I’d long thought abusers of women and children were contemptible, but I was a woman now, and this was a friend. Tina used his indecision to break free, and run toward me.

“No one defies me!” he spat.

He raised a crystal-topped gentleman’s walking cane, like many stage magicians used to carry, and pointed it us while chanting some undecipherable words. The crystal glowed, and he adjusted the cane as if he was aiming it. Tina reached me, and I stepped between the two.

“Time out … oooh ah!” I started to call out and then stopped.

I’d misjudged it, and was caught square in the chest by a blast from his cane before I could time stop him. It didn’t hurt, in fact it felt wonderful. For a moment my eyes locked on his, and I felt calm and so aroused I could hardly stand.

“Come to me my slave ….” he commanded, and then he froze.

“Fuck me now, my master. I burn for your … What the Hell am I saying?” I said as I snapped back in control.

The compulsion to obey faded as fast as it came, along with the intense arousal.

~~Oh well, there’s a downside to everything.~~

I felt strange, and more tired than usual, from my time stop, but I cuffed him, and confiscated his cane. I was reading him his rights as my backup arrived.

“You have the right to remain silent.…” I warned the manacled boy.

“My goddess, I beg you, forgive my transgression. Let me gaze upon your perfection. I must have you; I am your slave, command me,” he swore to me.

“Oh this is lovely,” I said in frustration.

“Have you been flashing your breasts at the boys again, Joanie?” asked one of the single, male officers as he and another officer lifted the cuffed boy to his feet.

After a line like that, I knew why he was single. All the while, the boy stared at me like I was the most precious thing on Earth.

“David Copperfield, Junior here tried to hit my friend Tina, and me, with some sort of combined lust and obedience spell. I confiscated this crystal-topped cane he used to channel his magic through,” I said, and handed the cane to a fellow officer to tag as evidence.

“What have I done to offend you, my divine love?” the strange boy said.

“Love? Buster, you’ve got some imagination, and tell little buster to stop twitching in your pants; it’s embarrassing,” I said, but it was secretly gratifying.

“Let me kiss your ripe, warm lips, let me suckle upon your heavenly orbs, let me lick the nectar from your sacred.…” the love struck boy continued.

“Are you crazy? You keep quiet. In fact, I command you to shut your mouth. One more word and I’ll have you up on sexual harassment charges as well,” I screamed.

I’d seen *woodies* before, this one had to be made of teak. I’d had my share over the years, and his appeared to cause him great distress. Cuffed as he was, he wouldn’t be getting relief soon, somehow that made me feel better.

“You okay, Joanie?” asked a senior officer.

“I’m fine now. The spell he tried on us wore off the moment I time stopped him. I managed to block most of it. Would you be a gentleman, and book him for attempted sexual assault, resisting arrest, and interfering with an officer in the performance of her duties, also assault with a weapon, his magic and this cane. He’s making me miss my lunch, and I need to check on my friend, Tina, here,” I said.

“Sure thing, Joanie; you certain you’re alright?” the senior officer asked again.

I nodded.

“Mister, you’re lucky we don’t take you off and shoot you; no one harms a fellow officer. And no one harms our Joanie,” the same officer said fiercely.

Then the officer gave me a hug.

~~Why a hug, don’t guys shake hands anymore? Of course then he wouldn’t get to feel my breasts pressing into him or … What the hell? You dirty son-of-a-bitch, that’s your hand squeezing my ass! I ought to … Ooh that felt nice. ~~

“I will earn your favor, Goddess Joanie. You will be mine!” the boy said, as security hauled him away.

I turned to check on Tina. She turned toward me and her eyes locked onto mine. I noted she was panting, flushed, and unbuttoning her blouse one-handed. Something strange was going on here; in hindsight, her soft moans, and the other hand moving inside her skirt suggested an explanation. I was too mesmerized by her actions to grasp the obvious answer.

~~My word, she’s so exotic, and sexy. I want her so bad, I … what am I thinking? This must be a lingering side effect of his lust spell. ~~

Tina moved sinuously towards me, her eye’s fixed on mine. They were glazed, and unblinking. By now her blouse was hanging open, and she had unhooked her bra.

“Ah, are you okay, Tina?” I squeaked, noting that she now was essentially braless, and inches from me.

“I’mmm fine, Joanie. He was wrong, you’re mine! What a firm ass you have, love,” Tina growled sensuously.

~~Great, this is just great. ~~

Poor, innocent, Tina was the ass grabber. She wrapped her arms around me, and started groping, and caressing, and kissing, and biting, and trying to undress me, and …

“Oh, that felt fantastic … No! Stop it Tina, behave … mmphgf … your self! This is not you; it’s the lust spell controlling you; fight it girl. Do it for Joanie, I command it,” I said with difficullty.

I hoped the compulsion part of the spell would help her regain control over her lust. I could see the painful struggle displayed on her face. Suddenly it was like a switch was thrown; her eyes lost that glassy lustful look, and she started crying.

“Joanie, I’m … ssso ssorry, I ccouldn’t!” she sobbed.

She backed away from me, but I caught her, held her tight to me, and gently patted her back. I worked to comfort her, while I awkwardly attempted to close her wide-open blouse.

“It’s okay Tina, you did nothing wrong; that was powerful magic he used on us. When he got the jump on me, for a moment I was the worshiping the sexiest man on earth, and I had to obey him, the pimple faced git,” I snickered, and Tina laughed.

“Okay, he isn’t that bad looking, but at least you can laugh about it. I mistimed his attack, I tried to time stop him, but part of it got through, and it affected both of us. The moment I froze him, his power over me ceased,” I explained.

Tina was relaxing, and the crying nearly stopped apart from an occasional sniffle. I helped her close up her blouse after she carefully fastened her bra.

“I wonder if your inverter power kicked in, Tina. Some of his magic must have got to you, and you sent it back with me in the way. That had to play havoc with his spell. When I first saw you afterwards for a moment you were looking mighty sexy, Tina,” I said and smiled.

“I couldn’t stop myself, and what’s worse, it felt so good! I feel dirty and violated,” Tina said with shame.

“I understand, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. For a moment you were under the influence of his magic, you were not responsible for your actions. You’re a teenager, and dealing with your maturing body and emerging sexuality. You’re struggling with being away from home, your forced mutation, and the disappearance of your parents. Don’t cry, dear, we’ll find them and make those who took them pay dearly. This magical attack came on top of all that baggage; no wonder you feel so bad. The thing is we stopped him in time; you didn’t give in, and let's face it, I am drop-dead gorgeous. You couldn’t help it,” I said and made a sexy model's pose.

Tina began laughing and giggling so hard she had to lie down. I broke up, got dizzy, and sat down too.

“Joanie, you are so crazy! I love you, girl.”

* * * *

I walked her to medical to be checked out; we walked slowly to minimize the ogling. Okay, we walked slowly to show off. We’d attracted a sizable crowd, mostly boys. What surprised me, and made me happy yet slightly jealous, was they were looking at Tina most appreciatively. Tina may not be a fashion model, but she’s pleasant to look at, and is developing a nice figure. Dr. Pollard saw us first, then a half an hour or so later, Dr. Tenent. It made sense as she is one of Whateley’s experts on magic.

“Except for a bruise on your wrist where he grabbed you you’re fine. If you wish, Tina, I can refer you to one of our counselor; that attempted assault could be traumatic. There’s nothing wrong in seeking expert help,” said Dr. Tenent.

“I recommend it, Tina, I never was much for psychiatric help, but after my campus assault, talking with Dr Bellows helped me regain my sense of self worth. Consciously I was fine, but subconsciously I was a wreck. You may find you don’t need it, but there is no harm in trying. Security teaches a great self-defense course for women, I’ve taken it myself, and it helps you to know what to do when attacked, and better yet, how to avoid one. The way the boys were admiring you earlier, you could use it. Want me to sign you up, Tina?” I offered.

Tina agreed, and as we were about to leave Dr. Tenent asked me to stay a while.

“I’ll try and catch up with you at lunch, Tina, what’s left of it. What can I do for you, Dr. Tenent?” I asked.

“Ophelia, please, Joanie; don’t be so formal. Thanks for filling in for me the other day. I don’t think any of the students will forget that class, ever. I know, because I was there,” Dr. Tenent said.

“Huh?” I gasped.

“I wasn’t at my doctor, or a seminar, or visiting a sick mother, I wanted a chance to observe my students surreptitiously. I was the mousy brunette who remotely lit some candles,” she said and smiled.

“They never told me why I was there, I was simply told to fill in. I talked with this sorceress I know in Wisconsin, and she said to be honest with the kids,” I said.

“They’d spot a phony in minutes, and I must say you were a good sport about it. Are you sure you don’t have a bit if the Fey in your background? Your hair, skin, and general build reminded me of them, except for the ears and eyes. Those copper eyes are a puzzle. Did your doctors tell you why they’re that way?” Ophelia asked.

“They said it was something to do with enhanced night vision, somewhat like a cat, though not quite as good. Why did you want to see me? I’m not being rude, but I’m missing lunch,” I replied.

“Lonnie Darnell told me earlier she’d seen a shell of magic surrounding you, and she’s right. You’re lit up like a Christmas tree, Joanie.”

“I got clipped by a lust/obedience spell a short while ago, as you know. I time stopped the boy, and that stopped his attack, then I got hit again by Tina’s inversion of his attack on us -- lucky me, two for the price of one. Are my friends, or I, at any risk from this magic?” I asked.

“That’s a good question, and I haven’t the foggiest,” she replied.

“What?” I exclaimed, surprised by her answer.

“You're probably fine; I can’t sense anything malevolent in the magic around you. I’d like to see you regularly for a while, perhaps once or twice a day for a few days, so we can track the changes in nature and strength of the magic. I agree with Lonnie, it’s likely to dissipate over time. The question is, how long? You are retaining the magic far longer than normal, and without it appearing to affect you, most strange,” she stated.

“Can I do anything useful with it, or can you drain it off?”

“More great questions, Joanie, for which the answers are maybe, and possibly. We won’t know until we try. I’d like to schedule you for a proper magic evaluation soon, I’ll check with Administration to set up the time. A word of caution, to those not well trained in magic, you will appear to be a fairly high level sorceress from the intensity of the magical field surrounding you. Some may wish to steal that magic, they could do you harm in the attempt,” Ophelia warned me.

“From a magical attack?” I asked, concerned.

“No, from trying to kill you to steal the magic, that’s one of the traditional ways for the less skillful to do it,” she answered.

“I’m not so easy to kill,” I said.

“That’s what’s so bad, you’d survive, but the pain of the experience could snap your sanity.”

“Gee, how cheerful; thanks, Dr. Tenent. Okay if I heave my guts now, or should I wait until after lunch?” I said in mock disgust.

“Kids!” she said, throwing her hands in the air in a comic gesture of protest. “I’ll set up an appointment schedule. I’ll only need to see you for a few minutes so it won’t be a problem.”.

“I’m curious about this too, Ophelia. My doctors in Madison never detected any sign of magical abilities, and now you and Lonnie say I may get them through the back door, as it were. I didn’t learn of it until after I was a Whateley, but I have a great, great Grandfather who is a magic user. Is that of any significance?”

“We’ll see, Joanie. Since you’re so curious, I’ve been called in to consult on the boy who attacked you. That’s why I wanted to see you; the lust/compulsion spell isn’t wearing off normally. It should have dissipated significantly by now, but it’s persisting. He may have to be confined for several days before he’s back to normal. Somehow the interaction between your warper body, Tina’s inverter gift, and your time stop amplified the spell such that if you asked him to cut his hand off to prove his love, he’d do it happily. Fortunately, any mention that his actions displease you gains his immediate obedience. We’ll go into all this in more detail later, dear.

"Joanie, did you say your great great grand father *is* a magic user? Your ancestor is still alive?”

“I met him this winter, I’m named for him. John claims to be 383 years old. He says his magic has kept him young. Everything he’s communicated to me inclines me to believe his story,” I said.

“It could be significant; it could be nothing. We’ll talk about it another time. In the meantime, get something to eat, you look scrawny,” she said in a motherly tone.

I laughed and walked off.

* * * *

It was too late to eat with my friends, so I grabbed a couple sandwiches to go, ran back to Poe to change clothes, and got on my Harley for the trip to Dunwich. I parked outside of Tessa’s home, stripped off my riding suit, and walked into her office. The crop top, with low-rider Capri’s combo was daring, but it was a comfortable under the riding suit, and I thought Tessa deserved a free floor show.

“You wore that for me, Joanie?” asked Tessa.

I nodded.

“I’m not lowering the price, but thanks anyway, though, I think you’ve earned a free meal,” she said warmly.

Tessa was cheerful and friendly, all the documents were ready, and exactly as I expected. In fact she was almost too nice to me, and I began to feel uneasy about it.

~~Maybe I'm paranoid, but Tessa is acting too eager to close the deal.~~

“It’s not that I mind, Tessa, but why the VIP treatment? I’m Joanie from Whateley Academy, not some Hollywood star. I am somewhat famous, but why all the attention?” I asked.

“I like you, Joanie, and to be honest, this property was hard to sell. It’s too remote for most vacationers and a farm this small isn’t what today’s farmers want. The proximity to Whateley scared off some buyers, I think. I heard rumors a group of hunting buddies nearly bought it, shortly before the owner asked me to sell it. The moment Whateley was mentioned, they backed out.

“I’m earning a larger than normal commission on the sale because the property sat on the market for several years. It was listed by several major national real estate firms with nary a nibble in all that time. I’m making a nice chunk of change with my commission, and I get to rub it in their corporate noses that I sold the place they couldn’t. That I got to meet you was a special treat; do you want to go to lunch to sign the papers? We’ll need this witnessed and notarized. Well, technically we don’t, but I want to show off. Let’s walk to the café down the street,” Tessa suggested.

“I’d like to, but I brought along some sandwiches, I haven’t eaten lunch yet,” I informed her.

“I’ll put them in my ‘fridge for you for later. They serve a great lunch at any hour of the day, and quickly.”

We put my sandwiches away and we walked to a cozy bistro. It had some faux features to lure the tourists but was primarily a place the locals frequented. It reminded me of the Crystal Café back in Iola, Wisconsin. I could tell Tessa was a regular patron; the waitress greeted her by name as we sat down at a small table.

“Tessa, dear, it’s lovely to see you. Your usual today or we do have a great special, Atlantic salmon. It’s poached, and served with a wine sauce and a fresh spring greens salad. The ‘fresh spring greens’ means we didn’t use any cheap iceberg lettuce. It’s very good, you’ll like it Tessa.”

“The special sounds great, Jenny, and instead of coffee could we have one of those German white wines you’ve been hoarding? We‘d like to celebrate; my lovely dining companion here bought the Hennessey place.”

“Congratulations and who is the new owner of… you look familiar, no! Tessa, do you know who’s buying that farm from you?”

“Yes I do, Jenny, and it’s perfect for her; she’s a teacher at the academy.”

“It’s nice to see you putting down roots here, Joanie. It makes sense, your teaching at Whateley Academy, it’s one of the best places there is for a mutant to work. I’ve met a few of the staff; they’re strange people, but they’re good people for the most part. I suppose you’re teaching history,” Jenny joked.

“How did you know I’m a history instructor?” I asked.

“You teach history, Joanie? I’d thought you’d teach … what I mean is … well you are a famous singer.”

“I teach music, and I’m organizing a band, but I really do teach history, and I substitute in other subjects. I’m an auxiliary security officer too, not that I have the stereotypical look of a police officer. I’d like to have a family some day, and this is a much more stable career than music. That’s my hobby.”

“A hobby? The woman’s burning up the charts, and she calls it a hobby. I should have such a hobby,” Jenny said in a decent Yiddish accent.

We had a nice meal and shared our wine with the other café patrons. Tessa and I signed the contract, and we got it notarized on the spot. Jenny was a notary in addition to a waitress.

~~Looks like I’m not the only woman around here wearing more than one hat. ~~

It was nearly dark before I left for Whateley. I arrived in Poe Hall the proud owner of a farm -- my farm. My nearly forgotten sandwiches made for a nice, light supper before I went to bed.

~~Damn, I haven’t asked Eric what he thinks. I do hope he likes the idea. ~~

* * * *

To be continued

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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 10

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Our heroine makes plans for a future trip to the past. She meets with her magazine publisher, Mr. Hefner, and sees the harm May Lee's sister Anna endured at the hands of her tormentors. Joanie gets in contact with PBS, who go all NOVA on her. She tells a bad Bill and Ted joke. The clever minx wants to get on This Old House -- part of the hide-in-plain-sight plan. Oh, She also buys a truck, a piece of cake, right? Poor Mr. Ford.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. 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, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with home renovation and buying a truck, and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Prose primping by Itinerant
Proofing perfected by Janet Nolan

Chapter 10- Origins 1, The New New Avengers 4, Mommy Dearest 1, 4X4- Does That, Ah, Mean My IQ’s Like, 16?, Home Improvement 4

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Washington DC, April 19, 2007

April 19, 2007

I met with Mr. Lodgeman early Thursday morning, and we agreed to eight AM Friday, the 20th for the ‘research trip’ Operations requested. The planned routes were marked in Diggers Hot Line flags, and spray paint, which made it easy for us to pick our vantage points for the ‘trip.’ The roof of Administration was one point, as were the roofs of Poe and Emerson Halls. These provided excellent views of campus, and of the several mystical trouble spots that concerned the Princes of Plumbing, Stan and Morrie. In the short time I’d known them I’d come to love their odd humor, and workman’s common sense. They loved working at Whateley, and took their jobs seriously. If they didn’t, they could soon wind up dead, or worse. At Whateley, that’s not merely a figure of speech, but a serious possibility.

There are things deep under Whateley that defy description, and should best remain deep under Whateley. If we uncovered anything truly dangerous, the staff magic experts, with assistance from Sara Waite and Nikki Reilly, would handle the problem. I was leery of students being involved, but Nikki is hardly an amateur when it comes to magic, or the other realms. I understand her mutation is such that her DNA’s not human anymore. Sara Waite may look like a teen, but is in her mid-twenties; as a half demon she is quite capable of taking care of herself. I still worry though; she’s been like this less than a year, less time than I’ve been a girl. I’d hate for something bad to happen to her; I’d lose those remarkable dreams I have of her and… I’d miss her. I remain pleasantly surprised Whateley trusts me for this work, but one of the mages said it best.

“We can divine, conjure, and remote view all day and night, but it’s your ability to observe the moment the magic was used that makes our plans for dealing with it so much better. Your being an outside observer, in that you’re not a magic user, gives us insights we might otherwise miss. There is always the risk that those originally using the magic would detect our presence if we traveled with you. Charlie’s been around long enough he knows how to conceal his powers, and you're so odd they wouldn’t believe you're there, even if they detected you, Joanie. You could stand there naked, and they wouldn’t notice you; well, they’d notice you, but they wouldn’t complain.”

I snickered at his joke.

“Your looks work to our advantage; even if spotted, most would assume you’re there to visit a boyfriend. They see the gorgeous girl and dismiss you as harmless. Joanie, you and Charlie make a good team; seeing how well you work with him tells me you would have fit in the Mystic Six quite well. With you added to the mix, they would have had to rename it the Mystic Seven, which doesn’t sound as cool.”

A particularly troublesome spot was a small clearing in a grove, or copse, of trees near Emerson Hall. An auxiliary transformer vault/superconductor storage cell for that section of campus was to be buried there for esthetic and engineering reasons. Powerful and surprisingly recent magic permeated the area, and Operations needed to know the source. I’d reviewed the security logs for the times in question, but no mention of any incident was recorded. Nothing of note was visible in the sensor or CCTV tapes either. I’d considered asking Chief Delarose about this, but he’d been so helpful with Anna’s investigation and with Pinky’s earlier, I didn’t feel like bothering him. The mages who scanned the site felt it was the remnants of the magic equivalent of an explosion, possibly more than one, but it was confusing and difficult to read. With a good date and time for the event that caused it, we should get to the source of the problem.

I had a class that morning at nine, but was called into Administration instead. Ms Hartford was at her desk, efficient and imperious as ever, but she did treat me with respect.

“Joanie, Ms Carson will see you immediately, and says you’re excused from all other activities for the day.”

“Sounds important, can I have a clue, Ms Hartford?”

“That’s, 'may I have a clue, Ms Hartford?', and no, you may not, Ms Brown. You’ll find out soon enough.” she said, and I swore she stifled a laugh.

I walked into Ms Carson’s office, and was immediately pounced on by a familiar oriental college girl, May Lee. May gave me a brief hug, too brief as it felt wonderful, then she flashed me an electric smile when we broke. Then Ms Carson came up and gave me a motherly hug, in part to conceal her whispering to me.

“Don’t be alarmed at Anna’s appearance. I’ve spoken with her, and she is every bit the smart, sweet girl we were led to believe. I’ve told medical to cooperate, so anything she needs that we can do, she gets. Your only duty is to help Anna, Joanie, for as long as you’re needed,” Ms Carson whispered.

“Joanie, it’s great to see you. These persons are two of Playboy's senior editors, plus Mr. Hefner whom you’ve met, and this is my dear sister, Anna,” said May Lee.

I turned and smiled at her younger sister. I knew what to expect, but was horrified at her appearance. The criminals who had drugged her, and manipulated her into doing ultra hardcore pornography had done a number on her face and body. I could feel the disgust, and indignation, rising within me. I held it together, and gave her a warm hug.

“I’m so happy you could come; I promise we’ll do our best to make you feel comfortable,” I said.

I was about to say more, but stopped when Mr. Hefner motioned to me.

“Before we review your photos and interviews, I must say they surprised me. I’d anticipated something special, but you exceeded our expectations in all respects, Joanie. The cameras loved you, and your interviews were interesting and amusing, though I realize you had to withhold some information to protect friends and family. I am confident that this will be our best issue in years, and it’s all due to you, my dear.”

“This worshiping the strawberry blond goddess is beginning to wear thin, with all due respect, Mr. Hefner. It’s not that I mind some praise now and then, but this much makes me uncomfortable. I’d like to take Anna and May Lee someplace private so we can talk, that’s unless we’re needed here. As to any editorial decisions that are needed, I trust Ms Carson to protect my interests. She knows better than I do what’s safe to reveal and what’s not. Is there anything I haven’t covered, or may we go now?” I asked then smiled. “Do me a favor, and ease up on stroking my ego; my head's big enough as it is,” I said, then snickered.

“Of course, Joanie. I do like to ‘pump up’ our models; a happy model makes for better photos, but I was honest. Yours are the most outstanding pictures I’ve seen since a certain woman graced our publication some four decades ago. We’re already getting inquiries from TV and film producers. I’ve passed copies of the interviews, and photo shoots, on to several of the most reputable people I know and trust, and you may be hearing from them,” replied Mr. Hefner.

“You think I should be an actress? I’ve only been a girl less than a year, and I look like Little Annie Fannie,” I protested, and stuck a resolute pose.

Mr. Hefner laughed, and then I saw myself in a mirror on Ms Carson’s wall. I stared back at the image; I may have thought I looked resolute, what I saw looking back at me was this confident, sexually desirable woman; she was magnificent. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone as desirable as this exquisite creature. Then I giggled and the spell was broken -- a laughing, happy teenager was grinning back at me. I got silly, and thrust my chest out; I turned while looking at my reflection.

“My Ghod, I’d meant that as a joke, but I could be any of them, from cartoon pinup fantasies like Daisy Yokum of Little Abner, to real actresses in their prime like Sophia Loren in Houseboat. Hell, l could be an Austin Powers fembot with these weapons,” I said as I pointed my chest at the mirror like they were twin guns.

I kept making different faces, and expressions, in the mirror, and it dawned on me, I looked every bit as good as the actresses I’d lusted after as a teen. Damn, I was better looking than most of them, and that was without expert makeup artists and lighting. I turned to face Mr. Hefner.

“You’re serious about this?” I said placing my hands on my hips unconsciously.

“That’s proof enough. You’re absolutely convincing as a woman, it’s as if you never were a male. I’m not saying you come off as some girly-girl type. My talk with you, and the interviews, showed a strong willed young woman, confident in herself, and joyously embracing her new life. Most of the professional interview required little editing, you came off so smooth and polished. I’ve listened to the recordings of the Prairie Home Companion broadcast you were on, and you were flawless with everything, not just the singing. I called them, and they confirm you went on the air with no rehearsal, and had to read your scripts cold. It would take little effort on your part to be a fine actress, and you have something no young actress has, nearly fifty years of life experience.” He said convincingly.

“I’ll consider it, but for now let’s say I’m doubtful, if you will excuse me.”

~~Me an actress? When pigs fly, but it’s a nice dream. ~~

* * * *

The editors, Mr. Hefner, and Ms Carson left for a conference room while I escorted the girls to my dorm. We spoke as we walked.

“Be honest with me May Lee, was he on the level?” I asked.

“He’s been raving about you for days, Joanie. I talked with some of his longtime staff, and they say he hasn’t been this excited over a new model in years. I saw some of the photos, and you’re glowing in them. The combination of teenage innocence and sensuality is mesmerizing. How did you do it?” May asked.

“It was my cycle. I was days from my period, and my libido was through the roof. I wasn’t glowing, I was in heat, meower!” I said, and then snickered.

The sisters laughed, and smiled, and I could see Anna relax. We entered my room

“I’d have taken you to a room in campus security, I’m an auxiliary officer, but I felt you’d be more comfortable here.”

“You live in a linen storeroom?” Anna asked incredulously, as she’d seen the plaque on my door.

“A converted linen storeroom, with my two roomies. George, Gracie, meet the nice ladies,” I said, and the smilodons walked over, and sniffed the ladies cautiously.

They quickly recognized May Lee, and rubbed happily against her long legs. Anna opened up at the sight of my kitties.

“May, you weren’t lying when you said she had a pair of sabertooths; living smilodons! How did you get them, Joanie? They’ve been extinct since the end of the last ice age! I know this, I was planning to be a biology major before …”

Anna fought to hold back her tears. I could see what May Lee meant; Anna was an exquisite beauty despite the piercing scars, tattoos, and ludicrous breast implants. Her spirit was my biggest concern; I could see the stress in her face and eyes. She had a haunted, distant look not unlike that of those pictures of POWs, and concentration camp survivors as the end of WWII. Here was a woman whose youth, beauty, and dreams were stolen from her. I’d had youth, beauty, and the opportunity to live out any dream I wished handed to me on an orichalchum platter. It didn’t seem fair. A part of my mind was getting very angry.

“You’ll get back to college, Anna. If not in the California system, then Wisconsin and Iowa have great public Universities. It might be good for your peace of mind to stay away from southern California for a while, and it would be a chance to start over fresh. I have friends in both states that can help -- good friends you can trust -- and I will help, pretty lady,” I said.

She started to cry, and turn away. I gently touched her, and turned her back to face us. She turned away as soon as I let her go.

“I mean it, Anna. I have contacts in Madison through the University Hospital, and the local mutant group, MSG. In Des Moines, I’m friends with the Governor’s family. I also work part-time for a major charitable organization, The Meridian Foundation; I’m sure they’d help. Don’t let your appearance make you turn away, Anna. Please let me see you, let me see what they did to you. Don’t be ashamed of what you are; you were cruelly deceived, and it is not your fault.”

Her sister nodded her agreement, and Anna disrobed to her bra and panties. I could see several large tattoos on her back, and when she turned to face us, I could see how out of proportion and unnatural her breasts appeared. Her waist seemed unnaturally small and long; I suspected that they had shortened or removed some of her ribs. When she took off the rest, I was not prepared for the prominent scars, discoloration, and uneven appearance of her breasts, or the garish dragon tattoo circling one of them. They did not hang naturally, and the nipples were not in the normal place. The signs of healing piercings in ‘other places’ I will not describe in detail, other than it disgusted me. Anna was being brave, but tears ran down her face. I noticed that only some of her makeup ran.

~~Shit, I think they gave her permanent makeup. Thank Ghod it’s not too garish, but still. ~~

“I’m not a fan of piercings, or tattoos, though to each his or her own. I was squeamish getting my ears pierced, and only one per ear, thank you very much. If someone truly wants it, fine, it’s their body; who am I to judge? To use drugs and brainwashing to manipulate someone to agree to mutilate themselves.... I’m so sorry for you, Anna. I’ll help you to get your body put right somehow; those sick people won’t win. You can get dressed, and I’ll take you to Medical for an evaluation,” I said as I fought to keep my outrage in check.

Anna looked apprehensive; May gave her hand a squeeze.

“Don’t worry, these doctors are the best. They deal with a variety of medical needs no normal hospital ever deals with, and I trust them. They will do their best for you as they did for me after a vicious beating I took some time back. I have nothing but respect for them, and Dr. Polland’s one sexy ex-Australian,” I said and blushed.

I think some other signs of arousal made themselves obvious because next May asked, “Joanie, are you and the doctor, um?”

“No, I react to good looking men. I mean that I react to handsome men BIG time; it’s embarrassing, but fun. I think I’ve single handily boosted the Whateley store’s profits from all the panty-liners I buy. You ladies must remember that physically I’m a 17 year old girl, with all the privileges and hormones, that go with it. My 48 plus years of male memories don’t always help matters. If the old me was here, he’d have a painfully stiff one by now; you’re still a desirable woman, Anna. Damn, I think I need to change this liner, I’m so aroused. When you’re back in fighting trim girl, I shudder to think what might happen.”

Anna blushed, and gave me a gentle peek on the cheek in thanks. I stopped by the girl’s bathroom to change my liner, and we chatted about Whateley in general on our walk to Medical.

* * * *

“We’ll do our best to help you, Anna. Ms. Carson said to treat you like family, and we will. We like a challenge, and this is a great opportunity to apply some new techniques we’ve developed. Don’t worry, you’re no guinea pig. All you need to do is answer any question we ask you as completely, and truthfully, as you can, and help us get you well. Did you bring the photos from just before all this happened, and your college entrance physical exam records?” inquired Dr. Polland.

May Lee handed the doctors several packets.

“These will be invaluable in restoring your appearance. Also your measurements and clothing sizes from before are useful too. Security is tracking down copies from your last to your earliest known porn shoots and films, not only as evidence, but as an additional guide to your appearance before and between the surgeries, drugs, and tattoos. This, and our exams, will determine how we can best treat you to restore your original appearance. It’s often easiest, and best, to work backwards in undoing unwanted cosmetic surgeries,” Dr. Pollard continued.

“Don’t either of you worry about the expense, the school can write off some as a charitable act. Any expenses not covered by that, a lovely young woman has agreed to take care of. That includes all costs of your sister staying with you, doesn’t it, Joanie,” said Dr. Poland smirking.

“You’re paying for me -- for both of us? May said that Playboy is paying you over two million, and you’re giving it all to the school,” Anna almost shrieked.

“It’s not that much; I have loads of income; my singing has proved most profitable. How I can stand idly by when I can help in some way? My friends in Security and outside of Whateley are assisting in investigating the people that hurt you. I promise we will get justice for you, and others they must have harmed. I’m sorry if I sounded pompous there, Anna; it’s just people like that infuriate me. Did you want May Lee or me to stay with you during your tests? Ms. Carson said I was yours as long as I was needed,” I said in a soft voice.

“No, you can go, Joanie, my sister will be fine. I promise I’ll pay you back for your kindness,” Anna replied and came close to me.

“I don’t know if you like girls, but they taught me how to please a woman. You’re so beautiful; if you don’t want money, would you take me instead?” Anna whispered seductively, but I could sense the conflict in her offer.

“Dear woman, if you could make that offer freely I’d treasure it, but that’s the programming affecting your thinking. You have no need to be embarrassed by it. If at the end of everything, you honestly desire me, I’d be flattered. Not everyone is a slime ball like those people who betrayed you. It will take a while for you to learn to trust again, and when that day comes, I will rejoice.

“Help someone else in the future; that will be payment enough. That sounds like a line out of an old Hollywood tearjerker, doesn’t it? Let’s say I can help, so I’m helping and leave it at that, Anna,” I said, and smiled.

“I still can’t get over I’m on a first name basis with you. May Lee’s helping me to catch up on everything I missed when they were controlling me; I was out of it most of the time from the drugs, and other… I don’t know how you do it girl, um Joanie … oh, you know,” said Anna.

“I don’t know either, Anna. It’s been a crazy nine months. If you think all that’s in the press is crazy, I’ll let you in on a secret, I have a boyfriend, and he’s a hunk. Promise you won’t tell anyone,” I said with a giggle, and a pout.

“If you can go from a middle-aged guy to a happy, husband-hunting girl in nine months, I can fight to be me again. I don’t have near as far to go. My sister was right about you, Joanie. You are the prettiest, and nicest, young woman. May says a girl you saved goes to school here, can I meet her?” Anna asked.

"Sure, I eat with Suzy every day, usually at breakfast and dinner, sometimes lunch. May Lee knows my favorite table in the Crystal Hall, if you break in time for the 11 AM lunch period, stop on by. If you need me, Whateley security can page me day and night; I carry a special cell phone/radio. You can also reach me through my friend Pinky; May Lee, you met her at the Crystal hall along with my other school friends. Pinky can almost always track me down, she’s like my little sister. Excuse me; I need to make some phone calls," I said before leaving them.

* * * *

“United States Senator Joseph Williams of Iowa’s office. How may I help you?” asked the telephone receptionist.

“How do you say that in one breath? I’m impressed,” I asked.

“It takes practice,” she said, and chuckled softly.

“May I speak with the Senator? Tell him it’s Joanie from Whateley.”

“Joanie, the Senator left word with all his staff that if a young woman called and mentioned Whateley to put her through immediately, no questions. He’s in conference, but I’ll get him. Before I do, Ms. Brown, I must thank you for saving his granddaughter. I don’t know how he’d have taken it if she’d died, and I’ve worked for him nearly twenty years; my mom and his late wife were friends. I do know he holds you as dear to his heart as his own daughter. Did you know he has a framed press photo of you holding his granddaughter tight as you’re running out from in front of that truck? It’s on his desk next to a photo of his late wife holding their newborn baby. The man has nominated you for a Carnegie Hero award, dear lady. Hold on … Senator, its Whateley,” she called out.

“Joanie how pleasant to hear from you, how may I help you?” asked Senator Joe warmly.

I heard the love in his voice, and felt my arousal returning. I snapped my legs tight together, fought back the urge to play with myself, and spoke.

“You think I only call for help? Well I do, sorry. I’m not interrupting anything important am I, Senator Joe?” I apologized and giggled slightly.

“It’s the party chairman, and the President Pro tempore; they can wait,” Joe replied.

“I need a couple favors. I need to call Judge Juday for some legal advice regarding Ms. Pinky Connors,” I said.

“You’re a softy, Joanie. You’re thinking her Mom has repudiated her daughter, and her father’s too busy traveling around, and trolling for women. Pinky needs a mother, and you’re volunteering,” he said.

“I wish it were otherwise, but the more I think on it the more it seems the best course of action. I intend to try to broker a reunion between her Mom and her, but I doubt I’ll succeed. I need a fall-back position. Pinky made her Mom look a fool, or worse, in the eyes of the court. That, combined with her Mom’s anti-mutant beliefs, makes the task difficult. She’s a wonderful child at a vulnerable age; she needs stability,” I replied.

“As to how stable your mind is, Joanie, I have my doubts,” he said with a chuckle, “but as to your compassion, I have none. To do this properly you’ll need witnesses, and will have to stop by Judge Juday’s chambers first, but it can be done, Mommy. That’s the first favor; what’s the other?” asked Joe.

“Do you have any reliable contacts in California’s justice system, or in Northern Mexico? I may need subpoenas for a case I’m assisting.”

“I have several trustworthy friends, Mrs. Peel,” he said, and laughed.

“Not you, too, Senator Joe? You fancy you're John Steed?”

“I may be sixty, but I still enjoy looking at a lovely woman. I spoke with my daughter the other day, and Joanie, may I have, um.…”

“An autographed copy of the July Playboy? I’m beginning to regret posing. Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Speaking of women you’d like to see naked, how are you and Dr. Sara getting on?” I asked.

“We, well, I …”

“You haven’t yet? You’re both fools. She’s brilliant, attractive, funny, has a mutant’s constitution, is nearly your age but is still a fertile woman, and she makes a great living. You must have impossible standards if she’s not good enough for you. What are you waiting for, mister? Next Senate recess, you fly out to Madison, and romance her. Better yet, you give her a damn good screwing. I want to hear her screams of joy, and that’s an order, soldier!” I said, and I giggled.

“My Ghod, did I just order you to have sex? I’m serious Joe, you’re a good man, she’s one of the finest women I know, and you both deserve someone like each other. Ask her out before it’s too late. She thinks you're handsome, charming, and a hopeless romantic for having not remarried after your young wife’s death. You’ve mourned long enough. Please ask her out, for me?” I said.

So I was laying it on thick. Though Sara hadn’t said all that, she’d implied much of it. They made a good match, and it felt right, somehow.

“I’ll let you know about what subpoenas I need and when. I need your most trustworthy contacts; the people we’re after are reputed drug money launderers, child sex slavers, and murderers. Discretion is everything.”

“I will do my best, Joanie. I think Dr. Sara is a lovely woman, too. Don’t forget the magazine.”

“I won’t, you pervert. Don’t you forget our Doctor Sara.”

* * * *

I had lunch with my friends; unfortunately Anna’s tests were more involved than I thought, so introductions would have to wait. I stopped by Administration after lunch to talk with Ms Carson. Tina let me in as Ms. Hartford was on break. Tina led me to a conference room where the editors, plus Mr. Hefner, and Ms. Carson were busy sorting through photos.

“Joanie, are you here to review your photos?” Mr. Hefner asked.

"No, as I said earlier, I’m sure anything Ms. Carson agrees to is in good taste, and protects the other students and staff. I wonder if any of you have contacts in public television. I was hoping the This Old House folks would be interested in my project.”

“You’re building a home near Whateley, Joanie?” asked Mr. Hefner.

“I’m moving in for the long haul, my linen closet is hardly suitable to raise a family in,” I said.

“Wouldn’t showing it on TV be contrary to your intention to remain anonymous here?” asked Ms. Carson,

“This is part of ‘a good offense is often the best defense’, or however the old saw goes. Word of my residence here will eventually get out, as will the fact I’m at Whateley. The trick is to control what gets out, and when, and thus confuse the enemy. I won’t be lying so much as letting the bad guys imaginations get the better of them. If they see how well my home is protected from intruders and attack, most threats will be scared off. The few stupid and persistent enough to locate me will have faulty reconnaissance to rely on. I will have numerous, nasty surprises waiting for them, I assure you. I care little for my property, but for my friends I will spare no expense,” I said with deliberation.

“Joanie, it can’t be anything intended to kill, or maim,” said Ms. Carson in a serious tone of voice, and looking worried.

“You mean lethal electric fences, claymore mines, and automated machine gun nests are not legal here? They let you have them in Texas. Does this mean the zoning board won’t let me put in the tank traps, how petty,” I said, and snickered.

Ms. Carson relaxed, and so did her guests.

“Joanie has a wicked sense of humor, and she uses it to fool people into underestimating her. I see the validity of your plan, dear, providing they don’t give any clues to your whereabouts, or that of Whateley, I approve of the TV appearance. I’m sure Mr. Hefner could provide you a PBS contact, but I can do that one better. I know the producer of a NOVA special on mutants, a multipart series intend to kick off the fall 2007 TV season. I’ve been interviewed for it as have several others you know, Dr. Sara of Madison, and Dr. Otto of ARC being among them. They wanted you too, Joanie,” she said.

“They wanted me? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.

“You were extremely busy at the time; they called the day you left on your Easter weekend trip. I’d intended to pass the message on to you. After the excitement of the cold water rescue, and your involvement with your fellow students and their difficulties, on top of the Playboy shoot, I begged off on your behalf. They said if the situation changed to call them. Give me a moment,” she asked me, then picked up the phone

She dialed, and in minutes was talking to the producer. She explained about my home projects, and that perhaps we could work out a deal.

“Yes, she’s here now … You are? … Yes that could work; I’ll put her on,” said Ms. Carson switching to speaker phone.

“Joanie here, how may I help you?”

“Ms. Carson said you have a proposition for us, a remodeling project?” said the voice on the phone.

“I bought a farm, and I intend to rehab the farm house, and do a conversion of the timber frame barn into my own home, complete with a basement, and special security features. Would This Old House be interested?” I offered.

“It sound interesting, but our production budget and schedule are set for the fiscal year. There is a chance we could work something out, but it’s difficult. How soon are you starting?” the voice asked.

“As soon as I can get a crew together; Whateley Operations is putting together an engineering survey as we speak. I intend to use both conventional and beyond the state of the art methods, and they’ve offer to help. I’m not looking for a handout; I’m paying for everything out of pocket. I think your viewers would be interested,” I said.

“We could do several visits; a tour of a celebrity’s home is always popular. I tell you what, you do us a big favor, and I’ll guarantee the TOH people are out there ASAP. We’ll find the time and money somewhere. Please host, and narrate, our NOVA special on mutants, Joanie,” the producer on the phone begged.

“Me? You want me to host? I thought you wanted to interview me about my mutation? Why not Dr. Otto, my own Dr. Sara of Madison, or Ms. Carson, she’d be great,” I answered.

“We asked their opinions, and they all said the same thing -- ask Joanie, she’d be perfect,” the producer stated.

“I’ll admit I’m recognizable to the public, but I’m no expert on mutants. You tell me why I’m so perfect for these duties,” I said, putting the producer on the defensive.

“That’s roughly what they said to us. You were an average middle-aged man less than one year ago, and now you're one of the most recognizable women on the planet, both for your vocal talents and your heroic rescues of the two girls. Who better to symbolize the positive, and negative, aspects of becoming a mutant? That you have a pretty face, attractive body, and sultry voice doesn’t hurt. The hosting segments could be filmed in a handful of days, possibly over a couple weekends, if that helps accommodate your schooling, and Whateley’s needs. Much of it is ‘green screen’, or Chromakey, segments. The narration could be done at Whateley; all we need is a soundproof room, and sufficient space to set up a HD-DVD playback system, and a sound board for the recording engineer. We might wish to shoot some sequences using Whateley, or your new home project, as backgrounds, subject to Ms. Carson’s, and your, approval. This is a landmark for us, the first big science documentary we’ve done on mutants. Don’t you want to be a part of history?” the producer cajoled me.

Why it happened, I don’t know, but suddenly everything was so funny. One word set me off, history.

“A part of history? Gentlemen, we’re history!” I said, and mimed putting on a pair of way cool shades, then started giggling.

Soon Ms. Carson joined in, and we broke into uncontrolled laughter. She recovered first; I was still giggling steadily.

“It’s an inside joke, something you said about history,” she said, I giggled harder. “You wouldn’t understand, but we, that is Joanie, agrees, don’t you?” she asked, and I nodded, while continuing to giggle. “She agrees. Contact me with the particulars ASAP, and thanks. You’ve made Joanie very happy,” she said, and hung up the speakerphone, while I continued to giggle sporadically.

“What was all that laughing about?” asked Mr. Hefner.

“Ms. Carson, explain … still ... catching breath,” I panted and kept snickering.

~~If he only knew I time travel; I’ve not only seen history, to paraphrase Rufus, ‘I’m history’. I think I’ve seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure too many times. ~~

“This is a trifle delicate; could I have a word with you in private, Hef dear?” Ms. Carson said.

They walked off by themselves, while the editors showed me some of the photos they’d chosen. I’d done some photography in my life, and occasionally got great shots, but these were mind blowing. I’d seen some of the test shots, and early proofs, these were finished, touched up, color-corrected, and cropped to perfection. I looked, wow!

“How much did you have to tweak these to make them look so good?”

“Hardly any; we simply cropped them for the best image, and made sure the colors were correct. We used no airbrush, or Photoshop, magic on your body. In the old days the airbrush artist would have worked overtime to tone down those ‘bullets’ of yours, but the natural look is in these days, and it would be a sacrilege to hide your full range of expression,” an editor said.

“In other words I look hotter than a pistol.”

“Crude, but accurate, Joanie, how did you manage to look so young and innocent, yet sexy and um, eager? We’re baffled, and grateful.”

“Ask May Lee and Anna; I explained it to them. It was all me though, I didn’t fake anything.” I said then giggled.

~~Boy, ah, girl, am I in a happy mood. ~~

Moments later Ms. Carson, and Mr. Hefner, returned. He looked at me with wonder in his eyes, and a hint of sadness.

“Ms. Carson explained why you two laughed earlier. I understand why you laughed, and also why it must remain private. Joanie, before you leave us, may I say you have surprised me yet again. A man of my age has seen, and heard of, many marvels, but you are beyond words. What you experienced, and will experience, on your ‘researches’ is priceless, I envy you. And Joanie, for what’s it's worth, I’m sorry, but it’s a burden you must bear. Please remember me.”

“Um, ah, thanks, I better go.”

~~What was that about? ~~

“Joanie, a word please?” asked Ms. Carson as she followed me out of her office.

We went into the nearest ladies room. She checked that it was clear then whispered to me.

“I told him the truth of how you got the smilodons, how you travel through time, and I told him about the effect your regen would have on your appearance and lifespan. He can be trusted; he knows equally dangerous secrets of mine he’s never disclosed. It was better to tell him than risk speculation among his staff. That’s why he said he’s sorry; he knows you’ll outlive us all and anyone you love. It’s a great burden, but a great gift as well; you keep the link to the past alive. You’re like a high priestess and keeper of the flame. As long as you live, all those you knew are never truly gone.”

“I … it’s … well I don’t like to think of it much.” I said, and wiped a tear.

“Gee you’re an emotional child. Now I know why you act so silly most of the time; your love of life keeps the demons at bay.”

“Demons?” I asked, sniffling a bit.

“The knowledge that all those you love must die, even your children and that you will go on.”

I must have looked sad and forlorn; I know I was crying at the thought.

“Cheer up girl. That won’t happen for a long time, and I’m sure with your penchant for finding damsels in distress you’ll make lots of good friends in the future. Your doctors speculated any children you have will inherit such robust genes from you they will likely live a long time, hundreds of years or more, without the benefit of your time locked/dimensionally cross-linked BIT. But what if your BIT is inheritable? Then they will live as long as you. Don’t let your fear of the unknown rule your life, child. Maybe you’ll find a way to share your long life with a select group of others; it could be possible.”

“When pigs fly,” I retorted, and smiled.

“The genetics lab is working on that, though they claim flying monkeys are easier,” Ms. Carson said.

“With all the sorceresses, and mages, here, I don’t doubt that, my little pretty. I’ll get you... and your little dog too!” I cackled.

Ms. Carson smiled, then walked away softly chuckling.

* * * *

I wanted to assist in the construction and rehab projects as much as I could, and needed larger transportation. Be reasonable dear d/j/w reader, how would I carry 80 pound shingle bundles in my cycle panniers? I considered renting or leasing a truck, or van, great for the project, but what about afterward? Transporting George and Gracie on my cycle was impractical. I could rig a sidecar or trailer, but that would be awkward at best -- though the thought of how people would react to the sight of us made it tempting. A full sized pickup with a crew cab like Big Red’s made sense, as it could carry the widest variety of cargo, tow, and transport my eager student workforce and the smilodons. This meant a trip into Berlin, NH, where the nearest dealerships were. Charlie Lodgeman was busy, and I’d imposed on him enough. Korolev was involved in some secretive research, and was unavailable, so I told Security where I was going, and took the Harley.

I’d been to Berlin several times, but always in passing, as I caught my charter flights there. I’d only the one morning class that day, which Ms. Carson had excused me from. With Anna busy being tested, the rest of the day was mine. It was a pleasant spring day, into the lower 60’s, so I wore my Whateley security uniform under my cycling jumpsuit. I determined the truck should be police equipped, at least to provisions for a police radio, emergency lights, and a siren, and winch, much like a VFD -- volunteer fire department -- member’s vehicle might be configured. I needed a ramp, or hoist, system to load and unload my cycle, and a way to secure it in the bed. Some kind of strong, protective animal kennel for the smilodons was a must, and I’d need a towing package.

I made great time to Berlin, and found the community had a GMC, Ford, Mercedes/Chrysler, several import, and one full size truck dealership that catered heavily to the logging industry. I’d ridden or driven Ford products most of my life, so I rode into the Ford Dealership, parked my cycle in front of their showroom, and changed out of my riding clothes. I walked into the showroom, and was promptly ignored by everyone. In their defense most of the salespersons were busy, and it did give me some time to look at the models. I’m torn between prompt and possibly too aggressive salesmanship, and hands-off, but possibly too impersonal an attitude. I noticed a hybrid drive system was available in the full-sized models. This was more efficient and far cleaner burning than any conventional engine. This would leave open the option of a conversion to full electric drive by Whateley’s tech gurus at some later date.

“How may I help you, young lady? Looking at buying your first new car? We have some great deals on the Focus, or if you want something with more flash, we have T-birds in stock. A tall, attractive woman like you would wow the guys driving by in one,” said the salesman.

He was thirty and single, I guessed from the lack of a wedding band on his hands.

~~What is it with thirty-something salesmen and good looking women? Do they believe those chat up lines work? ~~

I toyed with playing the bimbo routine to the hilt, but I didn’t have the time. It was time for brutal honesty.

“I own a 2005 Focus ZX4 SE which is in storage back in Wisconsin. I need a vehicle for a home renovation and construction project on a farm I recently purchased. I’ll be hauling building materials, construction debris, and workers to and from the site, and I may need to tow various trailers. I need accessories to load and secure my 1915 Harley that you can see in your lot, and I’ll need an animal enclosure that can handle two large cats that will eventually weight between 400 and 450 pounds a piece. I figure I’ll need an F250 with the hybrid drive system, crew cab, and maybe built-in GPS. The floor model here has much of what I want.

“If you’ve been observant, you’ll have noticed I’m an auxiliary security officer at Whateley Academy, so I’ll need a police/emergency vehicle package. That means the oversized electrical and cooling systems, emergency lights, radio and computer hookups, siren and PA, special frame bracing, and handling enhancements, and such. Are you following me so far?” I asked him as I stopped for breath.

I had him rattled, but to his credit he recovered fast.

“We don’t have all that in stock, but we can get it quickly, and have it installed in a week or less. You do know this will be expensive; you could be looking at over 50 thousand dollars after tax?”

“Police get a discount, and I am deputized by the State of New Hampshire. I'm also an officer, on inactive status, with the Wisconsin National Guard. I won’t need financing; I’m paying with a personal check, if that’s okay?” I said, and smiled.

He looked at me doubtfully, but resisted being condescending. He was trying hard not to fixate on my chest, though parts of him were being uncooperative, and more impressively so by the moment.

“I’ll need to run a credit check in any case, to insure your check is good. I’ll need your driver’s license, employer, and security IDs as well.

“You shouldn’t need all that, but to confirm I’m eligible for the police discount, I’ll agree.”

I handed him the ID, and waited for the fun to begin. He handed them through a window to an office worker to photocopy.

~~Damn, he didn’t look. ~~

A girlish shriek from the office, followed by a chorus of ‘Oh my Ghod, oh my Ghod’s’, confirmed the secretaries had looked.

Several women from high school to college age burst out of the office, and bombarded me with questions; they reminded me of Mel. The salesman stared, clueless and tongue tied.

“Frank, do you know who she is?” asked the oldest girl incredulously.

“Somebody famous from your reactions; sorry, you know me; if it’s not cars, or sports, I don’t follow it,” said Frank.

“She’s only the hottest singer on the radio, that’s who. Frank, this is Joanie,” said the college girl, who looked to be in her early 20s.

“Joanie who?”

The girls looked shocked; I broke into a giggle.

“My luck to find the one man in America who hasn’t heard of me,” I said, and giggled some more. “You said you’re into cars, and sports … You read Playboy, even subscribe to it?”

He looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, and my usual effect on men had him on the defensive.

~~Do I have it or what? If that got any stiffer, he wouldn’t have any blood left for his brain. ~~

“It’s a free country, sure I do. What of it? It’s not like I bring it to work,” he said.

“Make sure to look check out the July 2007 issue, it should answer a lot of questions, though I doubt it will help reduce that swelling in your slacks,” I said.

“They interviewed you?” one of the girls asked.

“And they took lots and lots of photos,” I replied.

“Y...you posed?” Frank stuttered.

“Meet Miss July, and the cover. It’s their first all mutant issue,” I said.

“Her checks are good then?” Frank asked sheepishly.

“Frank, the Wall Street Journal did a piece on her. Don’t look at me funny; you know I’m finance major. She could buy the dealership with what she’s earned in the last six months in recording royalties,” said the college girl.

After that my treatment improved immensely. The owner wanted to take care of me, but I insisted Frank have a chance to redeem himself. Frank impressed me; the man knows his trucks and accessories. In little over an hour he and the dealership located a 2007 F250 crew cab with the hybrid drive, and the basic police package, and arranged for its transfer to the dealership. Frank, with a mechanic's help -- a woman mechanic -- measured my cycle and ordered a cycle loading and carrying system that fit my Harley perfectly. It could be easily adjusted to handle a scooter as well. A slick cradle and winch system made loading and unloading in a tight space safe and easy. A custom animal carrier builder was contacted, and would install a sturdy, protective kennel for the truck bed. It could be quickly dismantled as needed, and as easily reinstalled. They were dubious at first to my need for it, and then I reminded them I work for Whateley.

“Whateley explains everything, Ms. Brown. You won’t be disappointed with our craftsmanship,” the builder said politely.

Frank worked hard to be helpful and get everything for my truck specified as I wanted it. He was courteous, charming, and I loved the attention. After a bad start, he’d recovered beautifully.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sabertooths, given the stories I’ve heard about Whateley,” he said as a joke.

“How did you know I have smilodons?” I queried, straight-faced.

“Very funny, I deserved that, “ he said, and laughed.

~~I’ll have to bring them by the dealership when they’re all grown, he’ll wet his pants. ~~

We got everything double checked and confirmed. The truck was exactly as I wanted. By some quirk it was painted in light Tundra, the same color as my Focus. When I saw that specification, I nearly wet my pants laughing.

"What’s so funny, Joanie?” Frank asked,

“Just that by pure luck my truck has exactly the same paint as my 2005 Focus; what were the odds?”

Frank continued to work at overcoming his macho first impression. He talked to the owner, who talked to the district manager, who got hold of the regional manager, and so on, and after a few minutes I was in a multipart conference call to Dearborn Michigan, and speaking with Mr. Ford. In exchange for the rights to use my image, and voice, in their ads for one year, I got everything for free, even lifetime servicing and repairs. They’d pay me a handsome sum any time I mentioned I owned a Ford when I was on TV, radio, or at some public event. I asked they send it all to MSG in Madison. They had a fund to assist needy new mutants, and I owed them.

“I’m in awe here. I fully expected to pay for my truck. Your offer is most generous, and I fully accept, pending the review of any contracts by my lawyer, Senator Johnson of Iowa.”

~~If they think they’re getting me this cheap when it comes time to renew our contract, boy will they experience some sticker shock. ~~

“That’s a reasonable precaution, and we’re not that generous, Ms. Brown. To hire a celebrity of your caliber would be far more expensive normally. Without agent fees, and using product instead of money for this deal saved us sizable sum. That’s why the bonus for mentioning you own our vehicles is so generous; we can afford it, no pun intended. Could you spare a few hours for photos, and to record some brief advertisements when you take delivery? That should be convenient for you, and help us get our ad campaign started at once,” said the descendant of the company founder.

They were eager to use my talents as they had already bought a full page advertisement in the July Playboy before anyone knew I was in it. They offered me a T-bird, or even a Ford GT, a car worth more than my father’s home, but I was happy with the truck. They got a great deal. For a present value of around 100 thousand dollars they got several times that in my services as a spokeswoman, though I do keep vehicles a long time, so I’d make back a fair bit of it on the lifetime free repairs and maintenance. I left the dealership, and got back to Whateley in time for dinner at six with my friends.

* * * *

I was thrilled to see Anna, and May Lee, had made it.

“Has everyone introduced themselves?”

They all nodded in assent.

“Anna, these are the masterminds behind helping catch the criminals who abused you. They don’t stand a chance now. The authorities are involved so the gang here doesn’t get too violent,” I said and snickered.

“Is Joanie often like this?” Anna asked.

“No, she’s usually far less serious,” said Suzy, covering her face to hide her grin.

“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I speak with Ms. Brown?”

The voice came from a petite girl of Asian ancestry. She couldn’t have been much more than 13, or 14, though her figure showed signs of promise. This girl would be a heartbreaker when she matured; she had the kind of face that screamed sweetness of character. Her eyes showed a keen intelligence, and determination to succeed. Then it struck me, something looked odd about her boots.

~~Is she wearing elevator shoes? At a minimum those are fairly high heeled. I wonder what else isn’t as it seems? I wonder why I noticed that, maybe I am shoe obsessed.~~

“I’m Joan, um, I mean, I’m Ms Brown. That didn’t come out quite right, did it? Please call me Joanie. What may I do for you Ms. …?”

“My apologies, I’m Jade Sinclair; Stan and Morrie in Operations said you were looking for workers to help with a rehab and house construction project? My sister, Jinn, and I would like to work for you. They said you would pay a good wage, and provide all need safety gear and equipment,” she said, clearly and efficiently.

~~This girl's certainly confident. I wonder who’s interviewing who here? She mentioned the princes of plumbing, hum? ~~

“How do you know Stan and Morrie?” I asked.

“I’ve worked as a student employee with them since I came to Whateley last fall, so has my sister Jinn. Ask the guys, they’ll tell you we're good workers, and not afraid of the tough jobs,” said Jade.

“I will; I’m doing a ’research trip’ for them tomorrow with Charlie Lodgeman’s assistance. I trust their judgment; they’re helping with my housing projects. If they vouch for you, you're in, Jade. Where’s your sister Jinn, I’d like to meet her?” I asked.

“Jinn’s my older sister, and she’s dead, but that hasn’t slowed her. She’s a student here. She should be here any minute, her maintenance shift ended later than mine today,” she said, then looked at me to see my reaction, sharp girl.

~~You are interviewing me; you have a sharp mind. Jade.~~

“I’ve got smilodons, so what’s strange about a dead girl as a student? This is Whateley; I’m game if your sister is, Jade.”

* * * *
To be continued

Attachment	Size
Timeout_3_chapter_10_rev_3_Janetpost.doc	98 KB

Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 11

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie meets two wanna-be construction workers, a petite girl and her dead sister. She timetravels and learns something she shouldn't about another member of the staff, Lex. Joanie checks on Anna's medical tests and invites her to an all-girl sleepover. She sets up Tom and Lex shamelessly. Eric learns of the magazine shoot but not the farm. The cleanup crew visits the farm. Joanie and Lex reconcile. The sleepover goes well. Joanie has a frighting premonition.

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Prose primping by Itinerant
Janet Nolan-ized for your protection

Chapter 11- Home Improvement 5, Origins 2, The New New Avengers 5, 4X4- Portents

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Boston MA, April 19-23, 2007

April 19, 2007

“Jinn, over here.” Jade called out.

A mysterious and beautiful young woman walked over. My first impression was of a junior or senior. She was reasonably tall, possibly as much as five foot, eight inches, with a slender build, and was showing the start of some sensuous curves. She had the graceful build of a runner or dancer. Though the girl might be late bloomer, I suspected she would quickly surpass her peers. Her skin and clothing were odd even by Whateley standards. Her skin — all of it -- was pure white, like a classic geisha’s face, but her clothes screamed sexy, confident babe. She was baring a lot of skin, and her clothes appeared to be of a modular, mix and match construction. They reminded me of runner’s warm-up suit, or a type of backpacker's clothes where sleeves or legs could be zipped off and on at will. In her case it was taken to the extreme; it appeared that almost any part could be interchanged with any other. I wondered why she needed, or wanted clothing that reconfigurable. One of those fiendish jigsaw puzzles, with every piece cut identically, came to mind. She approached our table, and embraced her sister, Jade, for a moment. Jade displayed an odd expression on her face; it was subtle, but I could see the change. A moment later it was gone.

~~Something was exchanged there, but what? ~~

“Jinn, this is Ms. Brown, or Joanie as she prefers.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Joanie, I’ve not had the opportunity to sit in one of your classes, but I have seen you working with Security, and there are your posters,” said Jinn in a voice that complemented her exotic appearance.

~~If this girl was alive, she’d have guys lined up for blocks to date her, and she works for Operations? That’s like remaking the Honeymooners, and casting Lucy Lu as Ed Norton. ~~

“Are you referring to the commercial ones, or the Peeper specials?” I asked, and softly snickered. “By the way, sharp outfit though I couldn’t get away with quite as much skin showing; the risk of ‘wardrobe malfunction’ would be prohibitive. I thought I had the tough, sexy look down, my congratulations, Jinn. Your charming sister says you have both worked with the Princes of Plumbing,” I replied.

“Stan and Morrie are great guys to work with. They suggested we contact you. I was told you’ve purchased a farm near Whateley, and that you intend to renovate the farmhouse as a possible rental unit. The ‘Masters of Maintenance’ also said you plan to convert the barn into your home. We’d like to offer our services for the demotion and cleanup, and the construction crew as well,” Jinn said.

“The demolition and cleanup almost anyone can do, and I’m providing safety training for them. What can you two do that should compel me to hire you for construction work? Now is your chance to sell yourselves, ladies,” I challenged them.

“Stan and Morrie would not have suggested we talk to you unless they thought we could do the job,” Jade said forcefully.

“I’m sorry, Jade and Jinn. I did not intend to insult either of you. I trust the guys' judgment too, and I will talk to them soon. My concern is whether you can do the job safely. Minor demolition and clean up, or being a gofer for the construction crew, is low risk. Working as crew doing trench work, masonry, framing, sheathing, roofing, running cable and pipe, insulating, interior covering, and final hookup are more exacting, physically exhausting and can be potentially dangerous.

"You may be dead, Jinn, but your sister is not. I’d prefer she stay that way, as I’m sure you’d both agree. Beyond any labor law concerns, I’d feel awful if someone got hurt as a result of my project. I intend to help as much as I can, but I have limits to my knowledge and abilities. What can you ladies do that makes you valuable to me?” I inquired.

“I’m small but tough, and have worked with Operations in the deep sewers, cabling projects, maintenance, plumbing, electrical, mechanical systems -- you name it. I’m not bothered by foul odors, I don’t scare easily, and I’m serious on the job. My late sister is much the same, except she has several advantages over most workers,” said Jade in a rapid-fire, confident style.

“I’m as strong as any normal person, but, because I don't have a body, I’m invulnerable to most hazards and don’t suffer from fatigue. I can transfer myself to various objects, and can change my size and shape as needed. I’ve guided cable through conduits while inside the conduit. I can become so small I can pass easily into wall cavities using any small hole and can see in total darkness. I can be your eyes and ears in places you otherwise can’t easily explore. I can float in the air, and orientation to the ground is irrelevant to me. I did a lot of ceiling work and cable pulling for Samantha Everheart’s apartment in Kane Hall tower; Jade helped some, too,” Jinn said while slowly floating into the air.

“Impressive credentials, Jinn; I’ll ask Sam about you two. Thanks for not jumping on the ‘you may be dead, Jinn’ line. The moment I said ‘dead Jinn, I was afraid someone would do a bad Star Trek joke,” I said.

“You mean like ‘You grab the tricorder, I’ll get the wallet?’ Are you interested, Joanie?” asked Jade, with a smirk on her face.

“Thanks a lot ‘Bones’. If your references check out, I’ll be glad to hire you. Operations has offered to do most of the construction work. They said they have students on work-study, and my project would be a great way to demonstrate their skills. I do have a few more questions. When are you available during the remaining school term, and are you staying on campus this summer?” I asked.

“We’re wards of the state. We’re here through child protective services, and have no where to go. We may visit the family of one or more of our friends this summer. Both Billie Wilson's and Nikki Reilly’s families have offered in the past. Jinn and I are kinda friends with the Tanaka’s -- who are Charlie Lodgeman’s friends -- so we could see them this summer with Billie, but nothing is set in stone,” Jade replied.

~~She may be the younger sister, but she’s clearly the one in charge. ~~

“You know some of the Mystic Six? I am impressed, Jade. I only know Charlie, but if they’re anything like him they’re good people to count as friends. I’m seeing Charlie tomorrow; I’ll ask him about you two as well. We have a research project to do for Operations,” I said.

As I finished, Jade's eyes went wide; her sister’s response was difficult to gauge.

“You’re the one,” Jade said in a tone of awe.

“The one what?” I asked.

“Rumor has it one of the newer staff can time travel; not just clairvoyance, but the real thing. The press says you can stop time for a while, so it must be you. That must be how you got those strange cats,” she said excitedly.

“So, you know of my smilodons, George and Gracie? My friend, Pinky here, is helping me train them. Most crooks fear police dogs; these two should make Bricks soil their pants,” I said and giggled. “Please do me a favor and do not spread this around, Ladies. I’m at Whateley as much to escape potential kidnappers as to complete my mutant training,” I cautioned.

“Sis, that explains her holding the Meridian Chair; everyone’s been speculating how an unknown got a prestigious research position. A time traveler would be a natural choice for a historical researcher. If you can travel far enough to obtain live smilodons -- wow!” Jinn remarked excitedly.

“That also makes me a criminal’s dream girl, so be discreet. They’d love to have me under their control, or worse to dissect in their labs. In addition to my time powers, I’m a high level regen. They’d love to figure out how that works,” I said in a serious tone.

“So would I,” muttered Jade.

“Did you say something, Jade? I didn’t quite hear you,” I asked.

Jade appeared nervous for a moment, then as quickly seemed confident.

“What I was trying to say was you must be like my roomie, Billie Wilson. She’s a high level regen and almost indestructible,” Jade said.

“I can be beaten up easily; I’m not superhuman, but I heal fast. I’ve been close to death twice, and it hurts like Hell as I recover. That’s why I’m building a custom house. It will be easier to break into an army tank than my house by the time I’m done. I owe it to my future family,” I said.

“You’re not, ah, pregnant are you, Joanie?” asked Jinn, hesitantly.

“No, just planning for the future. My boyfriend has to graduate from college first,” I said and smiled.

~~Graduating from middle school and high school would help. Why did I fall for Eric? I must be crazy, but then why does it feel so right? ~~

“We’re security conscious, Joanie. Being small for my age, people think they can push me around, so I have to defend myself. My sister, Jinn, is tough in a fight; she has to be, as those with avatar powers have tried to enslave her,” Jade said.

“The greed and disrespect of some people shocks me; you’re dead and people want to harm you, Jinn? That is sick beyond words. I’ll check with Stan and Morrie, and if they say you’re good, you’re on. Maybe we can teach each other something new about security.”

I stood and gave Jade a hug which she accepted graciously, though she blushed. I wasn’t sure how I should handle Jinn until she offered her hand to shake. Her hand felt normal but cold, and I thought I felt the vibrations of a complex mechanical linkage moving behind it.

“I won’t have a vehicle to transport everybody for a few days, but if the weather is nice we’ll meet here at this table eight AM this Saturday and walk over to the farm. It’s a little over a ten minute walk, and I can give everyone the overview of my intentions for the place. I’ll pay for lunch afterward, so it’s not a total waste of your time. Is that satisfactory?”

“Sounds fair, Joanie, we’ll be here,” said Jade.

“Wear work clothes and tough shoes; the farm house and barn are a mess. Until Saturday, Ladies,” I said and bowed.

“A word of advice, Joanie, don’t let Tennyo -- that’s Billie Wilson -- try out for your band unless you intend to do the best of Yoko Ono,” Jade said, then, giving me a feral grin, she walked off giggling as her sister hovered along side her.

“That girl will be a heartbreaker someday,” I said softly, to no one in particular.

We finished eating; Pinky and I gave the smilodons a quick walk around campus and training session before we each went off to our respective dorms for the night. I reviewed the Operations materials describing the planned buried cable route and the magic hot spots that needed our ‘research.’ I went to bed early so I’d be well rested though it took some time to fall asleep -- nerves, I guess.

* * * *

April 20, 2007

I rose early on Friday morning, got in a quick run, ate a big breakfast, showered, ‘decompressed’, and had to shower again. I was wonderfully relaxed when I met up with Mr. Lodgeman -- oh yeah!

“Mr. Lodgeman, are you ready?” I asked, languidly.

“Joanie, you seem more relaxed than usual. Are you okay?”

“I’m great; I may have over done the decompression. Sorry, but it was so much fun....”

“You can concentrate on the task at hand?” he asked, suppressing a smirk.

“I’ll be fine, this way my ‘side effect’ won’t be a problem so soon.

“That takes half the fun out of today’s ‘research’, Joanie. Where do you want to start first?”

“I nearly forgot, Charlie, Dr. Tenent says I have a shell of magic surrounding me; I guess I’m a something of a magic sinkhole. I’m told it’s the residue of other’s spells, I don’t generate it, and it doesn’t interact with me. Will this be a problem, will it reveal my presence to any magic users we observe?” I asked still enjoying my afterglow.

“I thought you had a mystical aura, it’s obvious now that I know to look for one. I’ve never seen one as confused as yours, but I believe I can mask your ‘signature,’ Joanie,” he said.

“Shall we begin, Charlie?”

We had several hot spots to check out. Operations gave us excellent intelligence to work from, and I homed in on each incident with unerring precision. My urges were building, but were well within my tolerance as each ‘trip’ was brief. By early in the afternoon we were on top of Emerson Hall, in position to observe the last two hotspots; actually it was one physical hot spot, but with two separate and powerful events.

“That’s almost it, Joanie. Only two more quick ‘trips’ to the near past and we’re home free; I’m impressed,” he said, and bowed at me.

“You made it easy, Operation’s intelligence was spot on, and you were efficient in gathering the needed information. I was merely the chauffeur,” I said in a husky voice.

“Thanks for the smooth ride, my dear. Will you be okay? You sound, um, on edge,” he asked.

“No, I’m a bit aroused, but functional. Let’s finish up quickly so I can recover.”

I went for the feeling again, and in moments we were looking down at the suspicious grove of trees near Emerson. It was late at night, and early October from the look of the trees. Through my night vision binoculars/camera I saw a boy in deep concentration surrounded by various markings. Charlie whispered that it was part of a warded circle designed to obscure him from observation. Because we’d arrived soon enough to see his preparations, we could see through his charade. I couldn’t shake off the feeling we were not the only observers here.

“Charlie, I think we’re being watched. It’s just a feeling but something seems odd,” I said.

“Maybe, maybe not, the magic energies around here are difficult to read. I don’t sense anything specific, just a possibility that others are watching. I wouldn’t worry, Joanie,” he said.

~~I must be paranoid, yet I swear we’re being watched. Calm down, Joanie, you’re letting your imagination go wild. Still, there was that strange-looking mink or fisher we saw a couple times. This last feeling is stranger yet. I am paranoid.~~

Charlie explained that the boy was gathering and weaving a complex magic spell from the naturally present energies. To me it was unintelligible gibberish and strange hand movements. Charlie whispered that the ugly pottery statue was a focus or anchor for the spell, and helped to protect the spell crafter should something go wrong. I began to notice a faint glow near the boy. I might not be magically gifted, but he was controlling so much magic even I could notice something was odd.

A Security officer walked up to the boy and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Through earphones linked to the mini-machine gun microphone we shared, I could hear them speaking.

“Hey! What are you doing out here this late, kid?“

“KID? WHO DARES!” the boy replied angrily.

“OH SHIT!” he cried out as he lost control of the spell and the magic exploded.

“What was that?” I asked Charlie after the ruckus ended.

It had been hard for me to follow what happened, but one moment the officer was there, the next, he wasn’t. I thought I saw the officer floating over the ugly pottery object; the magic enveloping him then flashing out of existence. I hoped my binoculars/camera captured it, it happened so fast. The boy and his odd paraphernalia disappeared, too, until Charlie did some thing that broke through some of the magic the spell caster had woven. I saw an athletic woman of approximately 20 years of age lying naked on the ground, probably unconscious, her body glowing slightly. I sharpened the focus of my night vision binoculars, the glow faded out and.…

“Where did the Officer … Ghod, that’s Lex!” I cried out.

I wanted to go and help her, but Charlie admonished me, and made me ‘bounce’ us to the next incident in time. This time there was no doubt in my mind as to the participants’ identities. That same teen wizard -- ‘Warlock,’ Charlie later explained -- was preparing another spell when Lex walked up to him, gun in hand. Lex aimed at ‘Warlock’ to get his full attention.

“Have you still not realized that you cannot harm me? You are becoming a nuisance slowly but surely,“ said the boy in his arrogance.

“You made a mistake, kid.“ He saw the boy flinch at that. “You intended to control me, and I will never let this happen again. You will have to face the music, I made sure of that,“ Lex replied with cold resolve.

Lex swung the pistol away from Warlock, and shot the ugly pottery thing instead. I witnessed a massive explosion of magic -- dust, smoke, and light flew out in all directions. It was a while before I could see them clearly again. I saw Lex lying wounded on the ground next to the most sexually attractive woman I’d ever seen. Hot did not begin to describe her. I turned and confronted Charlie.

“You knew, you bastard! You knew Lex was transformed by that sick boy wizard, and you told me nothing! Why?” I asked angrily, and in tears. “This explains Lex’s odd behavior, her evasiveness when asked about her past, her lack of comfort in her good looks, and her sexual preference. I could have helped her; why didn’t you tell me?” I said as I shook with frustration.

“What could you have done differently, Joanie? The destruction of the focus made the spell permanent, though it broke Warlock’s hold over Lex. The boy had put a spell on Lex that made her essentially non-existent to nearly everyone on campus. In shattering the focus, Lex was freed from the boy’s control, but she paid a high price for her freedom. The boy wizard, Richard Hillman, code named Warlock, paid a much greater price. His intent was to turn Lex into a lust crazed bimbo, his living wet dream. The backlash when the focus shattered fed back into Mr. Hillman and turned him into the very lust driven creature he intended to curse Lex as. You need not feel sympathy for the boy; he got exactly what he’d intended for Lex.”

“Poor Lex, no wonder she’s such a mix of contradictions. To knowingly buy her freedom at the cost of destroying the only way back to his old life; how can she stand it?” I asked, as I fought to control my emotions.

“Your fate is not entirely dissimilar, Joanie. The primary difference is you knew early on there was no way back, and your new body predisposed you to accept your change. In contrast, Lex had hopes of changing back, and her soul was not comfortable in her new body, but the risk of being Warlock's mindless sex slave forced her hand. It’s been hard, but Lex is coming to terms with her new life. Only a handful of people know: the Chief, Ms. Carson, Ms. Hartford, several in medical, a couple students who helped Lex, Officer O’Brian, myself, and that’s about it. I would have told you, but Lex values her privacy. This goes back to before her transformation. The past is past; she knows that. She’s chosen to go on with her life as she sees fit; it’s not easy for her, but she’ll make it. She’s a survivor,” said Charlie.

“Does her family know?” I asked.

“Her mom does; her dad died while Lex was under Warlock's influence. She’s not alone, if that’s what you fear,” Charlie said calmly.

“What do I do, Charlie? What do I say?”

“Be honest, but discreet. Lex will understand it was an accident. I suspected this might happen when I saw the list of magic hot spots they wanted us to investigate. The last two magic incidents corresponded to the estimated times for Lex’s magical encounters with Warlock, but we couldn’t be certain and Lex’s recollections are limited. I’d have spared you finding out this way, but Operations needed the information. With this they can decontaminate the site and proceed. Let's return, make our report, and then you can decide how to tell Lex. I have faith you’ll be fine.”

“I hope so; I don’t want to add to her burdens. Sometimes she acts like life has conspired against her, she’s so depressed. Then, just as suddenly, she’s this witty, wickedly mischievous, vivacious, and fun loving young woman. I hate it when that Lex goes away. I wish I’d met him when he was a man, he must have been someone special.”

“She’s just as special, perhaps more so for having gone through this. Be her friend, and support her in her chosen path; that’s all I ask.”

We returned, turned in our data, made our reports, and I went off to my afternoon classes. Yes, dear d/j/w, I did spend some time recovering from my ’side effect’, but our quick, accurate time trips kept that to a minimum, regrettably. An idea occurred to me how I could trick Lex into taking me to Berlin to get my new truck, and then I’d talk to her while we were alone together. We were scheduled to patrol together that evening, so I had the opportunity. Now all I had to do was wait for the perfect moment.

* * * *

I had a quick, late lunch. The gang was in classes, but I did get to talk with May Lee.

“Joanie, I’m glad you made it. Did everything go well on your ‘research trip’?” she asked.

“Charlie and I got everything done, if that’s what you mean. Sorry May Lee, I’m a bit down because I accidentally learned something about a friend. I feel guilty; I know I shouldn’t, but I do,” I said.

After a few bites of my lunch, I didn’t feel much like eating. I pushed my tray away, still disgusted with myself. May must have noticed the unhappy look on my face.

“I’ll not pry, but be honest with the friend. They know you’re a good hearted person; they’ll forgive you,” May said gently.

“Now you’re holding my hand; thanks, May. How’s Anna?” I asked and smiled.

“Your medical people are finishing their tests today. They had a couple mages, or witches, or something like that look at her. It was all very odd,” May said.

“Was one of them Dr. Ophelia Tenent?” I asked.

“I think it was; she did the oddest things with her hair, like the strands were extra hands for her,” May said.

“That’s her; she’s one of Whateley’s top magic experts, and a real witch. If they brought her in, they might be considering using a thaumatologist in Anna’s treatment.” I speculated.

“I think that’s what one of them was. What’s a thauma ...?”

“Thaumatologist, May. It’s a person who can alter a person physically using magic. It’s not without risk, but the results can be remarkable. I know of one person who changed from a male to a beautiful, complete, younger female through magic, but not voluntarily,” I said, regretting my words the moment I said them.

“The secret you accidentally discovered? I’m sorry, Joanie,” May said.

“I’d make a lousy spy; I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’ll work it out with her, I promise, but don’t you repeat this to anyone,” I requested.

“Centerfold's honor,” May said as she saluted me with her hand shaped like a rabbit’s head.

I stuck my chest out proudly and saluted her back, then giggled.

“Please give Anna my best, and keep me informed how she doing. Would you have me paged when she’s up to having visitors? I’d like to spend some time with both of you when she’s ready.”
* * * *

I stopped by Operations and found out where Stan and Morrie were working. They were deep in one of the tunnels dug in the 1970’s, installing some equipment I didn’t recognize. I waited until they stopped what they were doing before interrupting them.

“Guys, do you have a moment?” I asked.

“Hi Joanie, what can we do for you?” Stan asked.

“Did you inform two girls, Jade and Jinn Sinclair, that I was looking for help with my housing project?” I asked.

“Great workers; I wish all our student employees were so dedicated. That’s why we told them to see you,” said Morrie.

“Then they’re good?” I asked.

“They’re the best. What did they tell you they were capable of doing?” Morrie queried me.

I repeated what they’d said; Stan and Morrie shook their heads.

“Did they exaggerate? Your body language says they didn’t tell me the truth,” I asked.

“No, if anything they understated their abilities. I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. The girls are better than some of our newer apprenticed staff. If they say they can do something, believe them. I’d love to hire them on after they graduate; they’re that good,” said Stan with obvious pride.

“You think we’re that good?” said a voice behind me.

It was Jinn emerging from inside a large conduit. She was not in her normal body form, but the voice was unmistakable.

“Is that you, Jinn?” I asked in surprise.

It was disconcerting talking to her like that. She was unrecognizable as a person, more an amorphous cylindrical shape, formed from that same, modular, fabric she’d worn earlier. Behind her she pulled a bundle of cables taped together, and attached to her by a small, but obviously strong, mechanical hand. Not really a hand so much as a five fingered clamp, or bizarre drill chuck. It was clear this ‘machine’ was Jinn when she spoke.

“Joanie? Oh, you said you’d talk to Stan and Morrie. Excuse my shape; I was pulling cable. I’m good at it,” she said.

“Good? She’s the best we’ve ever had, and the tech types have sent us all kinds of specialty robotic devices to do this sort of thing. Jinn beats them hands, well, whatever down,” Stan said smiling.

“I’m sold. Remember to stop by my table in Crystal Hall tomorrow at eight AM, so I can show you the farm and my projects. Tell your sister she’s got the job, too.”

“We’ll be there. Excuse me, I have to go and change. I’ll see you at eight sharp,” Jinn said and she flew -- I really mean flew -- off.

“You’ll get used to her doing that, Joanie. We did,” said Morrie as they went back to work.

* * * *
I checked on my mail, and found I’d received a script and background material to prepare me for the NOVA Special.

~~They must want me, to overnight this. ~~

I spent several hours reading it. I found it all fascinating, and not just because I’m a mutant. They included a request that I demonstrate my time stop as part of a segment on powers. They’d heard of the soda can demo I’d done for Playboy, and thought something similar would be educational and catch the viewers attention. I was to think it over and call them with an answer, preferably by this coming Monday. They wanted to start shooting my segments before the end of the month.

I ate an early dinner, took care of the cats, and dressed for my shift that evening with Lex. But I had this call to make first.

“Terrace Hill, how may I direct your …’

“Rose, it’s me; put Eric on,” I said impatiently.

“Sure Joanie, you’re calling early for a Friday,” Rose, the Governors aid commented.

I was on a first name basis with much of the household staff; I wonder why?

“I’m pulling security duty tonight so it was now or midnight,” I replied.

“Be safe out there; okay; here’s Eric, Joanie,” Rose said.

“Joanie! Thanks for calling, I was worried you wouldn’t,” said an excited Eric.

“And why not? I promised I would, and I intend to keep my promise,” I said.

“This magazine said that you were seeing this guy and….’ Eric stopped; he sounded upset.

“Eric, I work with men and a couple of my student friends are boys, but you’re my only one. Call MSG and talk with Big Red or Gin, they’ll set you straight; I gave up women for you. Do you know how hard that was for the man I used to be? You know what my MSG girl friends look like; would I break up with them and then cheat on the reason I broke it off with them?” I pleaded with Eric.

“You like me that much, Joanie?” Eric asked.

“Eric, I love you that much. Those papers and magazines love gossip and rumor. Your Dad and Grandpa are in politics; ask them about the press and celebrities. Eric, if I was ever stupid enough to break up with you, it would be in person, and not after the fact. Feeling any better? I promise I’ll come to visit you this summer -- sooner if my schedule allows -- but I can’t guarantee anything while school is still in session, sorry,” I said.

“Okay, I believe you, but it hurts not seeing you. Bye, sweet Joanie,” Eric said, and hung up.

~~I forgot to tell him about my farm! ~~

* * * *

“You seem unusually quiet this evening, Joanie. What’s the matter? And don’t say nothing is wrong; I can read you like the proverbial book -- a tall, busty, and oversexed book,” Lex asked, an hour or so into our shift.

~~Damn, she senses something is up; the humor must be to help me relax. It’s time for brutal honesty. ~~

“I was going to ask you for a ride when it came time to pick up my new truck, and spring my secret on you then. You’d be a captive audience and all, but I can’t,” I said, berating myself in my mind.

“It can’t be that bad, Joanie; what has you so upset?” she asked with sympathy.

I looked around to make certain we were alone, then I spoke.

“I know Lex; I found out during the 'research trip' I did with Charlie today for operations; forgive me,” I begged.

“What do you know, Joanie?” Lex asked with some worry.

“I saw a man attacked magically, and he became you. I’m so sorry Officer Jenkins,” I said, and then lowered my face as I couldn’t stand to look her in the eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t wish to associate with me anymore,” I said as I sniffled away.

I had to sit down on a bench to try and regain some control.

“Joanie … Joanie, its okay,” Lex said softly.

“No it’s not,” I blubbered, “I violated your trust, Ghod forgive me!” I cried, and tried to get up and run away.

“Ah crap!” Lex exclaimed as she grabbed me, and held me tight. “Calm down! It's okay, Joanie. I prefer my past to stay in the past, but it was an accident. I take it Charlie Lodgeman was with you at the time?” she asked.

I nodded and continued to sob quietly.

“Charlie knows; so do a handful of others. It’s not like it’s this great secret. It will get out someday. In a way it’s a relief I don’t have to lie to you, Joanie, but the alternative of telling everyone is worse. So long as you keep this to yourself, it’s okay,” Lex said graciously, as she released her bear hug.

“Are you sure? I’ve spied on you and stole your greatest secret; how can you forgive me?” I asked Lex as my tears slowed.

“What a monumental ego you have, Joanie, thinking everything that goes wrong is your fault,” Lex said in mock outrage, and then she smiled.

“It isn’t? You mean I’m not a goddess?” I asked, then I fell to my knees laughing.

“Joanie, that’s not dignified. Get up, that’s and order!” Lex said. I laughed all the harder, then she lost it and joined me on the ground, laughing wildly.

After some time we got up, brushed ourselves off, and continued our patrol. We walked in silence for some minutes, and I spoke.

“I would like you along when I accept delivery of my truck, Lex,” I said.

“I’d like to see your new truck too. If I’m available I’ll come,” Lex replied.

“That’s perfect, that way, if we take one of the Security vans, Pinky, George, and Gracie can come.”

“NO! Not the feline furniture filleters. I’m not transporting those carnivorous couch killers in a department vehicle.”

“You forgot serial sofa slayers, Lex,” I said, then snickered. “But it would be fun, and they obey Pinky,” I whined.

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Lex replied.

“I suppose I should wait until they’re used to car rides, and have more training,” I admitted.

“I’ll come if I can; I would like to see your new toy, but let’s not take the cats,” she said, and grinned. “It might be worth it if only to see the look on the sales person's face, Joanie, though if it’s a guy, I suspect he’ll be too busy looking about here,” Lex said and pointed at my chest.

“You’re right, Lex,” I said and chuckled. “I’ll take them when they’re bigger, and used to riding in vehicles.”

Lex got this devilish grin on her face.

~~Oh shit, I didn’t? ~~

“They must be used to riding by now, but I hope they don’t get any bigger. You’re top heavy enough now Joanie. Anymore and you couldn’t stand up,” she said then exploded in laughter.

“I was referring to the smilodons, you pervert,” I snapped, and then I broke up.

The rest of our shift went well. A couple of kids had broken curfew, and we had to break up their ardent make out session.

“You know, sexual relations between students is a violation of the student code,” I said formally. “Be more discreet next time, and wipe off the lipstick from your faces before someone sees you, okay?”

The girls giggled nervously, but did as they were told.

“Thanks, Officer Brown, we will,” said the taller of the two.

“Joanie, okay? You make a cute couple, but be careful, please,” I said and they walked off happy we didn’t turn them in.

“You’re getting soft, Officer Brown,” Lex said.

“I couldn’t see the sense in busting them, sorry Lex,” I said.

“Neither did I. Let's finish checking out the west sector, then we need to report,” Lex said in a cheerful voice.

That night I slept the best I had in days.

* * * *

April 21, 2007

I skipped my morning run in favor of a training session with Pinky and the smilodons. We were working on their obedience training and getting them used to crowds. I think the early breakfast crowd in the Crystal Hall was surprised at our dining companions. They behaved perfectly -- the smilodons that is -- and got some raw sirloin pieces as treats, one of their favorites.

“Thank Ghod they still are doing well on that dry lion food; I’ll feed them raw meat if I have to, but the kibble is far more convenient,” I confessed to Pinky.

I’d made arrangements with Security to board them for the day and night; one of the K9 officers would work on their training to keep them from getting bored and stalking the wily sofa bed. I was ready to take then to Security when my prospective crew arrived early.

“They are so cute! Can I touch them? I’ve seen you and Pinky with them coming in and out of Poe, but I’ve never had the courage to ... you know,” asked Jenny.

“Go ahead, Jenny. Be gentle and they‘ll behave. Guys, girls, this is Jenny Chang, also known as Steel Lotus,“ I said and we all introduced ourselves.

“Have any of you eaten yet?” I asked, and they all shook their heads no. “Get something good and filling, or get something to go if you’re not a morning person. It will be several hours before we’re back, and I don’t have anything to eat out there. I’m not certain if the water is on, though Dr. Bellows place is down the road from mine and we can get a bathroom break there if we ask nicely. Cheryl, here’s my card, ring up the crew on me -- no exceptions,” I said.

I had a happy bunch of kids after that announcement. We ate; they all grabbed some sodas to go while Pinky took the smilodons to Security. I set a brisk pace, and we were at my farm in ten minutes flat.

* * * *

Stan, minus Morrie, met us at the farm house.

“Where’s the Mrs.?” I joked. Jade looked shocked until Stan laughed.

“Off with the girls, quilting. He doesn’t love me any more,“ Stan said in a silly falsetto.

I broke out in giggles; the rest of the crew caught on and laughed.

“He’s in the barn going over some details with a consulting structural engineer. There’s some concern about powder-post beetle damage to the timber frame,” Stan said.

“That’s bad; I was hoping to save most of the barn,” I replied.

“I may have a solution, Joanie. On Sam’s, I mean Officer Everheart’s apartment project in Kane, I got to work with a girl named Fran Barnes. She can manipulate natural materials like wood and stone better than a master sculptor can clay. She could reform any damaged wood to better than new condition; ask Sam,” said Jinn.

“Jade, you’re quiet. What have you got to say?” I asked.

“Jinn worked on the apartment more than I did, but she’s right. Fran Barnes would be a great choice. Be warned, she does like natural themes. Ask to see Sam’s apartment; most of the stone and wood work is hers. She was responsible for the balcony and new window openings in the tower walls as well,” the petite teen said.

“Thanks for the FYI, ladies; I’ll ask Sam later. Now let me describe what I intend to do, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. There is no such thing as a stupid question; what’s stupid is getting hurt because you didn’t ask one.”

We spent a good two hours going all over the farm house. I was happy to see Stan and Morrie had anticipated my needs and had gotten power restored to the farm so we had water and lights. It did mean we’d have to turn it off as demolition progressed, but overall it was a welcome surprise.

The barn tour was quicker as there was less to see despite this being the bigger project. Cheryl asked one of those stupid questions that wasn’t stupid.

“Joanie, what are you doing about the other buildings -- out buildings, I think they’re called?”

“I hadn’t thought about it much. The machinery shed looks relatively new; I may make that into a garage or storage building. The large chicken house could make a good garage for the farmhouse; my grandfather did something similar years ago. I do need a home for my kitty cats, any ideas?” I asked.

That proved a smart question on my part, the kids came up with all sorts of ideas, and some sounded practical. One shocked me in its logical simplicity, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it.

“This may seem silly to you, Ms. Joanie, but you never mentioned a recording studio, or music practice room. All the big singers seem to have one; why not you?” asked Mystor of all people.

“But I don’t … I’m not a … why would I …” I was stumped.

“Joanie, it’s perfect! The band could practice here on weekends. We’d never have to fight for space with other student bands, and the smilodons wouldn’t be lonely,” said Pinky in rapid-fire fashion.

“Mystor, come here,” I said, wiggling my finger at him to come to me.

“Yes, Ms. Joanie?”

“That’s Joanie, dear, and thanks,” I said, then I gave him a kiss that would peel paint.

“Um, you’re welcome?“ he said, half out of breath and pleasantly confused.

“Don’t I get one?” asked Tom.

“No, I prefer Suzy,” I said and gave her a nice hug while I whispered something in her ear. She giggled and smiled as I kissed Tom on the cheek. “Tom, I told her it’s okay for you to date each other, but supervised at first. You two have to tell her parents, though,” I whispered.

He hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe, and then gave me a kiss on the cheek that was so sweet I began to forget why we were here. I turned my head to face him, and was about to kiss him back, when Suzy got my attention.

“Hands off the merchandise!” she said, pulling us apart, and holding Tom’s hand.

“Sorry, for a moment Tom reminded me of this boy I know,” I said as I blushed with embarrassment and softly chuckled.

We got back to Whateley in time for lunch. While they ate I got copies of each student's schedule. We set up a system so I could notify them when they were needed, and they could inform me when they couldn’t make it. I made a mental note to ask Sam about Ms. Barnes and any other workers she could recommend. With Sam’s, and Operations’ information, I’d know the best suppliers and equipment dealers to chose.

~~I have money to burn, but I need to do this right the first time. ~~

* * * *

During lunch I got a page from May Lee. After lunch I spent an hour visiting Anna and May Lee in the campus infirmary. Anna had undergone an exhausting battery of tests, including several needle biopsies done to check the exact nature of some suspected scar tissue surrounding her breast implants, and other tests to analyze the composition of the permanent makeup she’d been given. This was critical to deciding how to best restore Anna to her natural look.

“How are you holding up, Anna?” I asked.

“So-so; sometimes the doctors have good news, sometimes they don’t. They think I may have to have surgery followed up with some touch up work by a thaumatologist, but they’re not certain yet,” Anna said while smiling, but I could see she was stressed.

“Why the bed rest?”

“I reacted badly to a test,” Anna said quietly.

“My sister freaked when they hypnotized her to help her remember what those people did. We found out Anna was drugged and raped several times the very day she met them. This was just prior to her first photo shoot and film. I’d thought it was a more gradual process; she was on drugs continuously from hours after she first met them, up until the moment I rescued her,” May Lee said with anger in her voice.

“It was too much to bear, and the doctors had to sedate me. May Lee’s been my rock, without her I’d be …” Anna said, crying as May Lee squeezed her hand.

“You concentrate on getting well. We’ll get the bastards, I promise. When you’re feeling better let me know. I was hoping you’d be well enough for a sleep over with a bunch of teenage to 20ish girls tonight, but your health comes first.”

“Could I come? I can’t stand the boredom. The doctors were going to let me go to our guest room on campus if they thought I was calm enough,” Anna said, looking at me like a little girl begging for mommy to buy her a doll.

“Let me ask. The sleep over is at the rental flat in Dr Bellows house; maybe if he’s downstairs?” I speculated out loud.

An hour later Anna was cleared to attend, provided she was escorted to and from the sleepover, and after she was given a slow release, long acting tranquilizer. It was low dosage, just enough to keep her from having a panic attack, and she was fitted with a remote body monitor. In the event something happened, Whateley and Dr Bellows would get an instant alert to the problem.

* * * *

I stopped by Security before I left for the Anderson's. Lex was getting ready for her evening shift.

“Are you okay with baby sitting Tom tonight? No way could he be at a girl’s sleepover; he’d drool himself to death.”

“It will be fine; the crew in sensors will keep him busy for hours showing off their gadgets to him. I promise we’ll treat him like he’s one of our own,” Lex said.

“Speaking of that, he’s at the stage where he wants to date girls, and he has this one particular girl in mind, my niece,” I said looking uncomfortable.

“You're not getting all protective of her, are you, Joanie?” Lex teased me.

“Funny, Lex. I need a big favor; I want you and any of the other women officers you trust to give him a crash course in the rules of proper dating. At his age, his hormones probably have his libido up in the stratosphere,” I said.

“Slightly below yours then?” Lex interrupted.

“Exactly!” I shot back.

~~Bet you didn’t expect that answer, Lex. ~~

“I’m happy he finds Suzy desirable, but I don’t want to have to call my cousin and say, 'guess what, you’re going to be a grandmother,’” I said.

“I won’t be entirely comfortable with it, but I can teach him the rules. I’ll show him how to be a gentleman, Joanie,” Lex said.

The bait was taken, now to set the hook without Lex feeling it.

“I have one other request. You won’t like it,” I said cringing.

“It can’t be that bad, Joanie, ask me,” she said, falling for it.

“He’s a terrible kisser.”

“What!” Lex shouted.

“Hear me out, I’ve seen him. He’s either so timid it’s pathetic, or he’s a charging tongue-o-saurus; there’s no in-between. I’d teach him, but Suzy might be offended. Could you?”

“NO! You don’t know what you’re asking,” Lex said noticeably agitated.

“I know exactly what I’m asking, otherwise I wouldn’t ask. You don’t have to practice with him, just critique his performance. He can kiss the back of your hand, or a mirror if it helps. I don’t want him hurting or disappointing Suzy, she’s family,” I said twisting the knife.

“I’ll consider it, but if he thrusts his tongue in my mouth....” Lex warned me.

“He’ll be on his best behavior, I promise.”

~~It’s not lying; I have my fingers crossed. I know the rules. ~~

* * * *

I talked to Tom shortly before he was expected in Security.

“Tom, you will be on your best behavior. Many of the officers are my friends, too,” I said.

“Hey, they have guns; I’d better behave.”

“Okay then, but be careful around Officer Luther. She’s well; she’s not her old self at the moment,” I said carefully.

~~Okay, it’s deceptive but true; she used to be a guy. ~~

“What’s wrong with Lex? You’re her friend, tell me,” Tom asked.

~~Almost there. ~~

“She, well, they had a fight and she and the boy are not together,” I said, sounding as if I was sad at the thought.

~~Still the truth, she and Warlock are definitely not a couple. ~~

“Boy?” Tom asked.

~~Got yah, Tom, now to set the hook. ~~

“Lex had this intense relationship with a male student, but it went terribly wrong. Her entire life changed because of the boy, and she’s still not back to normal,” I said.

~~I am such a good actress and not a lie out of my lips. ~~

“Is Lex over him?” Tom asked.

“I can honestly say she doesn’t love him. He took something precious from her during a night full of magic, and she can’t forgive him,” I said trying hard to not break up.

~~Misdirection and a hint of double entendre’; I love it. ~~

“Be careful, her feelings are on edge. She needs a boost to her ego. I want you to act the inexperienced and awkward boy around her. I don’t know how exactly, maybe make up a story? Ask her how a boy should treat a girl on a date, or ask her how to properly kiss a girl. You can say it’s so you can date Suzy and not make a mess of it. Please do it for me, Tom. Lex is a good friend and she needs this,” I said, emphasizing the last three words.

‘I promise, Joanie, I’ll make her feel desired and loved,” Tom said.

“You make sure you do that. Tom. I’m counting on you,” I said as he walked into Security.

I ran back to Poe for my sleepover stuff, and to laugh myself silly.

* * * *

I left early to help set up. Tina and Chris Anderson had done a marvelous job preparing for the party. They had lots of food and snacks ready, and coolers full of well-iced soda and water. They’d cleared out the dining room and had futons piled up along one wall. Pillows and blankets were stacked high on Chris’s bed along with extra towers and soap and such.

“We’ve got lots of stuff to do, Joanie,” Tina said excitedly. “We’ve got a bunch of cool, sorry Joanie, kewl chick flicks we can watch. Your school friends will have a blast, and so will you. You know we’d prefer a more ‘adult’ sleep over, but Chris and I are happy you came. Okay if we join in?”

“Absolutely, I invited two special guests to the sleepover, May Lee and her sister Anna. Anna’s had a bad time this last year, and I want to cheer her up. They’re both gorgeous, funny women; you’ll like them,” I said

“The Playboy model and her sister; I know them. Remember I was there in Administration when they came in, Joanie,” said Tina sounding hurt.

“That was for Chris’s benefit, Tina. I’m sorry if I upset you; come here, girl,” I said and opened my arms.

I gave her a loving hug, and a kiss on the cheek.

“You’ll find someone, Tina; you too, Chris. I know it sounds corny, but I know these good-looking, identical twin, projecting empaths back in Wisconsin, we’re talking college boys here, girls,” I said, thinking of the Platteville Pair.

“Maybe, but I still prefer you, Joanie.” said Tina.

“Well. You always did have good taste,” I said.

“Oh you!” they shouted in unison.

* * * *

The party lasted until late in the night; poor Dr Bellows must not have slept well. We ate, played silly games, and danced to tunes the Andersons played on their sound system. I picked up a couple good dance moves from the girls. May Lee had this killer techno-pop routine, and Cheryl surprised me with some of the sexiest moves outside of an exotic dance club I’d ever seen.

“That’s positively sinful! Where did you learn to dance like that?” asked Lonnie.

“My Dad’s an old-fashioned Southern Baptist minister, and his church frowns on dancing, so naturally I rebelled,” she said.

“Huh? Really?” asked Lonnie.

“Got ya! Dad’s a lawyer so we have lots of money. I took dance classes for years. Ballet, tap, modern, you name it; I love dancing. My older brother used to practice his club dancing with me; I got the moves from him. I just sexed them up a bit,” Cheryl said.

The one bad part of the sleepover occurred a little before midnight. They put on the radio at eleven; several of the girls wanted to hear the weeks top 20 countdown. I tried not to listen, but they kept shrieking every time my name came up, which it did several times.

“Joanie!” Tina, that’s Tina Smith, shrieked.

“What is it? And not so loud, that hurt!” I said wincing.

“They’re about to announce the top three, and they said it‘s something special,” Tina said nearly bouncing with excitement.

“Number three must be a disappointment to hot newcomer Joanie as this is the third week in a row her recording has been stuck at number three. Don’t cry for her, music fans, this makes the fifteenth week since becoming a professional singer less than thirty weeks ago that she has at least one song in the top three. And for the fifth week in a row the top two songs in the nation are both by Joanie. With this, Ms. Brown has five songs in the overall top twenty in addition to five of the top twenty on the country chart. I salute you, Joanie, and thanks,” the DJ said before playing my song.

“If anyone asks me to sing, I’ll kill them,” I said and laughed nervously to hide the shakes.

Pinky must have noticed, and came over and hugged me.

“It's all right, Joanie, I won’t let them harm you,” she said softly.

“What’s wrong?” asked Anna, who’d been happy and bubbly all evening.

“Joanie’s stressing out. Fame both attracts her and scares her. I think the music countdown overwhelmed her,” Pinky said.

Anna wrapped her arms around me and Pinky. I sat there on the rug sandwiched between the girls as my anxiety ebbed away.

“I’m sorry, girls,” I said as they had all gathered around the three of us on the floor. “I’m emotional some times, and the radio show got to me. I love entertaining; it’s so satisfying to make people happy, but the fame scares me. I’m a target as a time stopping mutant, and being a famous and rich singer doesn’t help. What scares me most is one of you, or my family, will get hurt because of me. It’s silly, but it’s the way I am. I guess my mind remembered only the bad aspects of my fame, and I lost it,” I said somewhat agitated.

“We know the risks, but we’re still your friends, Joanie. I say we cheer you up. Anyone for truth or dare?” asked Suzy, then she blew me a pretend kiss.

* * * *

We got up late; it was almost noon when we stirred Sunday morning. To be fair, we did stay up until dawn. We got dressed, ate, helped Tina and Chris clean up our mess, and put the futons and other stuff away. Next we went downstairs, and did Dr. Bellows’ lawn and weeded his garden and flowerbeds. We even hand washed his car, though that got silly as it was an unusually warm day and degraded into a parody of a wet tee-shirt contest. Yours truly did not get wet as I am fast and can stop time. So I cheated -- sue me!

Then they ganged up on me; they noticed they were all soaked yet I was bone dry. Pinky and Chris got me from behind with a full bucket each. I was soaked, the suds stinging my eyes, and I was deliriously happy. We cleaned up from that, and Dr. Bellows offered us some treats for ‘being good girls, and not waking him and his wife too often.’

“Joanie, a moment of your time please,“ the doctor asked as we prepared to leave for campus.

“Sure, Doc, what’s up?” I said and munched a pretend carrot.

“That’s the worst Bugs I’ve heard in ages,” he said.

“That wasn’t Bugs, that was Yoda doing his impression of Bugs,” I said, and chuckled as Dr. Bellows rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for inviting Anna and May Lee to your sleepover; it did them good to get out and just relax. Ever consider becoming a therapist, Joanie?”

“I could never do it; I’d get too wrapped up in my patient’s troubles. I’d drive myself crazy,” I said, “and don’t say, ‘It seems a shame to take a car for such a short trip.’”

“It depends on the weather.”

“Huh?”

“The car makes sense if it’s raining, or freezing out,” Dr Bellows said. “I could teach you how to avoid over identifying with your patients without becoming too detached from them.”

I chose not to answer that joke as I had too much dignity to sink to such depths. Plus my retort would violate the Johnny Carson 'three jokes in a row on the same subject' taboo.

“I’m flattered, but I wear too many hats as it is. Thanks for being so patient with us last night, Doctor, and I promise to see you professionally soon. I had a brief episode of panic last night when I heard how well my records are doing. Maybe it brought back memories of my kidnapping, or the ferryboat? I lost it for a while, but my friends snapped me out of it. I still think we should talk; it frightened me how fast the panic came and went,” I said.

“We will, anytime you’re ready, Joanie.”

We got back to campus, and Tom looked at me strangely. Lex left a cryptic message for me that the duty officer gave me when I retrieved my smilodons.

“Do you have any idea what Lex meant?” I asked after reading it.

All that the note said was, ‘Thanks!’ and a single red rose was in a vase attached to it.

~~What does that mean?” ~~

* * * *

April 23, 2007

The morning of April 23, 2007, dawned damp and wet. We got one of those weird combinations of weather fronts you can only get in this part of the country. A cold, damp air mass from Labrador was duking it out with a warm, soggy air mass from the Gulf of Mexico, while a branch of the jet stream was stirring thing aloft. Add in the comparative warmth of the Gulf Stream, and you have the perfect recipe for fog and rain. Less than a hundred miles from us, in Maine, they were getting a late season snow storm. One hundred miles to the south it was 70 and sunny.

My friends and I did our morning run down in the tunnels. They’d decided to continue to tag team me, so I didn’t wear them out. It was more for fun than anything else. I did it to keep my mind and body attuned to each other. Pinky did it for exercise, to burn off some of her lingering frustrations from her mutation, and to hang with me. Tom and Tina often ran with Pinky and I. They weren’t enhanced physically; they weren’t exemplars or regens, so exercise was even more to their benefit. On a campus filled with supers and exemplars, to be out of shape was suicide. Suzy, likewise, was not an exemplar, but she’d long been in the habit of walking or running to keep her body in shape -- a shape that Tom kept a close eye on. Around quarter to eight we quit to shower and meet for breakfast.

We ate a hearty breakfast; we’d burned a lot of calories running, and broke up to go to our respective classes. My only morning class wasn’t until ten, so I took George and Gracie out for some training and exercise.

My experience with housecats was there had to be something pretty damn interesting outside to induce them to go out on the wet ground in a heavy rain. George and Gracie LOVED it! I should have realized they’d be used to it; they were from the near arctic-like grasslands that spread across much of the northern hemisphere during the last ice age. Luckily for me, my lightweight poncho shed the rain without a leak yet ‘breathed’ comfortably.

~~ Bless you Ms. Rogers ~~

I had a difficult time getting them to come inside; they were having such fun. We were practicing retrieving objects that I threw, or cached under leaves and such. The speed they could reach as they ran was phenomenal for their size, and their tree climbing ability was a marvel. Pinky had them well trained, and they returned to me quickly when called. The tasty treats we gave them helped in that regard. Amazing what they’ll do for a nice chunk of sirloin, or a piece of dry food coated with touch of anchovy paste. I could see they were having such a good time I let them play a bit. The way they rough housed made me glad I was not a juicy mastodon at the mercy of their pack. There wasn’t a puddle safe from their lethal pouncing. The few remaining leaves from last fall that dared to blow across the grounds soon joined their ancestors, viciously shredded by my twin terrors.

We came in after an hour or so, and all three of us took long showers. The smilodons hogged the shower on me. I had to start another for myself. I spent considerable time brushing their coats, and brushing mine as well; having hair that hangs down to your butt is high maintenance. Maybe I’ll go for a shorter ‘do’ someday? Nah!

~~ I wonder if Eric would like it if I got a pixie cut. ~~

My morning classes went well as can be expected on a dreary day. Boring! To be honest, my mind was on other things like why did I not tell Eric about my farm? Am I afraid it will scare him off, my getting all domestic on him? He has to understand the farm is unimportant; what is important is us. When did I become such a love struck puppy? Was I always this way, but circumstance never let it express itself? The few times I did get serious about a girl as a man, I was overwhelmed by the sensations and sabotaged by my own inaction. I was not inactive as a girl, that was for sure.

A time worn saying back in Wisconsin goes, ‘If you don’t like the weather, just wait an hour.’ In New England the weather is as changeable, or worse. To my joy, the fog lifted, the rain stopped, and the sun shone intensely. By late morning the pavement was almost dry, and the temperature was into the upper sixties, simply glorious spring weather.

Lex got tagged for extra duty that afternoon when someone called in sick, and Charlie Lodgeman was busy, so I had to travel to the dealership on my own. It was better in a way; I could devote more time to what Fordâ„¢ wanted from me without interfering with Pinky’s school work.

* * * *

I ate an early lunch, then got dressed for the ride. I packed a change of clothes in my panniers, tied them on my Harley, and rode off for Berlin. I planned on arriving at the dealership sometime before one PM; it was a pleasant day and I’d allowed ample time.

I was enjoying the fresh air and emerging spring scenery when I felt the presence of something malevolent in a clump of woods near the road, not far from my farmhouse. The feeling was so intense and chaotic I had to pull off to the side of the road and stop to clear my head.

I sensed a moment of agonizing pain, inconsolable grief, and then a wave of exponentially increasing rage. Suddenly the rage cut off, and was replaced by emotionless cold. There was something vaguely familiar in the feelings, but I couldn't tell how far back, or forward, in time the scene originated.

“Was that a precognitive dream, or did my erratic empathic gift pick up on some fight near here?“ I thought out loud.

The disturbing impressions soon faded, I shook off my disorientation, got on my cycle, and continued on toward Berlin.

* * * *
To be continued

Attachment	Size
Timeout_3_chapter_11_rev_5_Janetpost.doc	122 KB

Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 12

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie gets her truck. The school band trys out new members and she picks up more clean-up crew. Joanie meets a Doberman with a strange name and it's trainer. Joanie gets advice from Sam Everheart about her house projects. She calls MSG for the latest on the Ultra-X investigation and talks with Gin's youngest sister, formerly one of the bad guys. Ms. Hartford gives Joanie a key to why Pinky's mom hates mutants and has a disasterous phone conversation.

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Detailing by Itinerant
Additional proofing by Janet Nolan

Chapter 12- 4X4-Lord Mr. Ford What Have You Done, Home Improvement 6, The New New Avengers 6, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 1

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Boston MA, April 23-24, 2007

April 23, 2007

Bad weather had delayed the transfer of my truck to Berlin. The same storm that made the morning so wet and gray at Whateley had dumped 5 inches of wet snow to our west a couple of days earlier. They couldn’t get the truck from the Buffalo, NY area to Berlin until Sunday. The dealership and the custom accessories people worked late into Sunday night, and part of Monday morning, to get it ready. Mr. Ford was taking a personal interest in my vehicle and used his *influence* to speed things up. I guess he didn’t want his publicity goldmine to be disappointed.

I arrived in Berlin a little before one o'clock PM, still shaken by that frighteningly vague, empathic daydream I’d had. I decided to discuss it with the gang later on the chance it was a precognitive vision. Despite my lingering worries, I got caught up in the glorious spring afternoon and was eagerly anticipating seeing my truck. I rode into the dealership and noticed several photographers and camera technicians busily filming me.

“Ms. Brown, over here, please!” called out Frank, my salesman. A thirty-something man in a high-priced suit stood next to him. I rode up close and parked my cycle.

~~I’ve seen that man on TV. He wouldn’t! ~~

“Good afternoon Mr. Ford. You didn’t need to come out for me. I made a deal, and I’ll stick to it,” I said, smiling while shaking my head in surprise at all the fuss.

“No, Ms. Brown, your champion, Senator Johnson, said you were absolutely trustworthy, and I was I fool if I didn’t thank you in person. Joanie -- I hope I may call you that -- we couldn’t waste the opportunity. Your rise to fame has been meteoric, and I hope your relations with Ford will prove as spectacular,“ said Mr. Ford.

“Meteors burn up or crash into the Earth; are you sure you wish to be associated with one?” I asked, and grinned.

“The Senator was right; you don’t take your success seriously. Perhaps meteoric was the wrong word, but we’ve made no mistake. You’re no flash in the pan; you’ll be around for the long-haul,” he said with conviction.

“You don’t know how true that is,” I thought out loud.

“You said something, Joanie?” Mr. Ford asked.

“I was thinking out loud. I’m a Midwestern girl, but I love this part of the country enough to plan on living here. I’m converting an old farm house into a rental property, and a barn into my dream home. I’m preoccupied with it,“ I explained.

I was informed later by Mr. Ford that the lifetime free service and repairs would be extended to my Focus. To them it was nothing much, how long will a person keep a car? I planned to get my money’s worth and then some.

~~I can see it now. “You bought this truck five hundred years ago, Joanie, and it needs a what?” The Ford service technicians will learn to loath me. ~ ~

“That explains the F250 crew cab. So many tall men and women buy them for the headroom or for the status a big vehicle represents, but whatever the reason we’re, or should I say I am, glad you choose Ford,” Mr. Ford said cheerfully. We chatted for a while as the cameras recorded everything.

I used the dealership’s employee break room to change into a more appropriate outfit for the ceremony and the ads they wanted to film -- bib overall cutoffs. I suspected the Oshkosh-by-Gosh people would not be too upset with my alterations. I wore a demi-cup bra and a man’s styled short-sleeved work shirt, my hair clipped in back, and the sexiest steel-toed work boots you’ve ever seen. The fetish shop back in Madison had the Steve Zink people make them up special for me, complete with a non-skid, oil-resistant sole, steel safety toe and insole, a built-in 3 inch rise in the heel, and ankle supports.

Okay, so it’s not an appropriate outfit for such a ceremony, well not traditionally, but I looked so good in it, and no one would connect me with Whateley. It wasn’t totally out of place; think of all the women models used over the years at the major car shows. My outfit was a cross between ‘Daisy Dukes’ and Pamela Anderson’s ‘Tool Time’ costume on ‘Home Improvement.’ Without the boots it could be a one-piece swimsuit. I walked out to the cameras and Mr. Ford started laughing.

“Y ... y ... you're serious about the farm project, aren’t you, Daisy Mae.” I giggled at his Lil’ Abner joke.

“I am, though I admit this outfit is slightly extreme. I can take it off if it’s a problem,” I said and started to unhook one suspender.

Mr. Ford eyes bulged out, for real. “Th … th … that’s not necessary … and I think Mr. Hefner would object.” He paused for breath. “Please, Joanie, don’t wear that on your jobsite; that is dangerously distracting, or the ‘other’ outfit either,“ said Mr. Ford as he calmed down.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist,” I said with a wide grin on my face.

“It’s mostly light demolition work -- removing bad plaster and the like -- cleaning up after the workers, and chasing for last minute supplies. The heavy stuff I’m leaving to professionals. May we get on with this? Places to be, things to do,” I said, as I flashed a huge smile at the gathering crowd.

They made a little ceremony out of the signing over of the title. They’d registered the truck for me and mounted the plates. The real plates were secured out of sight under the front passenger seat; these were temporaries for my protection. It was a suggestion of Frank’s, and he got a scorching kiss from me when I found out. I think he’ll be less condescending with future female customers after that reward.

I had a short, private conversation with him between the filming of the ads, and I told him how poorly he treated me when we first met and how much he had improved.

“That idea with the plates was thoughtful. Frank, so you deserved a kiss. You can be a great salesperson; I know it. Listen to your customers and pause to think before you speak. Once you knew what I wanted, you were a dream; before that you gave off sexist vibes. I’m a sixties child, Frank -- you can tell, can’t you?” I said and he smiled in response. “Use your knowledge with a touch of class, and you’ll go far in sales or whatever else you want to do. For practice, why don’t you try listening to the finance major in your office? You two might hit it off if you can ditch ‘Mr. Macho,’" I said.

I have suspicions we weren’t as alone as I thought, because later that day the college gal from the office came up to me, gave me a hug, and said, “Thanks.”

Between ‘takes’, Frank and various mechanics described all they had done for me. Most of the reliable but low tech storage batteries were replaced with the latest reversible fuel cell technology. This air/fuel cell combined storage and power production in one package and made this an all electric truck. In storage mode it converted the waste products from power generation into fuel gases and oxygen, which were compressed and stored. It did not suffer in performance or driving range as electrics historically did. The cells could use compressed natural gas, propane, alcohol, gasoline, or even diesel in a pinch.

The drive motor/regenerative breaking units used the latest in high-temperature superconductive materials and bucky-ball impregnated bearings to boost their efficiency and horsepower. The new drive train trimmed over five-hundred pounds from the truck's curb weight and increased its cargo capacity.

With the Z rated tires they’d included, the truck could do 0 to 60 in less than six seconds and topped out at over 160 mph with a load, despite the wind resistance inherent in an uncovered pickup. With the hard bedcover in place, the rear section contained a pop-up *flap* that acted like a spoiler or rear wing. With the hard-cover removed other tricks boosted performance. If the ‘bed’ was not filled too high, at speed a rollershade like device would extend a super-fabric cover. Retained by recessed tracks along the top of the bed this *soft-cover* could enclose much or all of the cargo area. A portion of the core of the tailgate telescoped upward then tilted back. This spoiler boosted traction and kept the rear-end on the ground just like the hard-cover *flap* -- both pushed the top speed much higher. Corvettes would have a hard time keeping up under those circumstances. The outer-rear quarter pannels in combination with the tailgate spoiler would deploy as dragbreaks to maximize high-speed stopping power exactly like on a jet aircraft. I was shocked when they explained it to me. My mind makes the strangest connections sometimes.

~~Why am I thinking of Slappy Squirrel? Oh! ~~

“My Ghod, I’m ‘The Little Old Lady from Pasadena’. I know that was a Dodge in the song, but you understand,“ I said in my surprise.

“There are songs about Fords, Joanie. I can get you copies if you like,“ said Mr. Ford, with a chuckle. He was clearly having a great time.

Oversized anti-lock brakes, traction control, and other high-speed handling features were added as part of the police package along with ceramo-metallic laminate armor for the passenger compartment. The glass was the latest in optical grade ceramics sandwiched over some new plastic based on bucky tubes. It was as clear as Lexan but far stronger. This gave the truck a resistance to armor-piercing weapons that only tanks could approach a few decades ago. Anti-gravity systems were used in a limited role: to help stabilize heavy loads and ease loading and unloading, improve handling, boost traction and absorb some of the energy in collisions to protect the passengers. The passenger compartment was re-enforced and equipped with multistage airbags and other advanced safety features.

“FYI, Joanie, your truck has the same type of armor as the new Presidential limousines we’re building,” said Mr. Ford with pride.

“My truck is better armored than the President’s limo?” I asked.

“It’s as well armored as the current Presidential limos, but it’s much lighter in weight. Oh, those Z rated tires have the latest in drive flat sidewalls. You can drive at up to 60 mph for a minimum of one hundred miles on a completely flat tire. These features will soon be standard on all our the top of the line armored products,“ he finished.

The accessories were better than I expected as well. The cycle carrier and loading system was fully automatic and could unload to either side as well as the rear. I only needed to get the bike within range of the device, activate it, and it did the rest. The towing package was heavy duty, but light in weight and self-storing when not in use -- it folded up under the truck -- unlike the rigid mounted kind that can damage cars in collisions. The kennel for the smilodons was sturdy, easy to disassemble and reassemble without tools, yet provided great shelter and protection to the animals. The police/emergency package included powerful lights and an electric remote-controlled winch mounted above the front bumper. I was very pleased with all they had done.

“I’m so happy with everything. The truck and the accessories I’ve received are far above what I expected,“ I said, grinning, as we finished filming the ads.

“Check this out,” said Mr. Ford.

He pressed the buttons on the keyless-entry key fob in a particular sequence, and the truck started driving to us. It maneuvered around the camera technicians and other obstacles easily and stopped just feet from us.

“That was a demonstration of our latest auto drive system -- that was the homing function. The same system allows the truck to self-park and to drive itself on most highways. It senses the edge of the road and other traffic and drives accordingly. You only need to set the maximum speed. We don’t advocate relying on it for that purpose, it’s more to prevent you driving off the road in snow, or having an accident due to driver fatigue or inattention. As a test, we did drive a vehicle with this system cross-country and, except for a professional test driver behind the wheel as a precaution, it did all the driving. We told the GPS navigation system where to go, and it did everything else. We’re very proud of our engineers' work,“ said Mr. Ford.

“This is a far more expensive a vehicle than I agreed to. I’m grateful, but curious; why?” I asked.

“You’re the best singer there is today, the best in ages, and you have done your best to help people in time of peril. I’ve seen the video of the rescues you made. You deserve our best effort -- that and the Senator said he’d push legislation to give sweeping powers to the EPA to set and enforce stringent fuel economy standards for all motor vehicles, including heavy trucks, if we didn’t sweeten our offer,” he said and laughed.

“He would at that,” I said, and broke out in giggles.

Mr. Ford and the dealership owner offered to take me out to dinner, but I begged off. I would have loved to eat at the Box-T again and catch up with Julie Anne’s parents, but time was too short.

“Thank you, but my friends are waiting for me back at school. I’m on duty tonight with Security, so I must run; perhaps another time,” I said as I made my goodbyes and drove off with my cycle secure in its carrier. I drove slowly at first, getting a feel for the handing. Except for some modest tire noise, the truck was extremely quiet due to the electric drive system. I decided to try out the collision avoidance and auto-drive systems another day. I did take it up to 100 briefly on a wide open stretch of road, and it handled like a sedan at 40. I was soon back at Whateley. I rushed off to the King Annex, where I found the core of my new band already in practice. A new girl was playing along on the xylophone and she sounded good.

“Cindy, you’re in History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, second period with me, right?” I asked.

Cindy was the girl who was so concerned for me when I sat in the teacher’s desk and acted like the class delinquent the Monday before. She became one of the best participants in discussion after I admitted that I was the substitute instructor.

“Yes, Joanie; I heard you say that you were still holding tryouts for your band so here I am. Why are you looking so happy -- I mean, happier than usual? If you smiled any wider your head would fall off,“ Cindy joked.

“I got my new truck today. That means I can start renovating the farmhouse and converting the barn on the farm I bought,” I said.

“I can see you being happy about the new truck, but happy about construction work?” Cindy questioned.

“It’s my first home, and apart from the exterior shell and the timber frame it’s a blank canvas. My hand will be on every aspect of its design and construction -- it’s my baby,” I said and smiled.

“It’s your dream home… It’s an adult-sized Barbie doll house!” Cindy said and laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I suddenly remembered, Joanie, you are a Barbie doll. I bought a special edition Joanie ‘Barbie’ as a Christmas present for my younger sister. I’d like to be on your cleanup crew, but I’m allergic to house dust,” Cindy explained.

“There’s a lot to do outside, and we may need a gofer. If your allergy isn’t too bad, I am providing dust masks, and I’m renting portable fans to vent the building. You don’t have to be on my work crew to be in the band though,“ I said.

“I’ll think about it; I could use the extra money. I’m on a full scholarship, but that doesn’t cover lab fees and other unusual expenses. Mom raised me by herself, so we don’t have much in savings. I was surprised you’re still holding tryouts; I thought you’d be full up by now,“ Cindy said.

“I think Joanie intimidates the students,” said Pinky. “They get nervous because she’s such a successful singer and because she’s with Security. Joanie’s the sweetest girl I know, but they can’t see past the fame, or her quick trigger fingers on those Tazers,” Pinky said and giggled.

“I only use them as a last resort, or when I feel like it,“ I stuck my tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Besides the xylophone, what else to you play, Cindy?” I asked.

“I was in the school orchestra before I came to Whateley. I’m a percussionist. I can play kettle drums, chimes, vibraphone, marimba, and lots of special effects like temple blocks, sleigh-bells and slide whistle. I’m a fair drummer and a decent alto, if I may say so,” Cindy said confidently.

"I’m a fan of Frank Zappa’s music and some modern jazz. You can never have enough percussionists when it comes to popular music these days,” I said. “Cindy, this is embarrassing, but what’s your code name?”

“Barbie Q, I’m an energizer and manipulate fire,” she said.

“Not Incindra?” I asked.

“That’s too close to a registered super's name, and look at me. I’m a six foot tall, slim and stacked blonde -- Barbie fits, don’t you think?”

“Doh! It’s so obvious; I guess I’m more blonde than I thought … We could be sisters, you know … What was I saying? I like forgot, whatever!” I said, and giggled. They looked at me, trying not to laugh. “I am such a girl sometimes,” I said; now they all giggled or snorted. “Sorry for getting here so late; it took longer at the dealership than I expected.”

“That’s okay, it gave us time to try out Cindy. She’s good; she demonstrated on Lonnie’s drum set and sounded great. Cindy will be a great backup to Lonnie,” said Pinky. Apparently Pinky had been running ‘the show’ in my absence.

“Hi, Lonnie, I’m glad you could make it. Gang, Lonnie’s a magic type and was most helpful to me recently. What do you think of everybody here, Lonnie?” I asked.

“Pinky is right; Cindy is smoking. Suzy’s great on piano and pretty slick on electric organ and synthesizer. Her singing is the best. She must have had lessons, because she sings like she’s had professional training,” said Lonnie.

“Mom taught me, and I did have some professional training. Lonnie’s a fair singer herself. I thought Jenny and Pinky's voices were awesome,” Suzy said and blushed.

“Just so everyone here understands, Suzy’s mom was a professional singer, but ended up a banking auditor as she couldn’t make a living of it. It’s a tough business. She’s very good singer, though; I’ve heard her,” I said.

“Last time was at your Mom’s funeral, I … I did it again, sorry,” said Suzy looking sad.

“You know Suzy’s mom? I heard you’d rescued Suzy; heck, half the campus must know that by now. Peeper’s been spreading the word that Suzy is ‘hands off,’” stated Lonnie.

“The less you know the better, but, yes, I know her family,” I said.

“Family, I understand. I have secrets I need to protect too,” said Lonnie.

I see Tom and Tina Smith made it; did anyone else come?” I was disappointed in the turnout.

“Cheryl, the Crystal Hall cashier, got stuck filling in at her job, so she can’t make it tonight. She sent word through Jenny Chang she’s still interested. Jenny plays a hot fiddle, Joanie, and sings well too. When Pinky said you wanted us to learn some old country tunes, Jenny said she played the five-string banjo. She ran back to her dorm to get it and is off in the instrument repair shop tuning it. Tina played her twelve-string guitar and did some Joni Mitchell for us. She’s quite competent but Tom …” Lonnie winced.

“I came to give Tina moral support, and because I know many of you -- you’re all cute, especially you, Suzy. Um, you too, Joanie,“ said Tom. He smiled at me, or was it Suzy? “I’d like to help in some way, but I’m not musically gifted,” he said.

“That’s putting it mildly; my brother sucks,” Tina said and laughed.

“He has a limited range, and he needs training, but Tom...“ Poor Suzy was trying.

“Be honest, Suzy. It’s best,” I said softly.

“Tom, I’m sorry. You're bad, but not everyone has singing talent, maybe you play something?” Suzy asked in desperation.

~~The girl has got it bad. She’s coming to the staff gynecologist to go on birth control if I have to hog-tie her. ~~

“Sorry, I never learned, but you could use a gofer. A drum kit, even an electronic one, needs setup and take down, and there are the music stands, the sheet music, the chairs, and Suzy’s synthesizer. Cindy must need help too. I can be a big help and maybe I can learn to play something,” he pleaded. He looked so sincere, and I saw Suzy looking at me with those same puppy dog/kitten-in-the-rain eyes Mel uses to such effect.

“Okay, okay, I’ll find some use for you. Put away those eyes, Suzy, they’re dangerous,” I said and shook my head in my hands.

“Thank you, you’ll not regret it, Joanie,” exclaimed Tom, as he ran over, picked me up, and hugged me hard.

“Tom, let me go!” I half shouted, half laughed.

He looked so embarrassed afterward; it’s rare in my experience to see a guy blush like that. Suzy laughed so hard she dropped the sheet music she was holding. The light came on over my head.

~~Is this part of some bizarre practical joke to get even for Tom’s night with Lex and company? No one’s said anything to me and that’s suspicious. ~~

I pulled Tom back into me and kissed him on the cheek.

“That hug was kind of nice, but my boyfriend might object, Tom,” I said and gave him a fierce glower for all of a second until I snickered.

“What do you think, girls? A tight Speedo, some high-heeled copwboy boots, and Tom’s our pole dancer!”

“Joanie!” yelled Suzy, but I could see her thinking as she wet her lips.

* * * *

Cheryl managed to make it anyway, so we got the chance to hear her play. She blew a wicked cornet, a mournful French horn, and her sax was to die for. Stop snickering, dear d/j/w readers or you’re out of here. And I thought I had a filthy mind.

“You said you played alto sax, I quote, ‘not as well’ as the horns. You lied to me; you're great on the cornet and French horn, but you are a ghodess on the sax,” I said and gave her a quick hug.

“I didn’t lie! I don’t play it as well; I play it better,” Cheryl said and laughed.

“I deserve that for all the Brittany Spears gags. You’re in if you want, Cheryl. You agree, gang?”

They all gave their enthusiastic approval. We spent the next 30 minutes playing Bill Monroe’s ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky,’ a true crossover hit. I was pleased that they all could sight-read music, and they picked up the tune quickly. Each time we played we were noticeably better than the time before. We didn’t have a mandolin player, but my Les Paul, suitably tweaked, was a fair approximation.

After this one song, I knew this group held promise, and I was damned sure I’d do my best to help them prove it. Tina Smith was a competent singer, and her style complemented Pinky and Cindy’s range and style of backup singing. Jenny was a revelation -- how did such a petite girl hit such low notes? Suzy could match me note for note, flawlessly, except on the extreme ends of my range. She clearly had her mom’s talent, and then some. We tried a few times with Pinky and Jenny singing lead and yours truly helping the rest on backup; that worked well too. That gave us some added flexibility and ensured I would not hog the spotlight too much.

Tom was grinning with happiness at how well his ‘girl’ sang.

~~After Suzy goes to the gynecologist, he goes to the vet to be neutered, spayed, and fixed -- I’m taking no chances. ~~

* * * *

When we finished practicing, I offered to show off my new truck to them. Cheryl showed her big city origins; she thought it impractical.

“That’s going to be hard to park and expensive to run,” she said.

I demonstrated the auto park feature, and opened the hood to let her see the reversible fuel-cell system.

“It’s the latest in electric drive-train vehicles. It’s multi-fuel capable and highly efficient. I’m not buying it to show off like so many Hummer owners; I will use this to haul people, and supplies, and my cycle. And I need something to transport the smilodons to and from the farm,” I said; I showed them the kennel in the truck bed.

“You’re going to drive your smilodons around in that? The other drivers will crap in their pants when they see them. Sorry about the language, Joanie,” said Cheryl.

I showed off the synth-leather heated seats and the built-in food cooler/warmer in the console between the front seats. And they just had to include the latest satellite radio and premium sound system -- I wonder why? It was getting late when we went to eat. By six, I was at Security and starting my overlapping shift.

* * * *

A package was waiting for at the main desk. I signed for it and locked it up after giving it a brief glance. It was the results of a background check I had requested on Pinky’s parents. I only had time to read the overview, but it was not encouraging. At best, the father was uninterested in his daughter, as he and Mrs. Conners were drifting apart due to her increasingly radical, anti-mutant beliefs. He was turning to other women for “solace” -- by that euphemism, the investigators meant sex.

~~Guys, I know I look 17 but you don’t need to tone down the language for me. But still, that was sweet of them; I should give them hugs … Son of a …! I bet that’s why they did it. Ooh they are sneaky! ~~

More likely he’d been unfaithful since sometime before Pinky mutated and used her mother’s anti-mutantism as an excuse to cheat.

I patrolled with one of the K-9 officers, and she put her Doberman through its paces. She was good and so was the dog. Despite the temptation of several rabbits we spooked, the dog never left her side. She demonstrated its ability to detect forbidden items, as it easily found a small sealed plastic pipe she’d buried earlier that had a sample of an illegal substance in it.

“Do you think my smilodons will be able to do that?” I asked.

“I don’t see why not. I’ve worked with your friend, Pinky; they are quick studies and remember their lessons well. We’ve started them hunting for buried treats, and they seem to have sensitive noses. Time will tell, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Felines are supposed to be hard to train, but these two are nearly as well behaved as Fifi,” she said.

“FIFI ?” I screamed, then burst into giggles.

She held on to her dignity for a whole second before laughing joyously. We held onto each other to steady ourselves until we’d settled down. Fifi stood rigidly at her side the entire time; Dobermans have no sense of humor, I guess.

“He likes it, and it confuses the perps -- Fifi as the name for a male police dog? They expect Bruno, Spike, or Killer,” she said as we started walking again, interrupted by sporadic, recurring giggles.

* * * *
April 24, 2007

After an uneventful shift, I took care of the kitties and went to bed. I had odd dreams that night. I kept thinking back to the disturbing daydream. Something terrible happened or would happen at that spot. I was frustrated as most of what I had was only feelings, and little else. It was as if I held the key piece to a puzzle but I didn’t know which puzzle it was from.

At some point I woke in a cold sweat, twisted up in my sheets. From the way the smilodons were looking at me, I had been screaming. Although I had added soundproofing to the room and door, I woke my nearest neighbors who checked to see if I was all right. After assuring them it was a nightmare and apologizing, I changed my bed linens and went back to sleep.

This time I dreamt of that Goth girl -- Sara, the demon princess. She said my fantasy was a bit tame, but she obliged by turning into Eric and we … Normally I shower after my morning run; this time I showered before -- I reeked of sex. I changed my sheets again and showered. No sense confusing my friends about my nighttime activities. I have got to have more dreams like this last one or get laid. I was feeling so fine; I was silent as I ran. Often I’m a chatterbox, too much energy I guess. Pinky noticed I was in an odd mood.

“Why are you so quiet, Joanie? The excitement of your new truck wore off already?”

“Yeah, Joanie, what gives?” asked Tina Smith.

“I didn’t sleep well, I had a daydream on the way to Berlin yesterday and it worries me. I think it was a precognitive vision, but I don’t know what it means. It may have happened in the past, but something happened or will happen in or near the woods a little past my farm, and it was bad. Not much upsets me, but this was unlike anything I’ve ever felt, even when I had guns pulled on me in robberies as a man. My property is fine, as is the way from the farm to Whateley, but there is, or was, or will be something down that road.…”

“You are worried; hell, Joanie, I can sense that deep-down you’re terrified. You are one spooked girl,” said Pinky. ”I promise, Joanie, I will not go past your farm down that road unless we go as a group with you, okay? And Tina and I will pass the word on to the rest of the gang, right?” Pinky asked, and Tina nodded.

I was relieved they took my concern seriously and I was glad Pinky didn’t ask why I felt so good otherwise. I was not keen to explain what I’d done in my dreams.

* * * *

After my morning classes, I talked with Sam in Security about her Kane tower project. I’d seen her apartment a couple times and marveled at the craftsmanship. Though the natural theme was over-the-top by my tastes, I had to admit the work was first rate.

“I’ve seen your place; it’s not my style, but it’s beautifully constructed. I got a tip from the Sinclair girls, Jade and Jinn, that a girl named Fran Barnes can manipulate natural materials; she ‘persuades’ them to change shape. The girls said Fran did most of the wood and stone work in your apartment. Also, Fran cut the window openings and built the balcony, and she did this all through the use of her mutant powers. Jinn further mentioned something about Fran making the materials ‘flow’?”

“Fran did that; she’s a remarkable talent. I’m encouraging her to get formal training as an engineer and architect. It has to be natural material though. No plastics or steel. Why are you interested in Fran, Ms. Brown?” she asked.

Sam paused; her expression went blank for a moment. “… the southwest most quarter-quarter section of the southwest quadrant of town section 12 contiguous with the northwest most quarter-quarter section of the northwest quadrant of section 13 to the banks of Whateley creek inclusive, I understand. That’s enough, Hive. So you bought the Hennessey place and are applying for permits,” Sam said, then a smirk spread across her face. “You’re planning to renovate the farmhouse first, then the barn will be converted into your dream home. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got all domestic on us, Wild Child,” Sam said with a Cheshire cat smile. It was unnerving to say the least.

Sam had an odd sense of humor from all those years in combat -- all very hush-hush -- and sometimes gave me the willies. I was glad we were on the same side.

“I mentioned the barn has powder-post beetle damage, and Jinn said Fran might be able to repair that and make the wood as good as or better than new,” I said. “And what the hell did you mean by ‘Wild Child’?” I snarled in a bitchy tone.

I placed my hands on my hips and pouted defiantly, not the effect I intended. I meant to sneer menacingly, but it came out this sexy pout. I could see my reflection in one of the glass walls of Sam’s office. To Sam’s credit, she didn’t even flinch before continuing.

“She can do that and more; just give her a supply of wood, or stone, or whatever of sufficient size for the finished project, and she does the most amazing things with it. She cut the window openings in the Kane tower walls by ‘flowing’ the stone like the Sinclairs said. It only took a few minutes per opening and they’re holding up fine. You saw the bathroom grotto in my apartment -- that was her work.

“As to the other question, ‘Wild Child’ is what a few of the officers have nicknamed you. They know about the magazine, Ms. July -- remember we provided the security for your photo shoots. Given the outfits you wear sometimes, it seems appropriate. The Chief and I are discouraging the more lurid descriptions. Your nude photos will end up inside some of the lockers, I’m afraid,” Sam explained.

“I’m in some of the lockers now on those pop star posters; it’s no big deal. I want and need Fran for repairs to the original structure. It’s in my interest to save as much of the old building as possible. I must be careful not to spoil the ‘historic appearance’ of the farm or whatever phrase the local zoning board uses. The historic preservationists get real antsy when you alter the look of existing buildings in this part of the country. The guys from Operations -- who surveyed the site -- say the barn sits on a gneiss piece of rock ledge. Sam, I just made a geology joke; you could help by laughing,” I said.

“When I hear something funny I will,” Sam replied.

“Could Fran convert that into a monolithic rock foundation and basement? I’ll also need your input on security features. I was kidnapped last Halloween, and I need to feel safe in my home. I hope to have a family someday, and I want them kept protected, too. Now is the time to design with security in mind, and Sam, money is no object if it brings a significant increase in safety. I’m not taking anything for granite,” I added.

~~Come on Sam, this is my *A* material. *A* as in awful, be honest, Joanie. Ghods, why did I say *that* last one. ~~

“I have some time off tomorrow; I’ll drive over and draw up some plans. I know you’re not comfortable using a gun, thus your preference for the Tazers. I’ll devise a plan that doesn’t depend heavily on your ability to shoot,” Sam said. She looked me in the eyes and had a worried expression on her face.

“Joanie, I advise you to get over that feeling; you may need to use deadly force at some point. You’re too prominent a mutant and celebrity not to be at risk. If you won’t do it for your self, consider the danger you present to your loved ones. What if to save them, the only choice was to kill; what if that loved one was Eric?” Sam asked.

I gasped and my heart pounded. I struggled to keep control.

“How?”

“Hive keeps me well informed on any news that relates to Whateley. Don’t deny it. Your heart rate doubled within seconds of hearing his name. I’m deadly serious; your loved ones are targets,” Sam said.

“I will if I have to, but I won’t like it,” I replied.

I was angry at Sam for what she said and angry at myself for forgetting the risk I posed. I feared for their safety and for my ability to restrain myself should the worst happen.

~~If any of my friends, no … if anyone at all is hurt or dies because of me, Heaven help who did it, for I will show them little mercy, and none to my self. ~~

“Good, you realize the importance of this. I don’t like killing either, but sometimes it’s necessary,” Sam replied seriously. She began to smile and I saw that wicked twinkle flash in her eyes. “Joanie, if you keep making jokes like that last one, you will be putting your life in danger … from me,” Sam said and laughed.

I debated saying something like, “Gee, Sam, I was just getting my rocks off,” but that would have been tempting fate.

“Is there anyone else who’s good at construction? Operations said they will provide some work credit students for my projects,” I said.

“Ask for Harry Wolfe: he’s big, strong, and a genius with mechanical devices. He looks just like his name, right out of a werewolf film, but he’s a gentle soul. With Jinn and Jade that‘s everyone I worked with, except Stan and Morrie,” she said.

“Who do you think did the preliminary engineering survey?” I retorted.

“They’re a couple of good eggs and experts on Whateley’s below ground secrets -- trust them, Joanie,” Sam said.

“I do, Sam. Um, one last thing, where's …” I tried to say. I think the smirk forming on my face gave me away.

“Darren and Tabitha; I wasn’t born yesterday, Joanie,” Sam said, and prepared to dismiss me.

~~I may have to call in the big guns -- my Dr. Sara -- for a *consult* on this one. Sam is going down. I’ll make her laugh at one of my jokes if it takes all year. ~~

“Before I go, how am I doing as an officer? I’m not a full-time professional like you, but am I pulling my own weight, or is everyone being nice to the hopeless bimbo?” I asked.

“You’ve improved dramatically. You came into this without having gone through the military or a police academy and that’s a big disadvantage. Your mutant abilities make up for some of that, and your 49 years of life experience are a definite advantage. I agree with Chief Delarose that we should keep your duties light and continue training. Once we team you with your smilodons you’ll be a serious asset for night patrol, crowd control and apprehending violent offenders. The Chief said you have a good intuitive grasp of detective work; your youthful appearance is a huge edge.

"We won’t push you too fast Joanie; we are professionals. Don’t let anyone say you are not pulling your weight here; you are an asset to the department. Think of it; if all goes to plan, in a few months Whateley will have the first C-9 -- or is that S-9? -- police team in the world,” Sam said.

I snickered softly.

“You cracked a joke? And for me? Sam, I’m proud of you! Thanks for the advice and encouragement. You’re not the kind to butter-up a person, so I know that evaluation was honest. I owe you; how about we go out hunting this fall? The guys in the department say you love it. We can take the smilodons and have a great time. I’ll bet they make excellent retrievers once they are trained,” I said.

“But retrievers of what, ducks or duck hunters?”

”What? You don’t have a mastodon season in New Hampshire?” I asked in mock surprise.

Sam pointed for me to leave, so I walked out giggling. As I turned down the corridor to leave, I thought I heard Sam laughing.

* * * *

Operations was working up plans for my project so we could settle on a design and estimate the necessary supplies. I used the interval to check with MSG that afternoon on the progress of finding the people responsible for the Ultra-X-Amine homologue attacks. I was worried about the lack of any word on locating Tom and Tina’s missing parents. The odd line Suzy had shouted about not going back made no sense. Was it the fevered ramblings of her mind during burnout, or was there some significance to her words? Dr Bellows had *read* all three of them, and passed his findings on to MSG as they were officially part of the investigatory team. I was out of the loop and wanted in. I called MSG’s HQ.

“You have reached the offices of the Madison Supers Group. We are unable to answer your call at this time. If this is an emergency press zero for the operator otherwise wait for the tone and leave a message.”

~~I love answering machines.~~

-- BEEP! --

“Pickup the phone you lazy bums, it’s Joanie! You know, the tall sexy one who’s getting seriously pissed at talking to a machine …”

“Joanie, calm down, it’s Glacier Girl. Great to hear from you, um, why are you so upset -- what gives?” Her voice screamed ‘I am woman, take me now.’ Mind you, my voice isn’t much better.

“GG, any word on Tom and Tina Smith’s missing parents or the creeps who slipped the kids the Ultra-X-Amine make-a-mutant Mickeys?” I asked.

“Joanie, you watch way too many old movies. Best lay off the old detective thrillers. Impatient for results are we? It’s only a few weeks into the investigation. It’s rarely like on TV,” GG said.

“Suzy’s my niece! Of course I’m fucking impatient, and Tom and Tina are friends!” I said with anger.

“Temper, temper, Joanie; you need to relax. Have some sex, dear. We’ve looked for commonalities in the children’s backgrounds and that of their parents. We’ve looked at places they’ve been to, activities, social clubs, and conventions, whatever. Suzy’s fevered ramblings about not going back may have paid off. All three of them attended a national honors camp for gifted middle school and high school students in the sciences. It’s the only connection we could find between them. The camp was held during Christmas break at a large convention hotel in St. Louis, Missouri.

“At the camp, they participated in a genetics experiment. Each of the nearly one-thousand students gave blood samples for analysis. The testing lab is legitimate, but the tests done and the way the results were used was not normal. The students were told this was a test of genetic markers across and along ethnic lines. They were told the experiment would look at hair color, skin tone, height and weight, and not much else. The samples were subjected to a thorough scan for suspected markers for so called mutant genes. Some of the tests are not yet FDA approved. Not everyone who has the marker genes becomes a mutant, but the more you have the greater the likelihood, though the odds are still low. If you don’t have them you’ll almost certainly never become a mutant. The MCO uses such tests to uniquely identify each registered mutant. Several specific markers were supposed to be a secret known only to the MCO and a select number of researches. Our Dr. Sara and her mentor, Dr. Otto, are members of that elite ‘club.’

“Of all these students, only a dozen tested had twenty or more of the forty-two suspected markers, and only three had more than 35 of them -- guess who?” she asked.

“My new friends?” I suggested.

“Bingo! Pretty damn swift aren’t you, Joanie. By the way, you have all 42 markers now, but a test of a DNA sample from some of your old male clothing showed you had just 21. When Dr. Sara said you got the best of all the best gene combinations of your possible selves, she wasn’t kidding. By the odds, you would normally never have mutated. Because of the way your mutation changed your genes, you will likely give birth to mutants. Some of the markers are in the mitochondrial DNA, and only the woman’s mitochondrial DNA carries on to their children, not the male's.

“We’re trying to track down the doctor and two nurses who took the samples. The originally scheduled team had a traffic accident on the way and never made it. The replacements had all the proper paperwork, but hours after the science camp ended they and their records disappeared,” GG said.

“The accident smells of being staged to make a switch in the staff,“ I said.

“They all suffered broken legs, and all were similar fractures and inconsistent with the damage to the vehicles. We suspect they were drugged at their motel, had their legs broken by a doctor, then placed in their damaged vehicle and revived. The police who later interviewed the victims of that crash say their recollections around that date are all fuzzy,” said GG.

“The news on the Smiths is not good. The police techs found blood splatter in the family house. It was partially cleaned up but still detectable,” she said.

“Could it be from an old accident?” I asked.

“The DNA was too intact; there was no measurable degradation in the chains. The blood was fresh, Joanie, from during or just after the twins’ mutation. It doesn’t match the childrens’ types, but it does match the wife’s. Her blood type was on file at the hospital where the twins were born. The father’s was not known but can be guessed at from the twins’ and mother’s types. The large area of the splatter suggests the parents were forcibly abducted and injured during the attempt. I’m sorry; we’re trying, but it doesn’t look good," GG explained.

“Any luck on the Ultra-X-Amine homologue end of the case? The two hit men from the ferry must have provided some information,” I queried.

“They were contract ‘muscle’, Joanie, they don’t know much. The one Gin turned into a little girl is trying hard to help by remembering every detail she can, no matter how small. She was an ex-MP and US Army Ranger, and had a clean service record. She thought this was a government freelance assignment. The other one is a thug, and we had to ‘persuade’ him, but he knows little. The contract to kidnap or kill Suzy was awarded anonymously, and through various intermediaries, to prevent the buyer and seller from direct knowledge of each other. They know nothing of the Smith’s abduction … Hold on moment, Joanie.”

“Yes … She does? … Wait a moment and you can ask her,” GG said to someone in the background.

“Joanie, Gin here. I have someone who wants to talk with you. Go ahead Katie, I’ll be right next to you if you get scared,” Gin said in a soothing voice.

~~Katie? Gin’s never mentioned anyone named Katie. ~~

“Ms. Joanie,” it was a young girl’s voice. “I’m Katie, Gin’s new sister; I was the man who tried to shoot you and the girl you rescued. Please forgive me, I was told I was stopping a dangerous mutant terror … terror … terr … Gin! I can’t remember the word. I’m scared!”

“Terrorists, Katie. You're doing fine; continue, dear,” Gun encouraged him, I mean her.

“That’s no excuse for what I did. I want … I need to tell you this now. My mind, my old mind is fading; I’m forgetting things. My memories of being a man are becoming like a dream. I have to tell you while I still can. Sis, I mean Gin, is nice to me and the family is so good. They bought me this kewl girl’s bike and the cutest jeans with Hello Kitty on them,” Katie said then giggled.

~~Must be the spell changing her. ~~

“Are you happy? It must be confusing losing your adult memories and acting like a little child,” I said.

“It’s bad sometimes, when I can’t do something that I used to do so easily. It’s hard being a little girl at times. Mostly I’m happy. I’m so happy I could burst. Gin tells me it’s the spell, but I don’t care; I’m happy for the first time I can remember. I … Goodbye, Ms. Joanie, tell the girl you saved I’m sorry. I hope I’ll see you someday, but it will be the new me then, the girl,” Katie said.

“I forgive you, Katie. Those people didn’t care who they hurt. You’re a victim as much as Suzy. That’s the girl’s name, she’s my niece -- my cousin’s girl -- and I’ll tell her how remorseful you are,” I said

“Remores …?”

“Remorseful; it means you’re sorry for what you did. You keep being the best girl you can, and maybe I can be your favorite rich Aunt. I have friends in the music industry, and I can get you posters and stuff from your favorite singers. If you’re very good, I’ll bring Suzy to meet you. You can give her a hug and tell her how sorry you are,” I offered her.

~~Sweet girl, I hope she grows to be as sweet a woman. ~~

“You can do that, Aunty Joanie? Gin, Aunty Joanie promised me presents and a visit from her and a friend if I’m good,” Katie almost shrieked.

“That’s because Joanie’s a nice lady, and she’s also Joanie that singer you like to listen to,” I heard Gin say.

“Oh my, you’re my favorite! Don’t worry I’ll be the best girl I can be. It’s okay being a girl, I’m young and pretty and I feel happy … Oh, I’m sleepy. I get sleepy a lot now. Bye Joanie … thanks,” Katie said. I could hear sounds in the background, but I wasn’t sure what they were.

“Joanie, Gin again. Katie nodded off; it’s a sign the magic is still changing her. Before you say this is identity death, it’s not. Katie will retain all or most of her adult memories, but they will be like dreams, as she said. Her old personality comes and goes, but she’s increasingly a girl now.

"I’m not a cruel sorceress; in an emergency she will remember and have access to adult skills that can help. If she sees someone injured, her military first aid skills will return. The same with spotting and avoiding danger; she’ll have to do them in a growing girl’s body, but the knowledge will be there. She got sleepy because she was trying so hard to remember when she was a male so she could make a proper apology. He had, and she has an intense sense of honor; she’ll be one special woman when she grows up. She told me she had to talk to you while she still remembered what she’d tried to do, or it wasn’t an honorable apology,” Gin said.

“Are you sure Katie will be okay?” I asked

“The spell is working exactly as it’s intended. She’ll still be her self, ‘his’ consciousness won’t fade, but ‘her’ soul will match her body. She was transgendered to a considerable degree. It was like a bad movie cliché, she was ‘overcompensating’ for her desire to be a girl by going into those macho professions. I feel like I should wash my mouth out with soap for spouting that Hollywood Freudianism,” Gin said and snickered.

“You’ll get over it. Have some sex; that seems to be GG’s prescription for relieving stress. Gin, please, no cheap come back about needing it in the form of a deep injection,” I said.

I imagined making a face like a little girl praying, my palms together, the thumb and fore-finger touching my nose and chin. I looked like one of those figurines they sell in the chain discount stores, or so I did in my mind.

~~I have got to get a video phone. ~~

“I would never stoop to something so crass; I’ll just seduce the starters on the basketball team. I can play the nymphomaniac cheerleader,” Gin said and giggled.

“Gin, with your level of energy, you had better make that the marching band,” I quipped.

“Oh, that was downright bitchy. You’ve gotten worse since you left us; Dr. Sara would be proud of that comeback. Joanie, Katie’s a good child. I’m proud of her; she’s learning Hmong so she can fit in better with the family and our relatives. She asked me to teach her, on her own initiative. She’s picking up the language like a sponge, as well as learning to act like a girl. She’s an exceptionally bright child, she’s smarter than me, I think. The family loves her and has accepted her wholeheartedly. They know she’s as much a victim of those bastards as the kids are, and you nearly were,” Gin said.

“You see to it she’s a happy child. That’s kind of why I’m calling, in addition to checking on the investigation. I’m helping with a case involving sexual and child slavery, mind control, illegal pornography, and money laundering. The victim is the sister of one of the Playboy models I met. If the crooks learn I’m involved, my friends could be at risk. I’m sending a detailed email to Red and Dr. Sara and to the Williams-Johnsons to warn them. Pass the word to the rest of MSG and the hospital staff, please; these people are suspected murderers,” I said.

“Will do Joanie; oh, GG has a question,” Gin said.

“How the hell did you get to be Miss July, Ms. Scrawny Butt? I’ll admit you have a great bust and the face of a Madonna/whore, but that middle-school girl’s ass and those skinny limbs? It doesn’t fit with the rest of you. Where are your womanly curves? Have you no pride?” GG asked in jest.

~~This is a challenge; you’re going down bitch. ~~

“GG, I’m built like swimmer or runner, albeit a busty one. I have an athletic build with a firm, youthful, and sexy ass -- not your refugee-from-a-rap-‘booty’-video butt. There is nothing wrong with being voluptuous, I wish more women had such figures -- I was a man -- but GG, you are plain greedy. There are skinny girls out there praying for a little cleavage, some ‘meat’ on their bones, and you go out and hog all that lusciousness, Shame on you,” I said perfectly straight-faced, then I fell apart laughing.

“I’m ticked off you got the centerfold and I didn’t, though I’m in the issue. Most of the MSG women are except for Carrie, but you know her mom’s wishes,“ GG said.

“You made the issue? What section?” I asked.

“They said most of the photos are by region; MSG is in the ‘Best of the Mid-west’. I’ve seen some of the proofs. I am so glad Dairy Maid wears those bib overalls most of the time -- wow, what a figure! She’s nearly as hot as me. We have you to thank for this, Joanie. The way you raved about us to the photographer team that shot you got them to check us out on their way back to California. We’re getting generous model's fees as a result. Many of us have college debts to pay off despite government aid as members of the Wisconsin National Guard.

“They took photos of Dr. Sara; they were so impressed with what you said about her, she got a mini pictorial to accompany the interview she gave on mutants. I never thought a lab coat could look that sexy. She looked better without it. Sara is outstanding -- the epitome of brains and beauty. It’s unnatural, Joanie, there’s not a sag or wrinkle on her anywhere.

"Did you know she interned as an Army surgeon in Vietnam in the 1970’s just before the fall of Saigon? Sara’s nine years older than you, John. Remember, she had to tell me about your past so I could protect all your old public records. That took guts and pride for a 58 year old woman to pose in the buff. If she looks 28, that’s a stretch. I think she agreed to the nude shots to impress Senator Johnson. That may be why he’s been sneaking into town so often,” she said.

“What have you heard, GG?” I asked with excitement.

“Nothing, but then I don’t live in her building,“ GG said and paused.

“What?” I shrieked into the phone. GG chuckled.

“He stayed the entire weekend -- the Senate was in recess. They spent most of the time in her apartment, or so Carrie said. Dr. Sara has been awfully perky since then. She’s glowing like a newlywed, and she’s dressing sexier, too -- still classy, but sexier. Red says Sara is acting like she’s fresh out of college and not a thirty-years plus veteran,” GG said in a happy tone.

“I think it happened because of me. I encouraged Joe and Sara to get together; but I never thought they’d move so fast. Ghod, I told Joe to go to Madison and give Sara a good screwing only this last Thursday! To think he took me at my word and so quickly! I’m not complaining. It’s about time the two of them found that special person; they are great people and deserve some happiness. It’s I didn’t expect they’d be so enthusiastic about my, um ‘suggestion’. I thought I was the one with the rampant libido.

“Remember to pass the word around MSG about a possible backlash from my investigating those slavers, okay GG?” I asked her.

“You got it, Joanie, I’ll warn everyone who knew you. One last thing; how are things between you and the school boy?”

“We’re not together as much as I’d like; we only can do it for an hour every Friday night. And that’s talk on the telephone, Ms Nosey,“ I said and hung up.

* * * *

I had some time left before my band was to meet, so I read over the report on Pinky’s parents. Security had been thorough. They’d checked in the various on-line databases and police records for any references to the two. Their findings combined with Ms. Hartford’s recollections in a disturbing way. Ms. Hartford said her sister was a happy child, but took it hard when Amelia mutated.

“My sister could not accept that I was a mutant; she kept looking for a cure for my condition. We drifted apart more than we might have otherwise. She joined a 'families with mutants' support group; it didn’t help as she refused to believe I’d always be a mutant. I wish I could tell you more, but we haven’t talked much for years, Joanie,” Ms. Hartford said.

~~Hartford called me Joanie; she must be serious about this subject. ~~

The report stated that Pinky’s mom next joined several groups that claimed to be researching a cure, then later the church the Most Righteous Reverend Darren Englund is affiliated with. He believes being a mutant is a gift from Ghod if you believe precisely as he does, or a sign of the devil if you disagree. He is not a well-liked man on campus, but he is on the board, so what is a mutant to do? As self-righteous as he is, the sect she joined after Pinky’s mutation is worse. An offshoot of Englund’s group, they believe a mutant is a sub-human, and becoming one is proof your soul is corrupted and beyond redemption.

The father increased his time on the road after Pinky mutated; his credit-card records suggested he’s been seeing other women for some time. There were numerous bills to florists, confection shops, and even strip clubs.

Someone knocked on my door; it was Pinky. She’d come to give the smilodons a walk before band practice. I hid the report and casually asked her if she remembered her mom ever getting flowers or candy from her dad, but she had no such recollection. George and Gracie waited patiently as we put on their harnesses, they love going out. I waited until she was gone, then I took out the report once more.

I decided Dad was a dead-end. He’d not been close to his daughter, and he was likely estranged from Pinky’s mom. If he did have a steady woman, what woman would want a teenage child that was a reminder of her man’s previous lover? Pinky being a shape shifter compounded the problem.

My hope for reconciliation was to appeal to the young girl inside of Pinky’s mom, who had lost her older sister Amelia to the ‘mutant scourge’. If I could build on that and reach her, maybe I could slowly get them back together. If I could shatter her prejudice about mutants, Pinky would get back her loving mom. It was worth a try.

I called from my room on my cell while Pinky was still out giving the smilodons a walk along the edge of the campus woods. It was a reward for their good behavior -- no dead couches in weeks.

“Conners' residence, Mrs. Conners speaking,” she answered.

“Mrs. Conners, I’m Ms. Brown and I’m one of your daughter’s teachers at Whateley Academy. May I speak with you?” I asked as politely as possible.

“You may, but I won’t change my mind,” she said defiantly.

“And why do you say that, Mrs. Conners?”

~~Marvelous! Here I’m trying to be diplomatic, and I sound like a cut-rate psychiatrist. ~~

“You’re trying to persuade me to take my daughter back, to forgive her, Ms. Brown,” she said.

“Yes and no, Mrs. Conners, I’d like you to get together. I don’t like seeing families torn apart. She misses you and is a model student despite her heartache. You can be proud of her; she’s earning high marks in her classes and is mastering her mutant abilities. She’s no threat to herself or others, if she ever was one. She should remain at Whateley, as we have the best people and facilities to make a successful woman of your daughter, but it would do her good to see you from time-to-time. If finances are a problem, I’ll gladly help drive her to see you. I lost my mother to cancer almost two years ago, and it hurts me still. I’d love to see a mother reunited with her child,” I pleaded. “You have a lovely daughter, Mrs. Conners.

“I had a lovely daughter until her sins turned her into that abomination. So she’s a model student; the Devil can assume a pleasing shape. She’s a sinner and a liar,” Mrs. Conners said with venom behind it. I could hear the hate in her voice.

“A liar?” I asked.

“She persists in slandering her doctor, claiming he’s a child molester and that he raped her. He’s a Ghod-fearing and honest man.”

I restrained myself from the urge to say something nasty.

“Mrs. Conners, I have contacts in the local police and with the Boston court system, and I assure you the evidence supporting your daughters claims of sexual assault by the doctor is convincing. There is solid evidence he assaulted other children under his care; the man is a child predator,” I said calmly.

“Lies and fabrications! The so-called evidence is all faked,” she said loudly.

“Mrs. Conners, a federal judge was a direct witness to some of the doctor’s crimes. Are you claiming the judge is a liar?” I asked.

“No, he was deceived by that mutant Jezebel, that Joanie. The woman goes out in public in scandalous clothing and sings songs that glorify wanton sex and the devil. She probably had sex with the judge and is controlling him with blackmail or the dark arts -- she, with the help of my ex-daughter, the lying whore.”

~~This woman is a fruitcake ... WHAT DID SHE SAY?! Calm down Joanie; you’re doing this for Pinky. ~~

“Mrs. Conners, I assure you that every song that Joanie sings is suitable for a general audience, except for Black Leather; that one is maybe PG13. The government wouldn’t let them be broadcast if they were obscene. Her costumes, though often revealing, were acceptable for broadcast on a major television network.

"And, lastly, how dare you call your dear child a whore and a liar! You call yourself a mother after denying your only daughter comfort in her time of need and disavowing your own sister Amelia.

"I am a virgin, you prejudiced fool! I am ‘that’ Joanie, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. You, dear lady, had better see the light or there will be a special place reserved for you in hell. I’m not certain if there is an afterlife, but in your case there had better be. One lifetime is not enough to punish a hypocrite such as you. Good day Madam!” I shouted and slammed the phone down, not easy with a cell.

I turned to see the smilodons cowering and Pinky staring at me, tears streaming down her face.

* * * *
To be continued.

Attachment	Size
Timeout_3_chapter_12_epost.doc	116.5 KB

Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 13

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The suprise conclusion of that disasterous phone call. Joanie's student band gets together and picks a name. She finds the public and private images projected by one member differ greatly. Joanie's niece describes her powers testing and *other* issues, much to her aunt's embarrassment. Fran, Jinn and Harry discuss Joanie's housing projects. She preps for her NOVA hosting. In Boston Joanie films for NOVA and meets a Englishman who often is seen in association with a large blue box.

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Adult content advisory: this chapter was word processed on equipment that word processes peanuts, soy, eggs, milk, wheat and fish. Those with allergies are advised to read with caution. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Proofing by Itinerant
100 proof by distilling
Designated driver and additional proofing by Janet Nolan

Chapter 13, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 2, The Sabers, Home Improvement 7, Who’s on First 1

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Des Moines IA, Boston MA, April 24-28, 2007

April 24, 2007

I slunk onto my bed and wept.

“I’m an idiot, Pinky,” I gasped through the tears. I desperately wanted to give in to my emotions and let it all out, but I had to make it up to the girl.

“I was trying to reason with your mom, and I blew up on her instead. I’ve ruined it for you!” I said choking back my sobs.

Pinky sat down next to me and put her hands on both sides of my face, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes locked on mine, and I saw she was smiling despite her tears.

~~She’s happy? ~~

“I overheard the last part of your cell call. I never told you, Joanie, but I have excellent hearing -- better than most people. It improved when I mutated. It’s not like I have a super sense, but I did hear the phone call clearly, not that I meant to listen in. I heard my mom say those disgusting things about the judge and you; if she’d said that to me, I’d have slapped her in the face, mom or not. How dare she say that about you!” Pinky growled indignantly, and then she started to cry again. After we both had a good cry, and lots of hugs, we settled down.

“I promise I’ll try again, Pinky. Despite her delusions, she is your birth mother. Your Aunt Amelia says her sister reacted badly when she mutated. From what Amelia said, when you mutated your mom couldn’t handle it. To her it reminded her too much of when she ‘lost’ her sister to the same ‘scourge’. I don’t think she’s a bad person; she's just so mistaken in her beliefs that it’s hard to find a point of mutual agreement — some common ground. She refuses to see the old Pinky that is still the core of the new and improved Pinky,” I said and smiled. Pinky laughed.

“Without that to build on -- that common ground -- it will be hard to convince your mom to admit her errors and support you. I have a gambit, a plan, but it’s risky. Who is the instructor at Whateley who says, ‘lack of information can be deadly?’”

“That’s Mr. Anderson; he teaches a survival class for those who seem to attract trouble and aren’t good fighters, or those who can’t control themselves once in a fight. I had him when I got violent and was using my empathic powers to start brawls. That’s why they put me in Hawthorn; I was doing it in my sleep. I haven’t had an episode since we met. At first it was because I had a target for my anger, you, Joanie. Then after I tried to …” Pinky paused to compose herself, “I wasn’t so angry anymore once I knew I had a true friend. Dr. Bellows says it’s because I’ve learned better ways to resolve my problems, and I have higher self-esteem. It’s also because I made myself a vow that I’d be the best possible mutant I could, so you would be proud of me. I know that sounds like the rationalization I used when I tried to harm you -- is that the right word, Joanie, rationalization?” she asked.

“If you mean to come up with a logical sounding reason for doing something you know is wrong, yes, that’s a great word,” I said.

“I rationalized that in trying to hurt you, I was earning the respect of my Aunt. It’s not like that this time, Joanie. I’m doing it for the best of reasons. I’m doing this for me; I want to respect myself, and I want to earn the respect of others like you and Ms. Carson. Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting, Joanie. What were you telling me, something about a plan?” Pinky asked abruptly.

“I called the Senator so he would contact his judge pal. I’d call myself, but I want this to stay a secret for now. They’re long-time friends so their getting together is not suspicious. The judge has a friend who’s a Massachusetts children’s court judge.

"Through that Massachusetts judge, I’m getting papers drawn up that, if your mom signs, relinquishes all her parental rights over you. The court will then assign a guardian. If need be, the two judges will go to court for me and have your mom declared an unfit mother. I’m hoping the scare will make her realize what she’s losing and shock her into fighting for you,” I said.

“Who will be my mom if she loses or signs the papers? I’m not yet fifteen; I can’t be on my own,” Pinky asked.

“Me, silly, and I’m making provisions for your Aunt to be my backup. We may not see eye-to-eye on many things, but she stood by you at your lowest point and that counts for a lot with me, Pinky,” I replied. Pinky smiled intensely.

“I heard you stand up for Aunty, and I heard you tell Mom how bad she was to disavow her sister, my Aunt Amelia. I’m going to tell Aunty what you said. ...You sure you’re okay now? It’s almost time for dinner,” Pinky said, and gave my hands a friendly squeeze.

“Let’s feed the smilodons, then go. I wish the call had gone better, I’m sorry dear,” I said and gave Pinky a motherly hug -- someone had to.

~~I hope to hug my own daughters someday. Did I just think ‘daughters’, plural? Oh ghod I did. I hope you don’t mind a big family, Eric.~~

* * * *

We stopped by administration before they closed for the night to check my mail. I had received a nice, handwritten note from Mr. Ford via next day mail thanking me yet again for choosing their product. He said their advertising people had made an initial review of the photos and film. They thought the combination of my looks, the sexy outfit I wore, and the joy in my expression as I looked over the truck would boost sales to young women and males, a coveted group.

I also received my NOVA script and a letter requesting I come to the Boston studios ASAP to record my voiceovers and film segments. If I preferred, they thought they could do much of the voice work at Whateley. I would need to do some green-screen shots in the studio, but the opening sequence introducing me could be done at Whateley, or even my farm as some of the This Old House crew and cast would be available soon -- thus killing two birds with one stone. They felt a shot of me at the Whateley gates, or in front of the Crystal Hall, would make a great visual without compromising my security. Mr. Hefner had kindly sent copies of some of the campus shots they’d taken of me on to the PBS NOVA office, and the staff thought Whateley projected the right blend of old and new.

The miniseries producer wrote: “We hope you can be in Boston this weekend. If you can make it, please let us know, and we’ll have a full crew on to make the most of your time. We look forward to working with you, Ms Brown.

"We are also curious about those odd ‘cats’ of yours. We are currently busy researching in preparation for a NOVA special on early humans in North America, with emphasis on their impact on the flora and fauna. Frankly, our chief paleo-biologist consultant couldn’t believe what she thinks she saw in the video, and she’s a top expert on the Late Pleistocene. She said something about smilodons and asked how we faked this. Then again you are at Whateley; I’ve had dealings with the academy before. I understand that strange, inexplicable things are the norm there”

I was glad to hear from them, as I was serious about getting out the truth about mutants, and it sounded like fun. I also received a letter from Minnesota from Garrison Keillor, apologizing for not writing sooner and asking if I was available to appear on the radio show again anytime soon. The Des Moines, Iowa, show had received outstanding reviews, and the cast felt I was a great sport for coming on the show unprepared. What he wrote about Pinky had me in tears.

“That delightful young woman, Ms. Conners -- your school friend who sang back up -- is most welcome. The band all commented on how professional she was and of her wondrous voice; not that you’re a slouch in that department, Ms. Brown. I understand your security concerns, and we will work with you to satisfy them. Please consider an appearance as your combined voices brought me to tears with their power.”

~~If he were any nicer I’d swear he wants to have my baby. That’s a thought -- a 60 year old man pregnant. ~~

“What are you giggling about Joanie?” Pinky asked as we slowly walked to dinner.

“A letter from that radio show we were on; read it,” I said.

She read and returned it. I could see her reaction; she was shocked.

“They thought I was professional, and they want me back?” Pinky asked, astonished.

“Uh-huh! Girl, I told you were good. If the show comes near New England, maybe our little band could go on. That reminds me, are you taking summer school? It doesn’t look like you can go home to your mom anytime soon. The smilodons could do with a friendly face around, as I will be off campus several times this summer. I’d love to have you along, but I’d worry about my furry babies. Lex and Security can take them for a few days but, with you they’re in good hands,” I said and Pinky laughed.

If I was the momma smilodon, she was their favorite older sister, and she clearly returned the feelings.

“I also need someone to run the band practices when I’m gone. Mr. King will help, but I’d like to see each of you take an active role in running some aspect of it. I’m supposed to be a teacher, not some gad-about that flits in and out of here. Learning by hands-on-experience is one of the best teaching methods.

“I promised Babs I’d be there for the birth of her twins. That should be in August. It will be educational for me, Pinky; I hope to be a mother someday,” I said wistfully.

“That could be sooner than you’d like, if you don’t control yourself around Eric,” Pinky teased, as we neared The Crystal Hall.

“Pinky! I, well, I mean Eric and I …”

“I knew it; I can see you’re aroused already. Your nipples are like bullets at the thought of him. Joanie, get your hand away from there, you’ll go blind,” Pinky whispered and giggled.

~~I’m doing ‘that’ in public! I’ve snapped. Eric, get out of my mind … Great, now I ‘have’ to think about him, whether I want to or not. ~~

“That’s dirty pool and you know it. Wait until you fall for someone; I’ll remember this,” I said, and faked a witch's cackle. Pinky simply giggled all the more.

* * * *

The band was waiting at my favorite table, tables actually; they pulled several together so we could sit as one group. Everyone made it, including Cheryl, the cashiering horn and sax virtuoso, to my pleasant surprise and shock.

“Cheryl, I thought you’d be stuck cashiering?” I asked. I stared at her; something was way different about her appearance.

“I told my supervisor I had a chance to be in your student band, so she found another student who was willing to swap some breakfast shifts for some dinner shifts. I can guarantee you Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and maybe every other Thursday. The rest of the week, I’ll have to show up late or cut out early depending on when you practice,” Cheryl said, with hardly a hint of her tough-boiled ‘Joisey’/Fran Dresser accent. Her voice was steeped in refined culture and sensuality.

“A deeply-plunging, v-neck, silk blouse/cashmere sweater-vest combo, with a mid-thigh body-hugging skirt, nylons and dress sandals, earrings and make-up, topped off with your hair in a French-braid; what’s with ‘the works’? And what happened to your accent?” I asked, astonished.

~~Cheryl usually dresses like a Tigerbeat junkie-cum-ghetto-fabulous wanna-be; tonight she’s a classic fashion plate -- those legs and that cleavage! Where did all that come from? And her voice! She doesn’t sound like a Fran Dresser clone anymore; she’s sounds more like an upper-class version of J-lo, but sexier and lower pitched. Ghod, I think I’m getting aroused! ~~

She looked sheepish for a moment, but recovered.

“When you decided to let me join your band, I wasn’t going to play the wise-ass, bubble-gun chewing secretary to your sex goddess, Joanie. The tough-girl act is so I don’t get hit on at work. I figure with your looks, there should be some pretty choice rejects available after you turn them down -- girls as well as boys,” Cheryl said without batting an eye.

“So you’re joining my band for access to a better pool of sex partners?” I asked, not certain of what she meant.

“That, and I love the music. If I can learn something from you about stage presence and how to handle a crowd, I figure I’m ahead. I’m not a slut, but this way I can scope out some choice boys and girls without seeming like a girl on-the-make,” she said honestly.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Cheryl. I won’t call you Brittany Spears anymore. You’re way too good looking for that. If you can teach the other girls to dress and talk like that, our band won’t need to play a note. We could walk on stage, bow, jiggle, and get a standing ovation -- I am impressed,” I said, and I meant it. Cheryl cleaned up nicely.

~~Who knew a Venus de Milo was hiding under all that tacky? ~~

“Everybody, eat up. As soon as we’re done, we’ll go over some of the songs I’d like us to learn -- the artists and types of tunes I’d like us to concentrate on at first. I’d appreciate your feedback. I was a middle-aged guy until last summer so I’m not up on all the hot, current artists,” I said trying to convince them I wanted and valued their input. It was as much to remind me to give them a chance. I didn’t want my enthusiasm inhibiting theirs

I spoke my peace for maybe ten minutes, then let them think about it while we finished our meal. We slowly walked to the King Annex and talked over our plans. Cindy -- AKA Barbie Q, our newly added percussionist -- spoke next.

“Joanie, I joined, and I’m sure the others joined, because we’re interested in the older music you enjoy. Now that I think of it, Cheryl’s idea about the groupies works for me, Joanie, -- guys in my case. As to music, I also enjoy some of the more recent songs and performers. I think we should go with what you suggest for now, and as we get a feel for what we’re capable of, then we can try the new stuff. As far as your not being familiar with the hot, current artists, hon’, you are one of them. There is no one hotter than you, Joanie.

“What is that old song lyric, ‘everything old is new again’? Joanie, you’ve made old music new. It bothered me as a little girl, and it still does, how the big radio chains and record companies hold back innovative music because they can’t see its potential. Then they go crazy, promote the crap out of the new music they hated six months before while they drop established artists because they are ‘out of favor’. If you refuse to distribute and play someone’s music, of course they’ll be out of favor. Your producer and label were gutsy to take a chance on you, but then you did provide them a lot of free publicity. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re pleasant to look at,“ Cindy said and blushed.

~~At first Cindy sounded pure hetero, but after that last comment… Not another bi or lesbian mutant? This is incredible. As I guy, I hardly got a nibble from the girls, now I’m the Chef’s special. And I had to take myself off the menu! Eric, if you so much as look at another girl...~~

* * * *

We played for an hour, then I broke it up. I didn’t want to push them too hard and spoil their love of music. A couple complained.

“Why’d we stop, Joanie? We were smoking,“ asked Tina.

“Same here, Joanie, why did we stop, it was fun,” asked Jenny.

“We stopped so you could have some free time to yourselves and so you didn’t get to feel this was a chore. I want our practices to be fun. If not, I don’t think we’ll play as well. We also need to think of a name for our group. First off, you can’t use my name in any form what-so-ever, deal? I want this to be ‘our’ band, not ‘my’ band,“ I said and smiled.

“That’s why we took turns singing lead on Bad Moon Rising; you want us all to be featured,“ said Jenny confidently.

“Am I that obvious?” I asked.

“Uh-huh! Joanie, I could tell you were up to something,” Jenny said.

She had taken a cue from Cheryl, un—buttoning some buttons and re-tying her school blouse into a Daisy Duke, farmer's daughter look. She’d slipped off her sweat-pants to reveal her gym shorts and her shorter but equally attractive legs. I felt almost dowdy in my hell-for-leather outfit, like some later-day Honor Blackman.

“That’s exactly why I had you take turns. I’m famous enough; why should I hog the spotlight? You all have exceptional talent; you all deserve a shot at some recognition,” I said.

“If your name is out, how about something that describes the group over-all; what do we have in common?” Cindy asked us.

“What about 'The Mutant Babes'? It’s accurate,” said Tom.

“Thanks, Tom, but we need something that flows well and is easy to remember,“ said Suzy. “Maybe 'The Sexettes', something to do with there being six of us and how hot we look?”

“Not bad, Suzy, but I worry about emphasizing the sex angle too much. We want to sing to our audience, not have an orgy -- as much as my teenage libido screams otherwise,” I said, and we all giggled, even Tom -- well, he snorted more or less.

“Animal and place names are popular, that and acronyms,” offered Jenny.

We toyed with that for a while but the acronyms either were painfully strained or filthy -- at least the *good* ones were filthy. Pinky said something that clicked.

“Thinking of animals, what about George and Gracie?” Pinky asked.

“George Burns and his comic genius wife, Gracie, may be dead, but their names might still be registered trade marks or copy-written,” I reminded them.

“I was thinking 'The Sabertooths' or plain 'Smildons',” Pinky said.

“Why not 'Saber', or 'Sabers'? 'The Sabers' could be anything: your feline friends, Joanie, swords, or a famous series of fighter-jets from the 1950’s,” replied Tina. “Sorry, but dad was a history buff,” she said and I saw her fight back the sniffles for her missing parents.

“It’s short and sweet; I like it. And that’s the band name I’m referring to. Don’t you dare go on about, um, male appendages,” I added quickly.

“We wouldn’t dare, Joanie. And I know you like them big,” Pinky said, and mouthed ‘Eric’ so only I could see her. Before I could scold her, or relieve my abruptly building sexual tension, the band members spoke in rapid succession.

“'The Saber Band', or 'Sabers', I like it, and we have two ready mascots, if Joanie will let us use them on occasion,” said Cindy.

“'Sabers' works for me,“ said Jenny, “and Joanie’s kitties are so cute for extinct carnivores.”

“'Sabers'?” asked Pinky, as she *called* the vote.

“'Sabers',” they said as one.

“You realize, girls,” I said as I gave in once more to the silly side of the Force, “we’ve just called ourselves a bunch of pussies.”

“Oh you!” they shouted, and we broke up for the night, giggling like the schoolgirls we are while Tom snickered.

* * * *

April 25-27, 2007

The rest of the week flew by.

I did my usual routine of a 7AM run with Pinky and an increasing number of the Sabers. I think they’d concluded my sexy figure was in part the result of my exercising, so the girls decided to get in on the benefits. Tom tagged along to protect his sister, Tina, and ogle the girls -- in particular Suzy. Suzy confided to me that she was in the midst of a major growth spurt. The doctors told her the mutation had kicked her puberty into overdrive. She would likely end up several inches taller and, um, better proportioned than she otherwise might have been. Apparently, she was a low-to-moderate level exemplar as well as a mimic. This worried the part of my brain that was playing substitute mom for my cousin. Suzy was already of average height for an adult woman, had a cute, cherubic face and traffic-stopping curves for a high school junior.

~~And she is still growing? ~~

“You’re in a growth spurt with that body? It will be a full-time job to keep the boys off you, Ms. Suzy Sexpot.” She giggled at my joke. “Did you want to go on the pill? Your mom said for me to watch out for you. You’re going to have sex soon, if you haven’t already. Campus medical is generous in handing out condoms despite the ‘Official’ no sex between students rule, but I’d like the peace of mind knowing you have additional protection,’ I said carefully.

“Joanie, I can wait; I’m no slut,” Suzy snapped back.

“I didn’t mean to imply that, Suzy. Back when you finished recovering from your burnout and were being evaluated at the Mutant Wing in Madison, Pinky and I went on to Iowa, to visit the governor and his family,” I reminded her.

“Pinky told me you’re very close to them, especially the girl you saved, Melissa, and her brother Eric. She said you and Eric are, well, practically lovers,” Suzy said and blushed.

“She’s not lying. I almost had sex with Eric, I mean full vaginal intercourse, and it started out as a quiet night watching DVDs with Mel and Pinky. Eric and I fell asleep on a couch snuggled together, and the next thing I remember we were subconsciously masturbating each other and burning to do it -- to have sex; at least I was. If Pinky hadn’t brought us to our senses, I don’t know if we could have stopped. It felt so good; I know I didn’t want to stop. Poor Eric must have felt similarly confused. I could have gotten pregnant; I was at my peak fertility and knew it but didn’t care. At that moment the only thing I could think of was Eric and our pleasure. Nothing else mattered; we were in our own universe. Suzy, I could have been charged with child molestation and that didn’t stop me. I still feel dirty, yet we did nothing wrong. But if we hadn’t stopped… I shudder to think of the consequences.

“Be careful. You’re one torn condom way from being an unwed mother, and all the hardship that entails. If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll go with you. I can’t go on the pill, or any other hormones as my body burns them off so fast, but I can give you moral support,” I offered.

“Let me talk to Mom and we’ll see,” she said, and I handed her my Whateley Security cell phone. Christine Kenner and her husband were on speed dial.

She talked with the parents, and they with me; Suzy got the go ahead to get on the ‘pill.’ Cousin Christine thanked me for persuading their daughter to get contraception. While we waited for her gynecological exam and the prescription to be filled, Suzy explained to me what she was learning about her power and how they were training her to handle it.

“It’s been great, Joanie, they gave me a special tutor because of my abilities. Every other day I try to copy a new power for her. The first day I watch as the person I’m to copy demonstrates their power and explains how they control it. Then I touch them and after a minute or so, I am them, down to every freckle and …” Suzy paused and giggled nervously. “The first couple of times I copied boys, it was a shock. How did you ever stand being a boy with your … penis doing ‘that’ all the time -- it’s distracting and sometimes painful. That’s part of why I like Tom so. I notice that I’m doing that to him, but he never complains. I know it must drive him crazy not being able to relieve himself.”

~~I don’t want to hear this; I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want to … ~~

“That’s more *detail* than I think I need,” I said and blushed. Suzy giggled and smiled.

“I embarrassed you? Joanie, the teenaged sex goddess is blushing at my describing male reproductive parts?” Suzy said, and broke into a laugh.

“You’re my, you know, niece,” I whispered. “Of course I’m embarrassed, but proud too. If you're honest and open about this, it proves you’re an honest and open-minded individual. I respect that,” I said, calming some.

“Then you're about to respect me all the more,” Suzy said and grinned wickedly. “I played with it once, to see what it’s like. I prefer it as a girl, but it was so intense. There’s the sense of power you feel knowing that hot fluid pulsing out of you can make babies. Oh, Joanie, when I copy them, I’m not circumcised but I can be, if they tell me. That surprised my doctors at first, but since I can copy a power and not have to copy a person’s form it makes sense. Same goes with tattoos and piercings.”

~~I do NOT want to hear this! ~~” La la la la la …”

“Joanie, take your fingers out of your ears and stop going la la,” she said and giggled. “On the remainder of each first day, I try using the borrowed powers. On the second day, I use the powers but retain my own form. That’s one lesson we keep going back to, as it helps with my control and manipulation of the finer details,” Suzy said with graphic honesty.

As for my reaction to Suzy’s ‘honesty,’ I was, well, I should have been sweating, if I was not this tough mutant girl. I blushed a bright shade of red, though.

~~And I want to have children? How will I react if one of mine tells me something like this? ~~

“I, ah, that was honest and forthcoming, Suzy. What powers have you copied so far?” I asked.

“Let’s see: I’ve been an energizer -- I sure was hungry later that day. I’ve also been a flyer -- that was scary at first. I’ve copied a low-level magic user and one warper-class, a density shifter. Um, Joanie, I need to copy a time-sensitive, like a precognitive or clairvoyant or …” Suzy looked embarrassed now.

“A time-manipulator, you want to copy me? I’m honored but it could be dangerous; you know I time travel, and my time stop is not as innocent as it looks,” I said.

“I know it will expose some of your deepest secrets to me, but it’s important. I do love you; I would never hurt you, Joanie,” she said sweetly.

“Okay, but we do this with lots of supervision, and you don’t practice my powers when I’m not around — in case something goes wrong. Word of warning, I have a pesky libido; think you can handle it?” I asked, and we both snickered.

“I’ll tell my instructor, and she can work it out with you and your supervisors. Think of it, twin Joanies walking around campus -- imagine the fun we can have.”

~~Oh, the humanity!~~ I thought as images of burning dirigibles played in my mind.

* * * *

The rest of the week, I carried out my usual routine, the morning run, breakfast with the gang, classes, my staff related activities and the like, as usual. I also enlisted help from the band to help me memorize my lines for the upcoming NOVA mini-series on mutants.

~~If I find I’m doing this with any regularity, it would be wise to take acting lessons. I should check out our campus drama club. I understand they are quite good. ~~

I received the final architectural and engineering plans for my projects, courtesy of Stan, Morrie, and their colleagues in Operations. Sam Everheart made good on her promise to provide detailed recommendations for the needed security features. I made plans to take the entire crew to the farm early Monday morning to begin clean-up and demolition. I’d gotten permission from Elaine Claire in student services to hire my student helpers after signing innumerable liability releases and after providing proof of insurance or the ability to pay should a child be injured on the job -- like that would be a problem for me. There was more paperwork involved in hiring my crew than in buying my 53 acre farm.

I met with Fran Barnes and Harry Wolfe at eight o'clock Friday morning by my truck outside Administration, and drove them to my farm. Jinn said she would meet us there on her own. Unfortunately her sister, Jade, was busy this morning with Operations. I brought the plans along to discuss with them. Sam had recommended all four of them, including Jade, and Stan and Morrie had agreed. I thought I’d pick their bright, young brains for ideas on how to proceed.

“Ms. Brown,” said Harry Wolfe. He looked just like his name, all seven feet of him.

“Harry, what did I say when we got in the truck?”

“To call you Joanie, as Ms. Brown was your mother,” he said sheepishly. For a big, hairy monster of a young man, he was well mannered.

“Okay, Harry, what were you saying?” I asked.

“This is a nice truck you have; I can improve it, if you’ll let me,” he offered.

“Will this void my free lifetime repairs and maintenance policy?” I asked.

“Free lifetime repairs and maintenance? What did you do to get that?” he asked.

“I became Ford’s latest ad spokesperson on the cheap,” I said, and smiled.

“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d love to work on the baby,” he said, and smiled back -- scary with his face.

“Fran, you’re awfully quiet. Why?” I asked.

Fran was a tall, willowy girl, close to six feet tall, and wore a body-hugging outfit in Earth-tones. It suited her perfectly and not just her figure.

“I was taking in what you told us earlier; I can see your project done in a natural motif,” she said.

“You see everything that way,” joked Harry.

~~Did his parents name him Harry to be funny? Even I’m not that bad. ~~

“I saw what you did for Sam’s apartment. That was great work, Fran, but could tone it down for me,” I said.

“In what way do you mean ‘tone it down’?” Fran asked.

“Sam said she’s encouraged you to take up architecture and engineering. Are you familiar with Frank Lloyd Wright and his concept of Organic Architecture and the Prairie School?” I questioned her.

“I’ve begun studies in those areas, and yes, I’ve seen some of his work. I love how his buildings blend with the landscape rather than try to impose themselves on it,” Fran replied.

At that moment we arrived at the farm. Jinn flew in and joined us soon after. I got out the blueprints, and we discussed what I meant. After we’d finished going over the plans we walked to the barn.

“This is the big project. I want to preserve the building, but build a highly secure, comfortable, and inviting home within the existing structure. Sam drew up the security plans and Operations the building plans. Fran, Sam said you can ‘flow’ materials. Harry, Sam said you are a genius with mechanical things. Jinn, I saw how you can change your shape and get into tight spaces; the cable pulling job you did was impressive. Can you three make these plans work?” I asked.

“I like what they suggest, though I can improve on it. I don’t see any unsolvable problems,“ Harry said.

“I noticed the exposed slab of gneiss under part of the barn, and the survey says it’s under the entire building. I can use that to build a solid stone foundation and finish stonework. This could be fun,” she added.

“Whatever Fran and Harry come up with, I can help get it done. Don’t let my being dead fool you,” Jinn said, hovering.

“Will excavating a basement and escape tunnels be hard? Sam said you cut flawless window openings into the tower for her,” I asked Fran.

“It’s an exponentially bigger project. I may need to do it over many days to avoid straining my powers, but I can do it,” Fran said in her soft, natural voice.

“I though you could use the excess to give me stone floors in the wet areas — kitchen, laundry, bathrooms — and build walkways between the buildings. Any leftovers could pave the loading areas in the driveway,” I suggested.

“No grotto?”

I shook my head.

She frowned, then smiled.

“How about constructing a stone-lined hot-tub/spa/sauna in one of the out-buildings and maybe a decorative pond outside somewhere?” Fran beamed.

~~Oooh, Eric will like this. ~~

“Sounds like fun; I can run the pipes and wires easily. My sister can give you some clues about what works and doesn’t in a hot-tub,” Jinn said and kind-of blushed, hard to tell with that all-white powder that covers her invisible skin. I understand from my Security connections Jinn can simulate skin quite well but doesn’t always do so.

~~Smart girl, don’t show all your cards.~~

“Jade is familiar with hot-tubs?” I asked in surprise.

Jade looked so young to me, barely an adolescent by her height, though I knew otherwise. I’d checked the school records of my hires as a precaution, both for their sakes as much as mine. In their eagerness to earn some cash they might have failed to tell me something important, say being violently allergic to house dust. I’d found Jade, to my surprise, was nearly fifteen. There was something odd about her, something that didn’t fit with the confident attitude she’d demonstrated in the few times we talked. It was a vibe, a feeling but that was all. I wondered if I was letting her diminutive stature fool me, but still…

~~Hum? She doesn’t seem the hot-tub type to me. She’s far too serious and definitely not preoccupied with showing off her body, unlike some on campus ... Great, I just think I diss’ed myself in my own mind. ~~

“She’s been invited to a few all-girl parties. The big thing is privacy, or so she says,” Jinn finished.

“That has merit; draw me a rough sketch, girls. Harry, you help them work out the systems, and we have a deal. I plan to start on Monday, as I’m busy this weekend. I’ll be in Boston doing some TV work,” I said.

“You’re going on TV?” Harry asked.

“I’m to host a NOVA mini series on mutants. For some reason they wanted me,” I said, and giggled. “Sorry, I do that a lot, part-and-parcel of being a permanent 17 year-old,” I finished.

~~Ghods, I hope they don’t think about what I just said. ~~

“Sam warned us you’re an odd one, but then Whateley is full of odd people,” Harry said and laughed. It would have been funnier if not for his fierce looks.

“You’ll take some getting used to, Harry. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh along or run in terror when you laughed just now. By the way, I think the gray fur suits you -- very Brooks Brothers in a Brothers Grimm way.

"Jinn, tell your sister I’d like her input. Nice outfit, Girl. I take it Harry had something to do with it; your mechanical hands are surprisingly nimble,“ I said, noticing her entering something in a PDA, at least I thought it was a PDA. “But Fran’s the truly scary one here. All those greens and browns; you look like a refugee from the Girl Scouts, though in your case it’s the Girl Scouts of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. Goes to show, clothes don’t have to be flashy to be attractive,” I said, and smiled.

“And that’s coming from Miss July? Harry, Sam was right; this gals a loony. We’ll get along fine, Joanie,” Fran said in a tone that could charm the birds out of the trees.

We talked over wages, settled on a figure, and drove back to campus with Jinn flying wingman to my truck.

* * * *

By Friday evening, I had tried the patience of my friends, but was well prepped for my duties. I told them so at a small party they threw for me in Tom and Tina’s dorm room.

“Joanie, here’s to you! May you conquer the silver screen as you have conquered the music business,” Tina said as we raised our ginger-ales on high.

“It’s only a science special; we’re not talking Cecil B. DeMille here,“ I said.

“Don’t stop me, Joanie, I’m on a roll,“ Tina said, and giggled softly. “I mean it, Joanie, you will make it big in the movies; it stands to reason,“ Tina said seriously.

“What my sister means is that you had no intention of being a singer and entertainer. It all started by accident at the birthday party with the Karaoke. That was last September; your first CD was released on Halloween. It’s only six months later and you’re the biggest thing on the charts, no one is close. I’ve listened to your CD’s and seen you sing, both on TV and in person. As good as you sound, it’s better when we can watch you sing. That’s not just because you’re so beautiful; you light up the stage. If you can translate that to acting, you’ll need that new house of yours to hold all the Oscars you’ll win,” Tom said, smiling confidently.

“It’s just a narration and hosting job, that’s all. I have no plans to be an actress. Let up, would you, please? Given my mutant *baggage*, who would want me for an actress?” I pleaded.

By the end of the party, I healed any frayed nerves I’d given my friends from helping me rehearse for the mini series. I had been obsessed with my preparations, but they forgave me. I promised them similar favors should they need them in future. I got a good night's rest and left at dawn for Boston, having made arrangements for Pinky to take care of my Mighty Mewing Mastodon Maulers.

~~Ghod I love alliteration. ~~

* * * *

April 28, 2007

I drove my truck to the Boston PBS studios. The executive producer of NOVA had sent me detailed directions and a map to help me navigate Boston’s confusing road network, along with a picture of herself so I could identify her. She met me in the secure parking garage that serviced the facility, a post 4-01 requirement — the Fools Fight -- and made stricter since 9-11.

“Ms. Brown, thank you for coming. Are you familiar with your script?”

I recited several minutes’ worth of my lines in response. She looked pleased with my effort.

“I’m taking this hosting seriously. I want mutants to be portrayed honestly, so I’ve put considerable effort into my preparations,” I said.

“The staff at 'A Prairie Home Companion' said you were a quick study; they weren’t kidding. If you are as familiar with the rest of your lines, we should get all this done in a few weekends,” she said, smiling.

“I intend to give it my best. I do have selfish motives, as I am a mutant myself, but I also value honesty. I don’t want us sugar-coated or demonized; I want the straight, unvarnished truth,” I said as seriously as I could.

“We pride ourselves on fairness and accuracy, Ms. Brown. Is there anything I can do for you before we start?” she asked.

“Yes, call me Joanie. When I hear Ms. Brown I half expect to see my late mother. I’m plain, old, Joanie, or you can call me your High exulted majesty, the Devine Goddess of Womanhood if you like,” I said and giggled uncontrollably for a while. The executive producer didn’t blink an eye.

“Are you always so somber? You need to lighten up, your Majesty,” she replied.

“That’s your high exalted majesty, peon!” I barked.

We both got the giggles and walked while propping each other up as we traveled down the corridor to the studios.

~~We’re going to get along fine. ~~

* * * *

She introduced me to the mini-series producer and the production team. We spent hours going over the script then shot test footage in the afternoon. They were pleased with the results, and said we could start the actual filming tomorrow. We went over some of the technical aspects of the green screen and the off-screen narration. This went on into the early evening, then we broke for supper.

I suspected I might be wined-and-dined so I packed a few things. I wore my favorite, the LBD from Eric’s school dance, and added an off-white cashmere cardigan. I finished it off with sparkly hose, heels, and an art-nouveau diamond earring and bracelet set in platinum. If I was going on display for the Boston blue-bloods, I was going well armed. I was driven to a seriously upscale restaurant located in one of Boston’s classiest hotels. The executive and mini-series producers were waiting and introduced me to our dining companions, one of whom I recognized immediately.

~~What is he doing in Boston? ~~

I was not one for intrigue tonight. This was way too coincidental.

~~I smell a set-up. ~~

“David Tennant, what are you doing in Bean-Town?” I asked in a cheerful voice. “You didn’t travel in that big blue box did you?”

The entire table stared at me, David and the other man laughed.

“I’m a long-time Doctor Who fan, so sue me,“ I finished.

“The gentleman with Mr. Tennant is an executive producer with BBC Wales. We do cooperative ventures; the NOVA mini series on mutants is one example,” my executive producer explained.

“So David is here to help narrate, this is such a treat. Do we get to work together?” I asked, smiling, but I suspected they were here for other reasons. I was nervous with anticipation -- or was it arousal?

~~I took the bait, guys, set the hook already. ~~

“You watch Doctor Who?” David asked, surprised.

“Absolutely, I’ve been a fan for years and have watched the new series within hours of it premiering in England. Amazing what you can get off the Web these days. Oh, and I didn’t do it myself, that could be illegal. I have a commercial set of the first season of the new series at home,” I said.

They are at my sister's house, as they are hers, but they didn’t need to know that.

“Would you like to see us filming?” the BBC executive asked.

“In England, I mean Wales? I haven’t been overseas since my mutation, but I do have my mutant card and passport. To be honest, I’ve only been as far as Canada and Hawaii.”

~~Bless you for thinking of that last item, GG; I never would have. ~~

I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You’re here to ask me to make a cameo appearance on Doctor Who,” I accused them, but smiled.

“That was our intention,” started the BBC exec.

~~What? Uh-oh, Joanie! No, no, no, no, no …~~

“The official cover for our trip is David and I are here to attend a Doctor Who/science-fiction convention to promote the series. The true purpose of our trip was to persuade you to do a cameo, but that has changed. Our current lead actress, the Doctor’s companion, was in a traffic accident a few days ago and won’t be fully mobile for months; she broke her hip. Mr. Hefner sent us videos of your interview and campus photo shoot along with news footage of your more public exploits. We received this prior to her accident. That was why we wanted to do the cameo. After her accident, we were scrambling to find a replacement when David suggested we look at you again,“ he explained.

“You want me to be a companion in the series?” I asked, not at all happy. A tiny piece of my mind was ecstatic, most of the rest was aghast.

“You’re not interested, Ms. Brown? It is only for the last three episodes,” David asked.

“Of course I’m interested, but how would we pull it off? I have responsibilities to my employer, my students, and my friends at school. What would I say to them, ‘Sorry, off to Great Britain, ta-ta?’ I don’t treat friends like that. I feel bad enough being here for a few weekends to record for NOVA, and I’m a few hours drive from the academy here,” I said in an indignant tone.

“We will accommodate your schedule as much as possible. It is only the last three episodes and the necessary scenes could be completed in two weeks of hard shooting. If you agree, we intend to rewrite the script with your talents in mind,” the BBC exec explained.

~~I have a bad feeling about this. I’d better check it out. ~~

“How skimpy a bikini will I be almost wearing?” I asked. “I remember Nicola Bryant and her string bikini; I never imagined I’d be the next companion you stuck in one of those tiny suits,” I said.

“We were thinking more along the line of you singing or maybe doing a variation on the soda can demonstration but considering the Playboy materials …” The producer got this wicked grin on his face.

~~Me and my big mouth! ~~ Among other things.

* * * *

To be continued

Attachment	Size
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Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 14

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie films more NOVA and tests for that BBC Wales show. She's ambushed by a paparazzo and agrees to be the companion of a TV doctor. Babs and Joanie have a life-changing phone call. Our heroine meets a PBS legend and is filmed for This Old House. Work begins on her farm housing project. Joanie plans to teach a unique history seminar and gets bad news about the Smith's twins patent. Pinky reveals why Whateley labled her a dangerous student.

Timeout 3-Continuous play: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Adult content advisory: this chapter was word processed on equipment that uses the Windows XP Pro operating system, therefore all errors are not my fault, it’s the software, honest. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 3

By John from Wauwatosa
Hands thrown up in the air over my typos by Itinerant
Pain management by aspirin in large doses
Suffering in sunny 70 to 80 degree weather, Janet Nolan. And she proofs too.

Chapter 14, Who’s on First 2, The Sabers-Regrets, This Old Farm House, Advanced Field Tripping for Dummies, Welcome to Adulthood

Whateley Academy Dunwich, Des Moines IA, Boston MA, April 28- 30, 2007

April 28, 2007

“No way! And if you’re even thinking of me sunbathing topless I’ll...”

I thought I saw a smirk flash on their faces for a moment; it was hard to tell in the low light of the restaurant. I was shouting, and the other dinners were paying attention; I think the “topless” reference *peaked* their interest.

“You misunderstand us, Ms. Brown; I was referring to your singing. We will, of course, use your lovely body to full effect, but nothing tasteless or tacky. Doctor Who was and is a general audience show. It may be a bit harder edged than in the past, but this is hardly the Playboy Channel,” the BBC exec said.

“Yeah, I’m due to be on that soon and wearing less than that bikini I was griping about; sorry,” I said, and started to giggle.

This whole conversation had suddenly become surreal and funny to me. They relaxed, laughed politely at my reaction, and the interest in our table waned.

“Ms. Brown,” he continued.

“Call me Joanie, please. I’m little ole’ Joanie, well not so little,” I said and gestured at my chest. “If yah got um, flaunt um, and Girl have I got um,” I said and relaxed, my humor saving me once again from taking myself too seriously.

“Joanie, Doctor Who is one of the top rated programs in England and is doing phenomenally well world-wide,” the exec said.

“Yeah, but it’s on cable in the US, and some of us don’t like paying for our TV and still receiving ads; I know I don’t,” I explained.

“We intend to offer it to PBS at a reasonable fee after it runs on cable; we do wish to broaden our audience.”

“Well, in that case, okay. I have to run this by my employer, and it all depends on when you can shoot this,” I replied.

“It will take a couple of weeks to rewrite your scenes and the related scenes. Since much of the show involves only the aliens and/or the Doctor, those won’t have to be changed and can be shot first. Anytime in June would do, as long as we are done by the beginning of July,” he explained.

“Summer school starts at the beginning of July, so that could work. I do have other commitments in June; how long did you say this would take?” I asked.

“If you work hard, and study your lines before your arrival in Wales, two weeks hard shooting will do. Help us, Joanie, by using your ‘charm’ on the union representatives … If you explain to them how you need to get back to the States, we may be able to extend each days shooting hours to accommodate you. We might get it done in less than two weeks with luck. Let’s face it, would any one turn you down?” the exec asked.

“I’m not having sex with the union representatives; that’s out. I have my standards. But an orgy, with treacle and clotted-cream ....” I said trying to rattle him.

“You are incorrigible, Joanie. Mr. Hefner said you had a wicked sense of humor -- half schoolgirl, half night club comic. That is another reason why we want you. The current stories are darker than in the past, but that’s all the more reason for a leavening of humor at appropriate points,“ said David Tennant. “Please come and work with me; I promise you’ll enjoy it. The Welsh are proud of the production and are bending over backwards to help us,” he explained.

~~Lord, give me the strength to resist such straight-lines. ~~

“It’s tempting; the guys in my old sci-fi club will freak when they find out I’m in it. Don’t look at me like that; they know me as Joanie, not my old self.

"It’s a marvelous opportunity, but I don’t know if I can. I’d have to make numerous arrangements to be able to come. I’m in the middle of rehabbing a farmhouse and building a home; there are my cats to consider. I have a dear friend due to give birth to twins this summer; I need to be there for her. I am a friend, mentor and confidant for a number of students -- one student in particular. I can’t just pack up and go. Give me a few days to talk with Administration and my friends, and I’ll give you my answer,” I said.

“We talked with Ms. Carson earlier, and she has no objections. We offered to pay your school compensation for your lost services; she was most appreciative,” the BBC exec said. “Will you test for us tomorrow? It will take a few hours of your time.”

“I can promise you that much, but only to show you how bad I am as an actress.”

“We saw the footage you shot for NOVA today; you’ll be fine, Joanie,” the BBC exec said.

~~Why does that not make me feel any better? ~~

* * * *

April 29, 2007

We shot the tests on Sunday morning; the crew cost them a fortune in overtime, or would have if I hadn’t ... I only flirted a little -- gees dear d/j/w; don’t get your keyboard in a bunch. It didn’t take much effort to flirt; my low-cut sundress did most of the work for me. Anyhow, that one camera girl was a hottie. Amazing how well a crew works if they are motivated -- no, I didn’t cheat on Eric, tempting as she was.

Late Sunday morning, we began shooting some of my NOVA scenes. I’d had a nagging feeling since forming our band that something was not right. It hit me as I narrated a particular scene about Gross Structural Deformity, or GSD. All the band members were attractive, most were exemplars or, if not, at least better looking than average. I had intended the band to be open to all, and that talent, personality, and availability would be the only criteria for membership -- if you played or sang well, could get along, and had the time, you were in.

I’d forgotten that those with GSD or other physical conditions that made them stand out -- odd coloration, wings, tails, fur and so on -- had likely been abused and teased cruelly. They had learned to assume the worst from others; it was likely that talented people chose not to try out for the band, assuming they’d be ridiculed. My good looks probably reinforced their fears; what would a hot babe like me want with them? I felt small; the triumph of being offered a role in a popular TV series faded to nothingness in my mind. I resolved to atone for this oversight once I returned to Whateley. At a minimum, I vowed to make friends among them; there had to be some great kids trapped in those unusual bodies.

About one-ish we reviewed my NOVA and Doctor Who footage; I had a hard time watching my own work. The NOVA people were pleased and said I was great. I admitted I did look confident on camera; hell, I was making love to the camera. I said as much to the others.

“Isn’t that too much? I think I went over-the-top on this.”

“Are you uncomfortable with your performance, Joanie? You shouldn’t be, you were perfect; you came off as confident and enthusiastic -- a perfect host for the show,” said my mini-series producer.

“I still think I was seducing the camera.” I was not convinced I’d done well.

“Trust me, Joanie, if you can do that with me on Doctor Who, you’ll be smashing,” Mr. Tennant said, smiling broadly.

“You folks are the experts, not me. I’ll be happy not to crash and burn,” I said glumly, then I giggled.

“You were having us on, Joanie,” said the BBC exec.

“Yeah, I had to have some fun today. Everyone was great during the filming and thank you for that,” I said. “I enjoyed the experience immensely and that scares me,” I said and giggled again, this time from nervousness.

~~Is the BBC executive leering at me? Nah, must be my imagination. ~~

“Why do you think I’m an actor? The feedback from the audience is like a drug,” explained Mr. Tennant.

“Marvelous, and me with an addictive/compulsive streak. I can see myself standing on a street-corner saying, ‘Hey, Mister, five seconds clapping for a blow-job?’ ‘Euw, an applause junky, no way lady!’” I joked, but deep inside I was worried -- would I abandon my friends to the ‘drug’ of performing?

The PBS and BBC people must have been impressed by the footage, as I got the VIP treatment from both camps. If they’d sucked-up any harder I’d have been in a full vacuum. Mr. Tennant spoke glowingly of the entire BBC Wales/Doctor Who production staff and told me his take on the three shows we would do. They described the storyline as we rode to a late lunch at that classy hotel we’d dined in the night before.

The proposed story line would connect all three episodes. It involved aspects of anti-mutant bigotry, alien races and a race to recover surviving Time Lord technology. Earth was a cross-roads of this race due to the Doctor’s and other Time Lords frequent visits to the planet.

My character was a young, human mutant, who was a college student studying in the emerging field of exobiology -- the study of life on other worlds. For relaxation she sang with a local band and was getting some recognition as a performer. This regrettably made her a target of the radical anti-mutants. It also was an excuse for me to sing on the show, most likely in some sexy outfit. Can you say ‘type casting’, boys and girls? Ghod, I miss Mr. Rodgers.

A radical anti-mutant group aligned, unknowingly with one of the alien races, bombs the lab in an attempt to kill her. The explosion exposes my character to samples of Galifrian genetic materials a clandestine government agency was testing surreptitiously. Her mutant physiology makes her compatible with it, and she is slowly transformed into a Galifrian, a member of the Doctor’s destroyed race of time travelers. This makes her the greatest prize of all, the only known living female of her species. She becomes a target for destruction or slavery by races that feared the Time Lords as she could begin the restoration of that ancient race.

The Doctor becomes involved when my character's body begins to change into a Galifrian, and this is detected by his TARDIS time-ship’s telepathic circuits and later his own abilities to mind-link. I thought it sounded promising, and I would get to see a foreign country -- maybe even visit where my ancestor John had lived.

“Is there a chance I could see a little of the country? I realize we won’t have much time, but I’d love to see something, maybe a castle or some historic sites? I’m thinking of maybe Caernarfon Castle. I remember watching Prince Charles investment as the Prince of Wales via live TV relayed by the Early-bird satellite.”

They looked at me oddly for a moment; the BBC producer was looking at me, too, but not for the same reason, I thought. I chose to ignore it for the moment, though I was beginning to regret dressing so provocatively. It was one thing to do so at Whateley, or even back at the Mutant-wing and UW-Madison campus, but it was not appropriate for here, I began to believe.

“Remember I’m older than I look, and the live world-wide broadcast was a big deal in my day; its routine stuff now,” I said, trying to remain professional.

“Looking at you, Joanie, it’s hard to remember you’re the oldest person here. You have me beat by several years,” said the BBC executive.

~~Yeah, I noticed you *looking* too. Has he never seen breasts before?~~

~~Why am I so angry? There’s no reason for it. Oh, Mr. BBC staring at my boobs is annoying, but I did choose to wear this sexy dress. Then I don’t believe that nonsense about dressing provocatively inviting rape either. Rapists rape, flashy clothing might make you more visible, but it’s no excuse. But, on-the-other-hand, he’s used to seeing attractive starlets in skimpy clothes, the dirty old … Joanie, calm down! Why am I suddenly so irritable? Of course, that’s it; I’ve been trying to remember something important I meant to do the other day, but what was it? Ghod I hate it when I forget things. ~~

While I’d been thinking, the BBC executive collected his thoughts, then smiled. “I do believe we can find a ceremony to attend. If you can come for the last two weeks of June; you can see the opening of the Welsh Parliament on your last day. Scotland and Wales have limited self-rule now, you know, Joanie. The festivities are colorful and drip with history,” he said happily.

“You’ll have a great time; the Parliament will be opened by Prince ...” David started to say. At least he was looking me in the eyes.

“... a prince royal, you may or may not recognize him in the States,” interrupted the BBC exec. “I hear Charlotte Church will sing for the ceremony.”

“Charlotte is a marvelous singer -- one of the best there is. I’d love to see her perform,” I said. “It would be a treat for me; thank you for thinking of it.”

”There are excellent connections from Cardiff to Boston via Gatwick or Heathrow; you can be home the same day. What do you say, Joanie?”

“I’m your girl.” ~~But if you don’t stop leering, I may get violent. Damn, I feel frustrated. ~~

“We’d like to film some publicity footage for ....”

“Deal’s off!” I said in no uncertain words to the BBC exec.

He seemed shell-shocked. So was I, afterwards. ~~Where the hell is this anger coming from?~~

“Are you f...n’ crazy? The last thing you or I need is advance publicity of my appearance. Why not go with the old ‘mystery guest star’ or ‘promising new actresses début’ or something like that. Plastering my name all over will only give the lunatic-fringe, anti-mutant groups time to organize a more effective protest of my appearance; I am a prominent mutant after all. I will do the show only if the first time the public sees or hears of my name is in the opening credits. Use something simple like ’Joan Brown’ or ‘introducing Joan Brown’. The reaction of the fans will publicize the repeats and following episodes. Word of mouth is a powerful advertising tool, and by the time the loonies react it will be too late,” I suggested.

I swear I saw the wheels turning in the executive's head. That’s an expression, not a new mutant power, but you understand. Meanwhile I was confused as to where all that vitriol came from; I rarely was cross at anyone since my mutation. Something was seriously wrong but what?

“You may have something here, and it certainly saves on the budget. Speaking of money, how much do you want per episode? We can’t pay a lot, but the pay is not trifling,” he said, and David nodded in agreement.

“Union scale will be more than sufficient; I don’t need the income to be honest. I do ask that you donate my pay to one or more of your local mutant support groups in Wales; I’m sure they need the help,” I said.

“Beautiful and generous; are you seeing anyone currently, Joanie?” David asked.

~~Strange, he seemed a bit other-side-of-the-fence on the show, but then first impressions are just that. ~~

At least I was calmer now that I’d blown of some steam.

“I’m flattered, David, but I do have a person I’m trying to remain faithful to,” I said carefully.

“If he, or she, has your heart they must be something special,” he replied.

“Special doesn’t cover it.”

~~Try adding underage, schoolboy, and potential prison time, and the picture is more complete... And I wouldn’t change it if I could, but then good things are worth waiting for — at least four years in our case. Ghods, I’m such a romantic. ~~

It hit me why I’d been so cranky.

~~Eric! I forgot to call Eric on Friday night. Shit, how will I ever make it up to … oooh? Yeah, that would do it! No! Get *that* out of your mind. Remember, girl, you promised, absolutely not until he’s 18. Do you want to go to prison? No wonder I’d been such a bitch; I was projecting my anger with myself onto him … My, aren’t we Freudian today, Joanie. ~~

The extreme range of expressions on my face must have been like a living *neon sign*, advertising my feelings for this unnamed special someone. I wanted our relationship to remain private so I maneuvered them off that track.

“Why not broadcast the three shows as two broadcasts. One episode the first time to whet their appetites, the second they get the smorgasbord of the remaining two,” I suggested. “Oh, I’d like a DVD copy of the three shows prior to broadcast. I want to tease my sci-fi club friends. I know about copyright and all.”

The exec looked hesitant, and at my cleavage again. I slipped into full-blown sex-kitten mode.

“No one will touch them, oooh ... other than me,” I requested, while using my cleavage, body and voice to their sultry best.

I looked past my *victim* and noticed several nearby patrons had stopped in mid-bite, and their busboy was walking away awkwardly, as if his pants didn’t fit right. The specific response I wanted didn’t take long.

“God, Joanie, how do you do that? One moment you were businesslike and matter-of-fact, and moments later you were this living wet dream. Could you ease up on it as I fear I’ll soon do something embarrassing in my trousers? I haven’t felt this way since my first date with my future wife. That was the finest bit of acting I’ve seen in years,” the BBC exec said and loosened his tie; I suspected he wanted to *adjust* something else, but we were in public.

“It’s not exactly acting; I have an intense libido ...” I gave that a moment to sink in, then I whispered in that husky tone, “Take me now, stallion.”

His eyes fluttered for a moment as a strained expression transformed his face, and he quickly looked embarrassed in the extreme.

“Pardon me, may I be excused?” the executive asked politely.

He rose from the table and hurried to the gents, holding a napkin in front of his ... I giggled myself silly as he disappeared.

“Joanie, that was shameless,” said David Tennant.

“He deserved it; my eyes are up here, not slightly below the top of my bust-line,” I explained. “I hope all Welshmen aren’t perverts.”

“He always was a breast man; you should see his wife. She used to be a 'Page Three' girl.”

“And you, Mr. Tennant?”

“David, please. My parents taught me to never objectify women, not that I didn’t notice -- a lot. You are an exquisite woman, Joanie.”

“How sweet of you, David,” I said, and I gave him a hug and a kiss.

I noticed flashes going off, but I wasn’t sure who was being photographed.

“What was that about? Who was being photographed?” I asked.

"Us, I’m afraid. I recognized the photographer, but too late. He’s a paparazzo that follows me around looking for shots he can sell the tabloids," David said, ashamedly and with a hint of anger at the fleeing intruder. “I forgot you’re not used to this sort of thing; some of the worst ones,” he pointed surreptitiously at the retreating photographer, “are little better than parasites. I’m so sorry, Joanie,” David said in explanation.

I could see he was furious at the photographer’s intrusion but David was too expert a player at the publicity game to react foolishly. I, however, was a novice and on the verge of losing it.

“That bastard! I was kissing you! I played right into their hands, didn’t I?” I exclaimed.

I was angry and anxious; I felt like panicking. Part of me wanted to run after him, knock him to the ground and stick that damned camera where the sun doesn’t shine. Part of me wanted to hide. I had to stay in control.

~~Shit, what will Eric think? Oh Ghod! And after I didn’t call him on Friday; he’ll think I’ve dumped him ... Calm down, Joanie, concentrate. You can salvage this. ~~

“I have one last request: no dining out, not even to get a lousy fast-food breakfast sandwich while I’m in Wales. A closed set is non-negotiable. I’m not dealing with those ... parasites,” I snapped. I was disgusted with myself for being careless.

“Whoa, calm down, Joanie,” said my PBS mini-series producer. “I’d think by now you’d be used to it.”

“Not when it may hurt my closest friends. The last thing I want them to think is I’m a slut,” I said, upset and close to tears.

~~Damn, but I feel like I could be one so easily. This new body, this new life is more complicated than I ever imagined. I’m beginning to understand how so many girls end up unwed mothers in their teens. Hurry up and turn eighteen, Eric. ~~

“We’ll come up with additional cover. We can say David was here in conjunction with the NOVA special, doing some narration and the like. It’s thin, but it should do. Don’t worry, Joanie, we’re professionals,” the local PBS executive producer said.

* * * *

Around two o'clock, I called Babs from my hotel. They’d rented my room for Saturday and Sunday. This gave me a place to dress and relax before heading back to Whateley; I could stay overnight if I needed the rest. I explained to her about the offer to guest star on Doctor Who, and that it meant I’d have to go to Wales for a couple weeks in June. I also told her about the paparazzo following David and the circumstances behind the embarrassing photos. I so wanted to tell Eric. I felt guilty about Friday and wanted him to know how much I missed him.

Babs explained that Eric had not yet returned from an out-of-town scholastic event. His grades had always been good, but they had improved noticeably in the last few months. They were so good he’d been encouraged to participate in this scholastic competition by his teachers. Babs made sure I knew what she knew -- it was due to me.

“Joanie, Eric worships you.”

“You mean candles, mystic rites, and animal sacrifices?”

“Girl, control yourself -- and I wanted to say that,” Babs said, and giggled. “My son is dead-serious about it. He’s keeping to the exercise program with his dad; he’s careful what he eats, like an athlete in training. He has never studied harder in his life. I’ve received calls from his teachers asking what we did to motivate him. Bob and I say, honestly, ‘he’s trying to impress this special girl.’ Mel joked to me she thinks space aliens replaced him with a clone,” Babs said calmly.

“Mel would say something like that; she has your sense of humor, Babs. How is she? I’d like to talk to her.”

“On Sunday afternoons Mel meets at Lisa’s house with the girls from the November sleepover. It’s the weekly meeting of the Official Joanie Fan Club; Mel is President,” Babs said and giggled.

“Her being President was a given, Babs. Tell her I’m happy for her,” I said and laughed.

“The girls even wear special club clothes; an oversized sleep-shirt with your picture on it and bunny slippers. That’s over their regular clothes; it’s not a sleepover but they like to remember. They spend several hours answering questions from your fans; Mel says they have lots of fun doing it. They have an official FAQ sheet on you posted to the Web; don’t worry, my dad reviewed it to make sure it protects your family. Lisa’s family has a special high-speed link your Mr. Karaoke provided them to a server bank at a local internet provider. The girls decided Lisa’s was best, as the family owns a business here and are unlikely to move. We’d host it, but you know how fickle politics can be; it was the girls who figured that out.

“They hold live chat sessions, twice a month, on Saturday nights. The girls you met on the train are often online with Mel and her friends too. Your Mr. K hired a tutor in computers and web page maintenance to help Mel and her friends. They are learning useful skills and are having fun,” Babs told me excitedly, then she moaned softly.

"What was that, Babs?”

“Joan or John kicked me ... ooh, they did it again. They are energetic babies; sometimes it’s hard to sleep, they’re so active.” Babs hesitated, then she spoke in a way that worried me. “Joanie, you know I trust you, and I’m sure someday you will be my son’s wife. I want to be a grandmother; I want to be surrounded my children, and their children -- your children. It‘s just, I ... I’m scared, Joanie," Babs said.

“Scared of what, Babs?”

“Of dying; that I’ll never see these babies, my twins. Promise me, if I die, you will raise them as if they were your own,” Babs said, and quietly began to sob.

“Babs, dear, it’s probably all the stress and hormones talking. I’ve read how some women suffer terrible depression after they give birth; I don’t see why you can’t have problems before the birth.” I was guessing on this last bit, I’m no expert on pregnancy, but I hoped it would calm her.

~~I’d better ask one of the doctors on campus about that to be sure; I don’t know enough to tell if this is normal or if something is seriously wrong. Babs’s emotional state has me worried, and I will be pregnant myself someday. ~~

“I know it’s irrational, but my gut, my instinct, tells me something will go wrong, and I’ll lose the babies and die. I can’t shake the feeling,” Babs said, distraught.

“Have you told your doctors, or Bob?” I asked.

“Bob tries to cheer me up, and he made sure the doctors tested me thoroughly. Physically, I’m in excellent condition for a 35 year old with twins; mentally, they say I’m having a mild case of anxiety. With the babies, they are reluctant to prescribe anything, so I get daily checkups and they gave me relaxation exercises. It helps, but I still get overwhelmed. Could you come and visit me, Sis?”

“What? SIS?”

“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to say ... yes, I did mean that. Joanie, I don’t know when it happened, but I think of you as my sister -- the younger sister I never had,” Babs said, sounding happier.

I was confused.

“Your younger sister, Babs? I’m 15 years older than you!” I exclaimed in amazement.

“Joanie, hear me out. I had to grow up fast after mom died. I barely can remember her; I was so young when she died. Dad tried to give me a normal childhood; he tried so hard. I had a great nanny, a college girl; she’s his personal assistant now. He spent lots of time with me and took me to parks and fun places. I got to play girls sports and took dance lessons -- anything I wanted. But he couldn’t give me what I wanted most, a brother or sister. I told him I missed mommy, but it was okay for him to get a new mommy. Dad couldn’t; he loved her too much.

"When I entered puberty and blossomed, I became his escort to major political events and concerts. The press speculated he was grooming me to replace him in the Senate. It was at one of these events after I graduated high school that I met Bob, and you know the rest. We got married soon after we knew I was pregnant, and I had Eric while I was still in college. I stayed on to finish my degree; Dad and Bob were so supportive. I love my kids and husband; I wouldn’t give them up for anything. Despite all this, and all their love, my silly little girl dream survived.

"Joanie, part of me still wanted that older brother or younger sister. Then you came running into our lives in that sexy-hot leather getup of yours. I swear something clicked in my mind as we rode in the limo, and we talked about your period. It was like you were my much younger sister sharing a girl secret. As I think on it now, that’s when I started to think of you as my younger, prettier sister. Then after Mel’s birthday party when the news broke, and I learned you’d been a middle-aged man, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. To wait 35 years for a brother or sister, then you *both* save my child, I ...”

“Somehow I’ll come, Sis,” I said trying to remain composed. I could hear Babs sobbing.

“You okay? Speak to me, Babs ... big sis?

“I ... I ... I’m okay, those were happy tears, little sis,” Babs said and laughed a little.

“Let’s not overdo it, Sis. Remember, if I am your sister, marrying Eric would be incest. That would not make Eric, or me, happy at all. But if you want to think of me that way, I’m honored. You know that means you get two sisters; you get my younger sister too, though she’d be your older sister and mine as well. Did that make any sense?” I asked, and giggled.

“Made perfect sense to me, but then I’m silly like you, Joanie Sis. That name needs work, but I’ll figure it out. Thank for letting me vent. These mood swings are terrifying, but Bob has helped me though them. Unfortunately it’s fundraising time, and as Governor the party demands he do his share. He’s out until late tonight on the rubber-chicken circuit and yes, Joanie, I trust him. I may be a fat cow, but I am the randiest fat cow in town. Bob’s a happy man.”

“If the mood-swings get to be too much, tell Bob. I bet he’ll come running. I don’t know how soon I can come out; I’m busy filming for NOVA in Boston each weekend for the next couple weeks. I might be able to sneak in to Iowa on a weekend later in May. I’ll definitely come for a week or two in June, probably the first half. The rest of June, I’m overseas in Wales,” I told her.

“I’ll tell the kids not to say a word about the Doctor Who filming. Joanie, you will call Eric and explain about the photos? It would mean so much more coming from your, dear. I know you’re faithful and would not knowingly do anything to harm him. In his heart he knows this too, but teenage love is tricky,“ Babs said sweetly.

”Tell me about it; I’m stuck with it for eternity, more or less. If you feel out of control, or even stressed, call me any hour, day or night. I may grumble, but I’ll be there for you,” I assured her.

“Why not say 24/7? By the way, Sis, you just said you could be stuck dealing with teenage love for more than eternity. That sounds a tad impossible,” Babs ribbed me; I was glad she was feeling like her old self.

“I said ‘Day or night’ because I hate 24/7. And there are things that take longer than eternity; such as finding a clean restroom in an Irish pub on St. Paddy’s day in Chicago. Goodnight, my dear sister Babs,” I said and laughed.

“Good night, Sister,” Babs said contentedly.

* * * *

It was nearly three PM when I checked out and was chauffeured to the PBS station to retrieve my pickup. The executive producer rode with me.

“Nice of you to come, but all I needed was a safe escort to my truck.”

“Do you have to leave immediately, Joanie?” she asked.

“I want to get back well before dark; the roads near school are twisting and narrow, and we’ve a lot of wildlife in the area.”

“Could you wait half an hour? I checked while you were resting and refreshing yourself, and found some of the TOH crew are available today,” she said with enthusiasm.

“This Old House?” I asked. She nodded in reply. “That would be great! We start demolition tomorrow. If they want something other than my photos of the farm prior to the work, tomorrow morning is the last chance,” I explained.

“Great! Thanks for mailing those preliminary building plans to us, it gave their producer a guide for setting up a tentative shooting schedule. We’ll stick to the same weekend filming schedule for NOVA and the TOH crew can stay in New Hampshire for several days during the week. An hour or so per day filming with you will do for that. They’ll set up time-lapse cameras and keep a camera operator on-site. When something major is about to happen call us, and we’ll get the talent back up there ASAP,” she replied.

“The camera crew will stay in Dunwich?” I asked.

I hadn’t been listening closely, and I missed a big detail she’d revealed.

“Or Berlin, they’re both close by. The TOH crew will also shoot your NOVA opening scenes at your farm and Whateley. I have the crew at the station already, and the talent can meet us there -- are you game?”

“Go for it,” I said.

“Wonderful! This will save us time and money as we shoot the first of the shows at your farm,” she said.

“First of the shows -- you mean shows as in more than one? I thought you were filming bits here and there, and it would end up as a one or two-part celebrity home visit?”

This was not as I had expected.

“I screened your test footage for the TOH producer and director while you were busy with the BBC filming. The producer is scrambling to re-arrange the 2007/2008 show schedule to give your projects more exposure. That you don’t expect any donations allowed us to get this organized quickly, though I’m certain our contributors would jump at the opportunity. I was told your project had interested TOH, but the production schedule was set. Seeing your test footage changed their minds. TOH will do a full series on your farm, possibly the majority of the season. The other projects can be broadcast later than planned, or used for a fund-raising special,” she said.

“But what of...”

“We know about the need for Whateley and its students to remain safe from undue scrutiny. We are willing to sign an agreement similar to the one you have with Playboy. We will protect your secrets.”

“Okay, I’ll take that as your verbal agreement to my request for secrecy. We can sign a formal one as soon as my lawyer drafts it. I’ll fax it to you and you can overnight it back.

I looked at my watch and was concerned at the time.

“The crew from This Old House needs to get here soon, or I’ll have to meet them tomorrow at my farm,” I said.

“No problem; here we are at the station, and I see everyone has made it here ahead of us”

She made introductions; I noted a man with a familiar face in the background. The TOH technical people explained what they intended to do. Using a lowlight, auto-stabilized, hand-held HD camera, they would interview me about the project as we drove. The camera/sound man’s equipment was self-sufficient, but could get plenty of power from the DC and AC receptacles in my truck as required. One operator was all that was needed. The rest of the film crew would follow my truck in a station van.

“Are you sure this will work?” I asked.

“We’ve done this many times, Ms. Brown, I mean Joanie, and in vehicles not nearly as well equipped. Just concentrate on your driving, you don’t need to look at the camera; I have some special tricks and lens attachments to get good profile shots despite sitting in the back seat,” the camera technician said.

The whole time the technician spoke, the familiar, wiry, middle-aged man stood watching us intently. He smiled as I’d seen him do hundreds of times on TV as he came over to me and shook my hand.

“I’m Norm Abrams; I’m one of the hosts on This Old House,” the wiry contractor/woodworking expert said. I could hear the Boston accent in his voice.

“I think I’ve heard of you,” I said, and laughed. “Okay guys, let’s go, but I do drive aggressively at times.” I had to warn them, but I wasn’t about to admit my truck could outrun most sports cars. “Before I go, I need one last thing. Hugs and kisses; you were great,” I said and smiled.

I hugged everyone, saving David for last; the BBC people had delayed their departure for me as they were keen to impress me with their courtesy. I whispered in his ear, and Mr. Tennant and I played Hollywood screen lovers -- it was safe, we were inside the secure garage.

When we came up for air he said, “Mah word, Miss Joanie, your ministrations have stirred mah affections most delightfully.”

I thought he did well, too. I whispered in his ear again. We walked towards our waiting vehicles.

“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I said, then I giggled and looked over my shoulder. “I always wanted to say that line.”

We got into our respective vehicles and drove off, the station van following my truck at a discreet distance.

* * * *

“What do we do now?" I asked Norm Abrams and the camera/sound technician.

“I’d like you to describe your projects; I have notes from my producer that describe key aspects of you projects, so I can ask intelligent questions to guide you. Don’t worry if you make mistakes, or say something you shouldn’t -- that’s what editing is for,” Norm said.

~~What, making mistakes or correcting them? ~~

We talked casually, while I drove though the troublesome Boston traffic. He asked about my career, what I was doing at the Academy, and my plans for the future. We had decided that we’d call Whateley ‘the Academy‘, as it was technically correct yet didn’t give away where we were. Once we were free of the heavy Boston traffic, we began the serious filming. I described my projects in detail: why I’d purchased the farm, my construction plans, and what my long-run intentions were. He explained some of the technical aspects and challenges the builder -- our Operations department -- would face.

“Our viewers will see some unconventional building materials and methods at your projects. I’m eager to see them myself," Norm said in a convincing tone.

“The Academy has a student body that spans the widest range of mutant types and abilities of any school in the nation. There are many devisor/gadgeteers among them, and with so many mutants here having major powers, by necessity the Academy has become a research and test facility for advanced materials and processes. This helps with their education and minimizes the damage some of them might inflict on the infrastructure or their fellow students. Some of the features in my home are only now coming to market. Some are not yet out of the development stage. I’m taking advantage of this because it’s available and it helps educate the students involved,” I said.

“Students?” Norm asked.

“Much of the work will be done by work-study students supervised by licensed professionals from the school Operations department. This will be a final exam for several of them,” I explained.

“Will you be putting any sweat-equity into the projects?” Norm asked.

“I intend to do as much as I can, at least until this June. I’ll be tied up with out-of-state commitments most of the month. I’ve organized a student pop band, they plus several other student friends of mine, will work with me as a light demolition and cleanup crew. They will all be paid by me for their efforts. The Academy is terribly expensive to attend; the nature of the student body and their needs makes it so. Any extra income is welcomed by the students. They will also be guests at my home in the future as I hope to remain their friend after they graduate.”

“What are your long-term goals for the farm?” Norm asked.

“To build a home to entertain my friends and family, a retreat in times of stress, a place to pursue my hobby, and a loving home to raise a family,” I explained.

“You have children?” he asked.

“No, not yet but I want to more than I ever could have imagined. I’ve dreamt of having children and putting down roots. I do love being at the Academy," I said.

“And you do what there?” Norm asked me.

“I teach history, mostly, but I also take classes as a student. I’ve been a woman and mutant less than a year, and I desperately need instruction in both. Mind you, a few of my friends think I have the woman part down pretty good, but there are things I need to work on.”

~~Like how to keep a long-distance relationship healthy and how to, um, make babies. I know it in theory but I need practice sooo bad, lots and lots of practice. Stop thinking like that, Joanie, or you’ll assault the TOH men, and that would be dangerous while driving.~~

“I do historical research, and I substitute teach a wide range of subjects, including music. I’m a proud auxiliary member of our Campus Security force. I fund-raise, and I sing on the side -- it’s my hobby,” I said and grinned.

“Your most recent fund raising activity I’ve heard about. For those who don’t know, Joanie posed for Playboy magazine to raise several million dollars for the school scholarship fund. Could you auto ...”

“... graph your copy? Okay, but it doesn’t come out until May,” I explained.

“I feel it’s my civic duty to buy a copy,” he said.

”Me too,” said the cameraman.

We got a complete overview of my projects shot during the drive. We first stopped in Dunwich to get them lodging. Next, I took them to campus so Whateley Security could issue them guest passes and copy the tentative shooting schedule. That way Security would know when to expect the camera crew, both here at Whateley and at my farm. When on campus, the TOH people would be escorted continuously to preserve the anonymity of the students and faculty.

We stopped by the farm for a quick tour -- enough so they knew what to expect on Monday morning. As a courtesy, I drove them back to Dunwich. They could have traveled in the station van but it was full of equipment and only comfortable for two.

On a hunch, I called the private number of the Ford dealership’s owner. He promised to have a new F-series pickup delivered to the TOH crew at their hotel by 7:30 AM, Monday, even if he had to help transport it there personally. The This Old House people would get to use the truck for free; the opening shots of Norm and other hosts arriving in the pickup was considered ample payment for the rental. Ghod bless product placement.

* * * *

I was back on campus at dusk. I checked in with Security, then checked on my smilodons. They were happily playing with Pinky, and the female K-9 officer’s male Doberman, Fifi. The cats and dog got along great; I hoped it would remain that way when George and Gracie each weighed five times as much as the dog.

“George and Gracie are a couple of pussy cats, aren’t you dears,” the officer said as they let her scratch them behind the ears and on their bellies -- very trusting on their part.

“I wish to point out these are apex predators, and nothing preyed on them until humankind came along. They are not pussycats ... come to mommy my little snookums!” I said in baby-talk. They came over and purred like chainsaws as I crouched and we rubbed against each other. That’s me and the smilodons, silly d/j/w readers.

"'My little snookums’, Joanie? That’s a strange name for apex predators, but what do I know? Come, Fifi, time for a brushing and din-dins," she said and Fifi walked perfectly at her heels as they left.

* * * *

April 30, 2007

I got up early, did an abbreviated morning run, then met my cleanup and demolition crew for breakfast at 7:15AM.

“Good morning! I see everyone is here. Hi, Cheryl, you're looking chipper,” I said cheerfully.

“Morn,” she grumbled back, then started worshiping her huge cup, make that reservoir, of coffee. It had to be at least a quart.

“32 ounces of coffee? Girl, you’ll be so wired Superman couldn’t catch you,” I joked.

“Not morning person,” Cheryl said in a cryptic monotone.

She paused and chug-a-lugged more coffee. Some of the kids were aghast. Cheryl yawned and chugged even more coffee. The caffeine began to kick in.

“It’s not all coffee. It’s one-third of a cup of ice from the soda dispenser, skim milk poured over that until the ice not quite floats and a couple packets of sugar. Then and only then do I fill the cup with coffee. The ice cools the coffee so I can chug it. The milk and sugar make it taste good and easier on my stomach,” Cheryl explained more and more rapidly.

“So you like coffee the way my late grandmother and I do. Kewl Cheryl!” I exclaimed.

I could see several kids squirming, sticking out their tongues, and pretending to gag.

“It’s a big time saver not having to wait for the coffee to cool. Think of it as a do-it-yourself power drink, or an upscale iced-coffee drink Starbucks would charge a fortune for. Finish up; if you’re staying past nine, or can’t eat this early, grab a sandwich to take with you. We leave for the farm in five minutes; meet me in the Administration parking lot,“ I announced.

* * * *

We gathered by my truck. Mystor hadn’t seen it yet and thought it was ‘bad’ -- as in good. White boys should not try to do ghetto slang; it sounds terrible.

“Thanks for the compliment. Remember, your work today is to pay me back for my clothes; you never did restore them,” I said, as I frowned at him.

“I was showing off for the class, and I shrunk them too much. I can’t generate that much magical energy; I’ve tried, Joanie. I’m very sorry, that was a hot ... I mean that outfit looked good on you,“ he said.

“I thought it was sexy, too. If you work hard today, I’ll pay you from tomorrow on and we'll call it even, okay?” I offered.

“Thanks, Joanie!” he shouted, then he ran up and kissed me hard -- really hard -- and that hug....

~~My Ghod this is wonderful, I ...~~ I snapped out of my rapture.

“Mister Mystor, that was taking liberties with faculty; I could have you expelled,“ I growled in a so-so impression of Charles Laughton in Mutiny on the Bounty. He looked heartbroken. “I won’t say anything as you kiss very well, but in future don’t do that. I’m spoken for. If you’re looking for a girl, Lonnie here is in that magic class with you. Why not ask her out, or are you chicken?” I teased him.

“I did, and she turned me down cold,” he whispered.

“Were you dressed in that Goth outfit, and acting cock-sure like you did in the magic class?” I asked.

“Yeah, a guy needs a rep,” he said.

“Be yourself, Mystor; drop the macho posturing and dress nice for a change. You’d be good looking if you dumped the Goth look. It doesn’t suit you, trust me on this. The blue jeans and work shirt you have on today are much better, don’t you think so, Lonnie?” she blushed and hid behind another kid. “I’ve done my good deed for the day. Listen up, everyone! Would some of you please get in the Whateley van that my friend Chris from the motor pool is driving? When that’s filled, the rest get in my truck. And away we go!” I say in a singsong voice.

”What?” “Huh?” “Eh?” and variations on that theme assaulted my ears.

“Jackie Gleason used to say that after his opening monolog on the TV variety show he starred in back in the 50’s and 60’s. I would have used ‘We’re burning daylight,' but that supposed John Wayne quote is so overused.”

* * * *

We finally got to the farm, where Stan and Morrie demonstrated the safety gear, and the proper ways to handle power tools, crowbars and such. They checked everyone for proper fit as they issued the gear; I would reimburse Operations later. This would save having to drive everyone to the nearest hardware store or building supply center.

I gave everyone a quick overview of the project, then Stan described the next several day's activities. A few kids had to leave for early classes at eight, but could come back in the afternoon for several hours. Chris drove them back to Whateley, and provisions were made to shuttle kids back and forth as necessary. Operations transferred the Sinclair sisters to my project, instead of their usual duties as student employees. Stan and Morrie felt the two were seasoned workers now, and ready for extra responsibility. The girls were to be used wherever and at whatever they would be of most use. That meant they were the utility infielders of the student construction crew and would get lots of extra hours -- as much as the labor laws allowed. The girls needed the money badly as they are wards of the state.

“Fran! Harry! Glad to see you made it out here on your own,” I said.

“Stan and Morrie brought us. I had an idea to make disposing of construction trash easier and cleaner, and Fran is helping route the system so it doesn’t interfere with her excavation and stonework efforts,” Harry said.

“Harry’s idea will keep the worksite much cleaner and safer, Joanie. We’ll have it up by early tomorrow; you’ll love it,“ the willowy girl said.

“I’ll leave you to it; I need to get back to class. Security can find me at any time if I’m needed.”

Most of my cleanup crew had 9 o’clock classes and left with me. The remaining work crew -- the Sinclair sisters, Fran, Harry, and others from Operations -- began preliminary site preparations. The TOS people did some limited filming while we were there, and made plans to mount several time-lapse cameras that would capture views of most of the action. I did see Stan and Morrie being filmed as they explained to Norm Abrams what the next phases in my project entailed.

* * * *

I attended my morning classes and taught one history course. Next up was a noon meeting I’d scheduled with the current head of the History department, Dr. Joshua P. Bakers, the former head, Dr. Jean Alden, and Dr. Korolev, from what department I’m still not sure. No one wanted to be the permanent head of the history department so they rotated the duty several times a year.

I had invited Circe; she teaches both magic and history, but she’s unpredictable and didn’t make it. I’ve not dealt with her much and it’s probably a good thing. She has a temper and a quirky sense of humor that can cause troubles. Jean used to be John until he pissed Circe off by serving on one of the Plymouth Colony witch trial juries. Anyplace else, I’d think Jean was kidding me or a loon, but at Whateley I’m willing to believe her story. Jean’s was the young *doe* in the department until I came. Jean and I got on well; I think our *similar* pasts helped.

“I think it’s time I do some serious research, and fulfill my obligations to the Meridan chair and this department,” I explained.

“You’ve been quite helpful filling in as needed, Joanie,” Jean said.

“But I should be doing more. I need to get going on the mutant histories and artifacts archiving, or find the staff to do it for me. It’s been over four months since I arrived; I’m settled in. With Sergei’s help, I know my time-travel capacities well enough to try some *working* trips. I feel like I’m wasting space by holding the Meridian chair if I’m not doing significant research, or assisting others in theirs. I’ve already let several projects related to *show business* reserve some of my time for the next couple months; it’s high-time I set aside some time for historical research,” I said firmly.

“I understand your motivations; what do you have in mind?” asked Korolev.

“I am arranging for you to teach several courses this fall, Joanie. I’m sure you can be up to speed in time to be effective teaching. Your substitute work has been exemplary,” she said. “That includes courses you know little or nothing about. Dr. Ophelia Tenent, Caduceus, has told me several times she’d like you to teach or assist in her classes on a regular basis. She said something about your total naiveté helping force the students into trying novel ideas,” she explained.

“That should go over great. I’ve already been stripped naked by magic and subjected to a lust/compulsion spell. What next? Sorcery to make my boobs grow and my IQ lower? These are mutant teens we’re talking about here; teens in general are apprentice perverts. Having me teach magic to teens is like letting a bunch of pyromaniacs loose in a fireworks store,” I said firmly; remarkable acting on my part, don’t you think?

“You don’t believe that now, surely,” Jean replied.

~~Thank you, Ghod! ~~

“That was in jest, and stop calling me Shirley,” I said, and began giggling.

“You’ve seen Airplane! a few times, haven’t you, dear?” she asked.

“A few, but not as many times as Young Frankenstein,” I replied grinning.

“I had to ask,” she said half-moaning. “I feel you are ready to teach your own class, Joanie. The department and I are eager to help you as needed.”

“I was thinking of combining some time-travel related research with an advanced seminar for our top students or even some of the faculty. I’d like to offer it as a summer course, if possible. That’s where Sergei comes in,” I explained.

“What may I do for you, pretty lady,” Korolev said turning on his bearish charm.

“You know my time travel capabilities and limitations better than I do. Could you and my department head devise a series of research trips, possibly to Whateley’s past, or some other nearby site?” I asked.

“We could do this, but to let more people know of your ability is dangerous, Joanie. I would not want to see you hurt,” Sergei said.

“That’s why I need you to build me a lightweight but convincing fake time-machine. If they think it’s the machine and not me ...”

“... your secret is safe,” Dr. Bakers finished the sentence for me. “What do you think, Sergei? Can we pull this off?” he asked.

I was amazed, Dr. Bakers didn’t usually talk much with me; I’m too silly for his tastes at times. That pipe of his is both comforting and annoying. It makes him look like a kind-hearted grandfather, but the smell. I swear he chooses tobaccos on the basis of how irritating the smoke is to others. Today’s blend struck me as a delightful mix of flue-cured burley, tear-gas and VX. Fortunately I’d drank a large coffee that morning, the poor-man’s answer to the atropine injector.

“How soon do you need it?” Sergei asked.

“I’ll need a synopsis for Ms. Carson in days; it’s already late for adding to the summer school schedule as it is. The actual time travel need not take the entire summer session; they will need time to write their papers for me,” I added.

“There are aspects of Whateley’s and the greater Dunwich area's prehistory which are not well documented. The early days of our mutant school have disturbing gaps in the records. Much of the former private college’s history is poorly documented -- the college’s records are appalling incomplete. We know almost nothing from before the college was built. Operations would love to have a more complete map of buried mystical objects on and near the campus. Whateley and the surrounding region were, and are, something of a magnet for such things. I’m confident we can come up with something worthwhile, Joanie. I’m proud of you, girl. I was hoping you’d take some initiative in the department,” Jean said, and Joshua nodded his concurrence.

“Thank you, both of you. I’m busy with my farm project, and wouldn’t have the time to do this properly. You're good friends,” I said and hugged and kissed them. Korolev’s response was, delightfully enthusiastic.

“My, you Russian men kiss well; are you equally good as lovers?” I teased.

“Don’t tempt me, dear lady,” he said. I looked downward and noticed the *measure* of his temptation.

~~Woof! ~~

* * * *

I was assisting with a mid-afternoon class on power theory. They needed someone to demonstrate warper-class powers, and my time stop demonstrations are always show-stoppers. And no, that wasn’t a joke.

“Timeout to Security, Timeout to Security,” my secure cell phone police radio squawked. I acknowledged the message and hurried to Security.

I was surprised to see Chief Delarose there, as he usually takes the night shift.

“Joanie, I wanted to be here with you for this. Your friends at MSG, with assistance from the FBI, have unearthed news regarding Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” he hesitated, “and it’s not good. I’ll let them explain.”

We went into his office for privacy and security. I sat down and tried not to feel ill. He anticipated this as, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to me on a couch. He didn’t say anything, but gave me a look like, 'Okay, daughter, be brave for your Dad.' Dr. Bellows, and several senior Security officers, joined us. The Chief pressed a remote, and we were on videophone via a camera/microphone unit built into a big flat-panel screen on one wall.

“Joanie, Chief Delarose, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Glacier Girl, and I have news on the Ultra-X-Amine homolog investigation you need to hear. Brace yourself, Joanie, we’ve got Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” she said and she didn’t sound happy. I tried to ignore the unspoken and clearly unpleasant portion of her message -- that they were dead, or near to it.

“Great news, GG, I’ll tell Tom and Tina ASAP; they’re desperate to hear anything regarding their parents,” I said excitedly.

“Wait, dear,” she said.

~~Dear...? ~ ~ “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me, GG,” I replied.

“We found them, but too late. Their father is dead; their mother is in critical condition and may not make it, though the doctors are trying,” she said.

“What, how, where ... Oh shit, just tell me!” I wailed.

“From the evidence at the scene, the parents had been tortured and beaten to reveal where Tom and Tina had been taken. A printout on the Wisconsin Paranormals and Mutant Facility was found at the site. We think that’s how they knew to attack the hospital.

“It was due to a combination of hard police work and pure luck that we found them. We got a description of a panel-van that was seen loitering in the neighborhood around the time of Tom and Tina’s burnout and the parent’s disappearance -- thank God for nosy neighbors. We alerted the police and sent out search teams.

"An officer, visiting his relatives at their Dane County farm, mentioned the van. They recalled seeing one like it at an abandoned farm down the road. They thought it was hunters and hadn’t reported it, as the landowner often lets hunters on the property. The officer called it in, and we rushed out to meet him.

"The parents were left chained in an abandoned farmhouse basement. No food and precious little water -- an old leaking cistern allowed the mother to get something to drink as her chains had just sufficient slack. The husband’s skull was fractured; he died within a few days of their abandonment. She was almost unconscious and could not speak when rescued -- the result of starvation, stress and a broken jaw.

"I’ll have nightmares of that place I’m sure. It looked like they intended to set fire to the house, but it’s planting season and a farmer renting the land and outbuildings must have disturbed them, and they left. If the farmer had only gone in the house, maybe ... but we’ll never know. The dad’s injuries were severe; we still may not have saved him. From the savageness of the beatings -- and other evidence -- we don’t think the parents cracked; you can tell Tom and Tina that.

"Gin has called in her magic friends, and Dr. Sara and a team of specialists are doing all they can. We took Mrs. Smith into the mutant wing for her protection. It’s the length of time since the injuries and her fragile mental state that’s the problem. The brain activity is normal, if understandably agitated, but physically she’s bad. The next 48 hours will tell the story,” GG said.

“What do I tell Tom and Tina?”

I was crying softly; the twins were family to me and my friends.

~~My family! ~~

“What of the Kenners? Are they at risk? If they are harmed I’ll ...” I practically was screaming into the videophone. Chief Delarose wrapped an arm around me.

“Stay calm, Joanie. You can’t help Tom or Tina if you lose it,” he said in a fatherly tone.

“Joanie, are you alright?” GG asked, sounding very concerned.

“Yes, I’ll hang on for the kids,” I said, as I fought back the tears and rage.

“Tell Tom and Tina the truth, but don’t let them alone for any length of time -- not even to go to the bathroom. This added stress could make them suicidal,” cautioned Dr. Bellows.

“Your relatives are safe, Joanie. The FBI had the Kenners under 24/7 surveillance, soon after you rescued their daughter Susan. It’s costing a fortune, but this is now a top-priority case. The Ultra-X-Amine homolog is a danger to national security. Mutants made to order, or a mass outbreak of mutant burnouts, would be a nightmare, and they know it. GG explained.

“We figured you’d be worried for your cousin’s family, so I contacted a North Carolina supers group, and they are assisting in protecting the Kenners. Several members of MSG and the GMMO -- The Greater Milwaukee Mutants Organization -- are taking turns watching your aunt and uncle, Suzy’s grandparents and your various cousins on that side of your family. We have a team watching your dad and sister, too. We care for you. Joanie; we won’t let you and yours be harmed in anyway, if we can help it,” GG said.

“Thank you, GG, um, Janice. That means a lot. I’d better get it over with and tell Tom and Tina, “ I said with increasing sadness in my tone.

“I don’t envy you. Viewing the parents was grim; telling their children will be worse in some ways. If I have any news on their mother I will call, day or night. Hang in there for us, Joanie; we’re counting on you. There is some good news: the FBI lifted prints, and got possible DNA and fiber samples from the abandoned farmhouse. We think the criminals slipped up. I’ll let you know however it turns out,” she said.

“Does the mother know her children are safe?” I asked.

“She’s drifting in and out of consciousness; we’d love to sedate her to ease her suffering, but she’s so weak. A mild dose of tranquilizers is all we dare give her; thankfully we have access to telepaths and empaths. Our friend Carrie has managed to communicate with her by telepathy and told her the children are safe with you at a mutant school out East and well guarded. The mother is relieved to know they are safe; it makes what happened to her husband and her have some meaning -- that they didn’t suffer in vain. Their mental conversation confirmed the evidence found at the crime scene; the parents never told the kidnappers anything. I hope to God the mother makes it; the woman and her murdered husband deserve medals. Carrie is doing her damnedest to encourage the mother to fight for her life -- she’s devoted to her children, and maybe that will make the difference. It will be a long recovery, and that’s iffy at best, Joanie,” GG said as we broke-up the video call.

I talked it over with the assembled officers and Dr. Bellows; I would break the news to the twins at our late afternoon band practice. Meanwhile, we would prepare for the worst: one or both of the Smith children panicking. I contacted the Anderson twins, and they agreed to meet me at the practice so I could use their trained empathic/telepathic talents to calm Tom and Tina. They were willing to stay on campus overnight with the twins, if needed.

* * * *

Next, I needed to enlist the help of Tom and Tina’s friends. Fortunately Pinky was to meet me at my room in Poe to exercise the smilodons prior to our scheduled band practice.

“Pinky, I need you to help me this afternoon at our band practice and probably for a considerable time after. I have news regarding the kidnapping of Tom and Tina’s parents. I’ll explain as we run the cats through their paces. Can I count on you, dear?” I asked.

“They’re dead or in bad shape, Joanie, I can tell from your expression and you are radiating pain and sorrow like a lighthouse -- empathically speaking,” she said, as she gave me a hug. I suspected the hug was for both of us.

* * * *

We spoke carefully, making sure no one could overhear us, as we put the smilodons through their exercises. I explained what I’d learned of the Smith’s parents, and of the plan for telling Tom and Tina. I’d devised it on the advice of Security and Dr. Bellows: I would tell them without sugar-coating it that their dad was dead and their mom in the hospital badly injured, but safe. Immediately after and for how ever long it was needed, my friends and I would do what we could to comfort Tom and Tina and would enact a strict buddy system. No matter what Tom or Tina did, one or more of us would be with them at all times, no exceptions. That included the bathroom. Dr. Bellows would let us know when it was safe to end our suicide watch.

Pinky spoke carefully. “I’ll do what I can. It’s unfortunate the kidnappers found the printout about the hospital, but that was the logical place to take them in the Madison area, so it eventually would have been a target,” Pinky said calmly, but I could see she was troubled.

“There is one good thing in all this horror that Tom and Tina can cling to -- their parents’ devotion to them. They proved this as few parents can, Joanie. To be tortured and not give out their children’s location is something to take pride in. Whatever happens, the twins have that fact to cling to.” Pinky paused to wipe her eyes. “The fact that their mom and dad faced death to save them makes me think the twins would not consciously dishonor their parents by committing suicide. That doesn’t mean they won’t commit suicide without thinking; you know, act on an impulse. If we can get them to remember the sacrifice their parents made, and remember their love, they’ll want to survive.” Pinky looked about to say something but paused instead. She had to dry her eyes once more; she was clearly distraught.

“That’s very sound reasoning. How did you think of that?” I asked.

“From my own experience and all my sessions with Dr. Bellows; you also talked a lot about your time in Madison and at the Hospital, so I knew it was the only one in the state for the more extreme cases. The kidnappers would have figured out eventually that Tom and Tina were taken there, printout or not. Torturing the parents was unnecessary and sick,” she said, wiping her eyes again. “I pray the mother recovers, Tom and Tim need her. To lose both parents after the sacrifice they …”

Pinky stopped, and began trembling, she was in agony. She looked into my eyes, then fell into my arms, sobbing. She tried to speak but her crying kept cutting her off. Her mouth would open but nothing except her sobbing came out.

“What’s wrong, dear? Tell Joanie; I can’t help if I don’t know what is wrong. Don’t be embarrassed; there is nothing you can say that will make me love you less,” I said as gently as I could. I swear I sounded just like my mother comforting one of us as little kids. Pinky’s sobbing eased some and she could speak, though she struggled.

“Their mom and dad … they were … he died … she saw him … Oh god, she hates me!” Pinky’s sobs stopped for a moment and she got tense in my arms.

This was scarier than her sobbing. I didn’t know what to do.

“What is it, tell me. Please, my child?” I begged Pinky. She twisted in my grip and looked back in the direction of distant Boston.

“MOM! Why do you hate me?” Pinky wailed and was wracked with sobs.

I feared she might hurt herself with their violence. I did what I could to comfort her and vowed no one would hurt her again, not my baby.

“Cry it out Pinky; I don’t mind. I need you to be strong for your friends; I need you to be strong for yourself and for me. Let it all out — let the pain go,” I said. I was crying too. I hadn’t felt this bad since my mother died.

~~I have to talk to the Senator soon; this situation with Pinky’s mother must end NOW, one way or the other. It tears me apart to see my Pinky like this. ~~

I hugged her like my mother did me when I was hurting as a child -- gently rocking us back and forth. I held her tight and hummed bits of songs I remembered from my distant, half-forgotten childhood. They were fragments of memories, as insubstantial as ghosts, but they comforted me and my dear friend. They were the strangest tunes, incomplete and barely remembered: Ham and Sam, Do Your Ears Hang Low, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and something about an old lady who swallowed a fly. I gently coaxed us both back to a happier state of mind. When she smiled at me and my silly songs, I knew she was okay. I noticed the smilodons had moved closer and seemed to be guarding us. They appeared to relax as we returned to normal.

“I knew you were a special girl when we first met. Don’t ever lose that; don’t ever be afraid to feel,” I said, as we walked back to Poe with the cats neatly at our sides.

* * * *

Pinky surprised me with what she said next. I swear sometimes she’s several steps ahead of me, the way her mind works. We were back in my room when she spoke.

“I know you don’t approve of unauthorized mind control, Joanie, but if it gets bad -- really bad -- I know enough to telepathically implant a compulsion that will make Tom and Tina become violently ill should they attempt to harm themselves or if they seriously think of committing suicide. The effect would temporarily incapacitate them. I know it’s wrong and dangerous to tamper with other’s minds. I’ll only do it if there is no choice,” Pinky said as she fought back tears.

I was shocked at what she said, and what she claimed she could do with her powers.

“No wonder Administration put you in Hawthorne; making people blind with rage must be easy in comparison,” I replied.

“It was worse than that, Joanie. I was empathically projecting my emotions on others, sometimes in my sleep. Dreams can be violent and the effect I had on others was terrible. There were fights breaking out for no reason, and more disgusting things, too. When several girls nearly got raped due to my uncontrolled powers, I was put in my current room; it blocks mental transmissions, thus my nightmares couldn’t harm others. Those episodes stopped after I had you as the target for my frustration.

“Your becoming my friend, after all I tried to do to you, drained the hate from me, Joanie. Not that I still don’t have a temper sometimes, but it’s a normal one now. Dr. Bellows says I won’t have to stay in my room much longer if I keep up my exemplary behavior -- his words, not mine,” Pinky said and smiled. She was her normal, happy self now.

“I have the good Dr. Bellows on standby, and the Anderson twins will be with us, but thank you. We may need your mind trick if things go poorly, Pinky; that was well reasoned and thoughtful on your part. You’re a true friend to Tom and Tina. Thanks for explaining why you were placed in Hawthorne; that was honest and I’m sure it must have brought up unpleasant memories for you. Remember, Pinky, they are inverters; you could be hit with whatever mind powers you use on them. Be careful, you’re precious to me, like a sister or daughter ... nothing sexual. Sorry, that sounded stupid,” I said, but I thought, ~~I sounded like Babs did. Do I think of Pinky like she’s my ... daughter? ~~

“You’re the prettiest girl I know, Joanie, and I am bisexual, in more ways than one. I beat you to that one, didn’t I, Joanie?” she said and I pouted. “I see you as family, too, damn it,” she said, and giggled. “Let’s get George and Gracie settled in and then we’ll do what we have to for Tom and Tina,” Pinky said with conviction.

“Before we do that, we need to get cleaned up. Your face is a mess and I was wearing mascara and eye-shadow. I must look like a refugee from a clown convention,’ I said and giggled softly.

“No, Joanie, you’re too pretty; you could never look bad. Though you have a head start on a bitchin’ Goth look,” she said and laughed.

* * * *

To be continued in Timeout 4.

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BornFreeTime -- a fan fiction for the Whateley Academy universe

Author:

New Author

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

500 < Short Story < 7500 words

Genre:

Adventure

Character Age:

Child

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Animal / Furry / Non-human

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

BornFreeTime -- a Whatelely Academy Fan Fic by Rose_2

One minute you're a happy pair of siblings, the next your mommy is dead and you are in a strange land living with a new mommy and even stranger creatures. Experience a day at Whateley Academy throught the eyes of a pair of adventuring time-displaced smilodon cubs and their equally strange new mommy.

Born Free Time

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).”

This story comes courtesy of Rose_2. She has generously offered it for use in my Timeout Fan Fic. I think this qualifies her as the President of the George and Gracie fan club. We have tosssed this back and forth for some time and it’s been fun. It’s been interesting for me to look at my Joanie through a different pair of eyes, the two smilodons. Rose _2 gets the credit for most of this piece.

As always, your constructive criticism and advice helps us improve as writers and to make our stories better. 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, Rose_2 and John from Wauwatosa WI, 2006-2007.

Adult content advisory: this story may situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. Some content is of an adult sexual nature, so be warned. Okay, there is no such content in this story. I’m such a tease.

Born Free Time
By Rose_2 with assistance by John from Wauwatosa
GEBPRized by Janet Nolan and apprentice.

Rose_2 and my special thanks to the talented authors Bek D. Corbin AKA Chaka, Dr Bender AKA Sara Waite, Heather O Malley AKA Miyet, Warren Wheeler AKA Samantha Everheart/Hive and all those who created Whateley Academy.

* * * *

Mid morning at the Whateley Academy campus
Thursday April 26, 2007

Two young men entered Poe Hall through the door to the kitchen at the back of the house. Rampage and Blue Streak walked through the Poe kitchen and into the front hall and quietly started climbing the stairs.

“Blue Streak, are you sure this is a good Idea?” asked Rampage. “Now that we’re out of that podunk jail, we should get out of town.”

“Of course, first we get revenge against that bitch and it will all point to that fool Peeper,” laughed Blue Streak. “Then we get to New York and hook up with a big time syndicate and we got it made.”

The diabolic duo made their way to the linen closet that was converted to be the room for Joan Brown, student, substitute teacher, auxiliary security officer, pop idol, etc. Sometimes, Joanie wasn’t sure how many hats she wore.

As Rampage bent down to prep the digital still and moving picture cameras, Blue Streak bent to pick the lock on the door and stayed just like that. Standing around the corner, Mrs. Horton and Chief Delarose were also standing perfectly still as Joanie AKA Timeout froze time in the hallway.

Joanie walked up to the two criminals, who weeks earlier had tried to beat her to death, and last night escaped from the local county lock-up. Whateley Security had immediately gone on full alert awaiting their likely return. Fubar, the staff psychic expert, had alerted security of their approach. When they had crossed the woods onto the campus, they were then covertly tracked until they broke into Poe Hall and trapped themselves.
Joanie attached electronic four point restraint cuffs to the wrists and ankles of the two. She let normal time resume for the pair.

“What the hell, you again, bitch?” shouted Rampage, who tried using his brick strength to break free. Blue Streak tried escaping in the confusion. But his speedster ability was useless as the electronic restraints tangled his limbs.

“You two, resisting arrest again? Sorry, but,” Joanie said and gave him what appeared to be a swift kick between the legs with a steel toed boot. She pulled her kick at the last possible moment and never touched him. She just lightly brushed his pants, making no contact with his manhood. Rampage's mind did the rest as it reacted to prevent his imminent castration. He involuntarily tried to cover himself. A stunned Blue Streak was an open target and she did remember what they had tried to do to her. An equally well faked kick resulted in both Rampage and Blue Streak doubled over in imagined pain and struggling to maintain their balance due to the restrictions of the four-point restraints.

~~I so wanted to kick them for real, but it felt too much like a cheap shot... but then they had tried to kill me. Damn it, that’s right. They tried to kill me! I ought too ...~~ She thought.

“Consider yourselves lucky I don’t have any wire and a lineman’s pliers on me. If you thought the virtual boot hurt ...” ~ ~There, I’ve twisted-the-knife* sufficiently. I feel so much better now. Virtual revenge is nearly as good as the real thing, and much less messy. ~ ~ Joanie had them so mentally off balance, they had not yet realized they were not hurt.

“What did I do that was so bad you two had to try and kill me? Are your egos that fragile you can’t stand that a weak little girl defeated you in a fair contest? If you had used your brains in that endurance run, you could have beaten me easily. The smart move would have been to run close behind me, enjoying the view, then sprint past me at the very end. Remember, it’s blondes who are supposed to be bimbos, not boys,” she said and giggled. Then, Joanie got serious. “ I’m sorry about the boot to the, you know, but you did try to escape,” Joanie said and released the rest of her time stop. Rampage and Bluestreak just stared at Joanie, furious at being made fools of again.

Time resumed its forward movement when Joanie stood next to the Chief and Mrs. Horton. Rampage fell forward and Blue Streak went face first into the door, both spewing a string of curses at each other and Joanie when they saw her.

“What was that, Joanie?” asked the Chief.

“My knee-strike needs work; I think I’m aiming too high,” she said, pouting apologetically and giggling softly. Her emotions were mixed, she hated violence and felt bad about hurting the boys, but she felt satisfaction in making them pay. They had resisted arrest after all, but she still felt guilty.

Mrs. Horton in true form scolded both for their bad language. Two additional security officers moved the two criminals down to a waiting armored car painted in Whatley Security colors to transport them back to the county facility. Now Whatley personnel would be back up for the county officers, at the reluctant request of the correction facility.

Chief Delarose extended his right arm gentlemanly towards Mrs. Horton, “If you will come with me we can take your statement and put this matter behind us.” As they walked off Joanie reminded herself that the Chief was a class act.

~~Always the gentleman, the Chief, and what a great ass. Save that for the next call to Eric, Joanie. Eighteen is only four years away, hang on, Girl. You’ve waited 49 years, what’s four more?~~

* * * *

Ignored at the time, two rambunctious smilodon cubs were playfully pouncing on each other. George sprang from his perch on the remains of a couch that the cubs considered their own and just missed Gracie as she rolled away. George’s flight was stopped as he collided with the no longer locked door which vibrated open!

The two cubs while weighing 18 and 20 lbs each still had the thoughts of the kittens that they were treated as. So with inquisitive minds and rooms to explore, George and Gracie were on....

Born Free Time

Gracie is closest, so she boldly walks through the door while George is shaking off the collision with the door. She smells people and “the new Mommy. Why didn’t she come and play with us? I would really love a scratch on the back of my neck,” thinks Gracie as she rubs against the door jam. “The new mommy looks odd compared to the old mommy, but she scratches nice.”

“They went this way,” thinks George as he runs toward the stairs.

“Boys,” thinks Gracie as she climbs up on the window sill to look out. She saw the gentle grassy hills some squirrels and robins, but no mammoths like the old mommy told her about. “Hey, wait for me,” she merowed and chased after George.

George stopped and turned at the sound of Gracie’s merow and the two cubs tumbled down the stairs together. The cubs came to a stop tumbling into the doorway of the kitchen. George's sensitive nose picked up a smell from the trash can.

“Oh, that smells good.”

The senior girls had had a pizza party last night and the trash can was over flowing with pizza boxes. George pushed over the trash can to find a feast–five boxes with stale, cold pizza and a pile of anchovies that had been pulled off the pizza. The cubs devoured these delicacies. Gracie suddenly growled, or tried to when George went for the last of the fishy stuff and startled George who tumbled backwards through the back door.

It seems security had forgotten to secure this door. But the alarm did go off, scaring the cubs and alerting security that a security door to the building had been opened. With Mrs. Horton on her way to security with the chief, there was no one in the building to silence the alarm or to answer the repeated calls the security officer on watch duty made to Poe Hall. Pursuant to department policy a security officer was dispatched to investigate the alarm.

George and Gracie did not know what caused the noise, but were scared and ran across the field behind Poe Hall. George and Gracie stopped running after their sprint across the field lead them to a side entrance of Kane Hall. The two cubs lay panting on the sidewalk.

“You were so scared, running like that,” Gracie teased.

“Oh, and you weren’t right beside me, trying to keep up,” George snarled.

Once the cubs caught their breath, they started looking and sniffing around when George spotted a squirrel.

“Gracie, look, I’m gonna catch that squirrel,” said George.

“He heard you, now you’ll never catch him,” responded Gracie.

“Wanna bet?” and the two cubs were off chasing after the squirrel as it disappeared over a small hill.

The cubs found themselves at a outdoor test range where two teams of freshmen gadgeteers were competing. One team had built a small tank that could burrow underground for short distances. The other team was defending against the tank with twin laser cannons mounted on a scale model fortress like the one in the movie Starship Troopers. The field the size of a basketball court was littered with piles of concrete rubble to simulate battlefield conditions. The two teams were sitting in separate control rooms watching simple targeting monitors, not video screens.

“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. RANGE B IS ACTIVE, RANGE B IS ACTIVE. DO NOT ENTER,”

sounded from the loud speakers, not that it meant anything to George and Gracie as they crawled under an undermined section of a metal stockade fence chasing a gray squirrel. Luck and skill were with the squirrel who doubled back and scurried up and over the fence.

At this time the tank had began burrowing into the ground. George saw the tank and said “There it goes, lets get that squirrel,” and George was off like a shot chasing after the little tank.

George reached his quarry just as the tank had managed to dig itself under the surface of the field. The students had made their project light weight and maneuverable, but they had not contemplated a determined Smilodon in their design. To George and Gracie, the progeny of successful mastodon predators, a RC tank was great sport.

“You wont get away from me,” was George’s thought as his teeth griped the rear of the tank and pulled it free of its freshly dug tunnel.

“Silly boy, he didn’t catch a squirrel,” was Gracie’s comment, but as that thought was made, the twin lasers at the fortress fired at the tank AND George.

George yipped and ran for the safety of a big hunk of concrete as the poorly aimed shot singed the fur of his right ear.

“You can’t hurt my brother like that ,” Gracie hissed as she charged the fortress. Leaping from rock pile to rock pile, she was faster than the targeting computer could track.

The tank, not to be left out, fired at the fortress narrowly missing Gracie, who while not its target had almost reached the fortress. George, seeing this, growled–well tried to–“Nobody attacks my sister but me,” as he pounced on the tank with all of his 20 pounds landing with one paw on top of the gun barrel.

As the little tank shifted position to fire again, George lost his balance and fell off of the tank.

Gracie had reached the fortress and with her front paws swatted both miniature cannons turning the guns toward each other. At that moment all three weapons were fired, or at least the students tried to fire them. Both of the fortress laser cannons fried each other as the tank’s gun backfired as the barrel had bent under the weight of George's pounce.

The two cubs ran back to the hole under the fence as the twin explosions shutdown the testing range. The only witness of the event was an unmanned digital camcorder set up for classroom critique

* * * *.

“Officer O’Fallon to base, I have entered Poe and found the back door open, also the kitchen looks like some raccoons got into the trash. I’ll do a sweep of the premises and secure the back door O’Fallon out.”

As O’Fallon walked through the building, he saw all the doors were closed and locked except for one of the linen closets which had a bulletin-board attached to its door. He closed and locked that particular door and continued on with his search of the building, thinking it was unimportant.

* * * *

Again the cubs found themselves laying in the sun on the cool ground, panting to catch their breath, this time in a field of wildflowers. As George lay sprawled on his back soaking in the morning sun, Gracie was watching a multi colored butterfly land on the petals of a flower. She crouched down in her stalking posture, creeping closer to the flower when the butterfly suddenly took wing. Gracie happily danced in the flowers, reaching her fore paws up after the butterfly. Not to be left out, George joined in the dance with his sister. The cubs danced and jumped in the flowers as more and more butterflies rose up to fill the air.

The butterflies seemed to be leading the cubs over to the King annex where Joanie and Mr. King were discussing the music selection for The Sabers' rehearsal. Mr. King was explaining the snack he was preparing.

“Now, for a proper peanut butter and banana sandwich you have to use a cast iron skillet. It is just not possible to create this sandwich using a microwave oven,” authoritatively stated the caped teacher as he placed the sandwich on a plate to cool. “Not like that sandwich they tried to pass off at Crystal Hall.”

Joanie was trying to hide her giggle at how seriously he took the preparations by holding her fingers to her lips as if in thought and nodding politely.

~~Ghod, he takes being Elvis seriously, you don’t suppose he really is? I was a man, stranger things are possible, aren’t they?~~ she thought.

Joanie struggled to keep from laughing. Just then the sound of a commotion in the hallway drew them out of the room. Two girls were yelling obscenities at each other over who had the right to date a particular boy. Next came a masculine yell of “cat fight.” Mr. King paused on his way out the door only to turn off the hotplate under the skillet. Joanie was already on her way towards the shouts. The office door closing behind them caused the cooking smells to momentarily surge out of an open window.

The window in the room had to be open while Mr. King was using the hotplate. So as the butterflies lead the cubs across the field, Gracie caught the scent of cooking coming from the open window. The puff of hot peanut butter and banana scent was just too enticing. With two bounds and a leap Gracie caught the window ledge with her forepaws. A little clawing with her rear paws and she was in the room and on the counter under the window. Right behind Gracie was George who joined into the search to find something to eat.

Gracie pounced on the sandwich and George dug into the jar of peanut butter. This made a great snack for the cubs; unfortunately they did not know how to open the refrigerator to get to the cold milk to help wash it down. So George and Gracie decided to eat and run towards the forest where their senses told them there was a river flowing.

The cold river water was very refreshing after eating the sticky peanut butter. Soon after drinking his fill, George started walking out onto a fallen tree trunk that stretched over the river. Looking down into the water he saw fish, more specifically trout. Lots and lots of trout schooling together under the fallen tree trunk. George licked his lips thinking of eating fish, but tasted more peanut butter still in his fur around his mouth.

Gracie climbed up on some heavy roots of the overturned tree after she saw George looking at the water hungrily.

“Fish! Gracie, look at all the fish,” said George.

Gracie purred as she extended her claws, baby claws that they were, and raised her paw to swipe at the fish.

At that moment George slipped on the wet tree trunk, falling into the cold water scattering the fish in all directions.

Gracie swung her paw at the fish, missing wildly and causing her to tumble into the water, too.

The cubs, now wet, did not give up trying to catch the fish. Their splashing around chased the fish towards the bank. The lion cubs emerged from the cold stream looking like soaked house cats, but proudly holding a trout in their mouths.

“Mua phyh hii buggr,” George mumbled proudly with a mouth full of thrashing fish which translated into, “My fish is bigger.”

Gracie laughed openly at her brother. “In your dreams,” declared Gracie after spitting out her fish as she went to work opening up her fish like it was a sofa.

After eating the cubs version of trout sushi, they both lay down together in a nearby meadow to rest and dry, and soon were deep into a little cat nap.

* * * *

While George and Gracie were sleeping the day away, Joanie was at security answering LOTS of questions. Mr. King, Mrs. Horton, Ms. Hartford and The Erector–the last being the instructor of the Freshman Gadgeteer class that was using Range B that morning–all had questions for her.

Mrs. Horton: “Joanie the kitchen is a filthy mess.”

Mr. King: “My peanut butter-n-naner sandwiches and supplies are gone.”

~~He is clearly ‘all shook up,’~~ Joanie thought and giggled silently. She was trying not to get too upset at her impromptu and confusing interrogation.

The Erector: “My students worked hard on this test”

Joanie looked bewildered; she had expected to help process two empaths for fighting in the hall. Instead, she got called into Chief Delarose’s office and was feeling ambushed. The Chief was letting everyone have their say, though Joanie was tempted to use her power to interrupt the chaos into which the room was descending. Ms. Hartford was standing quietly in the corner, farthest from Mrs. Horton, with a sinister looking smile on her lips. Joanie was about to use her power to get some peace when Ms. Hartford spoke.

“Chief Delarose, would it not be prudent to capture these felines first before more damage is done?”

“Yes, yes of course,” he said as he keyed his intercom, “Jones, broadcast to all units: Be on the lookout for Timeouts two, um, lion cubs, traveling together or alone.” Feeling the absurdity of the situation the Chief added, “they are unarmed, but considered destructive, though Not Dangerous. Apprehend without violence,” he added with a sigh.

Joanie gave the Chief a big smile and a confused Ms. Hartford a hug.

All available security personnel whether on foot, in vehicles or wearing flying packs joined in the search for the cubs. Also, the Peacekeepers were called out to help in the search for the cubs. Stan and Morrie were sent down into the tunnels in case the cubs had gone underground. Joanie first went to Siegel Hall to get The Sabers to aid in the search.

Outside Whitman Hall, two security officers, either one of which looked like they could bench press a Buick, were walking along the shrubbery calling for the cubs.

“Here George, here Gracie,” called William Keerock.

“No, no, Will, you’re being too forceful. You’re trying to catch a cat, not a dog,” Lenard Vulcaine corrected. “Logically, you need to be more subtle”.

“Subtle hell, give me a clear shot with my Tazer and I’ll have those cats,” William said quick drawing his Tazer.

As the weapon cleared leather, Miyet sprang from behind a bush snatching it from Officer Keerocks hand.

“In the name of Bast and as a provisional member of The St. Louis Six I can not allow you to harm a cat in that manner,” stated the cat girl “What is your badge number? 1701, I’m going to have to report this to your superiors and PETA...

Miyet proceeded to give Officer Keerock a piece of her mind about his lack of respect for the animals of Whateley and the cat world in particular.

Officer Vulcaine held back all emotion while watching Miyet give his partner a good dressing down. He activated the personal micro camcorder to save this event to share with others.

* * * *

The maximum effort security put forth reminded some of the staff of the time in 2001 when Ms. Hartford had ordered Miki caught. ~~We all know how well that worked, maybe Miki has seen the cubs?~~ wondered Mr. Miyagi, the head groundskeeper

* * * *

Chief Delarose was monitoring the progress, or lack there of, in the operation to capture the cubs, when he received a call from operations. “Go ahead, Morrie,” the Chief called into the radio.

“Aye, Captain. At least the wee beasties haven’t got into the machinery,” answered Morrie in a baaad imitation of a Scottish accent.

“Morrie, why are you trying to sound like an episode from Star Trek?” asked the Chief wearily.

“Because Stan and I flipped a coin and I won,” stated Morrie proudly.

* * * *

While everyone was searching for George and Gracie, the cubs were taking a leisurely stroll through the woods. Their senses seemed to be called by a chorus of voices. As they traveled deeper into the forest the plants seemed to bend out of the way to lead them on into the forest. They walked up to a small grove of trees that once they stepped inside, magically became so much bigger than was physically possible. In the middle of the woods were a waterfall and a sparkling pool. Next to the pool was a great oak tree, a tree so old it seemed to have the knowledge of the ages. The cubs lay down next to the tree as though they were destined to be in this place.

* * * *

Later in the day when the cubs exited the woods, they were a little more energized but, calmer in appearance. Their day had been one grand adventure and a successful one so far. In their delight, they forgot about the dangers they had faced. They forgot about the tall two-legged creatures with the long stone tipped sticks that had killed their old mother. They forgot having been cold, hungry and terrified when another two-legged creature came and grabbed them - their new mommy. New Mommy was a two-legged creature, but a good mother to them. They accepted her as an honorary smilodon. Being but cubs, the day’s excitement and the time in the grove had pushed the bad memories to the back of their minds. This was understandable as was their frequent hunger. They had a lot of growing up to do.

George and Gracie were sniffing for something to eat after their big day of exploring the area around Whateley Academy.

On the loading dock behind Schuster Hall beneath Crystal Hall sat an empty cage that had contained a billy goat that had been Sara Waite’s breakfast. There was no longer even the scent of goat left in the cage. However, there were some bits of egg, sausage, grits and scrapple, also some yankee pot-roast, mo go gi pan and broccoli with cheese sauce which had fallen into the cage when it sat next to the trash cans. George, thinking with his stomach, went right up to the cage and crawled through the opening to get at the tasty snack that awaited him. As he stepped in, he tripped the latch causing the door to lock behind him.

“Hey, what’s happening,” called George as the lock slammed shut. He made a few cub growls as he shook the cage trying to figure out how to get out of his predicament.

Gracie bounded up onto the loading dock. “Silly, what are you doing in there?” asked Gracie.

Some more growls that turned to whines and finally George pouted, “Please get help and get me out of here.”

“I’ll go and find The Mommy,” Gracie said and ran down the side of the building.

* * * *

Two members of Team Kimba were already in The Crystal Hall waiting on line for their dinner.

“I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” Sara commented, famished after the workout she had been through.

“Well, if Mr. Ed comes walking up to the table you can take your meal to go,” Toni replied. Toni had selected teriyaki chicken breast, baby peas and wild rice. Sara was given lion cub in a cage.

The cafeteria staff was used to the bizarre nutritional requirements of some students and staff. This evening’s meal started out smoothly and serenely. The calm, if you can call a cafeteria full of teenagers calm, was about to be broken by two unexpected problems. First the morning shift had failed to remove the shipping tag when setting an empty cage out for pickup. The second problem was that the cafeteria dockworker had not been informed the delivery truck was delayed. These two minor problems became a big one because the cafeteria staff was short handed. The harried worker who retrieved the cage from the loading dock saw, “For Sara Waite,” but missed seeing the rest of the tag which read, “breakfast entré, one goat, male.”, because it was smeared with scrambled eggs. It was not his fault as this was not his usual duty. He was just a student busboy. Once placed on the conveyor belt, no one checked the label again the machinery read the bar code on the old label and routed the cage to Sara Waite.

Pinky happened to be walking by the Team Kimba table at the right time when she saw Sara extending a tentacle into the cage at her feet. Now most people would look away when Sara was eating, the sight while common was still very disturbing. But, Pinky for some reason did not turn away. Pinky instead turned and looked right into the cage and recognized George staring back in confusion and fear.

“Nooooooo!” screamed Pinky as she leaped at Sara.

The tentacles retracted back into Sara’s hand as Pinky’s body landed on the cage shielding George from harm.

Toni helped Sara back to her feet from where she had fallen backwards when she was startled by Pinky. Sara was visibly shaken when she realized that this was not some ill creature destined to be destroyed, but George.

Toni was looking around for The Don or some other Alpha expecting it to be one of their half baked evil plans.

Pinky was fighting with the hasp on George’s cage, frantic to get her kitty friend out of his trap.

Brittney Spears–AKA Cheryl to most everyone else on campus–the cashier was on the phone to security, “That’s right a lion cub in the cafeteria, could you send Officer Joanie Brown; tell her Brittney Spears said for her to come to Crystal Hall immediately, her friend Pinky is in a situation and is protecting what looks like a lion cub.

* * * *
Gracie was running around to the front of Schuster Hall when she spotted Officer Samantha Everheart coming out of the building. Sam saw the big kitten and reached down to catch her.

Meanwhile Gracie was trying her best to communicate with the human while avoiding the hands grabbing for her.

“HELP!! My brother is trapped, please come help, PLEASE!!!”

While Sam was still trying to catch the cub HIVE broke in. *Everheart Unit, I have analyzed the feline’s vocalization and have come up with a possible match from the broadcast you watched last night. It is similar to that canine breed collie announcing that, “Timmy had fallen down the well.”*

Sam was slowly crouching down to appear less threatening to Gracie and said, “I wish I knew what you wanted little one, but I don’t speak cat.”

*It may be possible to communicate on a crude basis. It should be possible to ask it to lead us to the problem.*

“You mean we ask the Smilodon, 'Show me?'”

*Precisely.*

“Ok. Well, do it.”

Suddenly Sam found herself making several oddly catlike sounds and scrunching her face in a very strange manner.

“What did you do to me?” she thought to HIVE.

*A visual message to reinforce the vocalization, more precisely, feline body language,* Sam thought she heard the stored VR copy/simulation of HIVE’s creator giggle. Sam and HIVE were slowly merging into a single consciousness. Their internal dialogs were nearly instantaneous or even subconscious, but sometimes the mischievous spirit of HIVEs creator came out to play. Fortunately as in life, Sam’s and the late Doctor’s personalities complemented each other.

Gracie turned and ran for the loading dock where she had left George, thinking, “I hope she follows me, I could barely understand her.”

* * * *

When they reached the loading dock, George and the cage were gone.

Sam arrived and found Gracie sniffing around at the boxes and barrels stacked on the platform making mewing noises.

“That better not be cat laughter I hear,” warned Sam, but whether to Gracie or Hive you could not tell.

Gracie caught a scent and crawled through a door that a conveyor belt traveled through.
Just then, a truck with the sign Critter Catchers pulled up and two men unloaded a cage containing four large chickens.

“Officer did you see a cage around here? The kitchen staff is supposed to leave the empties right here,” asked the truck driver.

Sam snatched her radio off her belt quickly calling, “Base, tell all units the lions are in Crystal Hall. Repeat the lions are in Crystal Hall!”, and pushed through the door next to the loading dock. Once inside, there was an elevator and stair leading upstairs. Sam climbed the stairs three at a time with an ease that was impressive even for Whateley residents.

* * * *

Chief Delarose had been on his way to Crystal Hall since Cheryl had called for Joanie and entered the dining area as the sound of crashing dishes came from the kitchen.

Gracie leaped through the pass through window from the kitchen landing in a large dish of spaghetti on the serving line. With a single jump she cleared the Plexiglas sneeze guard and ran between the tables looking for George. Sam did not need HIVE’s help to track Gracie with the marinara sauce trail she was leaving.

Gracie leaped onto a table to look around for George and jumped off of the table and right into Ms. Carson’s arms smearing spaghetti sauce down the front of her cream colored suit. She managed to hold onto Gracie as Pinky walked up to her holding George. As Ms. Carson stood there Chief Delarose and Joanie arrived and both cubs meowed for their Mommy.

“Chief Delarose, I want these two animals securely leashed and then assemble everyone involved outside my office in fifteen minutes,” stated Ms. Carson in a extremely calm voice that left no one relaxed. She then left for her private restroom to try to clean the mess made of her suit.

* * * *

After Ms. Carson returned from the restroom now wearing jeans and a Whateley Academy sweat shirt. Ms. Carson waited until everyone was assembled in her office before she started. “This entire campus has been disrupted today and I want to get to the bottom of it. I will ask questions and I expect answers. When we are done, then you may ask your own questions,” stated Ms. Carson, it wasn’t necessary for her to ask if everyone understood.

“First, Chief Delarose how did the cubs get loose?”

“We never checked Joanie’s room or the kitchen’s back door after apprehending the escapees” confessed Chief Delarose.

“Mrs. Horton, was any real damage done to the cottage's kitchen”

“No a good scrubbing is all it should take to put things to right again. Also those ladies knew they were to take out the trash after their party and not leave it in the kitchen. They know food waste attracts animals,” admitted Mrs. Horton.

“Mr.Oshman, would you please play the tape? Mr, Oshman? Bernie, I am not going to call you The Erector, it’s not a dignified codeword - too easy to misconstrue... I don’t want to hear any snickering... Mr. Oshman, play the tape.”

Everyone turned to look at the aerial photo of the campus behind Ms. Carson’s desk as it became a flat screen TV. The picture was showing Range B from above and the left as the tank started across the field using the cover of the rubble. Suddenly, a squirrel appeared on the fence and right behind it came the cubs. George then attacked the tank and Gracie defended her brother from the fortress when it fired and missed at him. The explosions were the end of the movie.

“I guess if the fence had been in proper repair the cats wouldn’t have gotten in,” was The Erector’s reply.

“And aren’t your student’s supposed to walk the perimeter before a test?” questioned Ms. Carson.

“Yes, we were lax in our responsibilities,” he admitted.

“Mr. King, any destruction in your office?”

“No just a great sandwich gone to waste,” he complained.

“Ms. Hartford, were there any injuries from the fight between students in Crystal Hall?”

“No injuries, no fights, either. Ms. Conner simply stopped Ms. Waite from consuming the male lion.” Everyone grimaced at the word 'consume' as they all knew how Sara consumed her food. “But no altercation occurred,” Ms. Hartford reported.

“Well then, I rule that if Miss Brown is willing to make restitution, then no disciplinary action will be taken. Any questions? Good.”

Ms. Hartford cleared her throat, “Chief Delarose, you have a student waiting for you in your office with a complaint against an officer. Also, you may need to contact ‘The St Louis Six’ and PETA may be calling you.” She seemed almost to smile when she finished. Chief Delarose seemed less enthused with the news.

* * * *

Joanie was sitting out in the administration cubicles with Pinky, Sara Waite, Toni Chandler and two lion cubs trying to act all innocent, “George must really be affectionate, the way he is licking his sister,” Sara commented.

“It’s not affection, he likes that spaghetti sauce she’s dunked in,” laughed Toni
Both cubs were now wearing their harnesses and held securely by leashes.

“I need to get you two out to the farm. You’re too big to stay in my dorm room anymore. You're nomadic hunters of the sub-arctic grasslands, you need room to roam, but with the explosion we won’t be moving for awhile. Sorry, little ones,” Joanie said to her wayward cubs.

The door to Ms. Carson's office opened, letting everyone file out of the impromptu meeting. Ms. Hartford asked the girls to come in to the office. Once everyone sat down Ms. Carson spoke, “Miss Waite, Miss Chandler, you both did not have to stay. We had your statements already.”

“We are here to show support for Pinky, uhm, Miss Conners,” declared Sara.

“She was just protecting George,” added Toni.

“Well Pinky is also free to go, I just need to speak with Ms. Brown and, no, you're not in trouble either, Joanie,” Ms. Carson said warmly. “Not much trouble,” she added with a laugh. “We are sure that no rules were broken, but your furry friends did cause a lot of trouble. You need to clean the kitchen back at Poe and pay for the items on this list to replace what George and Gracie destroyed.”

Joanie glanced at the list seeing various electronic parts, peanut butter and such. The last item was a cream suit with a suggestion to order it through “Rogers Fabric Boutique” for one Ms. Elizabeth Carson. Joanie winced when she read that last item.

“I want to know,” asked Sara delicately, “I know George was not meant to be my dinner so what happened?”

“Oh, the truck had a flat tire. Your chicken dinner is waiting upstairs,” answered Ms. Carson

* * * *

After returning to Poe Cottage, Joanie changed into her running clothes and headed down to the kitchen to clean up the mess left by her kitties. Once there, she found Mrs. Horton holding off The Sabers, who had come to clean the kitchen for Joanie. “Ms. Brown knew she was responsible for those animals when she brought them here,” stated Mrs. Horton sternly. “It is her responsibility to clean the Kitchen.”

“Mrs. Horton is right; George and Gracie’s mess is my mess to clean up. And I guess I am a Big Girl,” Joanie said wiggling her breasts.

“Just when you were making such a good example,” Mrs. Horton said disappointedly.

To be continued?

Timeout 4- Reel to Real

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Organizational:

Title Page

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Other Keywords:

Created by BC staff

Timeout 4- Reel to Real
by John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 1

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

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

Joanie tells the bittersweet news about their parents to the Smith twins. A sleep-over is held, pizza ordered and a card cheat uncovered. The farm rehab progress smoothly at first. Joanie gets a surprise invitation to perform and great news from the Senator. And her farm house blows up. And you thought there would be typos in the synopsis, ha!

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s the first chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and anything else that comes to mind epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant, if he is still coherent. 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, trademark 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, 2005-2007.

Adult content advisory: this chapter containts situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Additional Jade and Jinn material by Babs Yerunkle
Infinite patience by Itinerant
Pronoun policing by Janet Nolan

Chapter 1, Welcome to Adulthood 2, This Old Farm House -- A Blast From The Past 1, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 3, You BET Your Life 1

Whateley Academy Dunwich, April 30-May01, 2007

April 30, 2007, 3:30PM

Pinky and I fed George and Gracie, cleaned their box, and did the usual stuff you do for a pair of vicious predators -- flipped them on their backs and trimmed their claws; put their collars back on after brushing them and breaking out the oversize ballistic-nylon catnip mice, one per carnivore, no fighting. A cat-fancier friend of Cindy's, who was in the same costuming class, had made some up a few days ago in exchange for a chance to pet them. They -- the catnip mice -- showed signs of, um, wear.

~~Uh, half-shredded already, I’d better see if she can make these in stainless-steel mesh, like those shark-proof suits. Nah, that’s too harsh on their teeth; maybe rawhide backed with Kevlar?~~

We left for the King Annex and the Saber’s practice.

* * * *

I’d called Tina and Chris Anderson, and they got hold of Lonnie and Cheryl for me, so they all knew about the Smith’s parents. I also made a quick call to Madison for the latest update; Mrs. Smith’s condition had not changed, but it was no worse. The NC supers were taking guarding Suzy’s close family as a debt of honor. GG informed them that ‘Joanie’ had saved the life of their daughter, one of the Wisconsin Ultra-X-Amine victims, and was a close friend to all the victims. My cousin Christine was right; my reputation was not just a Midwest thing. I was warned by GG that more autographed copies of that certain magazine would be needed. I may need to invest in an autopen at this rate.

I’d managed to catch Jenny, as Pinky and I left Poe, and she promised to warn Cindy prior to the band practice. She’d offered to help Cindy move a marimba from the main concert hall to our practice room, which was not exactly a one-woman job. Frankly, I think Jenny has her eye on Cindy -- lucky Cindy. I’d hoped to intercept Suzy earlier, but she had raced from her last class to a rendezvous with Tom to swap spit; it had to be, given what they were busy doing when Pinky and I arrived at the annex.

“How long have you two been at this?” I asked.

“It’s four, now, so about an hour. It was fun!” admitted Suzy.

~~ They look so cute together. I have got to talk with those two. ~~

Eric and I are above such lewd public displays of affection, preferring to hug, snuggle, and then subconsciously ...... ah-hum each other to the brink of intercourse, as nearly happened on Easter Sunday morning. On second thought, dear d/j/w, Tom and Tina are doing okay; it’s Eric and I that need the talking to. For a girl who said to take things slow; I’m moving awful fast.

~~A full hour of kissing unsupervised, their teen hormones surging, and they didn’t lose control -- amazing. An hour of ‘that’ with Eric, and I’d be buying one of those home test devices in a few days and praying it’s not ‘positive’. That’s assuming I wasn’t in jail on charges of statutory rape. Maybe I’m not ready for the boyfriend/girlfriend dynamic, but if I don’t snag him now some other cutie will capture his heart and I’ll just die!

~~... Damn! Am I one of those girls who gives it up to her boyfriend to deliberately get pregnant and thus ‘he has to marry me’? I have got to think this over. Joanie, he’s a kid, he’s still in the freakn’ eighth grade. That’s eight more grades until he’s though collage, four until he’s fair-game for my *feminine wiles.* As to my ‘kissing’ cousin and Tom, with all those endorphins in their systems at least they’ll be cushioned for the bad news. I hope Tina has something to fall back on … I mean, something to comfort her. Just great, *that* got me thinking about sex; I AM obsessed with it. At least I’m in a better mood to tell Tom and Tina the bad news.~~

Everyone took their seat and got their instruments ready. I plugged in my guitar and powered up my amp to make things look normal. I received a telepathic message from Tina and Chris Anderson that they were in the hallway outside the practice room waiting as backup.

“Thanks for being here today. Before we start, I have an announcement,” I said placing my guitar in a stand as my co-conspirators moved into position.

I turned to face the Smiths, Pinky moved next to Tina, and Lonnie moved in next to Tom and Suzy. Cheryl, Jenny, and Cindy positioned themselves to intercept and tackle Tom and Tina if needed. Tina and Chris Anderson were the deep safeties. Maybe I should diagram this play? I apologize for the humor dear d/j/w but the next few minutes were not pleasant.

“Tom, Tina, my friend Janice from Madison -- Glacier Girl: tall, Nordic, breasts like Lara Croft after implants?” I said and giggled nervously. “She called today with word of your parents,” I said, forcing myself to stay professional.

~~That sounded stupid, but I hate telling them this. ~~

“They found Mom and Dad?! Can we talk to them? This is great!” Tom and Tina yelled out alternately.

Tom’s face dropped into a frown when he saw the expression on my face. Suzy hugged him tight and Pinky grabbed Tina’s hands in both of hers. I could barely stand to look them in the eyes. Tina stared to sniffle.

“The kidnappers beat your mom savagely, trying to make her say where you’d been taken. She’s in the Mutant Wing at the University Hospital in Madison now. Your mom’s under the care of the same doctors that saved you. It’s not that she’s a mutant; it’s for her safety. She’s in poor shape, we won’t know for a while if....” I left it at that.

“How’s Dad?!” Tina demanded loudly.

Her expression was wild; she was near panic, and her face was streaked with tears. Pinky shifted to hug her tight while the rest of the crew in the room moved in closer to comfort the twins. Tom was fighting back tears; Suzy held on tight — this could as easily have happened to her parents. Tina Anderson sent me a telepathic message to continue, and that they had our backs.

“They beat your father far worse; he died three days after the kidnapping. I’m so very sorry,” I said, not noticing I was crying.

Tom’s reaction surprised me, though maybe it shouldn't have; he is a tough kid. He smiled at me despite his tears while he hugged Suzy as if she was a lifesaving ring and he was a drowning man.

“How is Mom? Can she talk to us? Can we speak with her? Did the ... bastards leave any clues behind, Joanie?” he asked in a remarkable display of self-control.

I could see he dearly wanted to cry in outrage, but he willed himself to be brave for his sister and Suzy. I’d liked him from the start, but my opinion of him as a man rose greatly this day.

~~You’re a good man, Tom, being strong for your sister and girl friend when your soul wants to scream at the heavens. You’re far more mature than I thought.~~

“I approve of ‘bastards’ in this case, Tom,” I said, and giggled nervously.

~~Ghods, I’m more like my dad than I thought -- laughing at an inappropriate moment. I think I understand you now, Dad. Forgive me.~~

“GG wasn’t sure, to answer your questions, Tom. Your mom has a broken jaw they will have to set surgically once she’s stabilized. She has many other injuries; they may not be able to fully treat them all at once. It will take time before they will know when she can have visitors. As to the investigation, I don’t know what evidence they found. I wish I knew more but I don’t.”

I didn’t like lying, but it was a white lie; I had every confidence in my friends’ ability to heal Mrs. Smith -- I hoped.

“Your mom’s doctor is Dr. Sara, the same doctor you and I had. There is no one better in the whole state. She’s an empath, and one of her nurses is an empath/telepath. That nurse ‘talked‘ with your mom; it was difficult as she’s not fully conscious. Your mom knows her husband is dead, but she knows you’re both safe with me at Whateley. They beat your parents to make them tell where you’d been taken, but they never cracked. They must have loved you very much.”

I paused to compose myself. Tina was weeping, but watching me intently, Tom kept glancing from his sister, to Suzy, to me.

“The hospital is doing everything possible to save your mother; Gin has called in several magic experts to see if they can help. GG knows to call me any time, day or night, with news of your mother. I promise you will know minutes after I do, even if I have to run fresh from the showers wrapped in only a bath towel to do it.”

“Joanie, why would you have a phone in the shower?” asked Cindy as she held in a giggle.

That got a small snicker from Tina. I smiled despite my sadness; I needed to boost their confidence, not undermine it. They seemed to be settling down when Suzy got this look of fear and hugged Tom hard.

“What of my family; are they safe, Joanie?” she cried out, as Tom hugged her back.

“GG told me the FBI is watching your parents and close family 24/7. The Ultra-X-Amine homolog case is a top priority; it’s considered a threat to national security. Some North Carolina supers are watching your family, too; they are friends of our MSG pals. MSG and the Greater Milwaukee Mutant Group are keeping a close eye on your relatives in Milwaukee and my family, too -- they won’t fail us,” I said. “The NC supers know your parents are close friends of a ‘nationally prominent super’,” I pointed at myself, “so they consider them ‘family’. No one threatens family,” I emphasized.

~~Especially MY family, Suzy. ~~

“Thank God, Joanie. I was so worried. You will tell Tom and Tina soon as you know anything more?” Suzy asked excited but relieved. I walked over, gave all three of them hugs and they calmed down.

“What we need tonight is cheering up, and I am the head cheerleader,” I said.

I waved my arms in the air and jumped up and down. Not much of a routine, but I never was a cheerleader -- so there! At least I was perky and bouncy, very bouncy, with my figure. Tom seemed to enjoy it, for a while.

-- THWACK! -- Suzy’s hands slammed together in front of Tom’s face like a cymbal crash.

“Tom, if you are serious about being my boyfriend, ‘that’ had better not happen again. I’m not a jealous girl by nature, but I’m not some cheap slut to be ignored and insulted, got it, Mister?” Suzy said VERY deliberately.

~~SUZY!? Where did this spitfire come from? ~~

“But, what did I do wrong?” Tom asked, clueless.

~~BIG mistake, you’re on your own now, buddy. ~~

“If ‘you’ don’t know, then I’m not speaking to ‘you’, PIG!” she growled sardonically. Tom looked heartbroken, even scared. “And as for you, Ms. Joanie Brown…” she said, paused and moved next to me.

“Yes?”

“Can you show me that move because it, like, totally rocked!” she said, laughed and gave me a flamboyant hug. The rest of the gang looked at Tom and broke up.

“Do you want to have our band practice today, or should we have a sleep-over in Tom and Tina’s room? I figure everyone will want to talk tonight or just hang out,” I said and smiled. “You’re not in this alone.”

* * * *

We voted to skip the practice for the night -- our hearts weren’t in it -- so we packed up, and walked to Hawthorne. Chris and Tina Anderson explained to the house-mother what was going on while I got Security on my special cell phone and filled them in on the details. We got comfortable in Tom and Tina's room and ordered pizza delivery. We decided to skip the cafeteria this night as we weren’t hungry at first, and it seemed the right thing to do.

“Quiet, now, I’m on the phone. Okay, that’s two large cheese,” I said.

“Three,” one of my friends called back.

“Sorry, three large cheese, two large cheese and pepperoni, one large deluxe deep-dish, two cheese and sausage with bell pepper, a large Hawaiian pizza and one large heartburn special with extra onions, garlic, hot peppers and anchovies... Yes, every one is a large... We’re growing girls, that’s why! -- ‘I’m sorry, Tom’, I mouthed -- ... We want eight cold two litter sodas, that’s four Pepsi and four root beers.... What? ... Sorry, no Pepsi, Coke,” I said in a vaguely Slavic/Middle-eastern accent.

They all nodded, they’d learned not to question my ‘asides’ too often for fear I’d do more.

“Yeah, cold Coke and root beer will do, send some cups and napkins, please. Oh, add a half-dozen big bags of tortilla and potato chips and assorted dips... Perfect... That will be HOW much!?... You’re charging for delivery because it’s too small an order? Ten large pizzas plus extras is a small...? They ordered what?... I guess this is ‘small’ by that standard; we’re feeling a little ‘down’ tonight... Can’t we get some sort of discount, please?”

<~~Like ‘I’ need the money, but it’s the principle of the thing.~~

“…Yes, go on... Are you ef’n crazy? You do know who I am?... Yes, I’m her... You’ll do what if I?... You have got to be kidding!... For ‘that’, this had better be at cost and on time... If I do what, it’s free? I’ll say this only once: I’m also a Whateley Security officer; do you want to rephrase that?... Better,” I hung-up and snickered.

~~I sounded like that old Saturday Night Live restaurant skit or an old Bob Newhart comedy routine. Why does the Pizza Pit have only Coke products while the menu listed Pepsi? Come to think of it the school cafeteria changed over to Coke recently, too. They have the low bid? ~~

They’d all crowded around me as I ordered; now they scrambled for the best seats. Several appropriated the beds, then the couch, all the chairs were quickly occupied followed by much of the modest floor space -- with nine of us we were crowded, but cozy.

“Okay, what do we want to do? I’m up for anything... legal” -- that got some snickers -- “except strip-poker, that’s out. With only one guy it hardly seems fair,” I argued.

The pizza came in under 25 minutes. The pies were hot, tasty and generously topped, the soda and dips were cold, the chips were unbroken and they included knives, plates and lots of napkins -- even free breadsticks and dipping sauce.

I, um -- I was scandalously brazen -- I hugged the delivery boys. You thought I was gonna boob flash them or strip, didn’t you? I drew the line on anything even approaching French kissing -- who knew where’d they’d been, or if they were 18 and over? For the tip, I kissed them each on the cheek -- like their grandmother. They left woefully underpaid and blissfully happy.

“The things I do to save a buck!” I said.

I closed the door and giggled as my friends laughed.

~~Good, they’re laughing. If it takes Tom and Tina’s minds of their troubles, it’s worth it. ~~

We ate and talked for several hours. Tom and Tina cried a few times, but we soon had them smiling again. It wasn’t always easy, though.

We were talking casually after we ate, shooting the breeze. We started talking about what we would do after the end of the spring term.

“I’m going back home and work in my parents' accounting firm; they always need help with the files,“ Cheryl said.

“My parents are taking me to Disney World to meet with my cousins,” Cindy spoke.

“I’m staying here and working on Joanie’s construction projects as long as I can. I was raised by a single mom, and money is tight this year,” Jenny said.

“I’m stuck here or with Joanie, if she’ll have me,“ joked Pinky, I smiled.

If I’d been paying closer attention, I would have made more of Tom and Tina’s eerie silence -- it would have saved us some grief.

“Until this Ultra-X-Amine homolog trouble changed my life, I was supposed to go to Paris with my old French class and later to Wisconsin with my parents to visit Mom’s side of the family. I really miss them,” Suzy said wistfully.

“I was lucky my dad could come and...” I began, then stopped as Tina collapsed on the bed sobbing, followed moments later by her brother.

“What’s wrong?” Suzy asked and tried to hug Tom; he pushed her away.

~~Oh shit! Stupid, stupid, stupid Joanie! ~~ I recovered fast.

“That’s okay; there is nothing wrong in grieving for your dad, Tom. That goes for you, too, Tina, dear. We forgot, no, I forgot. Please forgive me for not realizing it in time. Go ahead and let it out; it doesn’t make you any less of a man or woman to cry when you lose a loved one. I cry for my mother sometimes, and even my long dead cat, Charlie,” I said in a soothing tone as I gently held Tina. I wept too: for mom, my sister, my grandparents, aunts and uncles and even Charlie, my cat.

“Oh, Tom!” Suzy cried, then she hugged him so firmly he couldn’t push her away. After a while, he put an arm around her.

* * * *

We all let a lot of pent-up stress out that evening; I lost track of who hugged who or provided a shoulder to cry on. More than one individual helped me out; I remember that much.

It took a while -- most of an hour -- but the long cry seemed to ease their pain. I know I felt better. We started a game of cards to take our minds of things for a while; it evolved or degenerated -- take your pick -- into strip-poker. I guess I inspired them through reverse psychology. It did keep our minds off the bad news, and we did set a loss limit of no total nudity.

After playing for a couple hours, I noticed a disturbing trend.

“Pinky, I think you are cheating,” I accused her, but grinned happily.

“Why do you say that?” she asked innocently as she absentmindedly rubbed one of her bare feet.

“Let’s see: I’m down to a bra, panties and half-slip; Tom is in his briefs T-shirt and socks; Jenny and Suzy are both out of the game as they have only their bras and panties on. Shall I go on, Ms. Empath? Skill and luck have their role in card games, but be real,” I explained.

“Busted, Pinky!” Cheryl said -- looking cute in her tiger-striped lingerie and Hello Kitty socks.

“I think Joanie is the ‘busted’ one here,” Tom said and pointed to my chest.

That got him a playful slap up the back of the head by Suzy. That also got giggles from me, and I shocked myself with a thought.

~~Strange, I’m in intimate contact with all these attractive, half-naked teens and I’m not aroused? Wow! I finally have some control -- about time too. ~~

“Tom, stop ogling my aunt,” Suzy admonished. “That’s not polite, and I have plenty to keep you interested,” she said, winked and giggled while pointing at her own curvaceous body.

To put it bluntly, Suzy is stacked. Not as amply as I am, but for a still growing girl she had nothing to be ashamed of. We played one last hand; I had three of a kind.

“I call, Joanie,” said Pinky.

“Three jacks, read 'em and weep,” I said in a Western saloon drawl.

Pinky laid down a full house.

“Pay up,” she grinned.

“Fine,” I said and began unhooking my bra.

Pinky laughed so hard she got dizzy.

“Don’t you want to see them? A bet is a bet,” I said and pointed at my now loose bra.

I was barely decent, but my silly antics kept the Smiths cheerful.

“I’ll accept a hug instead,” Pinky said.

She hugged me and re-hooked my bra tenderly. We all got dressed and decided what to do next.

“It’s getting late; it's almost eleven. Do you want us to stay?” I asked Tom and Tina. I preferred they thought our watchdogs were their own idea.

“It’s crowded, but fun; please stay. I don’t want to be alone tonight, and Tina doesn’t either,” said Tom smiling through his pain.

“I was so scared earlier; it helped having my friends with me. Stay,” said Tina and she sniffled.

“It’s official! Sleepover, gang,” I declared.

* * * * *

This was not going to be as easy as we thought. No matter how we lay down -- even with two to a bed -- there wasn’t enough room ...

“...unless we start stacking bodies, Joanie,” Chris Anderson observed.

“That could be fun depending on who’s stacked on who or whom,” I said and giggled; I was in a good mood.

“Joanie, are you blushing?” asked Tina Anderson. She whispered in my ear, “Hon, your ‘headlights’ are erect. Are you getting aroused?”

~~Damn! I knew it was too good to last. ~~

Pinky must have overheard, because she started snickering and blushed -- cute really.

“I’m 17, I am. I cain’t help I’m a healthy littl’ girl, Gov’ner,” I said in a bad Cockney. The Andersons broke up, but everyone else stared.

“I’m heading to my own room; no one appreciates my Eliza,” I said and pouted. “At least my smilodons love me.”

“And they won’t inflame that pesky libido of yours,” Tina Anderson smirked.

I smirked back with a vengeance.

“Oooh, I get to play with my....“ I cooed, but was interrupted.

“Don’t you dare, Joanie! You’ll warp our innocent minds with your filth,” Pinky snapped and laughed.

“Awh, I can’t even say the punch-lines to my groaners? That’s not fair,” I pouted again while several girls high-fived Pinky.

“You’d better go, Joanie. If you stay, we’ll never get to sleep,” Cheryl said.

We voted, and the kids would all stay; we ‘adults’ -- the Andersons and I -- would go back to our own accommodations. That left the four girls -- Jenny, Cheryl and Cindy, plus Suzy -- to watch the Smiths.

“I’ll go; I know when I’m not wanted,” I sniffled. “If you need me for anything, call, okay?”

I knew the Smiths had their Whateley Security supplied emergency devices and I’d recently bought Pinky a cell phone so we could stay in touch as the farm housing project picked up speed.

The Andersons and I said our goodbyes and left.

* * * *

“I owe you for this, girls,” I said.

“Our pleasure, we didn’t have to do much. We monitored the twins and were prepared to ‘send’ some gentle ‘calming’ thoughts a couple times, but didn’t. The presence of their friends did the trick; good job, Joanie. And we wouldn’t have missed that poker game for anything,” Tina said, grinning hungrily.

“Can’t you wait until Playboy comes out? You can ogle me all you want, then,” I complained.

“But it’s so much better in person. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with us tonight? We could carry on from where the poker game left off,” suggested Chris.

“No, I’m an old-fashioned girl, I guess. I’m no prude -- things were hot and heavy between some of the gals at MSG and me -- but I owe it to myself to try and be faithful to Eric. I’ve found someone special who will only become more so over time. I won’t risk it, even for such fine women as you,” I declared.

“Understood, but that doesn’t mean we won’t keep trying, dear,” Tina said.

She embraced me, kissing me with her tongue while Chris deftly stroked various areas on my body.

“No, I... please... Oooohophf!” I moaned exuberantly, though it was muffled by Tina’s talented mouth -- I could hardly stand after that.

“That’s a taste of what you’re missing out on, Joanie. Goodnight,” Chris said as they got on her Kawasaki and road off.

“Damn, those girls are hot. You’d better be worth it, Eric,” I said out loud to no one.

* * * *

I tended to my smilodons, stripped to my undies, and threw myself onto my bed. Dreams did not come quickly, as I spent much of the first hour bursting into tears sporadically -- the day’s events had finally caught up with me.

I woke to the annoying sound of my cell-phone. GG was true to her word and called me with important news regarding Mrs. Smith. I was not grateful, at first.

“Joanie. Wha’ the fuck d’yah want?... It’s three-thirteen in the morning, moron, and I’m tired and cranky -- what gives, Einstein?”

On hind-sight, that was not a polite way to answer the phone. GG was diplomatic.

“My aren’t we little Miss Sunshine, Joanie? You said to call if there was important news about Mrs. Smith,” GG said cheerfully.

“Oh Ghod, GG, I’m sorry. You said Mrs. Smith -- good news, please?” I pleaded, shocked wide awake.

“Donna -- that’s her name -- is responding better than expected physically. She regained full consciousness for most of an hour before she had to rest. Dr. Sara thinks Carrie’s empathic conversations have inspired her to fight for her life and her children. She wouldn’t have made it this far, if she wasn’t a stubborn girl. Mentally she’s distressed, but she's showing resilience. We’re keeping an empath on hand round-the-clock to assist her. She’s been upgraded from critical to guarded,” GG said.

“Can she communicate normally?” I asked.

“She can squeeze your hand with her one good hand -- one for yes, two for no, three for I’m not sure/I don’t understand -- and she understands when the nurses talk to her. Until her jaw is fixed, it’s intensely painful for her to try and speak. Carrie confirmed that Donna knows her kids are safe at Whateley, and that she’s a widow,” GG explained.

“How’s her condition?” I asked.

“They think her vision is okay, but she suffered abrasions to her corneas. One has an infection, but the infection is responding to the latest genetically engineered antibiotics. Once she’s stable enough, they will operate on her jaw, pelvis and other broken bones. After that it’s a matter of clearing up any infections and rehab. How soon she can have visitors is unknown; she’s not pretty to look at for now,” GG said, and sighed.

“You see she gets the best, and don’t let the insurance people give you fits. Anything they won’t cover, I will -- no limit. If they give you a hard time, call me,” I said forcefully.

“We have, that is, Senator Joe called Mrs. Smith’s insurance carriers; all her bills will be covered. We have a direct line to the CEO of her primary insurer; Senator Joe scared them shitless,” GG said with a hint of a chuckle.

~~The Senator’s involved, I wonder why? … Duh, Dr Sara spoke with him — clever girl.~~

“Keep me informed; Tom and Tina are desperate for news of their mom. Can I get some sleep now, Brunhilde?”

“Bad jokes? You are feeling better about this, Barbie. Say hi to Skipper and Ken,” GG said, then hung-up.

I considered waiting until a decent hour, say 7AM, but I’d promised, and if I lost sleep, so should the others.

“Timeout to Security ... Leaving Poe for Hawthorne -- the Smith’s room, ETA 15 minutes, on personal business, Timeout, over,” I radioed.

“Acknowledged, Timeout, Dispatch out.”

I slipped on my runner’s warm-up suit, and my trainers, and jogged over to Hawthorne. My set of keys and codes could get me into most places on campus, so I used the side entrance and stairs nearest their room rather than the main entrance. I quietly walked to their room and knocked; a bleary-eyed Cheryl opened the door carefully. She looked worried until I smiled. I entered, and she closed the door behind me.

“Joa ... nie,: Cheryl yawned ,”what’d you wan’,” she said, yawning again.

“I have good news. Why are you up, Cheryl?”

“I took guard duty and slept in front of the door. Remember I’m a night person, not a morn’ person,” Cheryl said and yawned, clearly exhausted.

“I owe you an automatic coffee maker for this, Cheryl.” I heard the others stirring.

“Someth’n wrong?” murmured Pinky. I made sure they were all awake.

“I’ve good news. GG called from Madison, and they upgraded Mrs. Smith from critical to guarded. My old Dr. Sara thinks she’ll recover -- though it will take months,” I said in a soft, measured voice.

”Mom’s okay?” Tina gasped.

“GG wouldn’t lie to me; she wants to get in my panties. She’s a great gal, oversexed, but a good person."

“Mom’s getting better?” Tom asked nervously; Suzy held his hands while resting her head on his shoulder.

“She’s regained consciousness -- they plan to do some surgeries to fix her jaw, hip and limbs. She’s still in bad shape, but she’s much stronger. Maybe in a few days you can talk to her, though speech won’t be easy for her for some time. I can pass messages on to her if you like. If you oversleep, don’t worry. I’ll clear it with your instructors; this was a family emergency after all.”

They all grinned despite their sleepiness.

“Don’t use it as an excuse to skip classes deliberately; I’m not in that good of a mood.”

I gave everyone hugs, then skipped back to Poe; it felt so good to be alive.

* * * *

May 01, 2007

I woke, reluctantly, to two bundles of fur and claws gently pawing my eye-lids and rubbing against me to get my attention. It was fully light out, but being the first of May, this made sense.

"Alright, be patient little ones; Mommy will feed you.”

I rinsed out their water bowls and food dishes and gave them their morning feed which they ate with terrifying eagerness.

“Sob!” I said as if acting in a camp melodrama, “Those poor kibbles didn’t stand a chance.” Then I saw the time. “Crap! It’s twenty to eight and I haven’t showered or anything!”

The residents of my floor were treated to the sight of Joanie in full panic mode. My entire shower -- transit included -- took less than five minutes including my hair which I wrapped in a towel to dry. I was dressed and out the door ten minutes later, my hair slicked down and heavy with moisture. I ran to Hawthorn, flashed my Security badge at the housemother, and ran to Tom and Tina’s room. I pounded on the door.

“Everybody up! It’s nearly eight AM!” I shouted.

I was greeted by an owl-eyed Cheryl and no one else.

“Why all the racket? Oh, it’s you, Joanie. What time did you say?”

“It’s two minutes to eight in the morning; where is everybody?” I asked.

The room was clean and neat except for a blanket on the couch where I presumed Cheryl had moved when one of the others took over ‘guard duty’.

“They got up at six-thirty, I think, and left for their respective dorms to clean-up and dress. I was out of it, so they let me snooze. I’d better hustle, or I’ll be late for class. Sorry about missing the farm stuff today,” she said.

"You earned it protecting our friends; I’ll still pay you, Cheryl. I’ve got to go, you’ll be okay?”

“Go, Joanie, I’m too awake now to fall back to sleep even if I wanted to, and I so want to,” Cheryl said and stretched her body.

* * * *

I rushed to toward the Crystal Hall, noting a few of my crew waiting at my truck over at Administration.

“Be with you in five!” I shouted to them. The rest of the crew, most from last night’s sleepover, were at my favorite table. I was assaulted with some sort of breakfast sandwich, and an insulated cup of coffee so large Cheryl would have approved.

“Ice, milk, a touch of sugar and regular coffee, gack! Just as you like it, Joanie,” said Tina looking happier and almost motherly towards me.

“You didn’t have....”

“I did. I got the coffee; Tom figured an egg sandwich would fill your tummy. Thanks for last night. You didn’t have to wake us with the news, but thank you. We all slept much better after, even Cheryl. Where is she?” Tina asked.

“She's frantically getting ready for classes. I found her asleep in your room at two minutes to eight,” I explained.

Tom looked guilty, and the girls looked cross.

“I thought you were supposed to wake her, Tom,” Tina asked in an accusing tone.

“I tried, but she was out of it. She looked so peaceful, and she had stayed up most of the night for us -- I couldn’t,” he explained.

“That’s okay, I couldn’t either,” said Pinky. “Ready, Joanie? We’re late in leaving for the farm already,“ she added.

We hurried out the door, I did so half on autopilot. I heard someone call out to me.

“Party too much, Blondie? Wet hair, how tacky,” snarked a vaguely familiar voice.

“My friend was up much of the night consoling two of our friends; what’s your excuse, bitch,” Suzy snarled at the rude girl.

I was shocked at the anger behind her words. Then again Suzy is a blood-relative, and you know the rest.

‘’Your friend got my sister suspended from Whateley by tricking her into a fight,” the semi-Goth girl said with venom; it dawned on me who she must be.

“Your sister isn’t possibly the witch who hung with the Omegas last semester, is she?” I asked.

“Damn right, Ms. Silicone. How much did you pay for those ridiculous boobs of yours? You tricked my sister into fighting, and now she can’t find a school that will take her until Whateley rescinds her suspension!" The girl’s face was red with fury.

“I do not have time for this now, Miss. Ask Chief Delarose to show you the security tapes of the incident. Tell him Timeout referred you to him. Your sister fell in with a pack of bullies and thugs. If she straightens herself out, I have no quarrel with her or you. If you believe that bitching at me helps her, fine, be my guest, but it’s a waste,” I said and walked out the door as she stared at us.

“Joanie, why’d you let her off the hook?” Pinky asked.

“That was nasty stuff she said; I’d have had it out with her,” Tom argued as we hurried to my truck.

“I’m staff, I can’t beat-up students, and if she does as I suggest she’ll know her sister is wrong. Then, maybe, both of them will be better off because of me,” I said as we reached the truck. ”Everyone in! Sorry I’m late, some friends needed help last night,” I explained, -- not all the crew was at the sleepover -- and we shot off to my farm.

We were short on space, so Suzy graciously sat on Tom’s lap to make room.

~~They’re flirting in public now; Cousin Christine will kill me if this gets out of hand. ~~

“Hands and lips to yourselves in back, Mr. and Mrs. Smith,” I barked, and everybody laughed.

* * * *

Harry and Fran were there with Jade and Jinn as were several staff members from the Operations department. We met with them as I scarfed my remaining coffee and sandwich. Dainty I was not.

“Sorry we’re late; several friends of ours needed help last night,” I explained.

“No need to explain; the Andersons called on us this morning on their way into Whateley. Fran and I finished the mini-rail system; do you want to see it?”

“Okay, but remember; I’m building a home here, not a mini-theme park,” I said and snickered. Harry and Fran laughed.

“Its purpose is hauling construction debris out and supplies in to the building site as needed, silly girl,” Harry said and immediately appeared upset with himself. “That was rude and inconsiderate. I apologize for my insensitive comment,” he apologized charmingly.

“It’s okay, big, furry guy, and I did put my foot in it. I mean the mini-rail thing had to be for the remodeling, duh!” I said and gave him a big hug -- hey, he’s a big man.

~~It feels like I’m a toddler again, and I’m squeezing a giant Teddy bear -- a rather handsome one at that. ~~

“You seeing anyone special, Harry?” I asked in my sex goddess voice, which is frighteningly like most of my other voices.

“There’s this girl from Poe, Billie Wilson, and she has the cutest blue animé hair. Lots of people think she’d dangerous, but she’s a real sweet young woman,” he said, wistfully.

“Oh, she’s the flying girl who’s part of Team Kimba, Chief Delarose thinks a lot of her. Ms. Hartford had it in for her, so I’ve been told, but then she’s a strange woman. This stays between us, but I think there is a normal person buried under all the layers of efficient bitch. There must be. Ms. Carson stands by her, and I get along with Ms. Hartford and I hate bullies. Sorry, I had a Disney moment,” I said and giggled.

“Not a blonde moment?” asked Fran.

“I’m a strawberry-blonde, thank you very much. That makes me sexy, stupid, and ill tempered, so watch it, Frannie-poo,” I said to Fran and my band members broke out laughing. “Now that I’ve insulted everyone, please show us your mini-rail so we can get to work.”

There was this narrow, low railway track, like someone shrunk an amusement park or zoo railway down in scale. It went in though a door on one side of the wrap-around porch and came out on the other side. The track passed by several 30 cubic yard dumpsters before returning to the farmhouse. It made for one big loop of track.

“Don’t let it confuse you. That is a type of railway they use in some underground mines and back-yard railways but with the latest improvements. The steel rails act as a brace and a core for the maglev system,” Harry said.

“Magnetic levitation? I know it works, but the superconducting magnets are cumbersome, and it’s too expensive for wide-scale use or so I thought,” I said.

“This combines the latest in room temperature superconductors, high-strength steel, laminated rot-proof ties; it's utterly reliable. They’ve been using these in mines for a decade. Maglev is more for braking and propulsion than lift but it assists with that, too. This spreads the load out over a greater surface of the track, reducing wear over conventional rail but at a fraction of the cost and complexity of a full-blown maglev system. The rail-cars use old-fashioned heavy gyros to hold them level and balanced over the narrow track at all times. Not your glamorous high-tech, but efficient and reliable; 'anti-grav’ is nice stuff but troublesome; mines want bulletproof and simple. The prefabricated mini-rail track segments simplify the design and avoid the alignment problems that occur with laid-rail systems. The track pieces together like a fancy toy train set

"With this we can move all the debris out of the house easily and safely and to bring in heavy tools and materials as well. The rail-cars move automatically when full, and are equipped with every proven safety feature so they won’t hurt people. You can push them by hand, too, which is what we’ll do most of the time as an added precaution. It’s easy to move and set up. We’ll soon have a loop run out to the barn so Fran can start her work on the foundation and restoration of the timber frame,” Harry said with pride.

“Fran, you haven’t said much,” I commented.

“Didn’t have to; Harry covered it all. I did some tests on your rock ledge under the barn, and on the old timbers; I should have little difficulty ‘flowing’ the materials as required,” the willowy girl said.

“This is a slick setup, thank you. Harry and Fran, please carry on as Operations instructs. I have my light demolitions and clean-up crew to check on.”

* * * *

I got the crew started on removing any remaining furnishings in the house, as well as any trash, debris, and other junk. I reminded them that if they weren’t sure what it was, they were to call for an expert -- one of the Operations people -- to identify it.

“On an old farm, Lord knows what kinds of chemicals and livestock drugs were abandoned, and they might be dangerous to handle. Be careful; some farmers were known to use dynamite to blast stumps and rocks. You see anything labeled Atlas, Hercules, or DuPont, or, if we're lucky, EXPLOSIVES, don’t touch it. Call Ops or Security; got it?” They all agreed. “Odds are the worst will be lead-arsenate based orchard sprays and DDT,” I said.

“Ms. Brown, I mean, Joanie?” asked Jade. “My sister, Jinn, would like to volunteer to examine the walls and other hard to access area on the project, for a cut of the loot,” Jade said and grinned.

“Huh?” I asked intelligently.

“Operations scanned the walls, but you can only tell so much from that. An old building was likely remodeled many times; sometimes people hid stuff in the walls. The effects of leaking pipes and roofs, or animal and insect damage, don’t always show on a scan. Jinn can make herself small, enter any suspicious wall cavities or crawlspaces, and check them out. We have a pair of mini radios so we can talk while she’s in the cavities. Jinn and I need the extra pay. This may save you money over time. As Mr. Anderson says, lack of knowledge can be fatal,” Jade said confidently, yet polite.

“That is a sound argument: locating rotting wood, bad utilities, or structural deficiencies would be valuable. A while back I helped Operations identify a demon on campus; it was buried in a bottle of sorts. If it had been damaged during the construction project, it would have been a disaster. I’ll accept your offer on the understanding Jinn never works alone doing these searches. She’s to do this only as part of a team with you, Ms. Jade, Stan, Morrie or another responsible professional,” I stated. "Please, no jokes about ‘was the Demon in a Bottle on the shelves next to the Pillsbury’s Armageddon Helper?'” I kidded them.

“Jinn, what do you say?” I asked the dead girl; strange campus, is it not?

“I’m good at things like this; you saw me pulling cable in that pipe. What sis said is okay with you? If we find something valuable in the walls, it’s okay if we split it with you, Joanie? Maybe some miserly old farmer hid a modest fortune in gold coin back during the Great Depression and forgot about it?” Jinn asked and smiled, if you could call that a smile.

“Seems fair; it would be my property legally, but if I never would have found it without your help then a fifty-fifty split sounds reasonable. You’re on your own for now; I have to go back to campus with some of the crew. I’ll be back this afternoon,” I said.

“We each have midday classes, but Stan will transport us as we need it. We won’t let you down,” Jinn said.

* * * *

I drove back to campus with several of the students and went to class. My classes flew quickly by, and I left for the middle lunch period after checking briefly on the kittens and picking up my mail. I got to the Crystal Hall, loaded my tray and sat down to eat. Pinky came soon after.

“If you have the time, help me sort my mail. I got a lot today.”

“Sure, once I’ve eaten,” she replied. “You must have a dozen pieces here, Joanie.”

We spent a few minutes to wolf-down our lunches like the cultured ladies we are before returning to my mail.

“There are bills and bank statements, and a letter from Mr. Ford -- hand addressed too,” Pinky said.

“Let’s see, it says essentially, 'I want to thank you again, yada yada yada', and so on. It’s nothing special, but it’s polite. He’s inviting me to attend any of the big US auto shows at their expense, if I’ll stop at the Ford displays for a few hours and talk to the public. I don’t know; it’s a cheap vacation, I suppose. What do you think?“ I asked.

“Going to a car show could be fun. There’s something from Playboy here, Joanie,” she said.

I opened the thick packet.

“Wow! Look at this, Pinky!” I said in amazement.

“Wow, yourself! You look so pretty,” Pinky said, as she looked at a prototype of the July cover.

They included proofs of my finalized photo shots. With cropping and captions they looked marvelous. Seeing that we are both girls -- well, more-or-less in Pinky’s case -- I showed her a few of the more ‘clothed’ pictures. She agreed they’d turned out well. I’d seen the first selection of prints, but the finished product took my breath away.

~~This is the possibly the most attractive woman I’ve ever seen, and she is me? Mom, I don’t know if you can hear me but for what it’s worth, thanks. I bet you’d approve of your pretty daughter. ~~

“Joanie, there’s a letter from Coke in the packet; it looks like a check, should I...?”

“Open it? Yes.”

She did, then she gasped. “Joanie, it’s ... Oh my!”

“Hand it to me, Pinky. Pay to order of Joan Brown the sum of One-hundred dollars exactly. That’s not much. Pinky.”

It was one of those bank checks where they emboss the amount and signature to discourage alteration.

“Move your thumb over,“ she whispered.

“Oh, I covered up the thousand. One hundred thousand dollars, that’s nice,” I said and went blank for a minute or so.

“You okay, Joanie?” Pinky asked me for the fourth or fifth time.

“Sorry, I spaced out for a moment. That’s a lot of money, Pinky, and what are they paying me for? I don’t recall doing anything for the Coke people.”

“This letter from Mr. Hefner explains it, Joanie. He wrote:

‘Bless you for the little revenue bonus. On a hunch, I contacted Coke and arranged to show them your time stop demonstration. When they saw you scoop the soda out of the air declaring, “This is good soda, I’ll not waste it,“ I thought their jaws would fall off. Enclosed is your share of the royalties for the use of that clip in their print and TV ads, and a release form authorizing Playboy to permit Coke to use these images and your voice from the demonstration. My legal staff and I thought this was only fair and proper, as we never anticipated this would happen. Technically your original model’s release covers this, but under the circumstances legal insisted. Note that this is only the first check from Coke; there may be more.

'Ford bought additional ad space after you purchased one of their pickups, and we may have to add a few extra pages for all the advertising we sold them. You will get a share of that as well -- Ford insisted. Our advance orders indicate July 2007 will be our biggest selling issue in years, possibly the biggest in our over fifty year history. The overseas sales projections are mind boggling; rest assured, Whateley will get its fair share of that pie. Your obedient servant, Hugh,’" Pinky finished.

“P.S. Coke was so happy, they gave your school a sweetheart deal, if you’re wondering why Whateley switched over to Coke, Joanie. Hugh,” Pinky added.

“What have I done?” I muttered to myself.

“Did you say something, Joanie?” Pinky asked.

“Just thinking about how all this will impact my life,” I said.

“Then this one should drive you crazy, or give you a laugh, take your pick,” she said, and handed me a letter.

I read it our loud, “Dear Ms. Brown ... so on and so forth ... as an artist of color ... You are invited to perform on our 2007 Summer Music Special ... all expenses paid ... Sincerely, BET.” I paused for a moment. “That’s nice, an invitation to appear on a cable music special. I get the impression this was a form letter sent out to certain top forty recording artists based on a computer data base. Given how bad they screwed up my old name, I’m not surprised.”

“Screwed up how?” Pinky asked but I figured she’d guessed.

“Given my common last name, and the zip code I lived in included part of the City of Milwaukee, they thought I was African-American. Another database thought my family and I lived in an apartment building — this in a block of only single family homes and duplexes. I’ll admit to being ’one sexy momma’, if that’s the correct vernacular, but me, an African-American, with this pale skin and scrawny booty? I’ve seen hip-hop music videos, I mean, let’s be real. I could never shake it like that,” I said and giggled.

Pinky nearly fell out of her chair laughing. “Think of the shock on their faces if you showed up at that TV special,” Pinky said and cracked up again; I sat there suddenly silent.

“Pinky, that might not be a bad idea, but it needs little work,” I said calmly.

“You’re not planning doing anything devious or underhanded, are you, Joanie? Can I help? It sounds like fun,” she asked and only occasionally broke out in giggles.

* * * *

Pinky left for class. I had a gap before my next one, so I made a phone call.

“Warner Music, how may I direct your call?”

“Mr. Karaoke, please,“ I asked and giggled.

“Joanie, he has a name,” the secretary admonished me while laughing herself. “Nice to hear from you, dear. I’ll get him on the line,” she said.

“Mr. Karaoke here, Miss July,” he said and chuckled.

“Good try, but you're always Mr. Karaoke to me,” I said and giggled more.

“Joanie, at the rate your records are selling, you can call me anything you like. What may do for you today, dear?”

“Why are you always so charming? It makes it so hard to take advantage of you. Do you have any contacts with a top-notch hip-hop, rap, soul, or urban contemporary producer?”

“You thinking of branching out of country, rock, and pop?” he asked. “Isn’t that a tad greedy, girl? You have the charts in a stranglehold, Joanie.
Did you know you’re on the religious charts now? Don’t ask me how,” he said.

“I can hardly wait until Playboy comes out; that should shock them,” I said and snickered. “I keep getting mail that assumes, because of my family name, I’m African-American. BET invited me to perform on their Summer 2007 Music Special, as I am, and I quote, ‘an artist of color,’ end quote.”

“You are Ms. Brown, are you not,” he said jokingly.

“Yeah, like I’m sooo totally ghetto fabulous or whatever, you know!” I said in my fluent val-speak. “I’d like to do an album under an assumed name, with no photos or publicity that indicates who I am. It’s for the challenge of performing music different from any I’ve done before, and for the reaction when I reveal I’m the artist,” I explained.

“Pulling a Stephan King are we, Joanie?” he said, being clever.

“Exactly, like when he wrote those detective novels under a pseudonym,” I replied. “Shankshaw Redemption originally was one, I think.”

“I thought I had you, Joanie,” he admitted.

“Don’t forget I’ve lived for 49 years, Junior,” I teased.

“It’s so easy to forget your history; your face and body scream teenager, Joanie. We do have some interest in the urban/hip-hop part of the music spectrum, Joanie. I imagine you’d prefer an East coast producer given your location in New Hampshire?” he asked.

“That would help, but he must be a solid producer. This may be for fun but I want to record good material, not fluff,” I said.

“I’ll make a few calls, keeping your name out of it. There’s this one top producer with a great sense of humor, I’ll try him first. He’d go for a stunt like this,” he explained.

“Thanks, and I will do a new ‘Joanie’ album for you this summer, promise,” I said.

“Deal, Joanie. Oh, can have your ... “

“... autograph on a July Playboy. Absolutely ... pervert,” I snorted.

* * * *

I went to my afternoon class and was about to drive to the farm when my cell rang.

~~That’s a Washington, DC, area code. ~~

“Hello? Is that you, Joe? How’s the Senate treating you?” I asked.

“Joanie, you’re too quick for me,” Joe said happily.

“Joe, I have caller ID. Your number may be blocked but I did get area code data. What may I do for you,” I said cheerfully; Joe was easy to talk with.

“It’s what you *have* done for me. I want to thank you again for putting me and Sara together, Miss Matchmaker,“ he said.

“I’m glad; she’s a fine woman, and I hate seeing both of you alone.”

“Can you keep a secret,” he asked.

“Oh, juicy Senate dirt; lay it on me,” I said.

“I feel I must tell you as you’re directly responsible for what’s about to happen. Joanie, I took my late wife’s engagement ring in to be copied and repaired.”

~~Whoa! Does that mean...~~

“Explain please. My brain just froze,” I muttered.

“She promised it to the first grandchild who needed one, so I need another.”

“You’re asking Sara to marry you? It’s been a month or two at most!” I was so excited for Joe and Sara I’d missed an important detail.

“I knew my wife only two weeks when I proposed. Sometimes you know, and I’m certain of my love for Sara. I wish I’d met her years earlier. I’m 60, I can’t afford to waste time. Thank you for the advice about giving her a good ... I’ll not say the vulgar term. Let’s say, it was heaven. Sara is a tigress; it took everything I had to keep up with her, but we both ended up satisfied. I missed that so much since my wife died,” he said softly.

~~Babs was in pre-school when Mrs. Williams died, she’s 35 now, so it’s been.... ~~

“You have a lot of lost time to make up for,” I said and chuckled. “You make sure you keep her happy, mister.”

“If she doesn’t kill me, Joanie, but what a way to go!”

“That was my line, Joe, and I agree. She is a lovely woman.”

Joanie, I had to tell you first; I haven’t asked Sara yet. I hope to fly out this weekend,” he explained.

“Take her to China Express’s Chinese Buffet. It’s got good food, and they’ll go crazy when you ask her,” I said.

“The MSG hang-out, of course, and she’ll see the humor in it. Much better than some stuffy formal restaurant; thanks for the suggestion.”

“You let me know, ASAP, either way -- not that she’ll turn you down. My MSG friends told me how odd she’d been acting since your sleepover,” I insisted.

“Will do. I’ll hold you to the same when the time comes.”

“Ah, sure. Bye, I have to go.”

His closing remark reminded me of what he had said earlier. ~~“The first grandchild who needed one?” Ghods, his late wife’s ring is intended for me? Whoa, Eric, I’m flattered but this is all a bit fast… The hunk loves me! … Calm down, girl, you have to wait until he’s old enough. It’s a good thing I’m such an emotionally stable girl.~~

~~My Eric want’s to marry me and he’s told his grandfather! Ghod, this is sooo kewl and he’s sooo hot!! This is terrible, I don’t even have a wedding gown and … So much for your being *emotionally stable*, Joanie. Four years before Eric can reasonably be expected to ask me, and Joe is waiting to hear? The mind boggles. Does he have a caterer and a hall lined up for us?~~

* * * *

I drove to my farm to check on the progress. One of those large dumpsters was close to filled with assorted junk. Harry was inspecting the mini-rail and making some minor adjustment.

“How are we coming along?” I asked him.

“Ms ... Joanie, it’s working out fine. I like to tweak things, but it’s worked flawlessly so far. Jinn and Jade came back after classes and have managed a thorough inspection of every crawl space in the building. They are checking out areas in the walls that the scans suggested looked odd. If there isn’t an existing opening, Jade cuts a small hole with a cordless drill. That way we can inspect the cavity and add insulation with ease later since we have the access,” Harry explained.

“Why not a mini camera on a cable — like an endoscope?” I asked.

“We tried that yesterday, but with all the alterations, and no building code when this was built, many parts of the stud cavities are obstructed. The old blown insulation is a problem in some places. The cameras are hard to aim; Jinn can do a much better inspection,” he said and gave me a big, wolfy grin.

Jade came running up; she appeared agitated but under control

“My sister was checking on a trouble spot in the wall facing the road and something bad happened; she says there is a bomb in the wall.”

~~A BOMB!? ~~

~~Calm yourself, panic will do no one any good, Joanie. ~~

“A freaking bomb! We have a bomb on the farm?,” I shrieked.

~~Joanie; think calm, rational thoughts — you are not a blonde, mostly.~~

“It's not that I doubt her; with a possible bomb it’s best to assume the worst. She‘s certain?” I asked, forcing a professional detachment on my person.

“She was checking-out an object in the wall-cavity that Operation’s scanners couldn’t identify. It could have been an abandoned electrical panel or a home-made wall safe. Once inside the wall, Jinn noticed something strange about the metal box. As she worked her way inside it she saw a grenade — just like the ones you see in a war movie. She tried backing away but brushed a tripwire, which pulled out the pin. The grenade is so old the handle didn’t fly off immediately. She‘s managing to hold it in place, but can’t reach the pin or even see where it fell. And she has no bobby-pin, nail or wire to use as a substitute,” Jinn said precisely, but rapidly. Though she was a petite teenage girl she acted far more mature.

“She was in the walls purely to examine the suspicious areas, so she’s traveling light. This way she could get in and out using the smallest of openings. She has no tools with her, just herself and a mini-radio. Jinn was to investigate those suspicious areas and report her findings via the radio. It allowed us to track her exact location — to pinpoint what she discovered,” Jade explained barely pausing to breathe.

“Jinn’s a spirit, she wouldn’t be hurt if it goes off, would she?” I asked. “I don’t mean to sound callous. If we have to, we evacuate everyone, she releases the grenade and escapes the wall before it goes off. The wall can be replaced,” I said.

“Naw, she wouldn’t be HURT hurt. But I’m sure it won’t feel very nice.”

It sounded to me like she was hiding more concern than she wanted to let on.

“Besides,” Jinn’s got that mini-radio with her. I know money is nothing to you, Joanie, but Jinn and I are wards of the State. It takes forever to earn enough to pay for that sort of equipment!”."

"Jinn can’t reach the pin, you said,” I asked.

"The box is partially full of blown insulation that has worked its way in from above and there is a gap between the open side of the box and the exterior wall. She’s scanned and felt around in the box, but the pin fell down below somewhere and it’s hopeless to find, even if she could reach it,” Jade explained. “My sister is remarkable, but even she has her limits.”

Jade was clearly not telling all, but that had to wait. The safety of those on my farm was paramount.

I got on my cell and called Security. This clearly was a bomb and dangerous.

“Security alert! Possible unexploded explosive device at farm, my location. Evacuating same; send bomb squad. Timeout over,” I radioed to Whateley Security.

"Whateley, acknowledge, possible bomb on your farm, Timeout. ETA five minutes. Do not attempt to move or defuse. Switch to landline if possible; turn all transmitters off. Electric detonation a risk, acknowledge. Over.”

“Bomb appears to be old military grenade, but will comply with warning. You’ve got it; radios off, will use landline. Timeout out.”

We’d run a phone-line into the machinery shed for the use of the construction workers, and the alarm systems Sam recommended.

“Attention, we have a possible explosive device in the south facing farmhouse wall. Shut off all electrical equipment, radios, or cell-phones. Move carefully away from the farmhouse and take shelter in a ditch or behind a stone wall. Wait until a Whateley officer instructs you what to do,” I yelled slowly and carefully. They got the message. The mini-rail shut down, and the radios were turned off along with all the drills and saws.

Harry spliced an extension into the phone wire, and we moved the phone to a point in the deep, road-side ditch, close enough for Jinn’s and Jade’s mini transmitters to be in range, yet far enough to provide some safety in addition to the ditch itself. I got Security back on the phone, and everyone else evacuated to a safe distance.

“Jade, I’m counting on to you to keep in contact with your sister, with my help of course. Call Jinn on your mini radio and tell her we have help on the way, but we need to know her status and anything she noticed about or around the grenade,” I asked her.

“Jinn, Jade here; we have help on the way. What's the status of the grenade? ...I understand... Is there anything suspicious in the immediate area? ...I see. How long can you hold it? ...No way to tie it shut? ...Please wait while I tell Security,” Jade said calmly.

~~This little gal’s one tough kid, if she ever gets bigger....~~

A bomb expert from security reached our position as Jade relayed Jinn’s message.

“Jinn says that the handle, or spoon, on the grenade tried to open so she squeezed it shut. She can’t reach any wire, nails, tape or anything to replace the lost pin or secure the handle. She’s tried hard to reach down below to where the pin fell. She does have shape-shifter powers, but it’s hopeless — it’s too far, and there is too much debris in the wall. She thinks if she lets go the grenade handle will fly off. The problem is she’s near the end of her charge. In five minutes she’ll lose form, and her spirit will return to me. We have to touch to recharge her form. Jinn will be safe, losing charge doesn’t harm her, but the grenade will likely explode, “Jade relayed.

“Damn, five minutes? If we had longer, a robot could drill a hole in the wall and pass in a cotter pin or nail, but that’s too little time,” said the officer. ”We could do it in less than that, maybe, but that would mean an officer drilling the hole without the protection of a full set of bomb disposal armor on. We don’t have the time to get one kitted up, so that’s a suicide mission.”

“I’m very fast for a non-speedster and I’m a high level regen. I’d risk drilling a hole to pass a piece of wire through to Jinn if it would help. You know how bad I was injured during my assault and I recovered,” I offered, part of me hoping he’d say no.

I thought for a moment Jade looked like she wanted to say something but was conflicted and changed her mind.

“It may not be only a grenade, Joanie. Sorry Jade. If you bother to booby-trap a hidden cache, why take half measures? You might hit another tripwire with the drill or something worse -- it’s too dangerous. Someone who goes to all this trouble will likely have rigged several ways to set off the grenade and maybe planted other explosives if we’re unlucky. It’s best we get her out and try a robot after. Jade, can she wedge it, so when she lets go the handle can’t move?”

“Jinn, did you hear the officer? Okay, you do what you think is best but warn us, sis,” Jade said.

“She says she can try, but she’s not hopeful. There is no obvious tight spot to wedge in. Jinn says again that the box is heavy looking steel and covers the interior wall side. It’s open to the exterior wall,” Jade said.

“Sounds like a crude claymore mine, or shape-charge. It’s likely this booby trap was built to kill attacking police. A survivalist did live in the house back in the 1970’s,” the bomb expert said, he looked worried.

“Yes, Jinn. That sounds important; I’ll ask him," Jade said.

“Officer, Jinn said it’s hard to see, lots of cobwebs and fallen insulation obstruct her view but she says there are dusty jars filled with what looks like old nuts and bolts, big ones, and an oily old wood box tight against the back of the steel box that she thinks has the word ‘Atlas’ printed on it,” Jade said.

“That’s bad! Unstable dynamite, am I right?” I asked, my voice squeaking, he nodded.

The officer nodded and used the phone. “Unstable dynamite and shrapnel surrounding the device, evacuate all personnel to at least several hundred yards to the east or west using all available cover. We will abandon forward post. Blast expected to the south but assume no side of the farmhouse is safe,” the officer said.

“Miss Jade, may I have your radio, so I can keep in contact with Jinn? You and Joanie must evacuate now. I will pull back to as far as the radio can reach and give her last instructions then I will pull back again. I have partial body armor and a special helmet, you two don’t,” he said.

“Jade, I don’t care about the house. Buildings can be rebuilt; people are precious. Come with me,” I said and smiled to comfort her.

“Jinn, I’m giving the radio to the bomb expert. Do as he says; Joanie says don’t worry about the house -- people are what counts. Good luck,” she said and handed over the tiny in-the-ear radio.

We retreated and waited.

The officer yelled “Sixty seconds!” and scurried to a place of greater safety.

Jinn looked at her watch; I could see her lips move as she mouthed the seconds until Jinn would lose her form.

“Sixty, sixty-one, sixty-two, sixty-three ...” Jade counted, we waited.

There was an explosion that shook the ground.

“She’s back!" Jade exclaimed with joy, and stood up.

“Get down until the all....” I shouted.

There was a much larger blast. Jade fell backwards, and screamed.

I saw Jade sprawled motionless on her back, except for some spasmodic twitching in one thumb. A jagged great splinter of wood was sticking out of her right breast like a garish vampire stake, I rushed to her side.

* * * *

To be continued

Attachment	Size
Timeout_4_chapter_01_rev_7BC.doc	156 KB

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 2

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie rushes to aid Jade and learns the child wasn't the only one maimed. The Anderson twins talk about Pinky, her dangerous mental powers and her relation to Joanie. More celebs show up at her farm. Joanie gets a car that puts the little old lady from Pasadena to shame. We hear about the Smith's twin mom and Katie. And this ferret/mink/big furry rat -- no one is quite sure what it is -- comes into her life.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and anything else that comes to mind epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (Still no!: Ed.) 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, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter containts situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Jade/Jinn/Jann "special consultant" and added dialog by Babs Yerunkle
Painless punctuation practiced by Itinerant
Grudgingly approved by the Guild of Evil Blonde Proofreaders

Chapter 2, This Old Farm House -- A Blast From The Past 2, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 4, Welcome to Adulthood 3, Hey Miki You're So Fine 1

Whateley Academy Dunwich, May01-May02, 2007

May 01, 2007, 3:30PM

I checked Jade over briefly; she was breathing slowly and there was little evidence of blood. I had taken basic Red Cross first aid training decades before in the Scouts. I had refresher training with Security, but chest wounds were beyond my skill. All I could do was call for help and keep the wound closed.

"Timeout to all units, serious chest wound my location, roadside ditch 100 yards northeast of main entrance to my farm. Need EMT’s and transport stat. Will leave link open, Timeout over," I said with practiced efficiency.

"Ghod, I hope the chest wound is the worst of it; that thumb twitching scares me. Damn it, I could have saved you. If you’ve suffered neurological damage due to my failure to react. I’ll never forgive...." I said and felt violently ill.

I truly *enjoyed* my lunch in inverse order from the way I’d originally eaten it. As I recovered between heaves, I thought I heard a rapid snapping/popping sound, a bit like a noisy dot-matrix printer. I wiped my mouth and turned back to face Jade; I thought I saw a small, circular object moving down near Jade’s belt, but I wasn’t sure.

~~Must be my imagination. All she has on the belt are tools and a Hello Kitty makeup compact -- on her belt? That’s odd, I smell burnt wood ... What the hell happened to the splinter?! Something has cut most of it away.~~

I noticed the remnant of it laying by Jade’s side -- jagged except for a series of precisely spaced scorch marks cutting across one end -- it clearly matched to the stub sticking out of Jade’s breast. That disturbing random thumb twitch gave me the willies. I had no time to ponder these strange observations of mine; several officers came up and helped assess Jade’s injuries. One I recognized as reserve EMT.

"We’ll take care of her now, Joanie. Stand by for now, okay? Nice job cutting back the splinter -- that will make transport much easier. I didn’t know you knew how to use a pulsed laser cutter," he said and I felt a little better.

~~Laser cutter, what laser cutter? All I have is a Swiss Army knife.~~

They radioed to Whateley medical and soon an EMT team arrived by hover platform. Seconds later a Whateley ambulance arrived.

While the EMTs worked on Jade, I called around and determined everyone was accounted for and uninjured. That wasn’t strictly true; I took a quick peek at the farmhouse and the four large holes in its sides. I was surprised to see the second story was still the second story and not all mixed up with the first floor and basement. I kept an ear open for when I might be needed and stared in horror at the devastation wrought by the bombs.

~~Is the roof leaning to the east now? That can’t be good!~~ I thought to myself as a walked around a corner of the house while carefully avoiding stepping on the jagged debris. ~~Now that I've seen more, I think the whole east side is sagging.~~

“Damn, the whole east side is gone!” I exclaimed, though no one could hear.

~~Looks like the corners and central stairs are all that is supporting that side. Thank Ghod no one was near the house when it blew; they’d be hamburger. That’s something to be thankful for. Hum? The north and west sides are better, though not by much. No obvious cracks in the mortar or missing bricks -- the central and kitchen chimney stacks look intact from what I can see. Maybe the house is repairable, but I don’t know.~~

“If I have to I’ll build new, so be it,” I said to no one in particular.

I walked up to the oddly shaped pile that represented what had been most of the east side of the house. The tires visible underneath bothered me somehow.

"It looks like this is laying on top of some ... thing ... Oh my poor baby!"

My weeks old police special crew cab had taken the brunt of one of the four explosive *gifts* the earlier tenant had left behind. It was partially buried and had flat tires on the side nearest the blast. Through a gap that had been a window in the house I could see dozens of dents and holes in the sides and top of the truck. The cab looked intact at least from what I could see.

I felt guilty. Here I was wasting time looking at a stupid house and truck while a girl might be dying. I knew the EMTs wanted me out of their way, but what I’d been doing didn’t seem right. I turned away and worked my way carefully back toward the ditch. I’d check out things in detail later; Jade was -- must be -- my only concern and properly so.

The bomb expert came up to me. "I’ll follow up here and assess the damage so we can determine what they used. Looks like four bombs -- one for each side of the house -- rigged for all to go off if any one was triggered. I’ll let you know when you can begin cleanup and demolition. I doubt if the house is salvageable," he said, and I nodded my understanding. "The Chief has made sweeping your property a priority; expect to see me or others from Security scanning every inch of your farm for explosives. Joanie, you’d best buy a box of dog biscuits for Fifi; he’s our best explosives sniffer and we’ll need him. If our survivalist placed these four bombs...."

"... there could be more and maybe a stockpile somewhere else. I’ll cease work if you think it advisable," I replied.

"Well, the house is certainly clear of explosives. We’ll have the buildings and all the surrounding ground done by tomorrow. The rest of the farm -- the fields and fence rows -- will take longer," he said.

The EMTs asked for my assistance, so I helped lift the litter into the ambulance which rushed off to Whateley medical. I rode back with one of the hover platform officers.

~~This is a slick way to ride and so cozy. Ooh he’s built, nice abs, cute tush -- Joanie, stop it, you’re not having sex with this man to bury your guilt, girl.~~ I thought as I hung on tight to the male pilot and officer.

It reminded me of doubling up on a motorcycle.

~~Maybe Eric and me on a cycle, we could.... ~~

Sometimes I *hate* my libido.

We got back to Whateley and I assisted in transporting Jade into Medical. Dr. Pollard and several nurses came in and began to prep her. Her clothes were filthy with dust and fine debris which fell off as they cut them away from her body. I hung around for awhile, not sure what to do next -- maybe fifteen minutes to half an hour tops. The nurses came and went with various supplies and a second surgeon came and assisted while Pollard and several others worked rapidly on her chest, some kind of surgery I assumed. Everything was done at an almost frantic pace and it worried me.

~~Is Jade close to death? I feel sick. ~~

I couldn’t stand to look anymore, and I turned to leave.

"Joanie, stay; we can use the help. The nurses need a break and someone must be with Jade. I can see you’re beating yourself up on this. You need to know it’s not that bad," Pollard said almost smiling.

"She’ll make it? I’d been warned there might be more than one bomb. If only I’d thought to time stop Jade when she stood up, I could have gotten her back down to safety. She’s going to have horrible scars and that twitching can’t be good; she’s got a brain or spinal injury, right?" I said choking back tears. "Please tell me I’m wrong! I’ve scarred and crippled an innocent girl; I’m a ghod-damned failure!" I said angrily and crying. He held me for several minutes while I cried out the stress from earlier.

"Joanie, calm down, we’re finished and it went well. You can ask her yourself in a little while," Pollard said softly.

"Wha ... t?" I sputtered.

"Come and see. Jade’s ready to be moved to recovery," he said and led me to Jade’s bedside.

"We’re finished cleaning her, Doctor," the nurse said.

"Let’s have a look, Joanie."

He lifted her hospital gown exposing her upper chest. It was roughly an hour since the explosions. I forced my self to look at her disfigured, bloody ...

~~For a petite girl, those are nice breasts -- almost a good as mine. Not as big but respectable and real perky. They look perfect except for some bruising, and that bright red scar on the right one, though it appears to be healing well. This makes no sense at all, unless? ~~

"Doctor Pollard, she had this big, hideous splinter in her chest. It looked straight out of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I’d expect lines of stitches and bandages and, well, a lot more damage than this. What’s going on here? Is Jade a," I whispered, "regen? Eeep!" I shrieked as Jade’s eyes opened and she blinked a few times.

"I hate it when this happens!" Jade exclaimed then moaned.

"You're okay!" I exclaimed and tried to hug her.

"Yeouch! That hurts!" Jade yelled at me as my arm brushed her injured breast.

"I’m so sorry; I get all touchy-feely at times. Can the doctor get you a pain killer? It was my fault you got hurt. I was worried you’d be disabled or disfigured and ... Now I’m babbling; maybe I really am a blonde, huh?" I said and Jade smiled though she seemed to be in pain. She looked around carefully then spoke.

"I heard you whisper to Dr. Pollard, Joanie. I am a regen; I wasn’t always, but I’m one now, and a high level regen at that. My body burns off medicines so fast they’re almost worthless. They did all my surgery without anesthesia -- not fun, believe me. Thanks for asking though. Don’t worry, by tomorrow there won’t be a scar or bruise on my body," Jade said in a soft and polite voice. Then she quickly added, "Please don’t ever tell anyone; if people knew I was a ... you know."

"I share your fears; don’t worry, I won’t ever tell. You’re like me in that, Jade. You must have heard about my assault on campus. Most of the bones in my body were broken and my heart stopped, but here I am thanks to my regen. I have the same trouble you described, drugs wear off too fast to be any good to me; thank Ghod my mind has the good sense to render me unconscious if the pain is too great. PMS and my period are a joy, and I make sure to share my joy," I said and giggled. Jade snickered, too, until it hurt too much.

"I know the feeling; the first time my friend Nikki had PMS she made it thunder and lighting on our floor in Poe -- she’s a kind of sorceress. Don’t ask about my roommate Billie, you don’t want to know," Jade said and laughed.

"How’s Jinn? You shouted she was back just before the big explosion went off," I asked.

"She’s okay; she, um, doesn’t like seeing me hurt. It reminds her of when she, well, you know. She went back to our dorm room," she said, but it didn’t ring true.

I suspected Jinn was nearby and lying low -- they watched each other’s backs, it was obvious. Jade’s expression showed I’d touched a nerve.

"Should you want to talk about it; I’m very good at keeping secrets," I said then I whispered in her ear. "There are some things you’re not telling me, but that’s your prerogative. Jade; tell me when and if you can, but I’ll not press you. I have secrets I need to keep too, like where my dad and sister live," I said, and she nodded and looked relived.

"I don’t like to sound mercenary, but how much are you out with all this, dear? You were injured on the job so I feel responsible," I said. "You must have medical bills."

"It’s okay. Uh, I have a really good medical plan," she said evasively.

Earlier I’d noticed a damaged and bloody plastic sack -- more of a blob, really, that oozed a thick fluid -- lying in a biohazard waste container along with sponges, torn open sterile packaging, used scalpels and the like. I only now realized what it was; the shape was unmistakable.

"It must be to cover," I whispered, "breast augmentation. They‘re very nice, by the way. You and your surgeon have excellent taste," I said cautiously.

She looked worried for a moment then my smile and gentle squeezing of her hand must have relieved her.

"I have a VERY good plan, I’m covered," she said, then she smiled and giggled for a moment. "I could use help another way though, Joanie."

"You need but ask. Remember I’m distraught and not thinking straight -- an easy mark for your nefarious plans," I said and giggled which broke her up.

"Ouch, don’t make me giggle; it hurts," she said and giggled; she was getting better fast.

"I don’t need help with my medical needs, but my clothes and Jinn’s equipment are another matter. She got out okay but lost that micro-radio. I had to save up for months to buy that," she said and made this cute, adorable, weepy-eyed waif expression, then grinned wickedly.

"Ooh, that was evil! Don’t ever use that expression on anyone again, Jade. You reminded me of one of those early 1960’s paintings of little kids with huge sad eyes -- creepy. Get the radio you need, upgrade it while you’re at it. Call it a bonus for a job well done," I said and she looked at me like she was prompting me to say ‘and’. "I’ll replace any clothes or other equipment you ladies lost. You should throw in some shampoo, soap, and makeup on the bill, you look a mess," I said and chuckled.

"Sounds fair, Joanie. I don’t want to be seen as greedy, but Jinn and I work our butts off ‘cause we’re here as wards of the state. I’m not complaining; it’s much better than being back at home," she said and gave a small shudder, "but any extras are on our own nickel. Do we still have our jobs?" she asked, looking anxious.

"Are you joking, Jade? If Jinn hadn’t the guts to stay calm and hold that grenade shut while warning us, a lot more than a house would have been gutted. I’d planned to rent it out or have my friends stay there. I -- this stays between us Jade -- I have a boyfriend. He’s a, um, teenager too, so we can’t, you know, but someday he’ll be old enough to come and sleep over. If he had been in the house, or his mom, his sister, or my dad and it ..." I stopped and cried softly.

"I understand, Joanie. I have friends I love too," she said so sweetly I wanted to wrap her up and take her home as mine.

"I owe you big for this. I could get Cecilia Rogers to make you some bullet-resistant clothes like she made for me. Working for Operations can be dangerous; today was proof," I offered and laughed.

"Ooh! Her clothes are to die for. My roommate Billie gets hers from Miss Rogers and they make her look sharp. I’ll consider it; I don’t want to take advantage or feel obligated," she explained, then she grinned. "Ooh, could I get an outfit like you wore on late night TV -- that was wicked!"

"Um, I must warn you, Jade, Jedi mind control will not work on me as I’m so nearly a blonde, there is nothing to control," I replied and chuckled.

"And they let you teach here?" Jade asked facetiously.

"I, like bribed my way in, yah know?"

~~That’s close enough to the truth to sting a little, but if it helps her...~~

"Bitchn’ ‘do, girl. Is that gel or, uh, foam? Love your nails," I said and giggled. Jade snickered

"The clothing offer stands, Jade. The same goes for just chilling with me and venting your frustrations. Sometimes you have to tell somebody or burst. If you tell me your secrets I’ll tell you mine. Some of them are whoppers... I’ll let you play with my kitty cats," I offered.

"You mean your lions? I’ve seen you and Pinky walking them; they seem nice enough, but why lions?"

"Why does everyone assume they are lions? They’re not, you know," I said.

"I know they’re smilodons," she whispered that last word, "but it’s safer to call them lions. It would be cool to meet them, and it would be nice to talk to someone else about my troubles and stuff," she said.

"I’d like that; you’re such an interesting girl, I want to know more about you. I’m dying to know what that thumb twitching was about. I thought it was evidence of a brain or spinal injury, but I’m not sure now," I said, Jade laughed.

"It’s something Dr. Bellows taught me, a self-hypnosis trigger to deal with pain. It made the surgery tolerable too. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt since becoming a ... being a ... you wouldn’t think it hurts, but it does," Jade said.

"I’ll have to get the good doctor to teach me. Some of my menstrual cramps are winners, but you know about that, Jade," I said and Jade’s expression went from happy to sad in a flash.

"I said something stupid, forgive me. It’s obvious, I’m such a dope. The breast implants, your stature -- you’re not developing right, some kind of GSD and can’t have children?" I suggested; she held back tears. "I see, I struck a nerve again, but if you want to talk about it, I’ll listen. I’m so sorry, Jade. Whatever it is, if I can possibly help, just ask me," I finished.

I decided to repeat my open invitation for Jade to visit me in my dorm or anywhere she preferred. I suspected much of her *official* background was a construct to protect her, but from what and why?

"Anytime or place you want to talk, let me know. Come back to work when you’re up to it, until then you and Jinn are on paid sick leave. I’ll see to it that Operations knows this. I stand by those who stand by me," I said.

"You don’t have to, but thanks, Joanie. Um, Jinn can work today if you need her. I’ll be okay by tomorrow," Jade said.

"It’s almost four, so tell Jinn to call it a day. Work tomorrow only if you ladies feel like it. If you need time to get your heads together, I understand," I said and Jade giggled strangely -- like I’d nearly stumbled onto something dangerous. "Jade, dear, when you feel like it, please tell me who the other one is," I said so only Jade could hear.

"Other one?" Jade asked in a soft, nervous tone. I could see her body tense.

"Someone cut-off that awful splinter with a pulsed laser. The EMTs think I did, but we both know better." I looked around to make sure we were still alone. "You’d just cried out that Jinn was back but I didn’t see her so she had to be in spirit form. You said earlier she needs to be *recharged* every few hours, but I doubt you had time to do it. If you did, I certainly did not see her afterwards. I was thinking, if Jinn can be almost any shape, what if you have more than one *dead* sister," I hypothesized making quote marks in the air.

"I thought I saw your Hello Kitty compact moving immediately after I heard the rapid popping sound. I noticed the cut-off piece of the splinter immediately after that. I can’t see a machine doing this autonomously, unless it had an advance AI, very expensive -- that leaves Jinn or someone else. What’s her name... Jean?" I asked. Jade looked on the edge of tears.

"She’s Jann. Please don’t tell, Joanie, I beg you! Only my doctors and Team Kimba know. If anyone else found out...." Jade pleaded and began to cry.

Ghods, she’s got those eyes like Mel has when she’s near panic. ~~

"Like the Alphas? That won’t happen and I do have a resource should they become a problem -- a former Alpha who is on the Whateley staff," I said.

"Hartford? She’d help -- the Wicked Bitch of the East?" Jade asked wide-eyed.

"No, that’s my third grade teacher, or was that the Wicked *Witch* of the East?" I said and Jade smiled.

"She owes me, and we get along in our fashion. I’m such a mass of contradictions. I’m middle-aged, yet physically 17. I was a man; I’m all-girl now. I’m friends with both Charlie Lodgeman and Ms. Hartford -- that’s darn near schizophrenic. Think of me as a neutral power on campus, with my feet in both the student and staff camps. Think of me as Sweden; hell, I look the part," I said and gestured at my body.

"You get along with Hartford? She tried to get my roommate Billie kicked out of Poe and Billie ‘s the greatest!"

"I didn’t say I agree with her, I said I get along. Some things she does are needlessly officious and uncaring, yet I’ve known her to do things that impressed me. If Ms. Carson can see some good in her, she must be okay," I replied.

"Ms. Hartford did something nice?" Jade asked incredulously.

"And it was for a first-year Whateley student. This happened both before and after I was friends with the child."

"WOW! Are you sure it wasn’t a clone of Ms. Hartford or a malfunctioning android?" Jade said in her bemusement, then she grinned.

"I like you; you’re silly like I am. Get well, get your head screwed on tight and come back to work, okay?" I asked. "Be seeing you," I said and made an odd sort of salute.

"You watch The Prisoner? Number Six is so cool! He wears just the sharpest suits. Wouldn’t it be great if you could get those *rover* balloon things to guard your farm?" Jade snickered.

"That never made sense to me. All those pin-on number badges and no one thought to pop the rovers with one," I replied.

"You’re a loony, Joanie," Jade said and giggled.

"It beats the alternatives: being freaked out at my mutation, the loss of my old friends, family, and life. Being sad that I’ll outlive anyone I’ll ever love... don’t repeat that last bit, ever, Jade," I said.

"Of course, high-level regens can have very long... I may live a real long time too, Joanie. That’s something to keep quiet about," Jade replied.

"Good, then maybe we should keep in touch. It would be nice to have a friend who’s around for the long-haul. Give it some thought," I asked.

"For real? You’d be my friend, Joanie?"

"For real, Jade, if you can stand me. I’m much more outgoing than I used to be, but even John valued his friends -- he was painfully shy and that hurt him. I’m Little Miss Bouncy, and I like it," I said. I was walking out of the room when Jade spoke.

"Joanie, no one in their right mind would ever call *those* little," she said, pointing at my chest.

"Arrgh!" I exclaimed and walked away giggling.

* * * *

I checked on the Sabers. Tom and Tina were constantly being shadowed by at least two of their friends no matter where they went. I talked with Tina Anderson, and she said the Smith’s were much calmer today. She and Chris had made a point of walking past their classrooms several times that day. They believed we could end the suicide watch soon, but having a couple friends sleep over was still a good idea if they had nightmares.

"It’s looking good, Joanie. Not that they won’t have nightmares or other problems, but the chance of suicide is fading fast," said Tina Anderson. "I’d recommend one or more of you sleeping over with them for a few more nights, but I think we’re over the hump. I talked to Pinky during her lunch about that mental compulsion she offered as a last resort to stop Tom and Tina from suicide. Her method is very dangerous, but I sensed Pinky’s heart was in the right place. It would work, but it’s too stressful in itself and can cause serious long-term problems for the recipient. I’d have tried inducing a calmer state and making them sleepy, if it had come to it.

"Chris and I had a long talk with her; we explained we’ve had extensive training in our mental powers so we know what we’re talking about. She knows now not to use *that* technique unless a professional asks her to, and I got her to promise to learn some safer, less intrusive techniques. I’ve even offered to help train her, with Dr. Bellows supervision, should she wish it.

"Pinky loves you very much, Joanie, and she values the new friends she’s made through you. She told me how proud she was that on their first day on campus you asked her to mentor Tom and Tina on the do’s and don’ts of student life at Whateley. And then you trusted her to get them safely back to their new dorm after supper. That you showed a high level of trust in her so soon after she nearly... She couldn’t say enough nice things about you -- the young woman worships you.

"It’s like you’re her mother and best friend all-in-one. Please don’t ever betray that, it would devastate her. She’s much more mentally sound now than before -- we both sensed it -- but she’s still not 100 percent. If she ever felt you’d hurt her, she’d might snap. There is the core of an outstanding person there, so be careful. With patience she’ll be a lovely person, but she’s more fragile than she looks."

“I know what you mean. If I hadn’t fallen for Eric, I could see myself falling for her. She’s special. How her mother can be so hateful is beyond me.”

* * * *

I called the Ford dealership and requested a flatbed tow truck come to my farm to pickup my damaged crew-cab. They promised someone would be out there at once. They seemed surprised I was having trouble with such a new vehicle. I ran out to my farm as the late afternoon weather was fine, and I’d missed my morning run.

* * * *

Stan and Morrie were looking over the wreckage that was my farmhouse. To my surprise, the TV cameras were up and running. A technician pinned a mic on my blouse. A graying, familiar man stood with them.

"Tom Silva?" I asked. The man smiled warmly, in response. "How’d you get here so fast? I mean, I wasn’t expecting you or Norm again until we’d finished cleaning up from the previous owner and here you are right after our, ah, tiny setback," I said and pointed at the disaster that was my farmhouse.

"At your service, Ms. Brown; beautiful country around here, I can see why you like it. I was on my way here for tomorrow; we like to film a before and after comparison, and I often give my professional assessment of a buildings condition. I learned of the explosions in-transit, so I hustled over after confirming my lodging. From Norm’s reports I thought this was a typical rehab, but I never expected this level of, shall we say, structural problems," he said in his disarming Boston accent.

"Would you believe really big termites?" I joked. "What’s the prognosis, Doc?" I asked in a Bugs Bunny voice.

"Pull the plug; this patient’s terminal. The structural damage is bad on its own. We’d have to spend a day or more just shoring it up enough to make it safe to enter. Add in the damage to the electrical, phone, plumbing, HVAC, every window shattered, and the plaster -- hopeless," said Stan.

"I’ve seen the video our remote cameras took of the explosions. I’m surprised the house is still standing. What's left is damaged and overloaded; even after repairs the structure would not be trustworthy. I agree with Click and Clack, it’s better to start anew. The big question is how best to take down the old building and is anything worth salvaging?" Mr. Silva said and grinned.

Stan and Morrie laughed, I could barely contain myself.

"Isn’t that two questions, Mr. Silva? I AM a teacher you know," I asked like a displeased schoolmarm and snickered. "I thought you two determined the flooring was special. I believe you mentioned it in your survey of the property," I said to Stan and Morrie, then I realized they’d not been introduced.

"Sorry, Mr. Silva, these two loonies are Stan and Morrie, they’re primarily plumbers, but double up on nearly everything else back at the Academy in our Operations department. They keep the hodgepodge of old school and bleeding-edge high-tech that is our campus running smoothly," I explained.

"The thrifty farmer who built this used whatever trees were on site at the time. Much of the flooring is old growth pine with its tight grain -- nice stuff. A couple rooms were old-growth oak and maple -- absolutely beautiful. With luck we can salvage some of that, enough for a few rooms or at least for trim and maybe some custom furniture," Morrie said.

"You plan to prop up the damaged structure and dismantle it in place? Risky," Silva said.

"No taking chances, not after these survivalist booby-traps we tripped. If you have to, pull it down. I will not have anyone hurt, understand?" I said.

"We -- that’s Stan and I -- have an idea. Actually Harry Wo ... Almost forgot, no last names with regard to the students, Joanie. Harry, one of our gadgeteer students came up with it. Harry says he could fabricate a cradle which a heavy-duty crane could lift into and through the now open first floor and position just below its ceiling. Once the cradle was secured, the crane would support the upper structure so it could be cut free. It would then be set it down safely to the side. We could dismantle the house with extreme safety this way," Morrie said.

"Where would we get a crane that big? ...Please, not the robotics lab!" I asked, with alarm.

"Not all their experiments run amok, and there is always DARPA," Stan said.

"The Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency?" Mr. Silva asked in amazement.

"Nikki’s dad owes us a few, and Sam has his contacts," Morrie whispered to me.

"What was that all about?" Silva asked.

"Because the Academy takes in the most extreme mutants of any school in the US, we have become a valuable ‘proving ground’ for new materials and equipment. Between the energizers, super powered bricks and all the devisor/gadgeteers, these materials get a workout. The Academy gets the benefits of access to the latest and most robust technology and our students get a leg up on productive careers in industry. A heavy lift helicopter or antigravity drives, Stan?" I speculated.

"Who knows? We got your truck free of the debris. Sorry, Joanie, she’s totaled. The cab held up well; I guess they were right about it being a police package," Stan said.

"I have to go with the tow truck and see what the deal is. Go ahead, order any additional dumpsters we need and tell my student crew to just pickup debris for today. Make sure they use gloves, masks, goggles and their safety shoes. I don’t want to see anyone else injured. I have to go. They will be alright, no other nasty surprises?" I asked.

"Aside from the physical hazards -- the broken glass, exposed nails, splintered wood and the like -- the site tests out as safe. All these fine particles covering the debris are simply ordinary construction dust, no asbestos or toxic materials if that’s your concern. The wall insulation was nothing unusual and quite safe to handle. A good dust mask and goggles will provide excellent protection. Operations mixed up a simple detergent and polymer spray for us. We have a drum of it to fill the backpack units Morrie and I brought with us. We’ll simply wet things down whenever the dust blows too much. Being detergent based, it cleans up easy..

As to the house, Mr. Silva is going to assist us in inspecting the foundation; we have a robotic remote that can film inside. With luck we can reuse the foundation which will save weeks. You take care of your truck; we’ll take care of the rest. Operations ‘owes’ you and Charlie for the Hawthorne dock project," Stan said.

"Dock project? You have a lake here? I love boats," Silva said. I giggled.

"I’ll let them explain, excuse me," I said and left to meet the tow truck driver.

* * * *

"I understand you need a tow; did *we* speed in that hotrod of a truck of ... W ... What the hell happened?" the tow driver exclaimed.

"Oh, this? The usual, survivalist booby-traps house and leaves it behind when he moves out -- it wasn’t an epic battle between a valiant wizard and a demon, if you were wondering," I said.

"You ask a simple question and people get all snotty on you," he said and laughed. "No one was hurt, were they?"

"One injury that looked bad but wasn’t. It could have been much worse," I said.

"I remember hearing rumors about survivalists moving into the area back near the end of the Vietnam War. We do have more than our share of the unusual around here, but then that’s what makes life interesting," the driver said and smiled.

"I could do with a bit more *dull* at times, but I guess this goes with the whole gorgeous mutant babe syndrome."

"You are one at that, Ms. Joanie," he replied.

"One what?" I asked, grinning.

"A gorgeous babe, you seeing anyone special?"

~~He wants a date? He is rather buff and well groomed for a tow-truck operator, hum?~~

"Depends, what class is your rig?" I cooed and placed my right hand on my upper thigh.

"Heavy duty all the way, gorgeous," he grinned.

"I like it *heavy-duty.* Pity, I’m off the market," I said in a sultry voice, then I giggled.

"The girls in the dealership office said you were a card, they didn’t exaggerate. Thanks for the fantasy, however brief," he said smiling.

"My pleasure, but I was serious, I do have someone special. Sorry," I confessed.

"He’s a lucky man."

"He knows it, and thanks," I replied.

* * * *

We got to the dealership quickly, nothing like being away from a big city to speed traffic. While the driver unloaded my wounded toy, I walked to the service counter.

"Excuse me, my crew cab was just towed in. Any idea as to how soon it can be repaired?" I asked, the little she-devil that I am.

A woman in her late twenties walked up to the counter.

"I’m Ms. Reinhardt, the service writer and ... Oh my, it’s you! I wasn’t here when you bought your truck and I’ve been hoping I’d be here the next time you came in. What can we do for you, Joanie? I hope it’s not problems with your police special? That truck is supposed to be all but bomb-proof," she asked. It was all I could do not to giggle at her choice of words.

"It’s over here," I said and pointed at the mangled wreck. I silently congratulated my self for not snickering.

"You weren’t driving when *that* happened, were you?" she asked aghast.

"The truck was parked roughly fifty feet from my farmhouse and I was hunkered down in a roadside ditch several hundred feet further away. A previous tenant on the farm was a tad paranoid and placed bombs in all four walls of the farmhouse. We discovered them the hard way. It was the usual stuff, usual for a war zone. There was a trip-wired military fragmentation grenade placed next to glass jars full of metal scrap and a box of old dynamite -- for that little something extra -- in each of the four exterior walls. All of them were backed by steel to send the blast outward, nasty stuff. Can she be fixed?" I asked, knowing what her answer had to be.

"The whole passenger side is caved in. Both tires on that side are flat though surprisingly intact, but then they were the run-flat police tires. The front drive spindles on both sides are bent; the tail gate is torn off and the outer body panels are Swiss cheese. The cab is fully intact, though the glass is etched and cracked -- the designers at corporate will be happy to see how well the armor performed," Ms. Reinhardt said.

She got inside and turned the key.

"Amazing! All the major systems work. Part of the brake system is out but the secondary systems are go and not a hint of trouble with the fuel or fuel-cells -- outstanding," she said with pride.

"What about it, how soon?" I asked.

"We’ll have to order you a new one, probably a month at best," she said.

"I can’t be without a truck that long, Ms. Reinhardt. Can’t you do something? I do have a lifetime free repairs and maintenance deal on the vehicle, no limits," I reminded her, "and what about my custom equipment?"

"I’ll have to ask the dealership owner. I know this was a special deal, but I don’t have the authority to replace a totaled vehicle. This isn’t a typical warranty issue," she explained.

I was tired and cranky and thought she was hemming and hawing. Maybe I wasn’t being fair but I decided to cut out the middleman.

"Get the owner on the phone then," I asked.

"He’s in a meeting at Ford and is unavailable," she replied, that pissed me off -- I got out my cell and dialed a special number.

"Mr. Ford’s personal assistant, how may I help you?" he said.

"I need to speak with Mr. Ford immediately. It’s Joanie," I said.

"He’s in a meeting with the top dealers and asked not to be disturbed," he explained.

"Disturb him, I have a problem that needs resolving at once, between us and not in the press."

~~That was a low blow, Joanie. PMS again?~~

"Joanie, what’s the trouble. My assistant said you were upset?" Mr. Ford replied.

"The service rep, a Ms. Reinhardt, won’t expedite the replacement of my truck. It’s a total wreck and she says it will be over a month. She’s hedging on the custom equipment too," I said.

"Hand the phone to Ms. Reinhardt, please," he requested. He did not sound happy.

They talked for a few minutes. He did most of the talking except for when she described all the damage and how it happened. Towards the end she did less and less talking. I think she was worried.

"Yes, Mr. Ford ... I understand, Mr. Ford, but ... I’m so sorry, Mr. Ford. Of course Mr. Ford ... I’ll see that it’s done as you say," the woman replied to the unheard voice.

She handed the phone back very politely.

"Joanie, I authorized Ms. Reinhardt to replace everything new, including the custom items, but I agree it will take sometime," he said.

"How long? I need a vehicle."

"I’ll see what I can do to rush things, but the first truck was a fluke to be available that fast. I’ll see if it can be less than a month, two weeks if we’re lucky. I told the service writer you can have any vehicle at the dealership as a loaner until your truck is ready," he said

I clipped the phone to my belt, turned, saw *it* and smiled.

"I want this one. Whoa yeah! Come to Mama!" I said and walked over to the most beautiful sports car I’d ever seen.

"But that’s a next generation Ford GT, the previous model sold for over 250 grand!" she exclaimed.

I grabbed my phone from my belt and hit the redial. Mr. Ford picked up directly -- I guess he had the enhanced caller ID.

“Yes, Joanie, what I can I do for you now?” He sounded both upset and amused -- a volatile combination.

“I want *that* car as my loaner,” I said, it was not a camera phone.

“*That* car? Please put Ms. Reinhardt on,” he asked.

She explained or tried to.

“The GT. No sir, not the Mustang GT, *the* GT, the new model with all-wheel electric drive, gravity generator traction assist and the MHD turbo-electric dual-generating power plant,” she said finally. Soon she handed the phone back.

“You sure you don’t want another crew cab?” he asked.

"If I’d wanted another, Toyota makes a fine pickup and their jingle is a catchy tune," I said to Mr. Ford and started humming it.

"Joanie?"

"Sorry, can’t a girl have some fun? Aren’t we supposed to change our minds for no apparent reason? I’m being a tease, I know, but hear me out. Think of the publicity -- a tall, drop-dead sexy young woman driving around in your finest sports car? I think some print ads, TV spots or public appearances with me in it would be covered by our contract. I’ll go to the Detroit Auto Show if I possibly can, I promise. Meanwhile you can brag to the nation’s police how well the truck held up. All that blast damage, the entire side of a two story house falls on top it for-crying-out-loud, yet it runs and not a trace of penetration inside the armored cab! Oh, don’t take this out on the service writer, she was trying before I went all psycho-bitch on her, and she is a hottie,” I confessed then giggled. “Cumon’ Mr. Ford, what do you say? Pretty please?"

Ten minutes later I was driving out of the dealership, smoke pouring from the tires — I’d turned off the gravity generator traction assist for a moment -- as I tore down the road in the GT. I did back off the speed as soon as I was out of sight -- 185mph in a 55 mph zone is a bit much even for me, and I hadn’t begun to test its limits. The prototype holds the land-speed record for four wheeled vehicles.

~~I’m a baad little girl!~~

* * * *

I called Madison that night to check on Mrs. Smith’s condition. She had had all her major surgeries, though lesser ones to reduce scars and to remove the pins and plates helping her bones heal would be necessary down the road. Gin informed me that Donna -- Mrs. Smith -- was a good candidate for some thaumatogical assistance once she finished recovering from her surgeries.

"What do you mean, Gin?" I asked.

"Using magic multiple times on a person can have bad consequences, particularly if powerful magics are used. Mrs. Smith shows no signs of previous significant exposure to magic," she said and I giggled. "Joanie, I’m serious. There are a lot more magic users in the world than you think. Some unscrupulous retailers and employers use people with such powers to manipulate consumers’ tastes. I mean, ten years of 'Tickle Me Elmo' sales, come on! In that particular case it’s subtle, but effective. Ever wonder why Elmo’s song is so captivating?" Gin said.

"Does that mean Pamela Sue Anderson’s success is due to magic?" I asked.

"No, she has a great body to begin with and some top-notch plastic surgeons; silicone is magic in its own right," Gin said and snickered back. "Now as to Leonardo De Caprio ... major mojo was used to boost his career. He can act a little, but face it, he’s a shrimp. He’s too short for me and I’m hardly a Valkyrie like you, Joanie," Gin said.

"I am NOT singing Wagner -- forget it -- no way in hell am I gaining 150 pounds, a triple-chin and wearing that stupid horned helmet, " I said and snickered. "I do understand what you mean, Gin. What’s the deal with Donna Smith and thaumatology?"

"My friends and I think Donna is a good candidate for a magic overhaul. Once she’s healthy we zap her big-time and reset her entire biological clock while repairing as many scars, adhesions and other damage as possible. With luck she’ll be as healthy as before her assault, maybe far more healthy. You saw what I did for Katie," Gin explained.

"Gin, Katie is a bad example; Tom and Tina need their mom, not a Amerasian sister in pre-school," I replied and giggled.

"Joanie, we can custom-tailor the spell. We’ll just make her whole and healthy, maybe shave a couple years off her age. If she’d rather be a teen again, it can be done; it’s not unlike what some sorceresses do to extend their lives and no, I have not *altered* my appearance. I am as my mutation made me, Joanie," Gin said sounding offended.

"I mean no offense. I’m concerned for the twins, they’ve suffered enough. They need stability in their lives but if you honestly believe it’s in her best interest to look that much younger or different do it, but let the whole family decide," I replied.

"Absolutely, sorceress's honor. She’s a nice woman and didn’t deserve what they did ... That’s right, GG didn’t know at the time you two last spoke. They raped her, Joanie, in front of her husband -- just before they broke his skull. Thankfully she was on birth control and they didn’t transmit any STD’s. All that and neither revealed where their kids had been taken -- I’ll be happy to be half the parent they were," Gin said and I wiped my tears.

~~If I get my hands on her torturers …~

"Gin, since we mentioned her, how’s Katie doing?"

"She’s finished transforming; she’s a sweet, bright young girl and full of energy. She thinks and acts like a young girl all the time now, but don’t ever try to hurt her or her friends if she’s around. She’s a tiger; her old military training comes roaring back and she’s adapted it to her new body. Red was teasing me and Katie misunderstood. She knocked Red on her ass -- nearly knocked her unconscious. They’ve made up and Red is a frequent and welcome visitor at my parents. My new *baby* sister loves playing with 'the Amazon lady.' That’s what Katie calls Red; I overheard them the other day. It’s something private between them because I asked Red straight out and she said she couldn’t say. All Red will admit to is it’s a *girl secret* and she can’t tell me; she gave Katie her solemn oath — hope to die and everything. I’ve tried asking Katie, but she giggles and sticks her tongue out at me.

"Katie can read at the first grade level and knows her numbers. She can do some simple addition as well. Mom hopes to get her in the AM Kindergarten program this fall, by then her physical age will be four-and-a-half, mentally she’s six already. She’d test higher academically, but learning to be a girl is so important to her. She’s soaking up everything eagerly and has near perfect recall. I suspect she’ll be this way permanently -- my new sister is a near genius and I’m so happy for her. She can speak entirely in Humong with Mom, it’s pretty basic stuff but she speaks it perfectly. She has a real gift for language," Gin said happily.

"I’m glad it worked out. Did you get the CDs I sent?"

"Katie was so thrilled you remembered her. Her only memories of that terrible day are how brave you were to jump in the water, and how pretty you are. She has your poster up on her door, one of the more tasteful ones, the girl idolizes you," Gin said.

"Tell the gang to keep on searching for the people who did this, I feel so helpless at the moment," I said.

"Don’t worry, Joanie, our best lead has them up near the Canadian border. If they were around, they couldn’t get to her. No one can get to Mrs. Smith. MSG is treating her as one of ours and we stick together," Gin replied.

I had an inspiration.

"Is Donna, I mean Mrs. Smith, up to visitors?" I asked.

"She will be a few days. What are you thinking of Joanie?"

"Could you or, better yet, the Mutant Wing at the hospital put up a couple teenagers for a night or two?"

"It’s possible," Gin replied.

"I’m thinking of flying out Friday night or early Saturday morning, dropping the twins off, then flying on to Iowa. Babs needs a visit and, well ..."

"You’re that horny, huh?"

"That too, Gin, but I simply want to see the Johnsons, for purely platonic reasons. Not that I don’t wish it could be otherwise," I admitted.

"I’ll make arrangements. I take it, Joanie, I’m not to let Donna know?" Gin asked.

"Ms. Carson is accommodating to my wishes, but you never know. Best not get Donna’s hopes up," I said.

"Okay, girl, remember, if you ever change your mind about Eric ..."

"I know -- you, Red and the Andersons all want a shot at me. Why me?" I said, laughed and hung-up.

* * * *

May 02, 2007

I stopped by Administration early to see if I could pull off the weekend trip to the Midwest. It was doable, if I could swap one shift with Security and if Boston PBS could reschedule my Nova recording sessions. Ms. Carson was most supportive.

"I feel like I’m taking advantage of you, Ms. Carson, but I think a visit will do Mrs. Smith and the kids a world of good."

"I agree; you are taking advantage, but for all the right reasons. You have my blessing, but you need to make sure all your duties here are covered during your absence, Joanie," she added.

"I will and thank you," I said and hugged her.

* * * *

I met Pinky for our morning run along with most of my clean-up crew.

"I’m glad to see so many of you here -- why?" I asked.

"It never hurts to exercise. You seem to enjoy yourself, and sweaty spandex is so sexy," said Cheryl, remarkably alert for so early in the morning. "Pinky said she’s noticed more and more students coming out to watch you and your friends run. I hope to get my pick of the voyeurs," she finished.

"In that uniform, you’ll get lots of action; that’s right up there with some of my outfits," I told Cheryl.

~~That’s barely decent. It’s not fair!~~

I decided to give tit-for-tat -- lots of it.

"Joanie, what are you doing?" Tom asked, though I could see he didn’t mind the show.

"Just getting comfortable," I said.

I removed my sport top, leaving myself in my running shoes, tight short-shorts and a sports bra that was almost a bikini top. It was a little cool out but tolerable and no way was I going to be one-upped by anyone. Suzy saw me and turned to Tom.

"WE are running in front of Joanie and if I see you looking back ..." she said and thrust her knee up hard. Tom and everyone else knew were that knee would be aimed at if he did ogle my goodies.

"Suzy, if you do that, he may not stray but you might neuter him. Counter-productive, don’t you think," I said, then broke up in a giggle fit.

WE had a fun run, and I do mean WE. Mystor and Lonnie ran side-by-side and seemed happy together. I don’t think they are a couple, but they do act like friends which is progress. He stopped wearing that awful Goth clothing and make-up. *I’ve* noticed he’s hot looking, as have a lot of other girls. I may have created a monster -- but a good-looking monster. Cindy, Jenny and Pinky ran together for a while. Pinky told me later they were "working on something for the Sabers," but she wouldn’t tell me what it was.

We cleaned up and got dressed while our hangers-on rolled their tongues back in their mouths and tended to their swollen -- well you know.

"Joanie, I haven’t had that much fun in ages. I felt sorry for some of the boys; we had them so wound-up it had to be painful. And the group from Dickenson -- I’ve never seen ... You could poke your eyes out on those. Can we do it again tomorrow?" Cheryl asked and snickered.

"We’ll see, we don’t want to cause too many whiplash cases, hon," I said softly.

Pinky led some of the group to my farm on foot while Suzy got to ride in my GT -- Tom was envious and Suzy was so mature.

"Hey, Tom, eat our dust!" Suzy shouted to him then stuck out her tongue.

"Real mature, Suzy," I said then turned to Chris Anderson who was loading the remainder of my crew into a Whateley van, "Wanna drag?"

I smoked the tires ~~Setting a good example are we?~~ then drove responsibly to the farm. I was willing to show off but I didn’t want to see anyone hurt.

* * * *

We got to the farm and I helped Suzy out. Stan and Morrie were there with Tom Silva and the TOH camera crew.

"WOW, Joanie, what a wreck!" Suzy exclaimed as we walked up to the gutted farmhouse.

"Young lady I’ll have you know I’m in the peak of condition, or would be if I dropped twenty pounds or so. Hi, I’m Tom Silva, and you are?"

"Um, Suzy?" she said hesitantly.

"Don’t worry, we will edit every bit of footage to make sure no one’s name or face gets on the air that shouldn’t be," he said.

"Sorry, I’m Suzy, Joanie’s my friend and I’m here to help out," she said.

"And to earn some spending money or help pay for school. The Academy is very expensive," I explained.

"But Joanie’s paying for me because she’s ... the lady who saved my life and feels responsible, like that Chinese saying," Suzy said.

~~You are one bright girl, Suzy. Nice save.~~

"So your Suzy’s ... sponsor?" he asked.

I whispered back, "I, um, know her aunt. And I feel responsible for Suzy." He nodded his respect.

~~I have got to keep my mouth shut. I’m proud of my niece but if that leaked out ... Idiot! ~~

"They are all my friends -- even Mystor here whom I met when he stripped my clothes off with magic -- but Suzy is a special case. We met while swimming this spring," I said and both Suzy and I giggled.

"I saw your *swim* on TV; I can see why you're Joanie’s friend, Suzy," Mr. Silva said.

"So what’s the deal today?" I asked.

"We used a robotic probe to inspect the house as we talked it over with Mr. Silva. The top of the house will be supported by a cradle the robotics lab is building per Harry’s design -- it will be lifted away and set off to the side. That way we can dismantle the house safely and have the foundation ready in a few days. We’ll clear out the basement and do any necessary foundation improvements -- new buried utilities, drains and such. Fran is willing to do some of her special stone work for us as needed so all we need is a design," Morrie said.

"I was hoping for something that looks historically proper on the exterior but is fully modern and easy to live with inside. Maybe some sort of hybrid ranch-house/Usonian?" I suggested. "Maybe with an attached, heated garage?"

"We’ll have a couple ideas for you by tomorrow, Joanie. Today your crew can concentrate on picking up the work site. Does everyone have on their safety shoes, hardhat and goggles?" Stan asked, and they all nodded. "Good, I have lots of disposable dust masks and work gloves. If yours gets hard to breathe through, or your gloves start to get thin, see me for new ones. If you’re not sure, change them anyway. No one gets hurt, okay?"

Harry Wolfe made a BIG impression on the TOH people, both with his appearance and his knowledge. He showed off the mini-rail system and how he would reroute it to accommodate the changed work site. He demonstrated with a scale model of the anti-gravity assisted crane and cradle system that would be used to disassemble farmhouse.

"We’re using the antigravity lifters as stabilizers, just as on the mini-rail system, but scaled up. Robotics has a huge portable crane donated to us by DARPA. It could do the job alone, the anti-gravs are for additional safety," Harry explained.

"You’re a gadgeteer you said, Harry?" Silva asked, not the least bit awed by Harry’s huge build.

"Oh yes, it means in my case I’m exceptional with machines, in fixing and building them. I instinctively know how they work. Your boat has the beginnings of a head gasket leak," Harry said abruptly.

"How do you know that, and how do you know I have a boat?" Mr. Silva asked.

"The boat I know about because I’ve seen 'This Old House'. The head gasket problem I can smell on your clothes; seawater leaking into a cylinder has a unique smell when it reacts with the hot metal, oil and gas of a failing engine. I have a very good nose," Harry said.

"My mechanic was saying I might need the head repaired in my boat. I am impressed, Harry," he said and Harry beamed.

I began to giggle uncontrollably and couldn’t stop.

"What’s so funny, Joanie?" Mr. Silva asked.

"Your boat's engine or the toilet?" I giggled but calmed down. Mr. Silva laughed.

I noticed Harry looking longingly at my GT.

"Harry, the Ford GT is a loaner. Please don’t play with it," I said.

"I could make it go 30 MPH faster, easy," he said.

"It’s fast enough. I have to go. I’ll leave everything in your capable hands, Stan, Morrie, " I said and drove off.

* * * *

Classes went well that morning, and I got news from Dr. Joshua P. Bakers, Dr. Jean Alden and Dr. Korolev, on my summer *field trip* history seminar.

"This is a list of important events in the history of Whateley Academy and its predecessor institutions that are poorly documented. Circe and Dr. Ophelia Tenent -- Caduceus -- came up with a list of magic hot spots that bear investigation. This should provide ample opportunity for research by yourself and students who sign up for the seminar," explained Dr. Bakers in the most words he’d ever said to me.

"Thank you all for getting back to me so soon," I said.

"We agreed it was a great idea -- your seminar -- and we were inspired," said Jean Alden.

"Ah, the enthusiasm of youth," replied Dr. Bakers.

~~Youth? Jean Alden is over 400 years old, what does that make you, Methuselah?~~

"Sergei, you’ve been quiet," I commented.

"I have a prototype dummy time-travel module for you. The panels are lightweight and elf-contained, to minimize the inconvenience to you. It uses a compact holographic system to alter the visible exterior to mimic whatever you desire," he said.

"Don’t you mean self-contained?" I asked.

"I said elf-contained and I meant it. An electro luminescent film is wrapped tight around a stiff yet lightweight foam core. The film is similar to some of the smart-camo the Army has experimented with. It can automatically mimic its surroundings using its built-in micro-cameras, or assume the appearance of any of many objects stored in its memory. It’s being tested now and should be ready anytime you need it. The tricky bit is faking convincing time machinery, but I should have something soon, Joanie," Sergei explained.

"That sounds good, Sergei. While you work on that, I can do a little preparation. I do need to scout some of these sites and take notes. I don’t want to wing it come class-time," I said.

"I suggest documenting some of the magic hotspots first. You may wish to avoid those for the seminar and Operations can always use the data to aid in planning construction projects," said Dr. Alden.

"Agreed. I’ll see if Charlie is available, I’m still not expert on magic," I said.

* * * *

I contacted the Boston PBS station, and they said the crew at my farm had almost everything needed to record my narration for the Nova special. My Nova producer said she would inform them of my intention to do much of it during the week at Whateley. She got a hold of the station’s floor director and he figured the remote crew would be available for my hosting/narration work by in the early evenings, at which point it’s too dark for outdoor filming. All they needed was a soundproof room and a green screen, both of which we had in the King Annex. A couple hours a night over the two weeks and we would be on or ahead of filming compared to spending the weekends in Boston.

We had a conference call with the camera crew, and they figured we could film from seven to nine PM, giving them time to clean-up, eat and set up after the days filming at my farm. This allowed the Sabers to get in their needed practice sessions. It would be a grind but feasible.

* * * *

I talked with Pinky at the late lunch period.

"I may take the Smiths to see their mom this weekend, leaving Friday late afternoon or early Saturday morning. Could you take care of my cats and ensure the Saturday cleanup crew behaves?"

"Be glad to, I’ll keep George and Gracie safe," she said.

"I hate to leave you alone, but the Smiths need to see each other and I want to visit Babs in Iowa. I could get Lex or someone else to take the smilodons, are you sure?" I asked.

"I have to be on my own sometimes and I have the other Sabers if I get lonely. I’ll be fine; you’re acting like you’re my mom. I promise I’ll be good and you go see Babs. Give Eric a kiss for me, you dirty girl," Pinky said and hugged me.

"I feel guilty."

"Good, maybe you’ll get me a present to assuage your feelings of worthlessness. Something in 22 carat gold or higher should do," she said and giggled.

"So I need to bribe you eh? Okay," I said, and walked away, turning back once to make moose antlers at her and stick out my tongue. Her laughter was all the assurance I needed.

~~I need to check with Senator Joe about those papers I wanted. It’s time to settle the situation with Pinky’s mother one way or the other. ~~

* * * *

I drove back to my farm after my classes, I should say I intended to drive back, when I noticed something odd. There were small plies of stones around my sports car, stacked three atop each other aligned with the points of a five pointed star or pentagram. I knew enough about magic to be concerned. I checked to see if Dr. Tenent or Circe was available but they were busy with classes. I was going to see if one of the Security officers who knew magic was available when I spotted Lonnie walking with Cheryl.

"Lonnie, Cheryl, I need advice, " I called out.

"Sure, what can I do for you," Lonnie said, Cheryl nodded.

"Follow me and see what you make of this, I’m stumped," I said.

We got to my GT, and I pointed out the stones.

"Is someone playing a prank or is this for real? What is it, some sort of magic alarm?" I asked.

Lonnie got out a few crystals from her book-bag and dangled several from what looked like silver chains. Most did nothing but one swung out at a great angle from vertical in the direction of each pile of stones as she walked around the car.

"I’ve seen these in my magic theory class. It’s a simple and rather old-fashioned ward. I’m not a high-level sorceress like Dr. Tenent or Circe, but this is serious stuff," Lonnie said.

"Is Joanie at risk?" Cheryl asked.

"Walk toward the car, Joanie but don’t touch it or the stones."

She did some more scanning -- if that’s what you call it -- while she had me approach and retreat from my car. She did the same with Cheryl and herself then used their combined *charms* on a geeky young boy to do the same for us. I felt sorry for the boy, they used him shamefully. Thought he did get a kiss from each girl so....

"So, Lady Morgana, what’s the deal?" I asked.

"Joanie, be careful with that name, some magic users don’t see the humor in it. The field is a ward and it’s attuned to you and your friends. It reacted in a positive way to your presence, like it was signaling to a friend you were okay. It acted similarly for me and Cheryl, though more like we were unimportant. The young boy was close to getting an unpleasant shock if he’d touched the car. What is odd is the flavor, the color -- I can’t describe how I perceive it better than that -- is strange," she said, struggling for the words.

"How? I’d like to know. Remember, I may have need of such knowledge if this magic storage-cell phenomenon gets worse," I said.

"Magic storage cell?" Cheryl asked.

"Joanie stores magics around her body but they don’t touch her. It’s likely some unique quirk of her warper powers. They are stronger than the last time I noticed, Joanie. Being near so many magic users and mystical objects is feeding the energy into your field faster than it’s bleeding off. It’s not a dangerous level yet, but you have more magic around you than some of the top sorceresses on campus except for people like Sara Waite, Dr. Tenent, or Circe. See, these two crystals of mine react to magic in terms of its magical frequency and energy. The energies around you have combined in a higher frequency and energy level than their original form." She paused and thought.

"This is all very theoretical and I only am starting to study this, but I think you’re not a storage cell, but more akin to a particle accelerator or even a laser. The different magics that were chaotic are becoming coherent, they are *vibrating* at nearly the same frequency and that makes them more powerful. You should make an appointment with Dr. Tenent soon, I mean it. You won’t get hurt but someone around you could. I don’t mean to alarm you. It’s fairly low level yet but under rare circumstances magic has been known to build until it crackles across the skin like St. Elmo’s fire. I remember hearing about a student here who had that problem, but the name eludes me," she said.

"So I’m fine for now?"

"For a while, Joanie. The ward around you car puzzles me; as I said, magic has characteristics -- colors, flavors. This magic used in this ward is alien and very old. I swear it reminds me of a style of magic attributed to India and this was not done by a human. Oh, Joanie, I saw paw prints in the stone dust by the front wheel. It’s something like a cat but not a cat, a weasel of some kind?" she speculated. Lonnie stopped, and tapped me on the shoulder. Her eyes were locked on something.

"Quiet! Look over by the evergreen hedge next to Administration, on the left; that could be it, the magic using animal," Lonnie said softly and in awe, I thought.

"Here goes nothing. Hi there, little one! Looking for me?" I called out as I turned to face the animal -- not fifty feet from us.

It started to run, stopped, turned, stood up on its rear legs and....

"Did you just bow to me, little one? That was ... what was that?" I asked.

"I think that was or is someone’s familiar. An animal that helps a sorceress access her magic and often acts as a bodyguard. I think it was acknowledging you as a sorceress. That is an honor; they tend to be secretive and tightly bonded to their mistress or master. I wonder, there’s a legend of a prankster animal, some call her Miki, supposed to be an orphaned familiar. She’s rumored to have lived on the Whateley grounds for decades -- maybe since as far back as the oldest buildings.

“You should ask Dr. Tenent about Miki, Joanie. She’s an expert on familiars and how they interact with their human partner. She has an intimate knowledge of the Whateley area’s magical heritage. If anyone can figure out what’s going on, it’s the doctor,” Lonnie said solemnly, I choose this moment to break out in giggles.

“You mean the guy with the blue police box? I thought he’s a fictional character?” I said and snickered. Lonnie joined in while Cheryl looked at us as if we’d each grown an extra head.

“What’s so funny about a blue police box?” Cheryl asked.

“I take it you don’t watch a lot of science-fiction TV? I asked.

“I was too busy with my music to watch much TV of any kind.”

~~I’ll have to get her a copy of the show since I’ll be on it.~~

“The more I think of it, the more I'm sure that had to be her, Joanie. Wow, I saw Miki! The rest of my magic theory class will be so jealous when they find out," Lonnie finished.

"How does a familiar get orphaned?” I asked.

"Supposedly, its mistress was killed; strange, familiars normally can’t sustain the magic after the bond is broken. When their mistress is dead, they normally revert to ordinary animals. Miki must be very special to survive so long on her own. You really need to see Dr. Tenant, we’re talking serious magic here.

To Be Continued

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Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 3

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie's farm project resumes, with changes. She learns more about Miki and why the mongoose may be attracted to her. The trip to take the Smith twins to their mom in hospital is finalized. Pinky and Joanie discuss the Alphas. The Sabers learn of Joanie and BET. Joanie has a series of revealations reguarding Eric and her that are frightening. And someone faints and it's NOT Joanie.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and anything else that comes to mind epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (Still no!) 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, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter containts situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Jade/Jinn/Jann "special consultant” Babs Yerunkle
Painless punctuation practiced by Itinerant
Sentences sanitized by Janet Nolan for your protection

Chapter 3, This Old Farm House -- Fran-o-rama, Hey Miki You're So Fine 2, You BET Your Life 2, Welcome to Adulthood 4

Whateley Academy Dunwich, May 02-May 04, 2007

May 02, 2007

I decided not to drive the GT this evening. Miki had spent considerable effort in warding it for my benefit, and I needed time to think about its implications. From both Lonnie and Dr. Tenent, I knew that I was passively storing any stray magic I encountered. In interacting with my warper field, these various magical energies were altering, becoming more alike, even coherent, like laser light. Did this mean I was a witch? The actions of the familiar, this Miki, seemed proof I was. That a magical creature recognized me as a practitioner of magic, and might be considering me as its next mistress, was compelling testimony. Was any of this dangerous? I had no way to be sure. So far Dr. Tenent and Lonnie thought it was safe, but as to the future? I knew banking and retail. I’d started out in college studying chemistry. I was becoming a historian by necessity, but sorcery was not something I’d ever studied or contemplated. I had lots of questions and precious few answers. I didn’t know whether to be worried or laugh. My life since last July third had been strange, was this all that different?

Rather than disturb the familiar’s hard work, I got some Lion Chow, plus a couple small pieces of raw meat I kept in a ‘fridge as treats for the smilodons, placed it in a small crockery bowl and set it out by the driver’s door of the GT. Lonnie said as long as I didn’t move the car the ward should remain intact. Miki would see my gift and be able to safely obtain the food. The ward should keep the treat safe for her alone, if I understood correctly. As a carnivore, I figured she would like it -- the smilodons certainly do. It was a way to start a relationship, I suppose, and I did owe her my thanks for warding the GT. I made arrangements to see Dr. Tenent later that evening. I decided to ride out to the farm on my Harley for a quick visit with the clean-up crew, then come back and see her. Chris transported my volunteers in an oversized Whateley van.

* * * *

I saw several of my friends helping Harry Wolfe assemble sections of mini-rail over by a couple of new dumpsters.

"’Evening, Harry, gang, what gives with the new train layout? I didn’t know Lionel made stuff in this gauge. Did it come with the self-unloading milk car?” I asked and Harry grinned.

“Ms... um, Joanie, we’re going to sort the debris from the farmhouse as we demolish it. Fran may be able to use the damaged wood as raw material for her special ability. The larger intact boards can be reused as is. The glass, plaster, concrete, and such are not salvageable by her, but I can do some useful things with it,” Harry said.

“Suitably sized and sorted, the glass, tile and mortar waste make excellent aggregate for concrete, and the plaster can be added after treating it in a kiln as a curing aid. Or it can be ground up and used as a soil additive -- to *loosen* clay soils and control acidity -- which is the more likely plan. That’s all very old-tech, but practical. Salvaged fiberglass or rock-wool can be chopped up and re-used as blown insulation, or as crack-inhibiting additives to any concrete pours. The roofing materials can be used in an asphalt emulsion for a driveway seal coat; very little of the old house will be unusable. The chimney brick can be cleaned and re-cycled as brick; the old pipe and wires have some scrap value. Amazingly, the old cast-iron tub is intact and can be re-enameled -- it’s a beauty, Joanie. There is real quality in that one,” Harry said, his eyes gleaming.

“Sounds like a plan, Harry. Listen up, crew; please follow Harry’s instructions for the time being. We need to get this mess safely cleared, then we can help build a new farmhouse. For everyone’s information, Jade and her sister, Jinn, are doing fine and expect to be back at work tomorrow or the day after,” I explained; the kids cheered when they heard the girls were okay.

“That’s wonderful news! When I heard Jade was hurt and I saw the damage to the farmhouse, I was afraid for her. Jade’s a nice girl and her sister is great for a dead person,” said Cindy.

“Are you having any trouble with your allergies, Cindy?”

“Nah, Harry rigged a spray system to reduce the dust, and that nice Mr. Stan got me these great filter masks and goggles. I work outside to be extra safe, but I’ve had no problems. Thanks for the job, Joanie; I needed the extra cash,” Cindy said.

“That’s great, Cindy, but be safe, don’t take any chances. Okay?”

* * * *

~~Harry and the crew will soon have the mini-rail and sorting stations set up. I wonder where are Stan or Morrie?~~

“Joanie?” I heard a young woman call out.

“Fran, it’s great to see you. What can I do for you?” I asked.

"It’s what I can do for you, Joanie. Stan and Morrie told me what happened, and of your immediate thoughts on a new house. I’m studying engineering and architecture, as they are complimentary to my mutant ability to manipulate natural materials. I believe I can *flow* the fieldstone in the foundation, and with some additional stone as raw material build you a basement and foundation suitable for a modified Prairie-school home. The roof will have a steeper pitch than a true Prairie-school or Usonian, -- (http://www.pbs.org/flw/buildings/usonia/usonia.html)
-- to better withstand our winter snows and to fit into the general look of buildings around here. I guarantee you will have a very livable house,” Fran said with enthusiasm.

“That sounds interesting, but I do have several key points that must be met, Fran. It must have in-the-floor heat and forced-air -- for comfort and for quick recovery after opening the door on a frigid day. Air-lock/mud-room entries are a must for efficiency, plus they help keep the house clean. My tenants and guests must feel secure, so it needs to be bullet and blast resistant and have an advanced security system. It must have an attached, heated garage and that’s non-negotiable, Fran. I’d like graceful, wild-life friendly, easy to maintain landscaping. Native plants arranged to project a natural appearance would be ideal, but nothing too formal. You will install the latest in communications capabilities throughout the building, of course. Oh, a sauna and maybe a hot-tub or spa would be lovely. Can you do that?” I asked.

“So the Bat-poles and Bat-cave are for your barn project then?” Fran asked, then broke-up. “I’m so sorry, Officer Lex told me to say that. Something about payback for a confusing night babysitting a kid,” she said.

~~I wondered when I’d get it for the *Tom* incident.~~

“Fran, tell Lex 'message received loud and clear'. Can you design me a dream house and not a nightmare?”

“Absolutely! I’m helping Stan and Morrie brainstorm the plans. Mr. Silva from This Old House has been most helpful. Operations is letting me use this 3D design program that calculates all the loads and stresses in a building plan. The engineers and professional trades people on campus are reviewing everything to make sure the plans are sound. Think of me as an idea person. The program and Operations staff provide all the necessary knowledge. We’ll have a plan in a couple days at most. This is exciting, Joanie; not that fixing up the old house wouldn’t have been challenging. To design a whole new structure...” she trailed off.

“Make me something special, and I’ll see you get properly rewarded, Fran,” I said.

“You’ll love it, Joanie! I know you like Mr. Wright’s work, so I’ll try to be faithful to his aesthetic, but with modern building methods in mind.”

“Do it and I’m in your debt,” I said, and practically danced to my cycle.

“Oh, Fran?” She turned and looked. “The Bat-poles sound kind of cool,” I said as I prepared to drive off. Fran looked at me and shook her head.

~~Today is gonna be a special one, I feel it.~~

I hopped on my cycle and rode back to Whateley.

* * * *

I asked Caduceus -- that’s Dr. Tenent to most of you -- about the strange animal I’d seen near the GT.

“So you’ve met Miki.”

“That’s what Lonnie called the animal,” I replied.

“What I’m about to say is partially speculation, but a student in Whateley College’s dying days gave the name Miki to a female Indian/Javan Mongoose that befriended him. He donated his journals to the mutant school, as did some of the old staff; that’s how I know. His Miki fits the descriptions of a creature described by most observers as a large ferret or mink that caused havoc on campus. Some reports of this mischief-maker go as far back as Whateley’s founding. A magic-using mongoose makes sense, as a colony of mongoose would have exploded across the country by now if they were breeding. They are quite prolific, and like most small animals they are not terribly long lived. For the sightings to always be of one animal, and over so many years, is evidence of powerful magic.

“Why is this Miki so focused on me? To invest time and energy to ward my car against potential enemies of mine seems a serious undertaking for a small animal or a human. What benefit can she possibly derive from her effort?” I wondered out loud.

“Look at it from the animal’s standpoint: you *look * like a witch, Joanie,” she said.

“Huh?”

It was better than replying,’There are ways of telling if she’s a witch.’ I love Monty Python and the Holy Grail but I needed answers and I needed Dr.Tenent to realize I was serious. This is not to say I wasn’t tempted. It’s not like I would get that straight-line again anytime soon.

“Joanie, since you’ve come here, you’ve been sporadically accumulating a magical *charge* -- for want of a better term. Observing you now, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a young sorceress, and a powerful one at that. Lonnie told me of her theory that you're a magic laser or particle accelerator, and I think she may be on to something. We’ll need to take a series of measurements, but a casual exam suggests your level of *charge* has increased since we last talked. This could be proof you’ve exceeded a critical threshold level, and the magic is now self-sustaining, possibly even self-generating. This would be akin to a fission reactor achieving a sustainable chain-reaction. It may be that your warper field is actively absorbing stray magic from your surroundings, Joanie. This would mean you're more like a mystic vacuum cleaner as opposed to a passive trap for passing magic.”

I listened with interest and more than a little concern. In less than a year my life had progressed from *ho-hum* to *wow* to the edge of *you have got to be joking*.

“No chance of my going supercritical? You know, KABOOM! Followed by a mushroom cloud, magically speaking? Lonnie didn’t think so but you the expert here.”

“It’s unlikely given you peculiar warper powers, though magic is largely unknowable, dear child. Even with all my experience, I remain a student of the art and I’ve worked with it for ... a *long* time,” Dr. Tenent said, practically daring me to ask HOW long. That stupid I am not.

“But what does Miki want from me?”

“Joanie, familiars are both guardians and assistants to magic wielders. They often act as guard animals. This is in addition to helping a mage or sorceress focus their magic. In exchange, the familiar receives food, companionship, and a share of the magic. Being close to a source of magic is necessary to sustain a familiar’s supernatural abilities.

“She could be acknowledging you as a sorceress of worth, or maybe she’s evaluating you as her next mistress. If so, that is a great honor. Familiars are most particular who they bond with and for this one to survive alone for decades shows Miki to be an unusually powerful and resourceful familiar. Let me know if you see her again; I’m interested. Miki has never acted like this before; I would have heard about it. Why did she wait so long, and why the apparent interest in you? There are many young mages and sorceresses here she could have bonded with,” Dr. Tenent speculated.

“Sorceress? I’m not a ... I’m a sorceress? Is there any danger here to either Miki or myself if we bond?” I asked, bewildered by her revelations.

~~Ghod, I am so confused by magic users. Am I one? Can’t they ever talk in plain English? Can I ever talk in plain English?~~

“There is some risk, but less for you than most. The bond can be so complete that if either dies, so does the other. Since the magic surrounds you but does not touch you, you should be safe. Your regen helps as well. Miki has survived, magic intact, on her own for decades so I suspect she would not come to harm. Oh, and Joanie, I’m not sure what you are, but you may well become a sorceress if you can ever access your reserves of magic,” she said smiling.

“My sister will LOVE this: ‘Oh sis, by the way, I’m a witch.’ A girl and a mutant was bad enough. This is handing her a solid-gold straight-line ... witch rhymes with bitch. Marvelous, I’m rich, too. Get the picture, Dr. Tenent?”

“Your sister hates you that much?”

“My sister loves me that much, and she is a blonde,” I said quickly and giggled.

“Blondes and magic are a dangerous mix,” Dr. Tenent joked. I could barely suppress the giggles, as Dr. Tenent is a natural blonde.

“I’m not a blonde, I’m a strawberry-blonde,” I said and grinned.

“I’ll bite. What’s the difference, Joanie?” she asked.

“We’re sexy ditzes like the pure-bred blondes, but with mercurial tempers,” I said and bared my teeth. Then we both fell apart laughing.

“P-please see me again soon, m-my dear. We’ll figure out what’s going and get it under control,” she said, and I left for my band practice.

* * * *

Tom and Tina looked happier than they’d been for some time. I noticed Suzie’s lipstick seemed to match his, though hers was on thicker.

~~That seems a fun way to apply it.~~ I thought, as I saw them kiss. They separated and grinned at each other.

I took out a tissue and walked up to him.

“Tom, you forgot something,” I said coyly.

“What?”

“This,” I said.

I grabbed his head, wiped his lips thoroughly, then gave him a scorching-hot kiss. He resisted at first but got into the spirit of it fast.

~~Oh yeah! You have got great taste in, um, boys ... Suzy,~~

“Ooh, I liked that,” I said, my eyelids halfway open, my voice sultry. I wasn’t faking it much.

Suzy looked confused and, well, angry. Then I got the giggles, skipped over... Yes, I said skipped. I’m a girl. I can do that. It says so on my girl license. What was I saying? Now I remember. I gave her a big hug and a more chaste kiss, though equally heartfelt.

“That was mean of me, Suzy. You have my permission to slap me for being a bad girl. I see what you find attractive in Tom; what a kisser! Can I steal him?” I said, and snickered.

“Only if I get Eric in exchange,” she said and smiled.

“Okay, but I’d have to kill you first; nothing personal, Suzy,” I replied, and we leaned against each other laughing while Tom stared at us.

“Suzy, you’d better straighten your man out over whom he can and cannot kiss,” I said.

“But I didn’t... You started... I...” he stammered.

I whispered in Suzy’s ear, and we both gave him that look a mother gives a child that has done something wrong.

“Tom, when will you ever learn a lady is always right? You’re a man, so it must be your fault,” I said, looking at him and shaking my head slightly.

I was about to comment on how parts of Tom needed no additional straightening, but decided not to embarrass the boy further.

“Be careful, girl. I was just playing with you two and he got my motor racing in spite of my intentions. I need a cold shower, bad. You’re one lucky lady,” I whispered in her ear.

She hugged me back. “I know I’m lucky, that’s why I’m on the pill. Remember you helped me call Mom and she said it was okay, Joanie. She’s not mad at you or me. It’s not like we’ve done *it* yet, but more just in case,” she confided to me.

I was shocked, yet pleased, at her revelation. Then, looking at Tom, I could see the *merit* in her precautions. Though he’s was not an exemplar, Tom was an attractive young man, and he certainly thought my niece was eye-catching.

~~I’d be amazed if there’s any blood left in the rest of his body with him in that condition. Joanie, get your mind off of sex. Time to get your mind off reproduction and on to more important things, Girl... make that more immediate things. Cummon, Girl, think of something, anything but *that*. Oh, marvelous, now the only thing I can think about is *that*. Damned perverse teenaged mind! ~~ After a few minutes I settled down somewhat and started our band practice.

“In the words of Frank Zappa, ‘Music is the best.’ Are we ready to play now, everyone?”

* * * *

We had a productive session and added another song to our repertoire. Tom and Tina appeared much happier, but to be safe I asked Pinky afterwards, in private.

“I know you don’t like to pry, but did you sense how the twins were?”

“I snuck a peek to make sure they were okay. They are better than when they first arrived here, but their pain remains strong. They miss their parents desperately and are aching for any contact with their mom. You should take them to Madison this weekend, Joanie; they need it. I’m not jealous at all; I know you’re doing this out of love. Please say hi to Eric for me. Oh, ask him about his friend, the boy I met on Easter Sunday. I know I don’t have any claim on him, but have Eric tell his friend I still think of him sometimes and he’s a good kisser. And so is Eric, a good kisser that is,” Pinky smiling wistfully

“Ah, you’re not going all boy-crazy on me are you, Pinky?”

“No. I’m not one of *those* girls, the kind of girl you need a crowbar to pry them off of their boyfriend, like *some* people I know,” she said sounding a bit accusatory.

“Crowbar? Are youse saying I’m some kind of nymphomaniacal slut what is desperate to impale myself on her boyfriend’s manhood? Dat’s I’m some out-a-control ditzy dame whose entire life revolves around *riding--the-pole*?”

“No. I meant...” Pinky said confused.

Youse knows me well, girl!” I replied in a *Wiseguys/Goodfellows/Goodfeathers* voice, and faked being on the edge of orgasm. Then I giggled, and so did she.

“While you're gone, I’ll be the best kitty-wrangler and clean-up crew mistress possible, Joanie,” she said, and she radiated happiness.

“Did you go empathic on me there, girl?” I asked. “I felt all warm and tingly, but not sexually aroused. It was a more a sense of contentment.”

“It was an accident, Joanie, I’d ...” she looked

“Whoa there, just asking -- it felt nice to feel what you were feeling. That came out awkward, huh? I mean I felt all warm and safe like a baby suckling at her mother’s breast.”

~~Why did I say that?~~

“I’m happy you’re not an angry girl, anymore,” I said, and hugged her gently. “Whoever earns your favor will hit the jackpot when it comes to love. To think that’s all been bottled-up since your mutation; what a waste. Do you feel everything that intensely, Pinky?”

“Joanie, I’m empathic, I feel my own emotions and the emotions of others. That’s why you felt so content; you experienced what I feel in your presence and your own emotions being returned to you. You're right; I felt it too,” she finished.

“Whatever it was, I sensed no jealousy, only love and a sense of attachment,” I added.

“I could never be jealous of you, Joanie,” Pinky said, then she got silly “Except for those breasts of yours, Joanie. Puberty was inordinately generous to you,” she said and gestured with her hands like I was hefting a pair an exotic dancer would be envious of.

“Pinky!” I exclaimed. “I’m impressed, paraphrasing Billy Bo Bob Brain from Pinky and the Brain, second season of Animaniacs.”

I tried to think of another appropriate reply, but I couldn’t. Then I remembered something I’d wanted to ask her for some time.

“Pinky, dear, what about joining the Alphas? Are you still interested? It was your aunt’s clique, so it is a family legacy,” I asked.

“I wanted to, that’s why I tried to hurt you -- to impress them and my aunt.” She looked so sad after she said that.

“It still hurts when you think back to then? I’ve forgiven you, Pinky, and I understand why you were that way. You were in anguish; you had to react some way to the stress. Thankfully, you turned away from disaster in time, my friend.”

“I wouldn’t feel right joining, now. I don’t think they’d admit you, and if you can’t join, I won’t,” she stated forcefully.

“Don’t let that hold you back. They may have been a bit stuck-up in your aunt’s time, but they were a legitimate campus organization and respected. You could restore them to that instead of all this petty nonsense they are into now,” I replied.

“I don’t know if I have the time with my studies, the smilodons, the band, and you,” she answered.

“Think on it; maybe you could make them better than in your aunt’s day -- both respected and liked?” I suggested. “Your aunt would coach you, and I would be there to take the Alphas to task if they gave you grief. You could work quietly in the background to support the group, gather friends, and scout your adversaries. Then, when you’re a junior or senior, you mount a palace coup and execute the gang of despots. Oops, that’s how to become a third-world dictator,” I said and giggled.

“Okay, I-I’ll consider it, Joanie,” Pinky chuckled. “My aunt told me she’s embarrassed how the current leaders have dragged the Alpha’s reputation down.”

“If you want to, and only if you want to, Pinky. I‘ll support you if you decide to join the Alphas and make them an admired organization,” I said.

“Maybe I will, but not until after I give the kitties a workout,” she finished.

* * * *

I stopped by Administration for my mail, then hustled to the Crystal Hall. I got... well actually Cheryl got me my dinner -- she had my favorites memorized -- and we sat down to eat. Once you got past Cheryl’s tough ‘Joisey gal’ act, she was a considerate young woman. The rest of the gang was back from the farm and all appeared intact -- a big improvement from recent events out there.

“What’s in the manila envelope, Joanie?” Cheryl asked.

Lonnie leaned in close too. The incident with Miki, the mystic mongoose, had made the three of us closer somehow. It had not improved on my appalling attachment to alliteration, alas.

“Yes!” I cried out when I had a peek at the contents.

“What is it?” several of my friends asked. I giggled in response.

“Must be something devious; spill it tall, blonde-like and gorgeous,” said Cheryl as Bogart, convincingly so.

“Ask Ms. Pinky about BET,” I said and grinned.

“You didn’t?!” Pinky asked excitedly. I nodded and snickered.

“Joanie is into gambling?” asked Lonnie.

“No, she’s being silly. She means ‘B’ ‘E’ ‘T’; it’s a cable TV network. Joanie is going on their summer music special, “ Pinky explained.

“But that’s for ...” Cindy started to say.

“... artists of color. Some database program saw my name and that I was popular on the music charts. It assumed I was ethnic, to use an older phrase. This is a confirmation of my acceptance of their invitation. The rest of the materials are some songs I intend to record under a pseudonym with the help of Mr. Karaoke,” I said giggling at the end.

“Joanie’s recording hip-hop?” Cindy said, surprise on her face.

I looked at the song-list, giggling.

“And I’m recording soul, urban contemporary, some classic ballads and maybe a gospel song or two. Music is for everyone to enjoy; why should it be categorized?” I said.

“To make it easy to find at Sam Goody?” said Tina, adding a pitiful rim-shot.

“That is devious, manipulative and down-right sneaky, I love it!” exclaimed Cheryl.

“That’s what I told her the other day,” said Pinky.

“So our Joanie is a criminal genius, I’d never thought she’d sink so low. You’re supposed to be setting a good example for us. My mother will be disappointed in you,” said Suzy pouting.

I was confused for a moment; it was the break she was waiting for. The *demon-girl* had remembered my secret weakness. Suzy struck while I was defenseless, the fiend coming up from behind me, her devilish fingers lightly flicking along the sides of my exposed midsection. Me and my foolish fondness for crop-tops, but then I do have a sexy midriff. I was soon unable to help myself, convulsing in giggles.

Ghod I’m ... ticklish!~~

“St-st-stopp, th-th-that, Suzy. I’ll w-wet mys-self ... N-no!” I said between spasms of giggles as I gasped for air.

I was laughing so hard, I was close to blacking-out from hyperventilation.

The rest of my so-called friends joined in on the assault. I laughed so intensely I lost control. I tensed, my back arched, and I came. It was an accident on their part, but I honest-to-goodness came ... fireworks, trains going in-and-out of tunnels, *seeing* colors, smelling phantom smells -- the works. After I returned to consciousness, I had to run to the lady’s room and clean up. My legs could barely support me.

~~That was better than sex! Hell, I came like it was sex. If Eric learns I’m this ticklish... I will be one blissed-out woman. Wow!~~

I returned after composing myself. My friends took one look at me and didn’t say a thing; they burst out laughing instead. Apparently I was still *glowing*.

This was one way I was not like my mother. She was not ticklish in the least, and she claimed Dad had tested her thoroughly -- high/low, hither and yon, many, many times -- and failed. Now that I look back from the vantage point of a woman, I get the impression she preyed on his competitive streak many times this way. The strange expression I remember on her face makes me think, not only was she proud of *defeating* him, but she got some great foreplay out of it.

~~You dirty-minded minx. Damn it, Mom, I’m proud of you! What a sneaky way to get what you want without asking for it. My Ghod, my parents had SEX!~~

~~Well, duh, unless your sisters and you were mail-order.~~ I thought and giggled.

~~I wonder, ‘Oh Eric, sorry, but I don’t feel a thing when you stick your...’ Nah, it’s lacking in subtlety.~~

* * * *

I called Madison after I returned to my room, and confirmed that Tom and Tina’s mom, Donna, was able to have visitors.

“I saw Ms. Smith today, and she’s doing well -- better than expected. We’ve been talking with her and checking into her past. Donna was a college athlete and remains an active swimmer, cyclist and power walker. She may be 37, but her appearance was of a woman of about thirty. Her physiological condition and age were better than the average 25 year old until her kidnapping and assault,” explained Dr. Sara.

“Gin was saying how she and her magic pals could reset Donna’s body to a younger age, or even radically change her appearance once she was strong enough. I wonder, given how active she was and the risk from the kidnappers being out there, would she consent to Gin’s magical extreme makeover?” I asked Dr. Sara.

“Katie is proof Gin can sling a mean transformation spell, and I’ve had them both here for frequent tests to be on the safe-side. I have access to Gin's old medical records and some of her old test samples. Katie is equivalent to Gin’s measures at the age of four to four-and-a-half, but she is brighter, healthier and, dare I say, more precocious socially. But then that makes sense as Katie has some access to her adult skills. I find it most remarkable that Katie is psychologically sounder than you or I, but then we’re both loonies, Joanie,” Dr. Sara said and laughed.

“So, if the magic is carefully crafted, Donna could benefit from Gin’s offer?” I asked.

“It could do for her what your mutation has done for you, and provide Donna the opportunity to start over. She could fall in love -- even start a new family if she wanted to. Gin is confident she could regress Donna to her teens, and alter her appearance enough to be Tom and Tina’s cousin or anyone else. She could be a Beyoncé look-a-like, a young Katie Holmes, a Lucy Lu college-age cutie or even like you, Joanie.”

“I wouldn’t recommend that last one; she’s a slut,” I said and giggled.

“Donna is a college grad with valid teacher’s license and business experience. She’s not a mutant, but with my alumni connections I could get her a job as a new teacher or administrative assistant in a school near Whateley. She’d be safer there than in Wisconsin and she’d be near her kids.”

“Sara, what if Gin and her fellow magic friends incorporated some of Tom and Tina’s DNA or BIT’s in her makeover? Could Donna become a mutant, or is she a dormant mutant whose powers never surfaced? Tom and Tina must have got their mutant genes from their parents; completely spontaneous mutation seems unlikely. If I recall correctly, the drug they were given only works on those with a significant number of the so-called mutant genes?” I asked.

“We never ... Joanie, it’s entirely possible, both your scenarios. Damn, have you considered training as a physician?” she said, her voice full of motherly praise.

“Considering my expected life-span, I could end up a doctor. I doubt I’d be as good as you, Sara,” I replied.

“Joanie, you’d likely be better,” she said, her voice upbeat. “I’ll run your questions by Gin then let Ms. Smith know her options.”

“That’s something they will need to discuss as a family. I will come this weekend, I promise, Sara. I need to go now and call Eric as I won’t be able to Friday night,” I said and giggled nervously. I could feel the beginnings of my arousal.

I~~ Not now, libido, behave yourself!~~

“Are you okay with this platonic boyfriend business? You sound more like you want to escalate to his business pumping in and out of your business?” she asked, teasing me, I hoped.

“No! I, well, I’m not sure,” I said, my voice breathy and deeper than usual. “Sara, I want him so bad sometimes, I ache. I know we can’t... you know. I know it would be wrong to have him, criminally wrong. Given his age, there is no excuse for it, no matter how right it feels in my heart,” I said, breathing oddly and feeling flush. I continued. “Though we... I... well, we dearly want to, the situation is under control. I have to see him, that’s all; I miss him so much. It’s not the same over the phone. I’d better go, Sara; I’m keeping you from your patients. I’ll be okay, just nerves I guess,” I said, not realizing until after I’d hung up I was on the edge of an orgasm. My embarrassment deflated my libido, and I returned to a level of control.

~~I lied to Sara. ‘The situation is under control.’ I’ve never lied to her. I’m lying to myself, too, if I believe I’m in control with respect to Eric. If Pinky wasn’t there Easter Sunday evening, we would have. Ghod forgive me, but we would have, I know it. I couldn’t have stopped once we’d started. I wouldn’t have wanted to. What is with me? Ghod, I was breathing hard over the phone to Sara just thinking about Eric. Am I really this way or is it my imagination working overtime to scare me?~~

I caught up on some class work, made my d/j/w entry and fell into a restless sleep.

* * * *

May 03, 2007

I took my early morning run with my friends, but I was not my normal chatty self. Pinky caught on to that fast.

"What’s wrong, Joanie? You seem distracted and are decidedly not your usual Miss Morning Person,” Pinky asked and tried to smile, though I sensed she was concerned.

I waited until we were alone; the rest of my fellow morning workout group noticed and kept a discreet distance.

“Pinky, you know me better than anyone. Am I getting in over my head with Eric? The thoughts I’ve had about the two of us scare and excite me. You were there on Easter morning when we started to... Am I about to do something incredibly harmful to both of us, or am I worried over nothing?” I asked. Pinky seemed uncomfortable at my question and spoke carefully.

“I try not to read your mind; you know that, Joanie. I was being silly when I made the joke about *some* people and crowbars, but your and Eric’s feelings are intense. That you both know it would be wrong at his current age is good. That you are frequently questioning your motives in relation to Eric is better. I’m no expert; I only have my observations, empathic sense and gut to go on. Your intentions are honorable, but...” she hesitated.

“But what?”

“Your bodies might sabotage that, Joanie. Eric’s a handsome teenager at the height of puberty; you are physically a 17-year-old girl with an enhanced sex drive and the body of a Centerfold -- a real, genuine Playboy Centerfold! During our Easter visit, I couldn’t help feeling what you felt for each other. Not that you would do it deliberately, but throw enough lit matches at a pool of gasoline, sooner or later...”

"...whoof! Up in flames?” I asked.

“Yeah, sorry, but that’s what I sense. I don’t mean to hurt you. You want me to be honest, don’t you?” Pinky said, her voice close to crying at the end.

“That’s alright, Pinky, I wanted the truth. Thanks for not pulling your punches. I was coming to a similar conclusion, as much as it pains me. I’ll have a good talk with Eric and Babs, and we’ll set some ground rules to keep us on safe ground. I want this to work, I don’t want to give him up, not after waiting 49 years to find love. It would hurt both of us, and then I’d have to start dating men to find a replacement and that could be a problem. With my libido I’d turn Dunwich into Peyton Place,” I finished.

“Huh?”

“Sorry, that was too 1960s; let’s say Desperate Housewives?”

“You have the figure to be Terry Hatcher’s character,” she replied.

“Pinky, I have a libido that makes them look like saints,” I said and giggled.

“You would, Joanie, you would,” Pinky replied and laughed. “You go see your Eric and work it out. It would be a waste to separate you two. His temperament seems the perfect complement to yours.”

“You’ll find your mate someday, Pinky, and when you do I’ll cry for joy. Then I’ll get a shotgun and make the sorry bastard marry you,” I said, snickered and we went off to shower and eat.

* * * *

I noted with satisfaction the treats I’d put out for the mongoose, Miki, were gone and several colorful pebbles were on the plate arranged in neat fashion. I picked them up and placed them in a pocket of my backpack/book-bag.

“Thank you for the gift, Miki,“ I called out, and curtsied.

I thought I heard a chortle and a scurrying sound from some bushes on the edge of the grounds. I placed a small piece of dried, uncured, unseasoned beef -- pemmican? -- on the plate and ran off to the farm, Chris followed with my troops in a Whateley van.

* * * *

My friends were quickly put to work by Harry. I could see the mini-rail system was up and ready, and they would make solid progress on clearing the debris today. The huge mobile crane was on-site, and I could see some Operations workers -- assisted by several tentacled robots -- assembling the cradle to lift off the upper part of the damage farmhouse. I was elated to see Jinn and Jade back at work; they appeared to be testing some equipment.

“You look lovely, Ms. Jade, and your sister, Jinn, looks enchanting as always,” I said, and I thought Jinn blushed.

“Did you blush, Jinn?”

“Yeah, I felt like I should, and I want to appear less freakish to people. Being dead, I don’t show most of the body-language clues live people do. I’ve been working on this trick for some time. I have to thin and thicken the pigment layer I control just right, or the shading is wrong. I’ve experimented with multiple shades of pigments, but it’s tricky,” she explained.

“You were most convincing, and I thank you for the effort to make me more comfortable in your presence.” I looked around, we were alone. “Ladies, how’s Jann?” I whispered.

They looked around and Jade spoke.

“She’s fine and working with us today, but *undercover*. She says thanks for not... you know,” said Jade.

“My pleasure, ladies, I try to respect peoples confidences. What were you *two* doing earlier? It seemed like a radio check to me. ”

“It was a test. These are loaners until our new radios come. They will be similar in design, but with greater range and other advances,” Jinn answered.

“Where’s your ear bud?” I asked after looking in Jade’s ears and not seeing any device.

“I’m not using an ear bud radio anymore. This is a sub-space dermal patch radio, and it’s located just behind my ear. I’ve had them before, but they had serious limitations. These loaners are cheaper to make and are more powerful than the ones I used last fall. They are still are easy to lose and have a limited range, regrettably. The new ones I’m getting use body heat to generate power and keep their storage cell continuously charged. Having more power available allows for greater range for my unit. Jinn can’t produce body heat but she can use friction and her TK on a piezoelectric device to recharge her patch radio. Bunny hopes to tinker with the smart-camo of the patch and have it function as a solar cell. In a few days I’ll get small unit that contains dedicated molecular machines that can build a new radio in hours, given the right nutrients,” she said.

“The way you said that confuses me, Jade; are these are manufactured or grown?” I asked.

“Both, sort of; my friend Bunny made these, but they are too expensive for everyday use. The radio Jinn lost was an older one, based on a modified in-the-ear hearing-aid body -- cheap to build and much more affordable for me. This new system cost lots more at first but the nutrients are cheap so additional radios cost little. I love my friends in Team Kimba, but I want to pay my own way,” she said.

“So you have a self-reliant streak then. That is commendable, Jade, but don’t turn down help when offered. I was alone when I came here, and the friends I’ve made mean everything to me. I’d be lost without their help,” I said.

“You ... you needed help? But you're ... 49 and rich,” she whispered the last bit.

“I was a man ten months ago, then -- POW! -- I was like this when I woke, and I’m still getting used to all the changes. My friends in MSG, my friends in Iowa, and my new friends here made all the difference,” I explained.

“The Madison Supers Group, they’re one of a couple up-and-coming supers groups from the Midwest, them and the St. Louis Six. I believe several Whateley graduates are members, Joanie, and yourself … eventually!” she said and giggled.

“My friend Dairy Maid, and my personal physician Dr. Sara Grobschmidt-Taylor, lovely ladies both, are Whateley alumna and members of MSG. Sara is one of my self-appointed moms,” I added.

“Whereas Babs Williams is your mother-in-law, or she will soon be -- I overheard some of your band members speaking at the farm. Don’t worry; I won’t tell, I promise, Joanie. I think it’s so romantic you having a boyfriend and the two of you having to wait until it’s acceptable to be lovers. It’s like a plot out of an old movie or a great Anime. I’d love to have a boyfriend and... when I’m older,” Jade said, the pain and hope in her voice unmistakable.

“Someday, Jade. With all the technology we test here, plus the medical and magic experts, I’m certain. When that day comes, please let me know. I’d like to be among the first to congratulate you. You’ll be an exquisite woman, Jade, like an intricate carving in your namesake. You’ll be one-of-a-kind and a precious thing,” I said and curtsied. “Sorry, I’m not up on Oriental etiquette.”

“That wasn’t Imperial court manners, but the respect intended was clear. I think I will tell you about what I’ve tried to fix my ... condition. It would help to unburden myself.” She looked around. “I have this boy who likes me. He knows the truth, but has been real sweet. I, um, he knew me when I was a real girl and...” she smiled then fought back her tears.

“Whatever it was that fixed you, wore off. I’m sorry; I bet you were lovely.” She smiled and her sniffles eased. “You tell me some time, you hear? I’m willing to listen when and wherever, Jade, except this weekend. I’m escorting two of my friends to see their mom back home. Then, I’m visiting Iowa before I return,” I said.

“Joanie and Eric sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” Jinn sang and snickered.

“I’d kill you for that, but you’re already dead,” I snarled then giggled. “Jade, I look forward to hearing your story. Remember to send me the bill for the radios, makeup, soap, shampoo and replacement clothing I mentioned yesterday. I’ll figure a way to pay Jann for her time that won’t expose her,” I added.

“I will, I will,” she said, and I walked away felling happy for the girl-to-be.

* * * *

“Joanie! Over here, please,” called Morrie. Stan, Fran and several of the TOH people were waiting by a portable table.

“What do you want?”

“We have a preliminary design for the new farmhouse; Fran worked overtime on it,” Morrie said.

“She was a woman obsessed, Joanie. I helped where I could, but she didn’t need much. She is remarkably good for a novice with little training. Fran is a natural at design. We simply pointed out potential problems and suggested work-a-rounds,” Tom Silva said and gave Fran a bow.

Fran looked embarrassed at the attention but recovered quickly.

“Joanie, these are just the 2D blueprints. I have a holographic walk-through processing as we speak. This will give you a rough idea. Internally, it’s laid out like a Usonian, but the exterior and roof look enough like a 1900’s Federalist style farmhouse to fit in with the local esthetic. It’s a semi-open plan but with plenty of storage and small privacy nooks. Adding a pitched roof to the structure adds lots of storage space to the core Usonian structure and the option of placing some of the mechanicals in the attic as opposed to the basement. The attached garage looks like a kitchen wing to the casual eye.

“Don’t believe all that flattery. I got a lot of help from Tom and the staff in Operations. They made sure the design is safe and practical” Fran explained.

A barrel-chested man spoke next, “I am impressed with your attention to detail, Fran; these plans are well thought out for an early draft. I’ve seen finished plans not near as detailed. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Richard Trethewey, I’m the plumbing and HVAC expert on the show.”

“Ah yes, plumbing, the trade most responsible for big cost overruns and forcing changes in the framing,” added Mr. Siva.

“Hey, I resemble that remark. That’s why it pays to get things right early on, as a lot of costly mistakes can be avoided by careful planning. I hear Ms. Barnes is devising a 3D holographic model?” he finished.

“A full-scale walk-through model of each floor complete with where all the mechanicals and utilities run. The model will highlight areas of concern, whether due to excessive stresses or conflicting utilities. I’m so lucky the staff in Operations is helping me use the program,” Fran said, unperturbed by the camera and TV personalities.

A far younger, curly haired man spoke next, “I’m Kevin O'Connor, the host of the show. I was concerned when the production schedule was changed at the last minute, but I must say these will be fun projects. I’ve seen 3D mockups and computer models before, but a walk-through?” he asked.

“It’s based on technology the military uses in their simulators. With the right mix of force generators we could literally walk through the whole house, stairs and all. Being the Academy, we’ll do better,” she said proudly.

“You’re kidding, of course? “ Mr. O’Conner asked.

“With this school, I’d believe her. By Academy standards, my *special* abilities are rather average,” I replied.

* * * *

I left them to work things out, and went back to campus to meet Charlie Lodgeman for a ‘research trip’ I’d postponed long enough. This was one of the magic hot spots Dr. Tenent recommended we scout prior to my actual summer seminar time trips.

“Something happened here on the future grounds of Whateley nearly one -hundred and fifty years ago. A powerful source of magic, possibly a demon, is confined in a mystic tomb on the edge of campus. The wards are so strong and skillfully prepared; we have had little success in identifying what was buried, or precisely where, but buried it was. Given how well our various Operations ‘research trips’ went, I think we make a good team.

"Joanie, I notice your magic aura is stronger than when we last traveled. It’s not so strong I can’t mask it, but it will take some effort this time. You are getting help with that from Dr. Tenent, right?” he asked.

“Yes, she thinks I could become a sorceress with training. That’s great if it happens, though I’d be satisfied not being a menace to my friends or myself. Charlie, I thought to be a witch or Sorceress you had to be one with the magic to be part of it?”

“Not necessarily. You don’t have to be filled with magic to manipulate it though spells and potions. The most powerful mages and Sorceresses can access magic from within themselves and from their surroundings. Many magic users store magic in talismans for release later. Your warper field’s odd interactions with magic make the shell or aura of magic surrounding you your own self-contained talisman.

* * * *

We left to change into period clothing, so if we were spotted we wouldn’t seem out of place. As this was prior to the beginnings of Whateley there would be no convenient rooftops to set up on. We picked a large rock outcropping -- big enough to stand on -- and we traveled back in time on top of it. The age of the trees around the rock indicated we would be well screened on arrival at out destination in time.

* * * *

November 01, 1857, 4:30PM

* * * *

“Charlie, this should be an hour before the entombment of the magic object at sunset. That’s what you wanted right? By the way, nice hat,” I said and giggled.

“Don’t laugh at the hat; the broad brim will help keep me dry. This is perfect, Joanie. We’ll set up our observation blind over here. It provides a good view of the open grave site and of the area of woods the magic was confined in. I’m sorry about the rain; at least these oilskins will keep us reasonably dry. Remember, we collect our data, triangulating the positions with landmarks surviving to our time then travel back, no sightseeing or heroics, Wonder Woman,” Charlie said.

“I am not Wonder Woman, and that name is trademarked. Though I must admit the rope and boots are sort of kinky, ooh,” I replied and snickered, though with a significant sensual tone to it.

“Will you be alright, Joanie?”

“No problems. It’s not that far back in time or duration relative to my abilities. It’s for a few hours tops and I... Lovely, I didn’t decompress beforehand; I knew I forgot something. I’ll be okay, Charlie, horny but okay,” I replied.

This was not good, but from the first Operations trip I knew I could handle it. A wagon and team of horses drove across the open field to the grave site, and several burly men manhandled a pair of caskets to the ground. They placed ropes and boards across the hole and slid the caskets on top. Sturdy stakes driven into the earth with a couple turns of rope wrapped around them would serve as crude capstans to lower the caskets safely into the graves. Soon a group of mourners arrived, dressed in the mournful black that Victorian custom demanded. Between the cold rain, the leafless trees of November and the mourners, I felt a great sadness.

“Charlie, is it just me, or is there something odd here? I feel so sad, like I was witness to a tragedy,” I asked quietly as Charlie recorded various data.

“Perhaps your empathic gift has kicked in, as I sense their sorrow as well. It’s difficult to say with certainty, but from what records Dr. Tenent found, and what I can perceive, we are witnessing the burial of a young couple and their unborn child. The woman must have been quite special. The tall red-haired woman with the umbrella is a witch; she radiates power. The others appear to be servants of hers or of the dead couple, I’m not sure. The woman was a remarkable person; in death she retains a significant magic charge as does her never-born child. Whatever killed her was stealthy and cunning during the approach while swift and sure in the attack. If she’d been given the slightest chance, her magic would have been almost undefeatable. From the residual magic in the bodies she must have been dealt the fatal blow in her sleep and was unable to fight back. The other casket must be the husband as his aura bears traces of hers and visa-versa.

“Strange, the late woman’s aura is not unlike yours, Joanie. Was she a mutant or a male before becoming a sorceress? Sorry, pure speculation on my part, but there is a rule of magic that a change in gender often boosts one's affinity to magic. There is the tradition of shamans taking on a womanly appearance to better communicate with the gods,” he added.

We watched the short, sad graveside service. It reminded me uncomfortably of the day we buried my older sister. A last prayer was offered then the caskets were lowered and the mourners threw clods of earth into the graves as a last mark of respect. The gloom and sadness of the occasion kept me from noticing how aroused I had become. I was still functional and an intermittent movement I was seeing in the wet grass grabbed my attention.
~~There it is again!~~
I’d seen glimpses of a small animal off and on during the service, but what was it?

~~Is it a cat, no. Maybe it’s a ferret? Not really. How about a long-haired dwarf otter? I’m grasping at straws, I don’t think there is such an animal; so what is it?~~

“What is that animal, Charlie?” I asked, my voice soft and sensual.

"The dead woman’s familiar is my guess,” he replied.

“You mean like a witch’s cat?” I asked in a voice that would make the Pope break his vows. I was a little wound up and knew it. Charlie remained calm and collected.

“Precisely, the animal is full of magic, more than I would expect. She seems familiar ... maybe?” he wondered but said no more.

The group broke up, and the tall red-head held out an ornate box and walked towards the woods. The odd animal followed her, loping along to keep up. The rays of the sun were fading as sunset approached. On the edge of the woods a well conceal stone contained a small tomb. The witch placed the carved box inside the stone, then she released a spell, Charlie carefully noting what he could of the object’s nature and of the spells used. The glyph-covered stone sealed itself and sunk into the ground, grass quickly covering the spot until it looked like it had never been disturbed. We noticed the witch look around, say a brief prayer then walk off to the west as the last rays of the fall sun broke though the rain heavy clouds

“Hold still, Joanie; the familiar has sensed us.”

The animal moved back-and-forth downwind from us, trying to pinpoint us by our scent I suspected. I was finding it hard to stay focused; I was far more aroused than I should have been, ~~ But why?~~

“Are we done, Charlie,” I whispered my voice husky. “I can’t hold on much longer, sorry, ooh!”

“He looked at me and smiled,” Not long, I’m finishing now,” he said.

The familiar was closing in on us. It must have *locked-in* on our position.

“Hurry!” I said on the edge of losing it.

The animal was close and could see us clearly.

~~ I think I’ve seen it on several of my previous trips to Whateley’s history. That animal looks strangely familiar... No, from what Charlie said that is a *familiar* that looks familiar to me... that is... no, it can’t be…~~

“Done. We can go now,” Mr. Lodgeman interrupted my thoughts.

I felt for that sensation, and the scene faded from view.

“Miki?” I gasped on our return, then other matters took center stage.

* * * *

May 03, 2007, again

I don’t recall how I got to that ladies room, though I believe Charlie when he says he carried me there. Apparently, I was awfully friendly during the short trip from the woods to the nearest suitable building.

“Charlie, I don’t remember much after we came back. I didn’t do or say anything I need to apologize for, do I?”

He declined to say how friendly, but I did notice him blush when I asked him. He was the perfect gentleman as always, and I soon was my normal self, more or less.

“Are you near your time, Joanie? You reacted far more than expected.”

“Sorry about the nymph-out... I wasn’t myself, or at least my in-control self. By the calendar I’m near ovulation, but nowhere near my peak sexual desire. Was it something or someone at the burial that affected me?”

“It is possible, Joanie. The witch and familiar were powerfully charged with magic and some of that could have affected you. The other attendants and the bodies had some magical charge as well That ornate carved box, the source of the magic Dr. Tenent was concerned about, was leaking small amounts of dangerous energies. The creature contained within was struggling against its wards. Manipulating pleasure and pain is a common tactic demonic spirits use to corrupt their minions. You were fine; my shielding of your aura should have disrupted any attempt to harm you. Given your side-effect, it wouldn’t take much stimulus of any kind to put you over the edge, and I am a ruggedly handsome man,” he said and grinned.

“Deres’ always somebody tryin' ta break inta de act!”

“Jimmy Durante? No way, Joanie, you don’t have the nose for it,” Mr. Lodgeman said.

“What if I substituted these?” I asked, innocently pushing up my breasts.

Charlie took a look then started to snicker. I think he was blushing again. He broke his gaze, eventually.

“Goodnight, Mrs. Calabash, wherever you are,” he said and walked away quickly, though his gate seemed odd.

“Joanie, seducing a member of the board, have you gone nuts?” I muttered to myself.

* * * *

I spent the rest of the day in classes, or in laying out what I needed for the trip then cutting that down by two-thirds. I managed to stop by the farm and confirmed the cleanup was well underway. I would have to pick a design for the new farmhouse soon. I wished the workers well and took off for band practice and supper.

After an abbreviated practice, I begged off, claiming I was tired, which was true to an extent. The ‘research trip’ had taken a lot out of me, particularly the side effect. I didn’t want to admit it, but I remained more aroused than normal and needed to wind down. That was why I called Iowa, something I knew would not calm me at all. I had to hear *his* voice.

“Terrace Hill, how ...”

“Hi Tamara, it’s Joanie calling. Are Babs, Mel, or Eric around?”

“Ms. Brown, I’m surprised to hear from you — you usually call on Friday evenings -- but it’s a delight as always. The children are off with their friends, however Ms. Johnson is in,” the receptionist/security officer said.

“Tamara, I said call me Joanie, and I’m confident Babs doesn’t like you calling her Ms. Johnson,” I said.

“Sorry, it’s the way I was raised, Joanie, Just a moment, I’ll put you on hold while I get Ms. Jo… Babs on the line.”

There was a soft click, and Babs spoke.

”Great to hear from you, Joanie, is something wrong? I wouldn’t have expected you to call until Friday,” Babs asked. “And thank you for taking time to talk with me when I need it; it helps me more than I can say, Sis,” she said. I thought I heard a soft cry from her.

I had spoken with her a few times on the phone in recent weeks, often as part of my weekly calls to Eric.

“You, like, ’K’, Sis?’ I asked in Val speak.

“I’m fine, just it got to me for a moment -- how much you mean to us,” Babs said cheerfully.

“I won’t be calling Friday as I’ll be in Madison with the Smith twins and their mom. Then I fly on to Iowa. I miss you all, and we need to talk,” I said.

“Ooh, mysterious are we, Joanie?” Babs cooed back.

“It’s not all bad, but it is important, Babs,” I said laughing a little.

“I’m dying to know, please give me a hint at least, huh?”

“So this is where Mel got the kitten-in-the-rain/puppy dog eyes bit from and you’re doing it with your voice alone?”

“I was an only child, and,” her voice suddenly sounded much younger, “I had no mommy and please I need a new dress so bad, Daddy, -- sniff --,” Babs said like a pouting adolescent.

“That is scary; do you ever use it on Bob?”

“Rarely, Joanie, I save it for big things. It got him to accept my proposal.”

“Huh?”

“He wanted to wait, and no, it wasn’t like he wanted us to live together for six months or something like that. I knew what I wanted within hours of meeting Bob, and I wasn’t going to let him slip away. The fact we were doing *the deed* when I asked him to marry me was a low dirty trick, I admit. It took a few months to get the wedding set; even I couldn’t speed up that process. As Daddy’s little girl, I just had to have the best and there was no convincing him otherwise. We were married on the US Senate floor. I’m not kidding, Joanie.”

“That explains why Eric was born full size and *premature*. This revelation is most upsetting, Babs. You were manipulative, underhanded and took unfair advantage of someone while under they were under duress, namely sex. I’m impressed,” I said and giggled.

“What do we need to talk about?”

“It’s Eric and I. I love him dearly -- too much, I think. I’d like to talk things over with the family to see where we go from here,” I explained.

“I thought you two were infatuated, but it was in the kissing and hugging stage -- fun, but innocent,” she said.

“For the most part it is, but I’m concerned for the future. I want to see where we are and decide what’s next,” I said.

“Why are you so serious, Joanie?” she asked.

“Ask Eric about our Friday night calls for one,” I said.

“I’ve overheard parts of them, they are pretty tame,” Babs answered.

“I don’t know about Eric, but I get all wound up from them. Maybe it’s his voice, maybe it’s my imagination, but wow!”

“That’s fantasy; it’s not a big problem, if that’s all there is,” she replied.

“Ask Eric about Easter evening; what happened scared me,” I said.

“You woke up in each other arms after falling asleep on the couch, big deal. I saw you when I went to bed. You looked so contented together, like living Hummel figurines,” Babs replied.

“Did Eric tell you where our hands were when Pinky woke us? It was purely accidental, but looking back it worries me,” I explained.

“He said you both unconsciously put your hands on places you shouldn’t, unless your adults. Nothing came of it, and Eric and I did talk about it. If I couldn’t trust you two, you wouldn’t have stopped at that.”

“I’d still like to talk it over, maybe set formal guide rules? Knowing our limits could help. Things like no cuddling unless another is present seems obvious for one,” I suggested. I could hear noises in the background.

“That sounds sensible.” Her voice got serious, “Don’t think because I don’t seem outwardly concerned I’m not. I do check up on my children and their friends. I have to, I’m a mommy,” she said then snickered. “They’re back, I can hear Mel and Eric.”

“Mel, Eric, someone’s on the phone; do you want to talk?” Babs called out.

“Talk? Talk with who, Mom?” I heard Eric call out.

“You want to talk?” she asked me.

“Did you have to even ask me?” I countered.

“You’ll find out, my children,” Babs teased Eric and Mel. This conversation was getting confusing. I heard someone pick up an extension.

“Hello? Mom says you wanted to talk with my sister and me?” Eric asked. I felt my face flush.

“Thought I’d call you early as I’m out of town this weekend,’ I said.

“Joanie! Of course I’ll talk with you ... Okay, if I let Mel talk first, I’ll pick up in my room when she’s done. She was your friend first,” he said.

“Trying to act all noble are we, Eric?”

“Mel will pester me if I don’t. Ow! Stop that. I said you could talk first, Mel,” Eric said.

“Hi, Joanie. When can you come for a visit? I miss you, and so does Eric,”

“Wow, short sentences, Mel! Is that you or an impostor?” I asked and giggled.

“It’s me, Joanie. I’m trying to talk more mature. How can I be your best friend if I sound like a silly girl?”

“Mel, even at your run-on-sentence worst you were not silly. Enthusiastic, funny and sweet, yes, but you were never silly,” I said.

“Can you come some weekend? I know you plan to come in early June, but I have so much fun with you. Mom loves to talk with you and, well, Eric lives and breathes you; I’m not kidding,” Mel said.

~~All the more reason to get this romance under control.~~

“I’ll see if I can, Mel. May I talk with your brother? I have a busy day tomorrow.”

“Okay, I’ll go get him… Eric, it’s your turn,” she called out.

I heard a receiver being lifted off of its cradle.

“Joanie, Mel says we can talk now. Where are you going tomorrow? I’ll miss you,” Eric asked.

“A couple of my school friends need to see their mom; she’s in the hospital and I’m escorting them,” I said.

“Is their mom going to be okay?”

“She should be now. This to cheer them up,” I explained.

“That’s nice of you, Joanie, but then you have a habit of it,” he said.

“Eric, you get any more charming, and I’ll have to marry you,” I said and felt so elated.

How a boy, well a man-in-training, could affect me so thrills and frightens me.

~~I have to find a way to make this work.~~

I was shaken out of my introspection by a noise at the window.

“What are you doing peeping in my room, Miki?" I called out at a pair of eyes in the middle of twitching whiskers reflecting my room’s light back at me.

In the lights of campus, and the light from my room, the mongoose looked ethereal -- almost magical. The thought made me laugh. I went to the window to check on it, but it scampered off as I opened the sash. I saw Miki expertly negotiate a downspout and drop to the ground, where it looked up, chortled something and ran off.

“But then you are full of magic, furry one, aren’t you?” I asked rhetorically. I closed the window and picked up the phone.

“Joanie, are you okay? Who’s this Miki that was peering in your window?”

“She’s an itinerant familiar between gigs,” I joked.

“An itiner-what? You have me confused, Joanie.”

“Itinerant means someone who roams; a nomad, Eric. In this case it’s a familiar, like a witch’s cat. It seems to think I’m a sorceress,” I replied.

“A sorceress, why?” he sounded confused, but so was I.

“Because I maybe sorta might be one,” I said hesitantly.

“You’re a witch, Joanie?”

“Sorceress is more the feeling we're going for here. It means I might be able to manipulate magic with training. Somehow those weird warper fields around me trap passing magic and store it for a while. It’s not dangerous, and I don’t know if I can ever do anything useful with it, but it’s a possibility,” I explained.

“So long as you’re okay, I wouldn’t mind. Witches... I mean sorceresses get cool outfits to wear don’t they?” he asked.

“You mean the black cape, tight-fitting vest-jacket that shows off lots of breast, mini-skirt, mesh stockings and high-heeled boots? But I wear that sort of thing all the time, hon. Goodnight,” I said and hung up.

I am such a tease, and I need to slow down with the boy, but Ghod I don’t want to.~~

I slept feeling generally better, but concerned my feelings for Eric would lead to trouble for us both. I think my friends knew it, too, because George and Gracie spent most of the night curled up against me -- more so than usual.

* * * *

May 04, 2007

I was packed the night before and ready for the trip to Wisconsin and Iowa long before I left for my morning run. I’d gotten the go-ahead from Ms. Carson, and the charter jet was arranged for so all I had to do was tell the kids. We were at breakfast after our workout and a long cool shower; it was unusually warm for early May. After we’d all gotten our food and sat down to eat, I made an announcement.

“The band practice for this evening is canceled, as I’m going out of town for the weekend. You may wish to organize informal practices on your own. Pinky has my keys and can get you a practice room. Tom, Tina, pack enough clothes for a weekend. I have permission from Whateley for you to cut your afternoon classes. I’ve arranged for the teachers to get you notes and take-home assignments,” I said and snickered when I said take-home.

“Take-home?” Tina asked, and my grin threatened to sever my head. “You’re taking us to see Mom?” she squeaked, too excited to speak in a normal voice.

“We board a chartered jet this afternoon. You’ll be with your mother by supper time or sooner. We return Sunday afternoon, arriving just before dusk. I couldn’t tell you until today as it all depended on your mom’s condition and the weather,” I explained.

Tom and Tina ran to me, hugging and kissing me mercilessly. I could hardly breathe, but it felt good.

“Tom, could you get your hand off my breast? Not that I mind all that much, but Suzy might object?” I asked a bit breathless.

“I’m so sorry, Joanie,” Tom said. “It felt real nice though,” he whispered.

I had an inspiration and squeezed my own breast.

“Tom, you were right, that felt great,“ I said and snickered.

Suzy, along with the rest of my friends, walked over and gave Tina and Tom hugs and congratulations. When Suzy got to Tom, she looked about to slap his face, them she gave him a brief, but firm, kiss on the lips.

“You go cheer your mom up, Tom. I’m lucky I have both my parents and my... you know,” Suzy said and pointed at me. “You give her our love, and tell her we expect to see her here soon.”

“I’m not one of the Sabers, but I want to say I’m happy you’re both going to see your mom,” said Mystor in a calm and gentlemanly way.

Lonnie flashed him a 'thumbs up', and he smiled back at her. Lonnie must have coached him but he sounded sincere. Most of the gang left with me for the farm, while Tom and Tina started packing. I told them if they needed something bad, we had a little time to shop in Berlin for it. Pinky got the ride in the GT today. I chanced breaking the wards but did leave a treat behind to thank the mongoose who clearly wanted to be my friend.

* * * *

I had limited time, but did get a brief walk through of the holographic simulation. I agreed to the general plan, and left it for them to work out the details.

“Sorry to leave you in the lurch, but I have to go out of town for a few days. Any questions you have, Operations can answer or you can call me,” I said.

“You can always ask one of the Sabers or me. Joanie’s told us about her houses until our ears ache,” Pinky said and giggled.

“Who are the Sabers?” Tom Silva asked.

“It’s our band. Joanie keeps saying it’s our band not her band and she does try to be fair to all of us,” Pinky explained.

“A student band, that sound like fun,” said Mr. O'Connor

“It is, and Joanie insists we all get to sing and play lead,” Pinky explained.

“And you get class credit for it?” Mr. Silva asked.

“No, this is just for fun, but we get equal shares of any royalties. If we’re good, Joanie promised to let us record and release a CD. Our school is expensive, so any extra money we earn helps. That’s why we’re on her construction clean-up crew, Mr. Silva,” she finished.

“But why are you the Sabers?” Mr. Silva repeated.

“We’re named for Joanie’s kittens, they are soo cute!” Pinky answered.

“I love cats; can I meet them?” Mr. O’Conner asked.

“Maybe when I get back from my trip you can see my babies. George and Gracie are special, and I’m protective of them,” I added. “The farm projects are in part for their benefit. It’s not fair cooping them up in a crowded dorm room.”

“I’ve heard about that, I hear you’re living in a linen closet?” Mr. O’Conner asked.

“Hey, it’s a single and it used to be a linen closet. I have to go; I’ll see you all on Monday,” I said and walked to the GT.

I’d called the Ford dealership about the loan of a more practical vehicle the other day, and a couple of their employees were waiting by the GT.

“Bless you, you have a truck for me,” I said.

“The police package crew-cab is being built, but it will be a week or so until all the armor and custom items are installed. This is your loaner for the time being. Mr. Ford said to inform you this particular GT is at your disposal at anytime, though we’d like to display it when you don’t need it. It is one of a test run of the new model. There are only a dozen like it in the world,” a mechanic explained.

“A test model? It’s not a GT?” the number he’d mentioned went over my head.

“Not the old GT, no, this is the new model. It was for a touring display, not intended for sale -- built more to test the waters. Mr. Ford figures if we can advertise you drive one that will generate sufficient demand to justify full production. It will be an expensive car, very expensive. A thousand would be a big run for one year,” he explained.

“Um, how much is it worth? I mean, what would it sell for?” I asked.

“A quarter-million, add 75 thousand for the gravity-traction-boost or G-trak. That is the projected price for one if it goes into production. As a test model, its true cost is more like a few million, not counting development costs.”

That was the last thing I remembered until I woke in Pinky’s’ arms, my crew hanging around me.

“Take it easy, Joanie, you fainted -- again,” she said, looking concerned, but happy I was awake.

“You would too if you knew you’d been driving a 325 thousand dollar production prototype,” I said and Pinky wobbled. I turned and held her.

“You ladies okay?” Mr. O’Conner asked, as the other TOH people arrived at our sides.

“My friend just learned the loaner GT she’s been driving is a 325 thousand dollar production prototype,” Pinky said and grinned; I nodded my head.

---Thud---

“Mr. O’Conner?”

~~Good thing Pinky didn’t tell him it’s really worth a couple million.~~

* * * *

To be continued.

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Timeout_4_chapter_3_rev_9BC_JBC.doc	139.5 KB

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 4

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie finishes prepping for her trip. Suzy teases Joanie using powers copied from Pinky. Joanie and the smilodons meet Miki. That gets complicated after Joanie repeats a phrase three times. Joanie learns more about sorceresses and their familiars the hard way. She runs into a recovering Anna and May Lee. Joanie stops by Leeann and her cycle mechanic dad and flies to Madison to unite the Smiths. Dr Sara reads Joanie the riot act about Eric. A big rat scares the nurses then speaks to Joanie.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and anything else that comes to mind epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble) Wibble? Oh oh! … As I was saying, 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, 2005-2006.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content too, so be warned.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Words wrestled in lime Jell-o by Itinerant
Thanks to Grover for the use of and assistance with Miki.
Special thanks to Itinerant, Janet Nolan and Karen_J for their helpful criticism of several difficult scenes.
Final proofing by Janet Nolan of GEBPR. This chapter carries the Seal of Approval of the Guild of Evil Blonde Proofreaders, so “You know it has to be bad ®.”

Chapter 4, This Old Farm House -- Fran-o-rama 2, Hey Miki You're So Fine 3, First Christmas — Revisited, Welcome to Adulthood 5, You’ve Got Male

Whateley Academy Dunwich, May04, 2007

May 04, 2007

Mr. O’Conner recovered quickly from his case of *sticker-shock*.

“You okay, Mr. O’Conner?” I asked, as I knelt next to him and checked him for injuries.

He opened his eyes and quickly blushed. He was apologetic in the extreme. I thought it charming but confusing.

“Forgive me, I never intended ... it’s just the shock of how expensive your car was and when I woke I ... Forgive me for … You must think me a pig, Ms. Brown.”

~~Huh? He hasn’t done anythi....~~

Then it dawned on me what he’d been looking at when he woke. And he had gotten an eyeful in full, glorious Cinemascope or was it 3-D?

~~Must have been Cinemascope, ‘cause I’m a 40-D.~~

I redid a couple of the fashionably small -- but clearly not up to the task of restraining my assets -- buttons on my blouse and started giggling, or was it jiggling?

~~Cut that out, Joanie. Just tell the story.~~

“I’m the one who should apologize. No lingering *double vision* is there, Mr. O’Conner?”

“No, but if my wife sees this, I’m toast,” he replied, smiling.

I helped him up, and we resumed filming.

“Oh, the three hundred twenty five thousand is the predicted selling price if this model goes into production. This preproduction model cost between two and three million, not counting development costs. And if you dare faint, the next thing you will see is Harry Wolfe’s hairy chest, which is impressive but not the same,” I said quickly, and snickered.

“This is going to be a fun project ... Um, Joanie?”

“Yes?”

“The TV crew was telling me about ... the magazine and I wondered...”

“Another pervert -- can’t a girl have a few photos taken without guys drooling all over themselves? Excuse me a moment, Mr. O’Conner.” I turned and called out so the entire work site could hear me. “Attention, your attention please, hands up all of you who are interested in seeing my naked body,” I shouted. They all raised their hands, including the busy camera and sound crew. “Pinky, and this is too much, Suzy, not you, too?”

“It’s important to understand the competition? I mean, I have my boyfriend to consider,” she replied. Then she and Pinky laughed.

Suzy came over and whispered in my ear. ”I’ve been practicing my mimic abilities and Pinky let me copy her powers. We *talked* telepathically, and that’s why we raised our hands. Pinky figured you’d get a laugh out of it. Remember, you promised, I get to copy yours someday, Auntie,” she finished and grinned.

~~The minxes set me up, and on short notice too. That’s a relief.~~ I thought, then turned back to face Mr. O’Conner.

"Okay, you get your autographed copy, but after today’s *preview* I should ask you to donate to the Academy.”

“Absolutely! I will, and so will the crew,” he pointed at them, and they all nodded. “And well worth it, I might add,” he said, and we both snickered.

We filmed some additional material, then I drove back to campus in my loaner crew cab.

* * * *

“They are letting you keep the preproduction GT? That is so kewl, I meant cool,” Pinky said, and she bounced a few times.

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you spend so much time with Mel this Easter weekend. The sports car is mine whenever I want. In return they wish to display it when I’m not using it and they want to do some ads with me driving. You’ve seen the sort of thing before, Pinky. The wind in my hair, a smile on my face,” then I got an attack of the sillies, “and like my boobies all jiggly in a totally bitchin’ crop-top and me, ah, blowing kissies at the camera. I’m so totally not happy with this, you know. They treat me like I’m some dumb, ah, um, blonde, that’s it, like, you know, whatever,” I did in my increasingly convincing Val speak. I do it so effortlessly, I’m beginning to worry.

“Joanie, stop it! Your mind could get stuck like that, and I’d have to help you put your shoes and socks on in the right order,” she said and snickered.

“I knew I should never have let you borrow my collection of MAD Magazine on CD. You were reading The Planet that went Ape, weren’t you?” I asked.

“Yeah, but that James Bomb spoof -- the scene from their version of Goldfinger with the laser cutting up between his -- I laughed until I started peeing,” Pinky said and snickered.

“I’ll bet you were laughing, ‘and in a very high voice, too,’ Pinky.” She laughed so hard she was crying.

~~ I have never seen her that happy -- it's about time, child.~~

“Pinky, you have the duplicate keys for my room and the King Annex?” I asked after she calmed down and her blush faded.

“On this rawhide boot lace around my neck, Joanie, see? I’ll be real careful not to lose them. Thanks for trusting me to take care of George and Gracie. I’ll make sure they get lots of exercise and clean water and stuff. Suzy said she’d help too. Oh, Jenny, um, Steel Lotus says she’ll check on them just before she goes to bed and right after she wakes so I don’t have to do all the work feeding and cleaning their box. Her roomie is a student maid for Poe, so she has keys to get Jenny in your room.

“You girls have this all worked out, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean yes, Joanie. We’re all meeting to run at 7 o’clock both days and we scheduled a band practice for Saturday at 4 in the afternoon. Sunday we’re having a group study in the library starting at ten o’clock. After that we’ll drag our boyfriends to your room, get drunk, take illicit drugs and have group sex,” Pinkie said, and I rolled my eyes.

“That is so wrong. Shame on you, girl, not inviting me,” I said and pulled to the side of the road, I was laughing so hard.

“We’ll be good, promise,” Pinky said, smiling.

“Take lots of pictures of the orgy, otherwise you won’t know who to send thank you notes to, my little debutante,” I said, and broke up yet again.

* * * *

Classes crawled by in a fog the rest of the morning. My mind was not on my studies. ~~That’s a strange expression. Now I can’t get the image out of my mind of all those courses crawling around in the fog. ‘Oh look, there goes Algebra 201, nice asymptote.’~~ I was in a strange mood all morning. I had trouble paying attention, but managed to get through my classes intact. I ate an early lunch, then left a list of emergency numbers and contacts with Pinky, who had the next lunch. Tom and Tina agreed to meet me by my truck at one o’clock, so I gave the smilodons a quick run outside. I wouldn’t see them for several days, and I owed it to them as their *mommy*. They behaved at first, until the wind shifted and they caught a scent. They froze, then George tore off so fast his leash ripped out of my hand and I nearly fell.

“George! Stay! Heel!” I called out.

He obeyed for a moment, then whatever it was got him going again.

“George, HEEL!” I shouted.

George stopped at the base of a large tree and looked up longingly. Gracie was better behaved, but she was soon staring up that tree, though from a different vantage.

“Have you treed a squirrel, George?” I asked facetiously, while I got a solid grip on both leashes.

“Don’t worry little one, George and Gracie won’t hurt ...”

I stopped in mid-sentence. I saw a familiar face, her whiskers twitching, peer from around the back of the tree some 25 feet up.

“I’m sorry, Miss Miki. My kitties were naughty. George, Gracie, heel, stay!” I said in a firm, but soft, voice.

They moved to my side and sat in a perfect stay, though their eyes and ears were tracking Miki. I sat down next to my smilodons.

“Down, stay!” I said and they lay down on either side of me, their senses still zeroed in on Miki. “Good smilies,” I said, and gave them each a treat and an ear scratch.

“It’s okay, Miki,” I said, but I backed that with a firm grip on their leashes.

I tossed a treat her way. It was one of those lion-cub chow kibbles I’d coated with anchovy paste and then dried. It landed near the trunk of her tree, but a bit to the side as I made a chucking/clucking sound. That’s what I’d call it; I’m not sure what the technical name is. It’s the sound people use to call squirrels to them to give them peanuts. Miki came down slowly, stopping several times to check on my cats. She hopped down the last few feet, grabbed the treat and scampered back to the first large branch some 15 feet up. I gave each of my smilodons a treat and rubbed the side of my face against theirs. Miki sniffed the treat, then ate it eagerly. I made that chuck-cluck sound again and tossed several treats, each progressively further from the tree trunk.

~~Yum, yum, anchovy frosted cat food, though some of those snack-mixes with the baked-on Worcestershire sauce can’t be that different. Maybe I should try one ... Ah, maybe not.~~

The mongoose looked at me, and I thought it nodded its head in approval, but then everything I knew about this animal was strange. She -- I assumed it was a she from what I’d been told of the legend -- came steadily towards the treats, eyeing George and Gracie, who had their *radar locked*. I spoke calmly to my cats and to Miki, trying not to spook any of them. When she bent to pick the first treat George tensed but a quick, “George, stay,” calmed him.

Miki scampered back to the tree and ate her treat by the trunk. It was odd, but I sensed she was intensely happy despite her wariness of my smilodons. She returned for a second treat and only retreated part way. George and Gracie stayed still; if anything they were gradually relaxing, so they got treats as a reward.

~~I’ll need to make more treats soon, they sure do the trick. I realize Miki is a mongoose and not a person, but I swear she is about to dance for joy or whatever mongooses do when they are happy. This is getting weirder by the minute.~~

Miki came for the closest treat; she was within ten feet of us. George and Gracie watched intently, but without seeming ready to attack. If anything, my *cats* relaxed further. Miki sat up on her haunches and ate almost daintily. She deftly cleaned her fur after, clearly a fastidious animal with regard to her grooming. Pinky and I gave the smilodons daily brushings. My *kittens* groomed themselves and each other frequently, yet their fur was not near as lustrous as Miki's. The mongoose’s coat seemed to glow in some indefinable way to my eyes but then Miki was no ordinary animal.

~~I must be nuts but George and Gracie are acting like Miki is off the menu, not a threat and maybe even family. Don’t tell me *I* sent them an empathic message like Pinky does? I don’t think I did, did I? I don’t even know how.~~

I was feeling good over how well this was going, and I got bold. I gave my kitties each a treat then held a treat in the tips of my thumb and index finger.

I made that silly noise again and said softly, ”Miki, treat; I won’t bite.” I held very still.

She moved towards me, stopped, stood up on her haunches again and did a slow, deep, formal bow, like a visiting dignitary would give to a monarch. It seemed to go for some length of time, and she started making a series of soft noises that had a repeating pattern to them. It was hypnotic; I was fascinated by her action. I found myself mimicking her motions and sounds. I found this activity increasingly pleasant, almost enthralling. I felt calm and safe as my mind tried to make sense of it.

~~It's as if she is saying a formal greeting ... No, it’s more like a prayer or a chant. This is mondo weird, but I’m stumped for another explanation.~~

“My, you’re a polite soul. I'd love to be your friend, Miki. Treat?” I said softly. I tossed two of the last treats to my cats with my free hand. I focused on Miki, and I vaguely remember saying “Yes, I agree, I agree, I agree.” I had a sense that something wonderful would happen, but only if I agreed. Miki came forward, touched the treat, there was this tingle, her paws touched my hand and ...

* * * *

It’s difficult to recall with clarity, but I remember a brilliant light and this tsunami of sensations. They were all mixed up like I was smelling colors, hearing odors, seeing sounds, tasting textures -- it was right out of a 60’s drug *trip*. I admit I’d had a large coffee that morning, but nothing else, I swear! Well, I did put a few ounces of skim milk in it but no sugar. Okay, one packet. I’m weak, so sue me. Through it all, despite my disorientation, I got this feeling of unconditional love, respect and immense relief. It was as if a terrible ordeal was over, and somehow I was responsible for ending it.

I felt someone shaking me and saying something, but it was all garbled. Slowly I thought I could make out bits of it. Though I knew something was wrong, I wasn’t concerned; I was in ecstasy. The last time I’d felt this good was when I’d fantasized about Eric and I doing, you know, it, while I, um ... practiced. I’m sorry if it upsets you dear d/j/w readers but it’s all I *can* do with Eric until he reaches the age of consent. I imagine ... no, I know he fantasizes about me as well, he’s admitted it recently. Eric was all upset when he told me, like he thought it was wrong. He was afraid I’d be upset.

“Eric, if we did it physically it would be wrong both legally and ethically. However, your imagination is yours to do with as you please. That you think of me pleases me no end, dear. Your selecting me as the woman of your dreams is an honor, Eric. You could have pursued any of your classmates, but you chose me, a girl you knew you could not have until you were much older. I wish we could be intimate, but it’s not right or legal to do so at your age. Be patient, and it will work out. I promise you will not be disappointed when the time comes. Exhausted, yes, sore, yes, your ears ringing from my exuberant screams, yes, but disappointed, never,” I remembered telling him and feeling very naughty at the time.

~~Freud would have a field day with Eric and I. He could have written chapters about our relationship. Be honest, Girl, he could have written a book on you alone.~~

Someone continued to shake and call to me; gradually I rejoined the living.

“... What’s wrong with you....? Wake up, plea ... JOANIE, are ... okay?’ Pinky shouted at me. It sounded like a distant radio station with every few words dropping out.

“Wha -- huh? Why you shouting?” I managed to say.

My head felt like I had cotton jammed up there. My thoughts were sluggish and difficult to hold on to. I tried to sit up, but gave up on that fool idea as I was very dizzy.

“Pinky, stop ... world from spinning,” I said, and she slowly raised me to a sitting position where, to my surprise, I felt better.

“What happened? I was walking past, and I saw you collapse. I ran to you, and a strange animal shook itself and ran away. It’s watching us from up in a tree now. Were you attacked by a rabid animal, ‘cause it sure ran funny, like it was dizzy or sick? I was so scared, but I managed to run to the nearest emergency box and call Security. We’d have got you trained help sooner, but George and Gracie would let no one near you except for me. The EMTs were about to shoot them with a trank rifle when I got the kitties to relax,” she explained, worry in her voice.

~~They wanted to use a trank rifle on my babies? Somebody is going to get an earful from me — poor kitties.~~

The EMTs checked me out thoroughly though it was not easy. George and Gracie were growling and hissing whenever the EMTs got too close to me. They were seriously unhappy with anyone getting near to their stricken *mommy*. They’d grown since I’d rescued them, to 25 and 22 pounds respectively. In most ways the sibling smilodons were still kittens, cute as could be, but powerful and intimidating to the unfamiliar. Pinky calmed my nervous smilodons and with her help the EMTs got me to medical.

* * * *

They poked and prodded and drew blood samples, yuck! I felt better quickly; whatever had affected me was wearing off.

~~Go, regen, go!~~

I did notice a few of the staff and students were blurry around the edges, like the turbulence of their body pushing the air aside as they walked was faintly visible to me. I said as much to Dr. Tenet when she was called.

“Dr. Tenet, why are you glowing like that? It’s hard on the eyes, it’s so bright. Were you doing a magic experiment that went wrong?”

“Glowing? You see me glowing? Describe what you see, please; this is important,” she asked, looking concerned but pleased.

I described what I saw, then she had me describe what led up to my seizure. She got out several crystals; I recognized a few from when Lonnie scanned the wards around the GT. One crystal glowed intensely bright as she brought it near, particularly on one side of me. When she did that, I thought I saw a faint line extending from my body out of the examination room. She handed several crystals to me; a couple glowed faintly, and one of them began pulsing slowly. I thought one of them glowed brighter the longer I held it. She looked at me, confused but relieved.

“Eh, what’s up, Doc?”

You can guess the voice I used. Hey, it worked for Mel Blanc after his near fatal car crash.

“Joanie, stop that!” Dr. Tenent said and laughed. “What the tests and my own senses tell me is you bonded with a familiar. Almost certainly Miki from the unusual *signature* of the link between you and your descriptions of what happened,” she said smiling.

“Link? And what’s with the funny stuff I’ve been seeing. You’re still glowing you know,” I said. It was fainter, but I *knew* she was glowing like a nightlight. Then I saw myself in a mirror. I raised my hand, and I saw the same thing.

Wait a minute, I’m glowing. This is too Twilight Zone for me.~~

“Joanie, I’m smiling because you’re a bit like me; you’re a sorceress. Not necessarily a powerful one, not even a typical one; you are decidedly one-of-a-kind. The *funny stuff*, as you put it, consists of magic auras and a type of ley line that connects you with your familiar. With a familiar you don’t need to worry about trapping excess magic in those odd warper fields of yours. She’ll act as your safety-valve,” she explained.

I told her that I could see myself glowing, and that her glow wasn’t so bright anymore.

“That’s likely your senses adjusting to *seeing* magic. I was so bright before because your newly awakened senses were overly sensitive.

“What do I do now?”

“See me when you come back from your trip. It won’t do you or your familiar harm to be apart, though you may sense each other's emotions at times. It will be strange until you get used to it. Let Miki make the first move, she’s the expert in this. Don’t worry about how to communicate, your familiar will find a way. Familiars often communicate via empathy and telepathy though sometimes they can speak. The bond and the magic make this possible. A familiar may appear to be *just* an animal, but it is far more.

“The bond appears much as I expected it would be. You are linked close enough to sense each other’s feelings but in an indirect fashion with your warper field as a buffer of sorts. Your description of how you felt while out of it confirms the empathic/telepathic connection. The crystal scans show a strong bond between Miki and your aura with a weaker one between you and Miki directly. That link is why you can sense some magic, and it may let you use magic with training. You could eventually do useful magic, or you might never be much better than a stage magician. How strong the link becomes depends on you and Miki, but you are not so tightly bound that the death of one would endanger the other. That you can see me glowing is proof you can sense magic, dear.”

“What of Miki, and the regulations prohibiting importation of mongoose to the US? Ms. Hartford has ordered her *removal*. Is spending time with me as my familiar putting Miki at risk?” I wiped a tear from my eye involuntarily.

“You are upset, aren’t you? Brave Joanie, the mutant super, scared for the life of a small furry animal. That explains your smilodons,” she said and smiled at me. “I’ll help with the paperwork -- as a sorceress’s familiar, Miki is protected from that law. Also she was here long before the law was drafted so she could be grandfathered in, exempt in other words. I’ll get you a temporary card, signed by Circe and myself, which should protect her. Keep it with you at all times. You may need to get her a small harness or collar for identification purposes and to obey leash laws -- not that a familiar will stray,” she said.

Dr. Tenent excused her self and left the room. If there is one thing I love more than anything else, it’s waiting around doing nothing. You believe me, don’t you? Okay, I got bored, fast. I’m allowed to, I’m a teenager; my body certainly is. As to my mind, the jury is out. Before anyone thinks of saying my mind is out-to-lunch, be advised. Under such circumstances I am not responsible for my actions.

As I was saying, I spent some time examining myself and the room. I noticed some objects *glowed* to my senses. They were mostly objects I recognized as some of Dr. Tenent’s mystical *tools*. Most objects looked the same to me before and after my *bonding* with Miki. To my senses I still was lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree, colors swirled around me in fascinating patterns. I noted one color predominated over all others, though I can’t find the proper words to describe it. It was definitely a female color: I am sure of that. If I concentrated I could *see* a thread, for want of a better word, connecting me to something beyond the room.

~~Must be part of my bond with Miki. I think … no, I *know* there is intelligence on the other end of this *thread*. Weird, but it was to be expected given how today has gone. Cummon Fate, bring it on! Weird comes in threes doesn’t it?~~

After an hour or so — really 20 minutes, it just seemed longer — Dr. Tenent returned with Circe who did a few tests of her own. She quickly confirmed Dr. Tennet’s diagnosis. What she said next startled me but then Circe has a way of unsettling people. Fortunately she unsettled me in a positive way; she was friendly. Circe is not a bad person; she only comes off as aloof and imperious. She is often so enigmatic she appears to be superior or condescending but I think that’s a tradition among the masters and mistresses of the magic arts. I must admit if the stories I’ve heard about her are true, Circe has earned the right to act smug.

“Welcome to the Sisterhood, Joanie,” Circe said and smiled.

“Sisterhood?” I asked.

“Miki’s late mistress was one of the last of a magic cult from old India. They were dedicated to keeping a great evil from entering the human realm. You are now an heir to their legacy. Don’t worry, we’ll help you, and the demon they fought is still safely confined in the tomb they prepared 150 years ago. Charlie Lodgeman gave us his report, and maintaining the integrity of the warded tomb confining the demon is a high priority. I have confirmed the nature of the demon the Sisterhood imprisoned, and I am impressed at their feat. Joanie, Miki is the last living witness to the Sisterhood’s sacrifice. That she chose you as her mistress is an honor not to be taken lightly. She must have sensed something special in you to bond.”

This was getting too heady for me.

~~Circe feels I’ve been honored? What did she say, exactly? … ”An honor not to be taken lightly,” whoa, this is getting way spooky for me. I’m little old Joanie, not Joan of Arc though Jane Wieden was cute as Miss *of Arc* in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure. I wonder what PETA’s stand on familiars is? … Wait a minute, what’s this about the Sisterhood?!~~

“Calm yourself, this is nothing to be worried about. It’s not like you’re being nominated as a saint, *Joan*. Sorry, I can sometimes read minds. Take your friends to see their mom; visit your Iowa family. See me when you get back … and don’t worry — children!” Dr. Tenent said as we finished.

* * * *

On the way out of medical I bumped into May Lee and Anna, and I do mean bumped into. I had to grab Anna hard to keep us from falling. I saw who I’d nearly trampled, and my heart soared; she looked so happy, if startled.

“I’m so sorry; I wasn’t ... Anna! May Lee! I apologize for not keeping in touch. Anna, did you start your treatments? You look much happier,” I asked, embarrassed.

~~Anna looks almost normal. She must have had surgery, and I wasn’t there to hold her hand, damn. Good friend I am, jeese.~~

“I had surgery a couple days after you last saw me.”

“I should have been there to wish you luck and keep you company after. I’m sorry, Anna, that was uncaring and rude.”

“Don’t feel bad, Joanie. Whateley sent Anna to a specialist at Johns Hopkins. You couldn’t have been there, and they arranged for me to sleep in her room. You have a lot on your plate, and you are doing more than enough by paying for this. You can’t be everything to everyone," May said, and hugged me.

“The surgeon took out the breast implants and the contraceptive implants they’d overdosed her with,” May Lee explained. I was horrified, and it showed.

“I knew they drugged you and had you on high-dosage birth control, but an overdose using implants?”

“Whateley medical wondered why my hormone levels wouldn’t come down, The doctors found I’d been given several times the recommended dose of implantable contraceptives. The hormones and drugs kept me confused, compliant and primed for sex; I couldn’t help myself. I was at risk for serious complication, like blood clots or liver damage if they had been in much longer. As the surgeons at Johns Hopkins were removing my implants it made sense they do the other surgery at the same time. The breast implants were so big the doctors put in adjustable implants in their place and have slowly deflated them so my skin can adjust. I’m wearing a special compression bandage to help in this. It feels real odd, like someone is massaging my breasts. They are doing this to minimize scarring and adhesions. It’s working too; I’m starting to look like myself!”

"You look good, Anna, what’s next?” I asked.

“They remove the adjustable implants next weekend. After I heal for a couple weeks Whateley’s thaumatologists will craft spells to grow the tattoos out of my ski.; it uses the body's own ability to encapsulate foreign objects, like with a thorn. This will take a week or more, but those awful tattoos will be gone. There are quicker methods, but they risk serious side-effects or damage to the skin. After all traces of magic wear off, they will give me a magical tune-up to restore my body to its pre-surgery state. By mid-summer, you’ll never know I was ever touched by those creeps. I’ll be a virgin, in my body at least. Thank you, Joanie,” Anna said and hugged me.

“All I did was pull a few strings; you have to suffer through all the treatments. What of that boyfriend who didn’t support you?” I asked, regretting it immediately. “I shouldn’t have asked that. Don’t answer, Anna. Do you forgive me?”

“I forgive you, Joanie. I think I should tell you, seeing how much you’re helping. He came to see me in the hospital. His parents believed I was damaged goods, and assumed I got into pornography voluntarily. He claimed they pressured him to break it off. They are very traditional, so I’m inclined to believe him. He felt his honor required him to tell me to my face we were through. He contacted May Lee and she agreed he should see me. When he came to my room, May read him the riot act and so did my surgeon. They spent a long time explaining everything that had happened to me was not of my free will. He told his family, and they formally offered to renew the offer of marriage. I told them I would have to think about it, as their snap judgment wounded me,” Anna said and giggled.

“Good! Make the jerks suffer. They showed their true colors when forced to by a crisis. Personally, I might not forgive them or him and would look elsewhere for love, but that’s me. If you love him, you’ll find a way. If not, grind him in the dust and find yourself someone worthy of you. I’ll lend you the boots to do it. Stiletto heels are great for stomping on a man’s feet,” I said, snickering.

“You are vicious, Joanie. Remind me never to get on your bad side,” May said. “I saw your sports car the other day. What did you do to get that?”

“I prostituted myself,” I said and laughed. “I’m doing ads for Ford, so ...”

“Oh you!

* * * *

I returned to my dorm, snagged my pre-packed overnight bag, Les Paul, and mini practice amp, then hurried to my truck. It was a little past one but given what happened with Miki and I, not bad. At the last moment I realized I wanted a ball cap and aviator sunglasses I’d put in the bag and got them out.

~~I need to wear this hat and my kewl shades. After all I have the image of Ex-Wisconsin egotists to uphold.~~ I looked at my reflection in one of the trucks mirrors. ~~Oh yeah, all I need is a landing craft and a corncob pipe. Douglas MacArthur, eat your heart out.~~

Tom and Tina were waiting along with most of the Sabers and my cleanup crew.

“Why are you here? Don’t you have classes?” I asked.

“So we snuck out of class early, Joanie. It’s almost the break between class periods, and our teachers know it’s important we see our friends off. Tom, Tina, you be brave for your mom; she needs you,” said Cheryl, surprisingly emotional for her.

We all gave the Smith twins hugs, even Mystor, though very carefully as he and Tom were the only guys.

We got ready to go, and Mystor handed me my guitar then placed my bags in the crew compartment.

“What have you got in here? You women and your obsession with clothes! My bag would weight half this. Oh, I closed it; you’d left it open, Blondie,” he said and laughed.

“Keep talking like that, and you’ll never get to see any of us out of them,” I replied.

“But I saw you naked and up close, Joanie; that will satisfy me for a long time. Oh, here’s the doll I made out of your clothing in the magic class. I can’t change it back, I tried, but since you’re visiting your Iowa friends maybe Mel would like it? I heard you talk about how much you like her. I had Dr. Tenent examine the doll, and it’s safe to handle. There are no dangerous magic residues remaining,” Mystor finished and handed me the doll. He had thoughtfully placed it in a colorful gift bag.

“That’s a great idea; thanks. Thank you all for seeing us off. Behave yourselves, and I want film of the orgy, *K*?” I said.

They looked at me, confused, until Pinky broke out in giggles.

We got in the crew cab and as I prepared to start the engine I said, “I shall return!” and drove off, snickering so bad I almost had to pull over and stop.

“Do I want to know what any of that was about?” Tom asked.

“No,” I replied.

“Pinky told me, silly, at least about the orgy. I’ll explain,” Tina said to her brother as we drove past my farm and on to Berlin.

* * * *

At the airport we discovered we were early for our charter; it had been delayed by weather. We had time to waste so I drove the short distance to town and the cycle dealer. I made sure to grab the poster in a mailing tube I’d brought along. I’d wanted to check on the little girl I’d met back in December for some time. First there was another girl I wanted to see.

“Where’s Julie Anne?” I asked an unfamiliar office worker.

“She only works on Saturdays and semester breaks. Julie has class at the local state university campus -- just turned 18 and already in college. What can I do for you, Ms.? ...” she hesitated then looked at me hard and smiled. “I’m guessing your name is Joanie?”

“I’m passing through and thought I should stop by. I’m flying my friends here to see their mom; she’s in a hospital out west. Is Isaac in?”

“He’s in the shop. I hope your friends’ mother is okay?”

“She’s getting better, but they miss each other; excuse us,” I said, and walked to the repair shop.

* * * *

“Anyone home?” I called, and was almost immediately pounced on by a squealing young school girl.

“Joanie, you lied! You are no elf. You are an angel,” Leeann said and hugged me tight. It reminded me of the previous time she’d hugged me. It was last December, and she was an unhappy child who desperately missed her late mother. This time she wasn’t sobbing as she held me, she giggled instead. “Thank you for what you did before Christmas. Daddy and I talked a long time. I cried, and he cried. Thanks for the cookies; you are a good baker. I see a lady ‘chiatrist, and we talk all about my mommy and dad, and why maybe I feel like I do. Daddy comes sometimes, too. I feel so happy, and it’s because of you. I showed my friends your picture and note, and they were so jealous and said what a nice lady you are,“ she said and paused for breath.

~~Shades of Mel, here.~~ I thought.

I backed off some and looked at her. She’d let her hair grow. It was still short, but definitely in a girl's style. Her clothes, though not girly-girl, were noticeably female.

“You’re wearing a skirt and a blouse, Leeann. Whose idea was it, dear?” I asked.

“Mine, silly elf lady,” she said and giggled. “I wish you were a real elf; you were funny,” she said.

“But there are elves, Leeann. They are called the Fey, but they are what the legends are based on. We have one at our school; she’s a student and very pretty. Here, this is for you,” I said and handed her a poster from the tube in my hand.

It was one we sold in our school store. It was a larger copy of the photo of Nikki Reilly in the Whateley brochure. Leeann unrolled it and her eyes went wide.

“I see her big violet eyes, and her pointy ears; she is a real elf. Thanks for the poster, but she’s not as pretty as you, Joanie,” Leeann said and grinned.

“I’m glad you like it, and thanks for saying I’m that pretty. I’m relieved you’re not sad anymore. I can see you’re all bubbly which is good; I like seeing people happy. Leeann, these are my friends, Tom and Tina. They’re fraternal twins and schoolmates of mine at the mutant school," I explained.

“Real mutants like you, Joanie?”

“Their powers are different, but they are mutants and nice kids,” I replied. “Why don’t you three talk while I see your dad, okay?” I asked, and she nodded and went over to my friends.

* * * *
I turned and walked over to her father.

“Isaac, Leeann seems much better.”

“She is. That talk we had after you did the elf bit broke through the wall. She has her bad days, but she’s like I remember before my wife ...”

“That’s good news about Leeann, Isaac. Are you feeling better?”

“I am; I’m dating again. It’s a girl Julie Anne introduced me to, Carol, the new office gal here. She was Julie’s babysitter, and she knew my wife. They were in school together, but Carol was a year behind my wife. So far so good, Joanie, she and Leeann get along, and she’s a good influence on her. I know nothing about girl’s fashion and all the things she needs to grow into a woman. How are you? I saw the news a while back when you were at a school dance. Are you still in contact with the young man you danced with? You looked the perfect couple to me, Joanie,” he added.

“I, ah ...”

“Daddy, Joanie has a boyfriend!” called out Leeann excited.

~~Thank you Mr. and Miss Quisling.~~

“I like him a lot, Leeann, but he’s still in school so we can only be friends. Don’t tell anyone, ever; some people could make a lot of trouble for him and me if they knew,” I asked her.

“Joanie may look like a high school girl, but she’s 49 and the nice boy -- the one you thought was good looking -- is in his teens, Leeann. When he’s a little older then it will be okay for them to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but for now they are good friends only,” Tina said, and very nicely I thought.

“He’s good looking?” I asked.

“Leeann saw the video of Eric and you dancing. She said Eric was dreamy,” Tina replied.

“Dreamy? And you are seven years old?”

“He is. Eric looks like a TV actor. You were very pretty in that dress, Joanie.”

“Thank you, you look pretty too. Oh, Isaac, I’d like a sidecar for my old Harley. I could research and find one, but I’m so busy these days. Could you locate one or see if the plans are available to build one from scratch?”

“I’ll see. Harley was amazed when they saw the pictures of your old bike We sent them one of your old tires, we kept the other for display. I wouldn’t be surprised if they contacted you seeing as you're doing ads for Coke and Ford,” Isaac said. He hesitated then spoke. “I heard you’re going to be in a magazine this summer?”

“How did you learn that?” I asked knowing it had been in numerous newspapers and in the electronic press.

“Entertainment Tonight announced you’d posed for Playboy for a record fee, and that you’re donating it all to charity. Can I ...?”

“Not another autographed copy?”

“Well, that would be welcome, but I was hoping Leeann and I could have our photo taken with you as a remembrance?”

He called in Carol, who took our picture then the twins and I took off for the airport.

* * * *

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentleman. Sorry for the delay, we bucked strong headwinds getting here. That same weather system will give us favorable winds on our flight to Wisconsin, so we should be in Madison on time. You are?” the copilot asked.

“Tom Smith and my sister Tina, and this is our friend who arranged the charter, Joanie.”

“You again?” the copilot asked rhetorically. We knew each other well.

“Hi! You get that embarrassing bulge taken care of?” I asked and snickered.

“I am sorry I came on to you, Ms. Brown. That was unprofessional on my part. The pilot gave me a lecture after that flight. My ears are still burning,” he said.

“He should have. I did get a good laugh out of your discomfort, sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ve had some interesting dreams since then, thank you,” he replied.

“Just as long as they are dreams, Mister,” I said and snickered.

* * * *

We made great time, and arrived in Madison mid afternoon. Gin in her PT was our ride to the hospital.

“Tom, Tina you look great. Joanie here hasn’t been filling your mind full of strange, perverted thoughts has she?” Gin asked.

“Joanie’s been great to us. I’m in her band with a fun bunch of other students. My brother has no musical talent, but he helps us move stuff and is dating Joanie’s niece,” Tina said with pride.

‘Tom and Suzy are dating already?” Gin asked, surprised.

“Maybe it’s something in the water, but they are an item. Tom is a gentleman, mostly, though Suzy is a junior me. Minxes must run in the family,” I said and snickered.

“How’s Ms. Smith?” I asked.

“Don … I mean Ms. Smith is a fighter. She’s doing great, and insists we all call her Donna. She so nice to us and rarely complains despite her pain. I wish all patients were like that. Joanie, Dr. Sara mentioned your thoughts about where Tom and Tina got their mutant genes. The tests show most came from their mom. I’ve seen natural mutants with fewer so-called mutant genes. Your suggestion is possible, but we’ll talk it over with the whole family now that they are here,” Gin said.

“Tom, Tina, what if your mother could be a mutant like you? Does that sound like a good idea?” Gin asked.

“Mom could be like us?” Tom asked.

“Yes, and we could make her young again. Young enough to be your older sister or make the three of you triplets,” she said and the twins gasped.

“Your mom needs to hide from these bad people as much as you two do. I can alter your mom with magic. I can even change her appearance, skin color, eyes, ethnicity, and body type -- the works. It would help her hide, and let her start fresh after the terrible things the kidnappers did to her and your late father. Think about it,” Gin asked.

* * * *

We arrived at the Mutant wing of the University of Wisconsin Hospital well before dark. We entered through a secure staff garage. After we were cleared through security, Gin took me aside.

“Joanie, something is bothering Dr. Sara, and it’s just happened recently. She says nothing is wrong, but it was such a change from the love struck Miss Free-spirit she’s been of late. Maybe you can get through to her. I’m concerned,” Gin added.

“Absolutely! She’s my substitute mother, and I owe her. I’ll find out, Gin,” I replied, and Gin looked relieved.

We arrived at Donna’s room. I was happy to see Big Red on duty. She gave us all warm hugs and inspected my tonsils with her tongue.

~~She’s so conscientious in her duty to her patients, or is it she still carries a torch for me?~~

“Your mom’s pretty beat up; don’t let it scare you, but don’t lie either. Your mom wants the truth at all times. As bad as she looks, she’s getting well. It will be awhile before she’s fully recovered, but she will recover completely. She can’t talk real loud because her jaw is wired shut to help it heal, so keep your voices down, okay?” Red explained.

“We will, Ms. Red,” Tina said for them both, and they walked in the room. I watched from just outside the door. I could see them at the side of her bed.

“Mom?” Tina called out.

The poor child was crying at the sight of her injured mom but was smiling as well. I saw Tom stiffen up then smile, a tear or two running down his face. I was so proud of my two young friends.

“Tina? Tom? Thank god!” she mumbled. I walked away to give them some time alone.

“Joan, just the person I wanted to see; follow me,” Dr. Sara said. Gin was right, Sara looked unhappy.

* * * *

She led me into her private office and locked the door behind us.

“What’s wrong, Sara? You seem so unhappy. Can I help in anyway?”

“*You* can help alright, *Joan* ... What the hell were you thinking?” she snarled at me.

~~...?!...~~ I couldn’t think, I was in shock.

“Who are you? What are you? I thought I could trust you -- that you were a responsible adult -- then you pull this. You must be out of your mind. Sex with an under age boy! Do you want to go to prison, Joan? I’d bet you’d like that, you slut!” She was shouting at me.

“But, Sara, I ...”

“Don’t you DARE call me Sara!” she screamed. I had never seen her so angry before. I couldn’t recall her ever being angry.

I got a momentary image of Eric and I being intimate and getting caught in the act. The look in his face as I was arrested was heartbreaking; he seemed almost catatonic. I felt this wave of sadness, anger and disappointment hit me from everyone I knew, particularly Sara. It was as if she’d slapped me in my mind. Then I felt Eric’s despair and thoughts of suicide. I got an image of him breaking into a gun cabinet and … My world had been blown asunder. It hurt terribly, more than I had ever hurt in my life. I burst into tears, I felt rejected by her -- like a child disowned. All I could sense was disappointment and disgust bordering on hate in place of the love she’d so freely gave me, and I couldn’t stand it. I had failed Eric. I’d failed my friends. I had failed Sara, and I had failed myself. I wanted to die. I curled up in a ball in the corner of her office, terrified and confused.

~~How could Sara think that? … Ghod, what have I done to hurt her so? … I hate myself. Sara will never forgive me.~~

When I realized what I had done, what I had almost done, and what I was likely to do if things didn’t change, the dam burst. The words poured out of me almost subconsciously. “I love Eric. I would never hurt him. We almost did it, -- I mean have sex -- but it was an accident. Ghod, I wanted him so bad. We didn’t do anything other than touch each other inappropriately, but we wanted to make love and it’s WRONG! I’ll breakup with Eric, I’ll never see him again. I’ll sign an oath to that effect. I’ll break all contact with him and his family, Sara. Please don’t hurt him!” I cried, tears streaking down my cheeks.

I felt her hands touch me. I flinched and twisted away from her.

“Leave me alone! I’ve failed you and you hate me for it! Ghod, I hate me. I’m a worthless piece of slime,” I shouted and sobbed.

Sara got on the floor and hugged me fiercely; she wouldn’t let go despite my thrashing to get away. I felt her kiss me on the cheek, and my fear and anger began to fade.

“Forgive me, Joanie. Please forgive me, dear. I didn’t want to do that but it was the only way I could be certain. I will never hurt you again, ever. How could I? I love you. I know you find that hard to believe after what I just did; Joanie, but I do love you. This was a test; it was hard, but necessary. I had to force you to react instinctively. You know I’m an empath. I needed to observe how you would react when threatened with the loss of Eric and of your dreams. I didn’t want you rationalizing; I needed to know your heart.

“I’m so sorry I entered your mind, dear, but those terrifying thoughts were all yours. I simply allowed them to break free into your conscious mind. I felt them along with you. I wish I hadn’t needed to do it, but it was necessary. I did this as much for Babs as for Eric and you. And I did it for me. I love you too much not to have, Joanie. Hate me if you must, but I had to save you,” she said, her demeanor soothing and remorseful.

“But it hurt! I thought you loved me!” My anger rebounded.

~~She betrayed me. The woman I’ve come to love as if she was my mother betrayed me!~~

“I’m so sorry, Joanie, I know the emotional wounds will take time to heal, but I do love you and so does Babs. She called me after you told her to talk with Eric about this Easter. He admitted to her he wanted to make love to you. In his dream -- as you two snuggled -- it seemed real. He thought you really were making love then he woke. It was as if the dream had come true. He stopped when he realized what was happening, but he wanted you and was ecstatic you wanted him.

“That you both stopped, and physically it never went beyond what they used to call heavy petting, reassured us, but the strength of Eric’s feelings worried Babs and me. Eric admitted he’s had dreams since where it feels so real he can’t be certain that you two haven’t had sex. Rationally he knows, but subconsciously he’s not certain anymore. Babs thought you sounded unsure of your intentions when you last spoke with her. That worried her too, as she always could *read* your intentions before, but not that time. Babs may not be a mutant but she is a keen observer and listener having been raised in a political family. Sometimes I’d swear she‘s an empath,” Dr. Sara stated, still holding and gently rocking me like I was her baby. It was both comforting and somehow repugnant. There was a war raging in my subconscious. Something was wrong but what was it?

“I felt I had lied to Babs after we finished speaking. I’d felt that way after I talked with you and said it was all under control. I’m so sorry I lied to you, Sara. I don’t want to lie, and not to either of you ladies. What do I do now? What do Eric and I do? This is out of control,” I replied, sniffling.

“Babs, Eric, and you will have a long talk when you get to Iowa. You need to slow things down. Be a girl and a boy who are friends first, then you can progress to girlfriend and boyfriend. Take care not to be alone when you are tired and your thinking is impaired, and absolutely no alcohol or drugs -- that could be disaster, even given how fast your regen burns them off. I know you wouldn’t, but some kid might spike things at a party thinking it will liven-up things.

"I *read* your thoughts when I tricked you. No, that’s not right. I *read* your thoughts when I lied to you. God forgive me but I lied. Joanie, you love him deeply and want the best for him. You value him above yourself and would not knowingly harm Eric. Take it easy and go slow, but do see him. Call him as you have, just concentrate on being friends first and the rest will follow in due course. Can you do that for me?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Can you forgive me?” Sara asked.

My mind was in turmoil. “No,” I said, and got up to walk out of her office. I thought I heard her crying.

* * * *

I walked around for a while, thinking over what had happened. Had she been unfair in tricking me into stating my true intentions? Sara seemed openly regretful of how she had tricked me. She seemed honestly worried she had gone too far and damaged our relationship.

The problem was I wasn’t sure what to think. Confronting my feelings and fears was intensely unsettling. Conversely I was glad it was in the open. They -- Babs and Sara -- had known Eric and I were infatuated with each other, now they knew how deep it went. Now I knew as well. We weren’t just intensely attracted; we were more than just in love. We were soul mates and willing to sacrifice our own happiness for the sake of the other. In the long run this was good for Eric and my relationship. This was better for my relationship with Babs and Sara as well, but still, Sara had hurt me if only mentally. The woman I thought of as my mother had hurt me. Why? It suddenly came to me. The answer was simple, she hadn’t. The pain was from confronting my own demons, and in freeing me she had suffered as well.

~~And I told her I couldn’t forgive her. What kind of a bitch am I?~~

I reached an area of shops in the huge hospital complex and spotted a florist. I made a decision. A while later I returned. Dr. Sara was in her office, softly crying. I felt sick.

“Sara, I said I couldn’t forgive you, and I didn’t lie,” I spoke slowly and heard her gasp. “There is nothing to forgive, dear Sara; you did this out of love and fear for my safety. You did this to protect Eric and me, and I thank you.”

I paused. “I forgive you Sara, but I don’t think I can forget this. Your words hurt,” I said flatly. I stopped to wipe my tears. I saw the pained reaction on Sara’s face. “Rationally I know why and I understand but part of me feels violated. Can you understand?”

I saw she was hurting and so was I. I tried to find some humor in our mutual pain. “A small part of my mind is still hurting and will extract its terrible revenge … Doctor. Mah ha ha ha!“ I said trying to be menacing and failing terribly. I giggled and paused. “These are for you, Mom, if you’ll have me?” I asked, and handed her a crystal vase full of roses. “Roses were my mother's favorite, I hope you like them.” I turned to leave and Sara hugged me from behind.

“I will always love you, daughter,” she said, then kissed me. I turned to face her and we held each other for a while. We stood not speaking, just comforting each other. It would take time but in my heart I so wanted to be able to trust her without reservation. When we’d both wiped each others tears, I walked off to Donna Smith’s room with the other vase of flowers I’d bought, a spring arrangement.

I was nearing her room, and I heard a shriek.

“There’s a huge rat in the lounge!” a nurses aid shouted, her face in shock.

~~Huge rat? … No, it can’t be.~~

I set the flowers on the floor outside Donna’s room and I ran to the lounge. I was greeted by a pair of gleaming eyes peering from behind a couch. Then the animal came out into the open.

“Miki! What are ...”

~~Greetings, Mistress Joanie.~~ I heard a strange woman’s voice say in my own mind, then I fainted.

To be continued.
Thanks to Grover for the use of and assistance with Miki.
Special thanks to Janet Nolan and Karen_J for their helpful criticism.
Thanks again to Itinerant for being there even when it isn’t easy

Attachment	Size
Timeout_4_chapter_4_rev_8BCa.doc	131 KB

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 5

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie's stow-away reveals herself and explains how they are bonded. We learn Miki has a strange weakness. Dr. Sara and Joanie reconcile. Joanie's match-making between Dr. Sara and the Senator had suceeded, whoa boy! The Smith twins mom meets Joanie. Gin equips Miki for the trip to Iowa. Mel, Eric and Babs meet Miki. Joanie and Eric devise a way to keep their relationship legal but fun. An emergency arises and Joanie must leave for, gulp, Hawaii.

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

(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, 2005-2007.

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content, too, so be warned. The name Leah is pronounced lay_ah. No snickering, perverts!

("It's the Princess!" "Aren't you a little short for a storm trooper?")
*&%^$#)@ editors !

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Verb verification by Itinerant, verily
Post-production proofing by Janet Nolan of GEBPR

Chapter 5, Hey Miki You're So Fine 4, Welcome to Adulthood 6, You’ve Got Male, Hana, HI 96713 - Leah

The Wisconsin State Paranormal and Mutant Facility, University of Wisconsin-Madison, Des Moines, IA

May 04, 2007

I woke to the embarrassingly familiar confines of my former hospital room. Dr. Sara and Gin were at my bedside.

“Hon, you have got to stop doing this. It’s that or buy a room here,” Sara said and snickered. Her laugh told me I was alright.

“Joanie, this question may be a tad delicate. Just when did you become a sorceress? It would have been nice to tell us. By the way, your familiar is a dead-give-a-way. And of all the animals you could have picked -- a mongoose? For that matter, where did you find one?” Gin asked smiling.

“Miki chose me, and I am and am not a sorceress. It’s something to do with my warper fields trapping and retaining magic. Whether I’ll ever be able to do any useful magic is the big mystery. That’s a question for the future to answer. Right now the question to answer is 'Is Miki is okay?' No one has tried to hurt her?” I asked.

“No, but she tried to bite the orderlies who attempted to move you. Sara, Red, and I had to do it. The orderlies were terrified of her. You owe them some new trousers and briefs, Joanie,” Gin said and laughed.

“She bit them in the… Oh dear!” I involuntarily moved to protect my *family jewels* and broke out in giggles. “An old and valuable habit, but a bit too late in my case, huh? Miki went right for…?”

“...their *family jewels*, yes, dear, but she was toying with them.” I exploded with the giggles. “Joanie! …I-i-i-i meant your familiar wasn’t trying to hurt them.” That got me going worse; I was laughing so hard it hurt. “I meant she wasn’t trying to castrate the orderlies, just scare them away from you. Joanie, sometimes I swear you’re a teenager!”

“But I am a teenager; ask Sara!” I burst into giggles again.

“Aaaaah!” Gin screamed in frustration, though it sounded like a strangled giggle to me.

Carrie entered the room and took over as Gin was rattled. ~~I wonder how Gin got that way. It couldn’t be me, could it? I’m gonna owe her for this one.~~ “They tried to approach you and there was a blur of claws and teeth. Next thing we knew, the orderlies were half naked and in shock. Their clothes hung on them in tatters and yet there was not a scratch anywhere on their bodies. We know, because we inspected them thoroughly afterwards; well, I did,” Carrie said and grinned. “The precision of her attacks puts the finest surgeons to shame.”

“We had little trouble once the orderlies ran off, and I do mean ran. Your little mongoose protector had them in fear for their lives, or at a minimum for their manhoods. When Gin, Red and I approached you, your furry bodyguard gave us a few quick sniffs, chortled something and scurried off. We were left free to check you over after that. I got the impression she kept an eye on us periodically, though she was stealthy about it,” Dr. Sara said smiling.

“I’ve known of her only a short time, but Miki is quite intelligent. She’s good at distinguishing friend from foe. There she is… Hi there, little one, Ms. Miki, I mean. Don’t be afraid; these people are good friends,” I called out softly.

Miki came out from the bathroom. I got the sense she was both happy and guilty. She hopped up on my bed, and I noticed bits of soft, white paper stuck to her fur. Then I remembered something several of our cats liked to play with.

“Miki, did you attack the toilet paper roll?” I asked as my friends stared at the odd animal and at me

~~Mistress, are you well? I was concerned. Forgive me, but the ball of white leaves in the stone-lined manbox was fun to pounce on.~~

~~Stone-lined manbox? White leaves? … She means the bathroom. ~~ I realized.

“Don’t do that again without asking, Miki. My Ghod, I’m speaking with a mongoose! You heard her. She spoke!” I exclaimed.

“I heard nothing, but I sense the animal is fond of you. There was a telepathic link between you, but I could get no details. It was like the information was protected -- encrypted in some manner,” said Dr. Sara.

“I didn’t hear anything, but I saw a faint glow flash between Miki and you right before you said she spoke, Joanie. It could be a kind of magic assisted telepathy. Familiars often communicate with their mistresses that way, so I’m told. I’ve not had the privilege of being approached by an unbonded familiar yet, sniff-sniff,” Gin said and laughed. “You should feel honored by Miki’s action, Joanie,” Gin spoke. Miki stood on her haunches and bowed to Gin. Gin returned the gesture and smiled.

~~Your sorceress friend speaks true. She is a worthy ally. You are fortunate to number her among your friends. I chose you, Mistress Joanie. I am grateful you accepted my offer. To travel across many cycles of the white time of death and the green time of life proves you are strong with magic. You were once a boy, so you must be of the Sisterhood. It is my duty to protect and train you. You need not speak, Mistress. We are one since you accepted the binding. I hear your thoughts. No one else can hear our mind-talk unless you wish it so … I do not speak your words well. Forgive me. This new language is difficult.~~

“There’s that ‘Sisterhood’ again. I’m no member of any such group. I learned I might have access to magic only recently. I’m no sorceress, at least not yet.”

~~I saw you with the dark-skinned man at my late mistress' burial. So long ago, so cold, so wet. I saw you alone or with him many times in the past. The magic around you was strong. You must be a great sorceress to travel untouched by age across the ye… years. Yes, years. I begin to understand your words, Mistress.~~ Miki said and appeared agitated.

“I’m a mutant. My time-travel is part of my mutation. Just as some back at Whateley and in this part of the hospital have great strength or speed, I can control time. No magic was used to travel to and from the past. Sorry, Miki.” The mongoose appeared nervous, as if I’d said something absolutely contrary to its beliefs.

~~But you have dual nature. You were a boy and are now a woman. You glow with magic. You must be of the Sisterhood!~~ Miki sounded troubled.

“Sorry, little one. I was a man of 48 years when I mutated into a 17 year old woman. I know not of this Sisterhood you and Dr. Tenet speak of,” I explained. The mongoose became upset, almost inconsolably so.

~~I have failed! I failed Mistress Kushala, her mate and their unborn. I waited long, so very long to find another mistress. I finally found you, and I have bonded wrongly. I am bonded to you until you die, yet you are not of the Sisterhood. It will be many years before I can choose again. The cause is lost, and it is my fault!~~ Miki wailed with despair in my mind.

The pain she felt was distressing, even secondhand. I could see Sara felt Miki’s anguish third hand through me. The animal was crying -- crying like a human. My response was to start giggling, and I couldn’t stop.

~~Do not mock me! I have failed. That is pain enough. There is nothing funny in this.~~ If a mongoose could give you a look of disgust mixed with despondency, she gave me one.

I gathered my composure. My friends looked at me like I was being cruel. Only Sara appeared to understand me.

“I'm laughing only because the joke is on both of us. I am a regen. I recover from injury quickly and completely. I don’t get sick, and I don’t age. Miki, I am all but immortal. This is not necessarily bad. This may be a blessing in disguise for you.

“Experts in the occult say I have magic around me. You sensed it, or you would not, could not have bonded with me.”

Miki nodded in affirmation.

“I’m told I gather and trap it, or that I may even be generating magic myself. The solution is obvious: Teach me. Even if I prove a lousy student, you are welcome to use my stored magic. If necessary I can help you find others who are more worthy of your teaching. I’m not rejecting you. I welcome your assistance and I will work hard as your mistress and student. “

Miki appeared confused at my words. I tried to explain my position.

“Miki, dear, though you are bound to me that doesn’t mean you, I mean we, can’t help others who have more traditional magic talent. Why must this relationship be limited to us only? I am a woman of vast resources with staunch friends. Two of them are young sorceresses; you’ve already seen one, Miss Lonnie. We will work this out together, Miss Miki. You have not failed. You may need to change your tactics, perhaps you will be the primary wielder of magic and I will be your assistant? Whatever the solution, we will find the way together. Between the two of us we will make this union a success. Is it okay if we start as friends and take it from there?” I asked and held out a hand to scratch her ears.

~~You would do this for me? You offer freely? The way of a sorceress is hard.~~

“Miki, I’m in love with a … a man too young to be my lover. My mutation has made me famous and there are those who covet my mutant gifts. This makes me a risk to my friends and family. Hard is something I understand. You waited all these years alone, guarding the demon your late mistress helped imprison. Your honor and resourcefulness are inspiring. Such selfless devotion to duty leaves me in awe. If I can help you, why shouldn’t I?” I smiled and renewed my offer to scratch her.

She rubbed against my hand, and let me give her a thorough rubdown. She lay happily against me on my hospital bed.

“Now that all *that* is settled, I imagine you both are hungry. I see no reason you can’t use the cafeteria, Joanie. As to Ms. Miki, um, what does a mongoose eat?” Dr. Sara asked.

“Miki seems to like lion cub dry-food jazzed up with anchovy paste. The dried-cured, unseasoned meat, pemmican I think it’s called, seemed popular enough. Raw steak goes fine, too. These are all treats I give to my smilodons. You liked my treats, Miki?” Miki nodded enthusiastically. “Is there a pet store or supermarket nearby? A high quality dry cat food and some tuna packed in water should do. Maybe a couple small tins of sardines? Nothing too salty or spicy, though,” I suggested.

“Gin, dear, could you?” Sara asked her.

“My pleasure! I’ll see if I can get you a soft travel case and a harness. You’ll need one for airport security; I know, I have a friend with a familiar. You do have papers for Miki?”

“Signed by Dr. Tenet and Circe,” I replied.

“Circe?! She’s… that’s as good as it gets. Circe is at Whateley? You lucky girl,” Gin said wide-eyed.

* * * *

I got something to eat and managed to get Miki a hardboiled egg from the cafeteria. She loped along, always at my side -- not the easiest task given my long stride. We ate in that same nurse's lounge Miki revealed herself in earlier. We *talked* as we waited for Gin. She peeled her egg expertly and ate with dignity.

~~Bless you, Mistress. The man who named me gave me these as treats. I remember him fondly.~~

I poured some water on a small plate so she could drink.

“If I leave you for awhile, can you stay out of trouble? There are people here dependent on machines to help them recover from illness and injury. Damaging anything, and I do mean anything, could hurt them,” I explained in a whisper. I wasn’t used to speaking with my mind yet.

~~I will keep near you, Mistress. It is my duty. I will not touch anything without your leave.~~

“Good, except can the Mistress crap. Pardon my language. Call me Joan, if you must, but I prefer Joanie. Joanie is who I am, and I love being her. I may be a bit silly at times, but I am having such fun, and I can truly help people with these mutant gifts. Why should I need any further honors? Mistress is pretentious and a bit kinky to my mind.”

~~Kinky, Miss … Joanie?”~~

“Ah, a game to make sex more interesting?” I suggested sheepishly. Miki became quite animated.

I remember! Mistress Kushala liked being tied to her nest… um, the bed with silk scarves, then the English and she would…~~ Miki offered. She was excited and graphic in her recollection.

“That’s more than I needed to know!” I whispered. I was blushing furiously, and I was the only one who could hear her.

~~The scarves could be fun with Eric… I’ll have to file that for future reference.~~ I thought, and my body responded enthusiastically.

Miki looked uncomfortable. ~~Joanie, how can you stand it?~~

“Pardon?”

~~Your mate, Eric. How can you stand being apart? I feel your pain and desire.~~

“We must wait, but it will be worth it. There is a saying ‘the acorn doesn’t fall far from the tree.’ Eric’s parents, his whole family, are outstanding people. He will be an outstanding man. He’s but a cub by human standards. I must let him grow first. Does this make sense to you, Miki?”

~~I think so. Humans are hard to understand.~~

“Tell me about it. I’m one of them, and I’m struggling to understand me!”

* * * *

Miki and I returned to where I’d left the flowers outside of Donna’s room. I wanted a peek at the Smiths before I had to go. I saw my flowers had been removed from the hallway.

Miki agreed to not disturb anything unless I said it was okay -- except maybe the wily toilet paper roll. She has a weakness for them, but then so did many of our family cats. I started speaking with my mind to her which proved easier than I‘d imagined.

~~If you behave, I will throw some toilet tissue rolls for you to chase, Miki.~~

~~For me? I will be good,~~ she chortled in my mind.

* * * *

Dr. Sara noticed us waiting outside the room. “Why don’t you go in?” she asked as she gave me a quick hug.

“I don’t want to take away from their time with their Mom… Mom,” I said as I smiled at Sara. On an impulse, I gave her a hug and kissed her cheek.

I felt I had to show Sara she was forgiven. I needed to do this as much for my sake as for hers. I was disgusted with myself for being angry at her. The difficulty was a part of me didn’t want to have anything to do with *that woman*. Oh, I admit I was upset with Sara, but I didn’t want this relationship to fail, at least not due to anything on my part. I forced that angry, betrayed piece of my ego into the background and focused on what was right with our relationship.

“I feel bad that part of me is furious at you, Sara. I did ask for help, didn’t I? How can I be angry at you for doing precisely what I asked for? I want to love you unconditionally. You remind me of what my birth mother could have been if the expectations of society in her day supported women entering professions such as engineering or medicine. As for the Smiths, I can wait to say my goodbyes. I'd rather give them more time as a family. It’s off to Iowa for me in a little while. Oh, Sara, you did talk to Babs, didn’t you?” I asked.

“Yes, and she’s relieved. She knew you loved each other. She wanted to make sure you and Eric were safe and wouldn’t get in trouble. Even a rumor of impropriety could be harmful to you two. Babs loves you like a sister, you know.”

“I feel the same. I wish I hadn’t failed you ladies.”

“Joanie, stop that! If you hadn’t admitted you were having trouble then Babs and I would be disappointed. That you told us, however reluctantly…” Sara started to say and I giggled nervously, interrupting her. “Joanie, what I’m saying is, you did fine. If I was in your situation, I doubt if I would have handled it as well. It’s terrifying to know you can’t trust yourself to act as you should. Given your intense feelings for Eric, I’m amazed you said anything at all about it to Babs or me.

“I hope you can forgive my cruel trick, but I had to be certain. You’re too precious to me to leave you at risk if I can help it. I don’t want to see you get hurt. …I can see the hurt in your eyes; I went too far. I’m so afraid I’ve ruined things between us. Can I still call you my daughter, dear?”

“I… I’d like that very much... I’d better go now, Mom. Tell Tom and Tina I’ll see them on Sunday…” I was interrupted by Tina.

“Joanie, you get your skinny butt in here, now!” she ordered me. She grinned and grabbed my hand, dragging me along. She was surprisingly strong for her size.

“Mom, I got her,” Tina said to her mom, gently nudging her. I saw my flowers were on display in a prominent place near her bed.

Tina pulled me close to the bed, then Donna grabbed my hand in an iron grip using her uninjured arm.

“My children told me what you are doing for them. I will pay you back someday, I swear, Joanie. They are all I have left since my husband…“ she mumbled softly through her wired jaw. It hurt to look at her battered body.

She squeezed my hand all the harder. Her captivity, chained in that farmhouse basement, left her starved for human contact. I noticed she’d been crying, but her eyes shone with determination.

~~This woman will do anything to get healthy and protect her children. Giving up because it is easier, after all the pain she’s suffered, is not an option in her book.~~

My admiration for her grew in response.

“It is my pleasure, Donna. Tina’s a sweet girl, Tom is a good boy, and Suzy would kill me if I wasn’t nice to them,” I said and giggled. She smiled back though I could see it hurt her physically to do so.

“Tom told me he’s seeing your niece. I’m sorry she’s a victim of these… bastards. Sorry, Tom, Tina. Moms shouldn’t use such language. Joanie, I‘m so glad you could save her. I’d like to talk to her and her parents when I’m better. They sound like good folks.”

“I’m happy you’re getting better. I’ll let my cousin Christine know you want to speak with her about Suzy and Tom. Donna, did the doctors tell you about the possibility of an *extreme makeover*?”

“Yes, and I will give it careful thought, Joanie. My children are all for it. Their first choice is for us to be triplets. If not their triplet, they want me to be their older sister. Me, thirty… ah-um year-old Donna as their sister -- kids, what can I say?” she said and rolled her eyes and smiled. “I see the merit in changing my appearance; it’s clearly safer for my children and me.

“I’d not be honest if the thought of gaining extra years of life did not appeal to me. Your friend, Gin, promised to bring her new sister, Katy, to see me so I can ask her what it’s like to be transformed. I am tempted; to start over is appealing. I thought I’d grow old with their dad but that cannot be… I’d like that chance again, and I do love my twins. If I can’t have those golden years with their father, I can have more with our beautiful children. I see aspects of him in each of them, so in a way he’s not gone. I miss the intimacy we had, the secrets we shared. Perhaps in time I will meet another man and find happiness with him?”

“No rush. You have to heal before they can try a transformation. If you need anything, ask. I am more than willing to help and to hell with paying me back. On second thought, I may need a reliable babysitter in five or ten years …?”

* * * *

We all kissed and said our goodbyes, then Gin took me and my stowaway to the airport. Dr. Sara took me aside right before we left the hospital.

“I nearly forgot, dear. If you never did another thing for me in your life, I would always love you for introducing him to me.”

~~Sara’s smile is beyond happy, almost like she’s high on drugs or … in love?~~

“You’re in love?”

“Oh yeah,” Sara sighed.

~~It must be the Senator. Duh, Girl, he’s getting his late wife’s engagement ring copied for her. He told me that the other day: I mean, use your brain, Joanie. Still, I know I figured the two would hit it off but this is … Wow!~~

“I’m no saint; the rest of the Gang of Four told you that, I know. I’ve bedded my fair share of men since Carrie’s father died, more than my fair share to be honest. No one ever clicked until now. Bless you for getting Senator Williams and me together. He makes me happy; I think I love him. Joe tells me he hasn’t felt like this since he was dating his late wife. How do you find these people, Joanie? What attracts such wonderful people to your side? You have my undying gratitude. And please forgive me, I never meant to hurt you, dear.” She hugged me hard. I saw her wipe her eyes after.

“It will be okay, Mom. I promise.”

My last view of her was of a smiling, crying woman. And you all thought I was the emotional one, didn’t you?

* * * *

A gift-bearing Gin met me as I gathered up my luggage and retrieved one wayward mongoose.

“I hope this is suitable. I picked-up a soft-side animal carrier with a built-in water bottle and food dispenser. It’s certified to meet all US airline carry-on requirements. I got the smallest box of cat food I could buy and four tuna packed in water — in the pouches, not cans. All the sardines were in mustard sauce or hot sauce, so I skipped them. This should hold you until you can shop for yourself. To obey the law, I got you a figure-eight harness and leash. Just in case, I got one of those all-in-one throwaway cat litter trays and a few plastic bags. Here’s a brush for her fur, a nail clipper, and Sara insisted I give Miki this,” Gin said and giggled.

“A small roll of toilet tissue; how thoughtful,” I groaned.

~~For me? Please can I have it Mistr… Joanie, please?~~

“Okay. Seems Miki appreciates your gift. She begged me to let her keep it.”

“She did? I thought I saw a faint glow for a moment. I suspect as you are together longer your communication won’t be so obvious. Tell Miki I hope she enjoys shredding the tissue. I bet it makes a nice nest material and toy.”

“You brought it; you give it to her,” I said.

Gin put water in the carrier, some dry food in the built-in bin, tossed in the tissue then set the carrier on the ground. Miki bounded in after the tissue and only objected slightly when Gin zipped the door shut.

~~Joanie, how will I get out? If I am caged, I cannot protect you.~~

“Miki is worried she can’t get out in an emergency.”

"If I leave the zipper partially open can you squeeze out or tug it open with your teeth?” Gin asked Miki, then partially opened the flap.

Miki puzzled for a moment. She deftly grabbed a zipper slide in a paw and zipped it open while bracing the opening taut with her body.

“You have opposable thumbs? I mean you can use your paws like a human uses their hands?” I asked.

~No need to shout, Joanie. I am not as I was when I first became one with a mistress. I am skilled in many human ways, and my body is different to make this so. I can speak if I must, though it is hard.~~ she spoke to my mind. She sounded very confident, but not boasting

~~We will have so much fun together, Miki. Could you say thank you to Gin? She is a dear friend.~~ I thought.

~~With pleasure, Joanie. Thank you for speaking to my mind. I missed doing that with Mistress Kushala. You remind me of her in many ways.~~

“Thank you… Gin,” Miki spoke in a high-pitched, squeaky, but understandable voice.

“You’re welcome?!” Gin said wide-eyed then laughed.

~~Perfect, Miki.~~ I thought.

“Miki, do you need to… use the litter tray?”

~~No, Joanie, I used the big box with plants and the small tree in it.~~

I looked down the corridor to a large planter next to a huge window. “Gin, you may want to warn maintenance that Miki *fertilized* that big planter,“ I said and snickered.

~~What amuses you, Joanie?~~

I giggled and blushed.

“Ms. Miki, my friend here is being a silly girl. She’s imagining the surprise on the face of the maintenance person who next tends to that big planter. The planters are not usually used as bathrooms. You didn’t know, so it’s okay with me, Miki.”

Miki’s link to me must include helping her translate human speech because I thought someone blew a mental raspberry at me as we walked to the PT Cruiser. Gin drove us to the airport and helped us get on the plane.

* * * *

The engines of the small jet fired up, and we began to taxi.

~~I am afraid. I was scared the last time, but it is no better. This man box… airplane frightens… Aaagh! What was that?~~

“We took off. It means we are flying. It is quite safe. If you wish, you can sit on my lap. It’s safer for you to remain in your carrier which is buckled tight to the seat. I could put my hand inside it to comfort you if it helps. I don’t blame you for being afraid. My sister doesn’t like flying,” I offered.

~~Thank you, I will get used to this if I must.~~

She rested her head on my hand and she soon fell asleep. She kept a tight grip on my hand the whole time. Her warm, gentle presence and the strain of the day soon combined to put me to sleep. My dreams were wondrous and, no, I will not tell you what I dreamed about. The copilot woke us on approach to Des Moines. I found I had slept through most of a one-hour flight.

“I never asked. What do you have there, Joanie?”

“A magic mongoose.”

“You’re a nut, Joanie,” he said and walked back to the cockpit.

~~I told you the truth, Mister. It’s not my fault if you chose not to believe me. Those dreams! Note to self: I definitely need to remember about the silk scarves, oh yeah.~~

* * * *

I got a taxi to Terrace Hill, arriving around eight in the evening. The taxi dropped me off at the gate, where I was immediately recognized.

“Evening, Joanie. I’ll call ahead and…” said the officer on duty.

“Could you skip that? The visit is something of a surprise. Just say a visitor is on her way.”

“Sure, I’ll advise the staff to expect you but keep quiet. How long are you here?”

“Into Sunday, I escorted a pair of students to Madison to visit their mom in the hospital. We fly back to school on Sunday. I was so glad I could help,” I explained.

* * * *

I slung my guitar on my back then hoisted my bags -- Miki’s case included -- and walked up the long drive. The night air was pleasant, and I thought about what to say to Babs and Eric. The answer came at once — the truth. I was two-thirds of the way to the house when I heard the door to the mansion fling open and someone running out of the house towards me.

“Joanie, where are you? Let me help you,” Mel called out.

~~Somebody couldn’t keep a secret.~~

She nearly knocked me over when reached me. “I’m sorry, I’m so excited. Let me help. You have a pet with you?” Mel asked excitedly and tried to peer in the carrier. “I thought your smilodons were much bigger. It’s not for me is it — I’d like a pet but we can’t because it’s an historic house. That’s what Mom tells me — It’s not a kitty cat? It kinda looks like a kitty cat,” Mel said barely pausing to breathe.

~~Mistress! Joanie, help!~~ I *heard* Miki call. Mel in her excitement was holding the carrier in an awkward position and swinging it around.

"Mel, hand me the animal carrier carefully. You're scaring Miki,” I said calmly.

“Miki?”

“She’s my familiar. It’s a long story. Where’s Eric?”

Mel got this puzzled look. “A familiar?”

“I’ll explain it later. Just take it she’s a friend, and I want you to meet her. Spill, Mel, where’s your brother?”

“He’s out back shooting hoops.”

“I was; I’m not now,” Eric said running up to us.

He was wearing baggy shorts, tennis shoes and a very sweaty T-shirt. There was a gentle breeze blowing from Eric towards us, and I caught his scent. The impact on my senses was immediate. I wanted to jump him here on the lawn, immediately, sister or not. I could tell he was glad to see me, VERY glad despite the baggy shorts.

“Let’s go inside. You two can meet Miki, and then Eric and I can have a long talk with your mom. Thanks for being honest with her, Eric. You’re not in any trouble, but we need to set some rules,” I said smiling and feeling so good it was criminal.

“Joanie, what did you say Miki was, a familiar?”

“I, well, the experts at Whateley think I’m a sorceress. I may be able to use magic, and Miki here was the familiar or helper to a sorceress from India long ago. Miki is my helper now. She’s very clever. Want to meet her, Mel, Eric?”

We stepped onto the porch of the grand Victorian mansion and sat down, I let Miki out and she climbed onto my lap.

"Miki, this pretty young lady is Melissa or Mel as she prefers and the young man is…”

~~Your mate, I recognize his musk. I can see your aura flashing again; you love this Eric intensely. May I?~~

I nodded and Miki walked carefully to Eric and sniffed him. Eric gently petted her. Soon her rump was high in the air, her tail up and she made an odd cooing, meowing sound. I found myself becoming aroused, more so than I could ever remember. I was on the verge of ripping off my clothes; Eric was my sole reason for existence. I needed him more than food or air. I felt like an animal; I was driven by a primal urge. I needed his seed... I fought to stay in control and I sensed confusion and embarrassment. Miki moved over to Mel, sniffed her and crawled on her lap. Miki was mortified at her behavior. I realized what must have happened. We had had a female cat we didn’t have *fixed*, and I suspected what Miki’s behavior was. I’ve seen lots of nature documentaries, folks.

~~Miki, was that what I think it was? Were you assuming the position of a willing female in heat?~~

~~Forgive me. His musk should not have affected me, but I was smelling him, *seeing* him through your mind and… How can you stand to be so close and not submit to him?~~

~~Because I love him, and I want him to finish growing first. This waiting hurts as I do desire him so. But I must wait until he can legally accept what I long to offer him.~~

“Why did Miki act so odd?” Mel asked.

“She’s my familiar. It means she’s bonded to me: we can *hear* each others thoughts. We also feel each other’s emotions. Miki picked up on my feelings for Eric, and it overwhelmed her. Because we are linked, it fed back into me. Now you know why I need to talk with you two and Babs.”

“J-Joanie, you want to have s-sex with me? I know what it means when an animal does *that*. I know you love me, but I didn’t know you felt that way.”

“Eric, you’re forgetting Easter evening, and I talked with your mom about that. I know you feel the same. It’s okay to feel that way. It’s wrong for us to act on it until you are an adult, but it’s not wrong to imagine. Eric, if it wasn’t illegal and unethical for me to be with you, I’d be begging you for it. Don’t look at us like that, Mel. If your mom and dad didn’t feel like that you wouldn’t have been born. Then there are the twins on the way… They didn’t come from nowhere.”

“I know I’m supposed to say, ‘Yuck, my parents have sex?’ but that is so romantic! But you and my brother? Double yuck!” she said and giggled.

“Sis!”

“Yeah, Mel, don’t tease my future husband. We better see your mom and dad.”

“Husband?” Eric gasped.

“It’s a few years in the future, but I think so. What do you think?”

Eric smiled. “I like the sound of that, Joanie. I’d give you a hug, but I’m all sweaty. I must stink real bad.”

“Eric, you smell heavenly to me, but you could use a shower.” ~~A shower would be lovely. Hot water massaging us as we soap each other, our hands sliding all over our naked… Fight the urge to shower with him, Joanie. You don’t want to go to Alcatraz.~~ “Don’t take too long though; we do need to talk with your mom and dad. It’s important.”

“Yeah, Joanie, Mom and Dad said it's important we talk this out. Mom’s at home, but Dad’s gone again. He’s at another fund raiser for the party. He has to go because he’s Governor, and he’s expected. I know he’d love to beg off for Mom’s sake, but she understands. She misses him when he’s gone, but you’ll cheer her up. Thanks for calling her; she was feeling down, but your calls made her feel better.” He rushed off for a quick shower while Mel and I played with Miki for a few minutes.

* * * *

I placed Miki back in her carrier. Mel treated her carrier like it was the most delicate thing imaginable, much to Miki’s relief and mine. We met Babs in a sitting room. She began to get up, but I stopped her gently. Eric came in right after us.

“Babs, Sis, you don’t need to get up for me unless you want to. I… want you to be comfortable while we have that talk Eric and I need. Sara read me the riot act and then some; I’m angry with her. I don’t want to be; it’s more of an emotional reaction than a rational one. It took guts and love for her to say those things to me. It hurt, but in my heart I know she spoke the truth.”

“She called me this evening, twice. She was crying the first time; she’d hurt you so badly she was afraid you hated her. After you brought her the flowers and called her Mom, she called me again. She told me to say she’s sorry and forgives you for how you reacted at first. She was very harsh and regrets it,” Babs explained.

“I deserved it; my Ghod, I was moments away from seducing Eric, let’s be blunt, having intercourse — sex — with him on Easter. I know it. We need to set guidelines to avoid that. I trust Eric, but I’m not sure I trust me in his presence.”

“I better go, you need your privacy.”

“Please stay, Mel. I… we need you to help be our conscience. You can remind us if we get too frisky. It’s a lot to ask, but you’re a mature young lady. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you were up to it. Think of the fun you can have. I’m giving you license to be a pest to your brother and me.”

“That could be fun. Okay, I’ll do it,” Mel replied then grinned happily.

“Thanks, Mel. Babs, help Eric and me set up some sensible rules. You know what situations are likely to get our motors running.”

* * * *

“We simply must not get in situations where we are completely unsupervised. It’s that, or we stop seeing each other.”

“You’re breaking up with me, Joanie?” Eric sounded hurt.

“No, Eric, I am trying my damnedest to prevent that. But if we can’t find a way to keep our relationship on the up-and-up, we will have to break-up. I’ll not risk ruining your life because I can’t keep out of your trousers,’ I said and giggled nervously.

Eric stared at me, his mouth hanging open. Mel was halfway between laughing and shock.

“I don’t believe I said that, but I did didn’t I? It’s the truth, though I stated it crudely. Eric, I met you less than nine months ago; I don’t think in all that time we’ve spent more than 24 hours together. Add on the phone calls it’s still less than two days. Despite that, I *know* you are the one, and it scares me.

“When I met you, I’d been a woman for two months; I still have so much to learn even now. That I find myself irresistibly drawn to you is a source of joy and of fear.

“How can I explain it? Eric, I feel joy because in you I have found someone who makes me complete, someone I want to raise a family with. I also feel fear -- fear for your safety and that of your family; I put you and yours at risk by our closeness. My enemies may choose to get to me by hurting you. I fear that you will grow old and die but I won’t. My greatest fear is that I am being selfish in believing I deserve your love, Eric. Who am I to manipulate an impressionable young man into being my lover against his best interests?”

“That’s a lie! I love you, and you’ve done nothing to manipulate me. Knowing you has been nothing but good for me -- ask Mom, ask Mel. If it wasn’t for you, she’d be dead. I’d love you for that alone. Don’t you dare say you’re bad for me!”

“I know that, but that voice of doubt, that shy, unsure remnant of my previous life cannot accept my good fortune and is looking for the cloud surrounding the silver lining. Can you understand?” I asked. I moved next to him and hugged him as if I’d never see him again. ~~Hum, Eric uses Dial soap? It never smelled this good before, but then he smelled good sweaty… Joanie, you're obsessing about him, again.~~

We spent a good hour talking about Eric and me, and how to keep our relationship alive, but chaste. Mel contributed several good ideas, the smart girl. Finally, Babs had to ask about my animal carrier. I think Mel opening it and sticking her hand in there every so often got her attention.

“Mel, honey, what’s in the bag?”

“This is Miki; she’s Joanie’s familiar, and she’s sweet.”

“Familiar?”

“Let Miki out,” I said.

~~Miki, say hello to my friends.~~

“Greetings, friends,” Miki squeaked and bowed. Mel giggled, Eric looked on astonished, and Babs' face lit up in a huge grin.

“I knew magic was real! I knew it! You promise to treat Joanie well, Miki. Joanie is like a sister to me and to my children …”

“Love Joanie, always,” Miki struggled to say.

~~Thank you, you don’t need to speak that way anymore. I know it’s not easy.~~

“Miki has trained sorceresses for a long time. I saw her at the burial of her last mistress during one of my time trips. That was in 1858. Miki is special even for a familiar. She told me her most important duties were to guard her mistress's family and to be a friend and teacher to her mistress's children.”

“My god, it’s mini Lassie!”

“Babs!” I shouted then broke out in giggles.

~~Joanie, what does she mean?~~

~~ Babs was being silly, but in a complementary way. Lassie is a heroine dog in fiction. She was brave, smart, loyal, and very attractive. In Scotland a lassie is a young woman, usually a good—looking one.~~ I wasn’t about to tell Miki that the TV Lassie was a canine cross-dresser.

“Babs, Mel, can I have some time with Eric -- alone please? You and Mel can play with Miki. She likes toilet tissue rolls. If you throw one for her to pounce on, I bet she’d be your friend.”

“Can I, Mom? Please?”

~~Please?~~ Miki sent me and assumed a begging position.

“Okay. Mel, get a roll from the linen closet, We’d best do this in the hallway,” said Babs.

“Thank you!” Mel and Miki squealed together.

* * * *

Eric and I talked as we heard the sounds of occasional girlish squeals — in two distinct ranges of pitch -- and of furry feet and claws scurrying on the wood floor. I imagine Miki made some squeaks, yips and the like, but Mel and Babs were too loud for me to hear her over them. Babs may be 35 and a pregnant mother, but the little girl in her is alive and thriving. ~~No wonder she sees me as her sister.~~ I did sense Miki was having a great time playing. Eric and I sat together on a couch holding hands.

“Eric, this is hard for me. I want you to respect me. I want to show my respect for you. That can’t be if I act like a nymphomaniac who wants nothing but sex from you. Believe me, I want to do that with you, but not until you’re an adult.”

“I’m happy just holding your hand and talking. My friends at school keep saying how lucky I was to go to the dance with you and that we’re friends. We’re more than friends, right?”

“Eric, I think we’re soul-mates. It means our personalities, desires, and well, everything, match so closely we’re like two halves of a puzzle. Apart, we’re incomplete; together, we’re something special. I’m not saying this well, I…”

“Joanie, stop talking.”

“Huh? What do you… mmmmmmm… Where did that come from? Not that I’m complaining.”

“Is that better, Joanie? And all we did was hold hands and kiss, nothing else. See, Joanie, we can do it. It will be fun. I want to know you first; I want to know your mind. From what you’ve told me, your body will be exactly as it is no matter how long we have to wait. Let’s get to know each other as people; it will make getting to know each other as a man and a woman all the better,” Eric said and gave me a hug.

“How did you get so damned mature? I’ll wait. Um, Eric, may I have another kiss to tide me over?”

~~ This is bliss. Don’t let it end.~~ I could have stayed in his arms forever, but we had to break it off to avoid a repeat of Easter night.

“Joanie, this will work out. We kissed twice and held hands but kept in control. Good things are worth waiting for. I know, tell me more about how you met Miki. She’s important to you, so that makes her important to me.”

“You’ve got it, Eric, and thanks for putting up with this confused girl. I promise I’ll make it up to you someday.” We sat next to each other and quietly talked; the feral beast that was our desire *domesticated*, I hoped.

* * * *

“Ms. Brown, there is an important video conference call for you; Ms. Johnson will meet you in the Media room,” one of the Governor’s aides said to Eric and me.

“Please, call me Joanie, everyone else does.”

“I must decline. I was not raised that way and to me it feels improper to do so. Given names are for family or close friends. I am not a close acquaintance or family member, so it would be wrong for me to presume. I apologize if I sound pompous; it is not my intent. I also assist the Governor in matters of protocol.”

“Joanie doesn’t mean anything by it, Ms. Jenkins; it’s the way she is.”

“Thanks, Eric, but Ms. Jenkins is right. Not everyone is comfortable with being as informal as I. Since she is involved with matters of protocol, I understand why she errs on the side of formality. Eric, imagine if the Queen of England was visiting your dad and I walked up and said, ‘Hey, Lizzi babe, how’s it hanging? Are you and Phil still doing the nasty?’ Your dad would know I was joking, but I imagine the Queen would be offended. I’m sorry, Ms. Jenkins. I prefer to be informal, it’s my nature, but if you are not comfortable, I understand. I’m afraid the seventeen year-old girl in me dominates my personality. Please inform Mrs. Johnson I’ll be with her shortly.”

“Of course, Ms. Brown, and thank you,” she said, and left.

Eric and I walked into the corridor where we saw Mel and Miki waiting for us. Though they’d cleaned things up, there remained visible evidence of a life-and-death struggle between mongoose and toilet tissue.

~~The poor tissue never had a chance, sob!~~ I thought, then I *heard* a certain animal giggle in my mind.

“Eric, can you and Mel keep an eye on Miki? I don’t know how long this call will be. I do want to spend more time with you all. I‘ve got to go.” I gave Mel a quick hug and kiss and then the same for Eric. I skipped my way to the Media room, and I do mean skipped.

~~Ghod, I LOVE being a girl!~~

* * * *

“Mrs. Williams-Johnson, Ms. Joan Brown, I’m Dr. O’Mara from Kahului, Maui in the State of Hawaii. I believe you both know Dr. Sara Grobschmit-Taylor from Madison, Wisconsin, and Ms. Elizabeth Carson from Dunwich, New Hampshire. Joanie, I need a BIG favor from you. I wouldn’t ask but you are essential for a safe resolution of the problem.”

“Joanie, I hate to cut your visit short, but an emergency has arisen. I need you to fly to Maui, Hawaii, and escort a new mutant to Whateley,” said Ms. Carson.

“I’ll ask the obvious question: Why me, Ms. Carson? Surely there are others who could chaperon the child?”

~~Gee, nice verbiage Ms. Noah-speaka-dey-englease Webster. Ghods, I said *surely* in front of Sara of all people -- I’m doomed.~~

“I’ll explain, dear,” said Dr Sara. I noticed her eyes were a little puffy, and the expression on her face would put a hurting puppy to shame. “The patient is a young girl whose mutation manifested shortly before her thirteenth birthday. In the eight weeks that have passed, she’s proven a difficult case. The situation in her community is not ideal, and the community — Hana — does not have the facilities for her needs as a mutant. It’s quite remote.”

I broke up in giggles.

“Remote? Hana? I’ve been there, once, as J … as my old self, and remote is an understatement. It may be just fifty miles from Kahului and the main airport for Maui, but that road is a scenic nightmare. I mean, not that many miles after Hana is where Lindberg moved to get away from the press and all that publicity.”

“I didn’t know you’d been there. That’s another point in your favor,” said Dr. O’Mara, a friendly smile forming on her forty-something mixed Asian/Hawaiian/Celtic face. “Let me fill you in on the child’s situation so you know why we are all asking you help us. Before I go on, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Brown. My daughter has your CDs and plays them all the time. Frankly, I’m sick of it.”

I giggled and laughed, which got a similar response from the charming doctor.

“You were right, ladies, Joanie can take a joke. Joanie, if I may call you that …”

“I prefer it, and you prefer?”

“Maureen.”

“Maureen O‘Mara? Do any films with John Wayne? …Excuse me!” I exclaimed. I ran, giggling uncontrollably, to the ladies room to keep from wetting myself.

* * * *

“Sorry I had to leave abruptly. I apologize for the silly schoolgirl routine, but look at this body. As they say, when in Rome… sorry again. Doctors, and Ms. Carson, let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Why me?”

“Leah Haleakala’s mutation seemed normal at first. She did suffer a severe burnout, but prompt treatment by her EMTs with ice, salt and metabolic inhibitors saved her. Dr. Sara’s treatment of the twins and your water rescue, Joanie, of that girl in April got wide coverage in the on-line and print medical journals. The lesson that cold is a powerful tool for control a burnout was not lost on us. It’s fair to say she owes her life to you ladies, Dr. Sara, Joanie.

Once stabilized, Leah was flown by helicopter to Pearl Harbor where Hawaii has its only major center for mutants. I kept in frequent contact with her doctors there during her evacuation and flew out on the next available flight to offer my assistance. She recovered quickly, and as she had no significant mutant abilities we sent her home after a couple weeks’,” Dr. Maureen explained.

“I still need to ask -- why me? Leah sounds like a minor case, other than the severity of the burnout. That confuses me, as it often indicates a person will get serious mutant powers.”

“That is precisely why we need you, Joanie. Her powers are the reason why we must have your help,” Dr Maureen said. “Her powers took a while to kick in, so we didn’t realize the danger she would be exposed to. Other than a moderate exemplar effect, she seemed normal. That and the strawberry blonde hair and bright green eyes on her otherwise Eurasian body were a surprise, but contacts and hair dye could have fixed that.”

~~Strawberry blonde hair and green eyes? Oh oh!~~

“Her powers kicked in three days ago. She has something akin to your time stop, Joanie, but her control is erratic at best.”

“You’re hoping I can teach her control. It’s possible, but why the rush? Ah… she can’t help using it when she is frightened. I take it she has used it and at an inopportune moment?” I asked.

“Her exemplar gifts make her look older and more alluring than before. Leah was a cute girl; she has the body of a stunning female now. She looks more like a college coed than a thirteen year-old. She is very beautiful, but is not anywhere near to being able to handle the natural side-effects of that body. Some older boys hit on her thinking she was of age and went too far. They are being held in jail under sexual assault charges. In her panic she time stopped them and ran away. That likely saved her from being raped; unfortunately several people saw this, and one was an anti-mutant sympathizer.

“He got the word out. He claims she is a child predator, and she used her mutant powers to corrupt the *innocent* boys. There was a confrontation at her school the next day and several people got hurt. She was terrified and time stopped some people again as she ran home. The local jerks called in outside trouble makers and the situation is tense. We need to get her out safely, and you are our best hope, Joanie,” the exotic doctor pleaded.

“You can’t fly her out for fear she’ll have a panic attack and time stop the helicopter?” I offered.

“Exactly, we could try a convoy, but the road is fifty miles of hairpins and frequent single-lane-one-way sections. We could drug her, but she is a moderate regen and the drugs wear off fast; a partially disoriented Leah would be a nightmare. Fortunately, Leah is a fan of yours, Joanie, and we believe that will make the difference.”

“Leah’s a fan of mine?”

“I *think* so. Let me explain. While she was under my care, all she ever wanted to talk about was you, her friends in your fan club and I quote, ‘will I have cool mutant powers like Joanie?’ end quote. She’s a sweet girl. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”

“There is something you’re not telling me, Maureen.”

“Joanie, hon, I was called in on this because tests of Leah’s blood showed break down residues of the Ultra-X-Amine homolog used on your three friends in Wisconsin. The chemical is so unstable and hard to detect, it took this long to be certain. The investigation tracking the Wisconsin group suggested the criminal experimenters were in Vancouver, British Columbia, recently.

They must have moved on to Hawaii and decided it was safe to start up their experiments again. Suspicious individuals have been spotted in or around Hana, and they are not known or suspected anti-mutants or Hawaii for Hawaiians activists. The local police have help from the State police, but they are overwhelmed. The situation is escalating dangerously,” my Sara explained.

“Those bastards are at it again, Sara?” I was fast becoming furious. “I just saw some of their *handiwork* today in the broken body of my friends’ mother. I’m in. These people are a threat to Suzy’s family as well. Don’t worry, I’ll behave myself, but if I can do anything to stop these killers you’ve got it.”

“Suzy?” asked Dr O ‘Mara.

“The girl I rescued in that cold, cold water. I, well, she’s a blood relative. Her mom’s my cousin, so you can see why I want to help. Please don’t repeat this.”

“I’m sworn to protect my patients' confidences, and I know of Whateley’s reputation. I’m not inclined to piss-off hundreds of mutant supers. It’s not healthy.”

“Okay, ladies, what do we do next?”

* * * *

Arrangements were made to divert my charter to O’Hare, where I would board a direct commercial flight to Honolulu. It was the quickest way to get me there. My charter would fly on to Madison, and several of my MSG pals, likely Red and Gin, would escort the twins back to Whateley, as I would be delayed by the Hawaii trip. I would be escorted by members of the Hawaiian State police and Army National Guard helicopters would fly us to Maui to effect Leah’s rescue. There was a chance I might even get to spend some time on a beach, and I didn’t have a thing to wear.

~~Oooh, I wonder if they have any nude beaches. Could be fun,~~

I called in my ace-in-the-hole once we’d worked out most of the details.

“Ladies, this is Melissa Johnson, Babs' daughter and my dear friend. She is also the president of my fan club.

“Mel, that’s my dear Dr. Sara. The nice lady over there is Ms. Carson, she’s my boss, and the other lady is Dr. O ‘Mara. They want me to go to Hawaii and bring a frightened girl safely to Whateley. Does the name Leah Haleakala of Hana, Maui, sound familiar? “

Mel’s eyes lit up, and she grinned. “Leah? Sure, she’s a regular in our chat room. I haven’t heard much from her in recent weeks. She did say she’d been ill and would tell us about it someday. What’s wrong?”

“Leah is a victim of the same creeps who drugged my Wisconsin friends. She’s now a mutant, and she’s in danger. Her doctor, Ms. O’Mara, wants me to go to Hawaii and get her out. My friends here think a friendly face would help. Can you get a message to her?”

“I could send her a PM — that’s a private message. We use encryption — that’s a tough word to say -- so we can keep things private. You have to be a registered club member to read our messages. What should I say to Leah?”

“She needs cheering up, and she needs to be ready to move out, fast. A telephone call is risky; the phone line could be tapped. Send her a message saying a good friend of yours is coming to help her and for her to be careful until then.”

“Joanie, come with me,” Mel said, grinned and grabbed my hand. She was eager to help me.

“Sorry, ladies, duty calls.”

“Joanie, hold on for a moment. Your ticket for the flight to Hawaii will be waiting for you at the airline check-in desk at O’Hare International. We’ll send Babs all the details of your itinerary before you leave. And good luck, Joanie.”

“It’s my pleasure, Dr O’Mara, Ms. Carson, Sara. One last thing, ladies, I need two tickets to Hawaii, adjacent seats, please. Sara would you be a dear and explain to them about my furry stowaway, Miki? And, Sara… I love you.”

I blew her a kiss and was met by shocked expressions on the other teleconferenced faces. Ms. Carson’s soon looked like she was about to break into laughter, but she knew about Miki from Circe and Dr. Tenant. They had told me they had to inform Administration why I’d be keeping yet another animal in my dorm. I left the room with Mel. I think Sara was crying again as I looked back. Babs gave me a thumbs up.

* * * *

“Okay, we’re online. Let me see if Leah is on too. Yeah! She’s on. See, Leah_1994 is in the chat room.”

‘Leah_1994, this is Iowa_Mel_10, can you talk?’

‘Mel, thank god. Bad things are happening, I’m scared.’

‘Leah, a VERY GOOD friend I met in Prairie Du Chein last Labor Day is next to me; she has a message. I’m turning on my web camera and microphone so you can see and hear her.’

“Go ahead, Joanie.”

‘Leah, this is Joanie. Your Dr. O‘Mara asked me to help you so I am. Please be brave for a little while longer, girl. I’m coming to get you out — in person. It will take time to fly there, but I should be with you in less than a day. Be safe and do what the police say. The people who started all your troubles hurt friends of mine. That makes you family in my eyes, so be brave, cousin.’

‘Are you really her? You look and sound like Joanie, and I can see Mel beside you. I do know what she looks like from our chats.’

‘I was kissing Mel’s brother an hour ago. He looks even better than at the dance.’

‘She sure was. It was embarrassing watching my brother carry on like that. I made sure they behaved.’

I giggled.

‘You’re that Joanie alright. That giggle and smile are all the proof I need. Thanks for helping me. I’d better go. Be careful, Joanie, people have tried to shoot at our house. I’ll be brave. Mel, tell your brother to be nice to Joanie.’

‘I’m on my way, Leah. Have a small bag packed with your most important possessions and a change of clothes ready. I hear you got some way kewl powers, kinda like mine. I help you learn to control them if you want. See you soon.’

* * * *

We signed off, and I prepared to leave despite my burning desire to stay in Iowa.

“Thanks, Mel. Check frequently and let your mom know if you get any more messages from Leah. She can forward them to me. This is an important job, Mel; can I count on you?”

“You bet. Thanks for letting me play with Miki; she’s funny.”

”I like you, too, Mel.” I hugged her and hurried to gather my stuff together.

* * * *

“Let me help you.”

“That’s not necessary, Eric.”

“I want to. I wish we’d had longer.”

“I plan on coming in June. As long as we play by the rules, we should be fine. We need to be a bit less touchy-feely. It’s for the best. You get the time to finish school, and I get the time to learn control. Be good for me, Eric, and I’ll give you a special present for your 18th birthday. You’ll like it, I’m sure.” I wet my lips and ran my hands along my sides.

“Joanie! I… a…”

“Now you know how I feel. Be good. It’s not that long to wait.

“Miki, we have a plane to catch.”

To be continued.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 6

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Miki flies again but is not happy. Joanie encounters the MCO -- Mutant Control Agency --and she gets a brief taste of a woman's greatest fear. Joanie meets good cops and a bad cop. She runs into a childhood friend and makes amends to a service worker she abused. The rescue of Leah -- the new mutaant -- begins. It's the start a wild and dangerous journey.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble) Ah… on second thought, don’t. — Just freakn’ great, now he’s foaming at the mouth and his head is turning in circles — Buddy, the Linda Blair impersonation does not impress me. I don’t care if you’re levitating three feet above the bed and your eyes are glowing… red. Um, never mind. (Pea soup, anyone? Urrrrrrrp!)

Adult content advisory: this chapter contains situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. If you survive that pap, there is some adult content too, so be warned. The name Leah was inspired by the *Hawaiian* style Roy Orbison tune, Leah, and our exotic young tour guide in December 06 — Leilani -- at Greenwell Farms, a premier Kona Coffee grower.

Timeout 4

By John from Wauwatosa
Verb verification by Itinerant, verily
Technical advice on police, airports and the electronic press by Karen_J
Error checked by GEBPR mistress Janet Nolan to insure kwality

Chapter 6, Hey Miki You're So Fine 5, MCO, Old Friend, Hana, HI 96713 - Leah 2

Des Moines, IA, Chicago, Il and Hana, HI, May 04-May 05, 2007

Late May 04 nearly May 05, 2007

* * * *

It was close to midnight by the time I got to the airport. We had to hustle as my flight to Honolulu was scheduled to depart O’Hare at 2:24 AM CDT, a very tight turn-around for me. My handsome flyboys were informed I was on a tight schedule and had topped off their fuel tanks before I arrived. I boarded and we were in the air in five minutes, our engines roaring.

~~Handsome flyboys? Next time I visit Eric, I’d better get some relief afterwards or take a damn cold shower. The pilots are looking way too hot for my liking. The ass on the copilot is so fine. Turn around so I can check out your… Oh baby, that’s prime! …Get a grip, Joanie, you do not want to join the Mile High Club by accident. I hope Eric’s okay, I think I wound him up, too. Come to think of it, he was shooting hoops again when I left and it was an hour to midnight. ~~

“We’ll get your there on time, Joanie. Normally we cruise at 450 to 500 knots for fuel efficiency; we’re pushing 630 knots tonight. It’s takes a lot more fuel, but we get a bonus if we can get you there with time-to spare,” the copilot explained.

“Thanks. Sorry to spring this on you at the last minute.”

“We live for these unscheduled trips. It’s a challenge to our skills, and its fun seeing what this baby can do. Hang on; this could be a rough ride. We have to fly through some turbulence to save time. I’ll let you know when it’s okay to leave your seat, Joanie. Please keep your belt on tight; I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

The flight was a short one like the flight from Madison, barely over an hour. I passed the time regaining my composure after my abbreviated reunion with Eric and in comforting Miki. She was not yet a happy member of the frequent flyer's club. With every bump and vibration of the aircraft she involuntarily shivered.

“Miki, you have fought the possessed, you have lived on your own fighting the minions of that demon, and air travel scares you?” I was tired and forgot I need not speak to communicate with Miki. But then the tone of my voice calmed her and me so it wasn’t entirely a waste.

~~I… I did not like the smoke belching man raft… the steam ship. Mistress Kushala did not like it either. I will get used to it; I must as your protector. Oh, what was that?~~

“We flew into some turbulence. Remember on the steam ship when it hit big water waves? I bet it shook and pitched around. Turbulence is like waves in the air. You will be fine. You’re not used to this yet. You will be, soon,” I said and petted her in her tightly belted carrier.

~~Bless you, I needed your touch. Kushala exposed me to many new and wondrous things; you will be no different, Joanie. What of your tigers, and how will we live together? As your protector I must be near, but I would not interfere with their love for you.~~

“They are smilodons. They are not tigers. I rescued them over ten-thousand years ago on the edge of the last great glacial advance. I was testing my time travel power and stumbled upon them and their dying mother. It was too late for her, and I could not have handled a full-grown smilodon, even if I knew how to save her. I could not leave them to die, they were not yet weaned so I adopted them. Their kind vanished from the world not long after. George and Gracie are the first two that have lived in nine thousand years.”

~~But you chose to protect them knowing they are flesh eaters.~~

“So are you, Miki. That does not make you or them evil. You are what you are. They are being trained. They are intelligent for animals who do not have the gift of magic. Pinky is helping, as is a dog trainer in Whateley Security. I do what I can as well. They will not hurt you, if we introduce you to them carefully.”

~~They did behave when we were bound. They love you as children love their mother. I sense it now that we are linked. They may have a crude form of an empathic power. We will manage with the help of your daughter, Ms. Pinky.~~

“She’s not my daughter… I suppose she is in reality. I am preparing to become her legal guardian, as her birth mother despises mutants. Becoming her mother was more of a legal ploy to save her family, to shock the mother into trying to understand her mutant daughter. I do love Pinky, and she deserves better.

“Thank you, Miki, I will do it. If her mom won’t see reason, I’ll gladly be Pinky’s mom. I’d be a fool to reject her as my child.”

* * * *

May 05, 2007

They got me to O ‘Hare in great time, and I hustled to the ticket counter. The line was short as the fight was leaving in under an hour, and most of the passengers were already in the departure lounge, I learned later.

“I have a last minute reservation on the 2:24 AM direct flight to Honolulu. It’s for Ms. Joan Brown, that’s me, duh. It’s for two adjacent seats as I have a live animal I must carry with me.”

“Your ID, please, and the vaccination certificates for your animal, Ms. Brown? …Ms. Brown, um, any checked luggage… YOU’RE flying with us?”

“Last minute emergency, I’m afraid. I have to go to Hawaii to help with a frightened child. It is Hawaii, so this should be fun at some point. Will Ms. Miki here be a problem? I believe she’s exempt as a sorceress’ familiar, but I don’t want to cause trouble.” I handed my ID and the temporary familiar/sorceress card for Miki and me that Circe and Dr Tennant had provided. I set Miki’s carrier up on the counter so it could be inspected.

“You are a constant source of surprises, Ms Brown. You’re a sorceress? Not satisfied with being a singer, model and mutant heroine? Did you know there is a Coke ad in our in-flight magazine that features you time stopping a can of soda? Remarkable!”

“The soda can demonstration was for another magazine; it was part of an interview and photo spread I did. Our school got a tidy sum of money from the publisher and a sweetheart deal from Coke afterwards, so I’m happy.

“The sorceress potential was only recently discovered. I’m not a sorceress in the classic sense. Miki here is my familiar; she chose me, and I’m glad she did. I need all the help I can get with this, not that I expect anything to come of it. It will be interesting to try, though.”

“We don’t get a lot of familiars, but the papers appear in order. Her carrier meets our safety requirements. Please keep it tightly belted to the seat at all times for your animal’s safety as well as everyone else’s. And despite the temptation, do not let your animal out while on the plane for the same reasons.”

“Will do — is my guitar a problem? My day bag I’m sure will fit in the overheads. I have flown before.”

“If necessary, the flight attendants will secure your guitar up front. I don’t foresee any troubles. You’d better hurry; you need to get through the security check. I’ll call ahead to make sure the departure gate expects you.”

”Which way next?”

“Security check is to your left; gate K16 is near the far end of the terminal. Turn to your left immediately after Security then follow the overhead signs. Thank you for flying with us, Ms. Brown.”

* * * *

The line at security was short; not many folks like to catch a plane in the wee hours of the night. I’d flown commercial before and knew the drill. I took off my shoes then put them with my keys, purse, belt and everything else in one of the provided bins so they could be x-rayed.

Okay, dear d/j/w readers, I know what I just said. Stop laughing at me! I did not stand there naked; I meant I took off anything with significant metal content, and no my bra that evening was not an underwire. If anyone makes a crack about my needing a chastity belt, they are out of here. Jeese, you pose for a men’s magazine once and everybody assumes you get naked at the drop of a hat. Everything else meant my jewelry, a watch, hair clips, and that sort of thing.

I will admit to this, if stripping naked is what it took to get on that plane, I would have done it. I would have been royally cheesed off, but when Ms. Carson and my dear Dr. Sara ask me to help someone, I know it’s important. The looks on Bab’s, Mel's, and Eric’s faces when I had to leave were worth any inconvenience I’d face. That family treats me like I’m their guardian angel, and I don’t ever want to disappoint them. If having an unpredictable life is the price for this body and my new friends, it’s a bargain.

My bag and guitar case went up on the rollers with the bin. I took Miki out of her carrier, and put on her the figure-8 harness and leash. Then the carrier followed the rest through the x-ray machine. I had my ID at the ready including my boarding pass, my mutant ID and the temporary familiar’s card. I got some odd looks when they saw Miki, if seeing me wasn’t strange enough. I walked through the body scanner with Miki on my shoulders then handed my ID to the officers on duty. The lady and man from the Federal Airline Security agency were fine but as for the MCO man… I’d better describe what happened at security. It went like this:

“Possession of a mongoose in the United States is normally illegal except under special license, but your familiar’s card is in order and you have the animal properly restrained. You are free to go, Ms. Brown, and thank you for being cooperative. Some celebrities are a handful; sorry I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I understand and thanks.”

I gathered my possessions, put Miki back in her case and was about to put my shoes on when I was interrupted.

“Stand over here, hands out to your sides.”

“Excuse me?”

“Now, or I’ll arrest you for interfering with an officer. Better, now spread your legs and hold still until I tell you.”

I was shocked by his actions and was getting angrier by the second. He began a thorough, rough and very intimate pat-down search -- far too intimate if-you-know-what-I-mean.

“Stop that it tickles. Hey! that was my breasts you groped, Mister …EEP!!”

-- SLAP!! —

“You son-of-a-bitch! That was my sex you groped.”

-- Zzzzzp — Miki’s carrier opened as if by magic.

“You’re under arrest! Drop to the ground or I’ll drop you, hard, mut.”

“Sexual assault is a serious charge, Officer. You had no right or need to touch me in that manner. I suggest you stop and apologize now, before you find yourself in prison and some bigger man's *wife*. What’s more, I’m proud to be a mutant! How dare you make a disparaging slur; I *heard* you mutter mut.”

I was furious. He’d groped me where no one EVER gropes a woman or should even dare touch her. I was saving *that* place for Eric, and Eric alone. Not that I hadn’t *loaned it* to the Gang of Four and Dairy Maid in my *younger days* as a woman. That was mutual, voluntary and 'whoa momma'. This was none of those. This was abuse of power, plain-and-simple.

He moved to strike and cuff me, then the Federal airport screeners intervened as did Miki.

“That was assault, Pete. Ms. Brown has every right to feel abused. Let her go and apologize immediately, or I will help the young lady file a charge of attempted rape. Let her go and apologize. Now! That is a direct order,” the ranking Security officer, a woman, said.

“She resisted me, and I feared she carried a concealed weapon. These mutants are devious; it’s a proven fact.” He continued to threaten me physically.

“Frank, the only thing deadly about Ms. Brown is her killer body, and I’d hardly classify that as a concealed weapon — no offense intended, Ms. Brown,” said the female airport screener.

“None taken,” I replied. Officer Peter “Pete” Frank continued to try and intimidate me. Luckily for me the Security screeners were not buying his act.

“Dispatch, Sgt. Murphy at screening. I need the captain here immediately. We have a standoff with the MCO that needs resolution. Yes, it’s Officer Frank… again. Over.

“Pete, you want to add refusing to obey a lawful order and false arrest to the list of charges?” she asked. “Assaulting anyone on airport property falls under Chicago police authority, and I am deputized by both the FAA and the Chicago police. You know I outrank you, Officer Frank. Follow my orders.”

“I don’t have to follow your orders, I’m MCO. Don’t let that pretty face fool you, these mutants are nothing but trouble. Are you going to just stand there silent, or are you going to back a fellow officer? Jesus!”

“Officer Peter Frank, Debra is right. You’ve gone too far this time. You were a good cop when you started with the department. What happen to you since you joined the MCO? I must apologize for him, Ms. Brown; Pete wasn’t always like this. Oh, I’m Officer Jesus Ramone; this is my superior, Sgt. Debra Murphy. ”

“Let her go,” a high pitched voice squeaked. I smiled immediately.

~~Thank you, dear friend.~~

“What was that?”

“That was my familiar giving you fair warning. Miki is a female mongoose and fiercely protective. Seeing how you assaulted me, I’m going to enjoy watching her sinking those razor—sharp teeth and claws into your genitals. We’re linked to each other mentally; she knows exactly what you did to me and where. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes at the moment; Miki is furious.”

Miki growled and hissed, baring her teeth and raising her fur. Her ears were back, her tail low, in preparation to attack.

“Shoot it, it’s rabid!”

“She looks plenty healthy to me, Pete. What to you think, Jesus?”

“I see a well-trained guard animal protecting its mistress. You’re in no danger if you come to your senses and let Ms. Brown go.”

A man came up in an electric cart. The Captain (?) was around 40, fit, tall, handsome, with a devastating smile and... ~~No wedding ring? My kind of man… Ghod, Eric got me wound up but good.~~

“Officer Frank, this is a direct order from the Chief of the O‘Hare Airport Police, my direct supervisor. The MCO may be an international organization but in this airport the Chicago Police department has ultimate authority. Release that woman at once, or I am to arrest you personally.”

“There, you can go now, *Miss*. I’m filing a protest, Captain. You interfered with my duty to uphold the regulations of the MCO.”

“Do you wish to file charges, Ms. Brown?”

“I dearly would, um, Captain is it? I’m a sworn officer in New Hampshire as part of my school duties, and this man is a disgrace. But my flight departs in 30 minutes if that clock is right, and it’s down at gate K16. Miki, please get back in your carrier, dear.”

“She zipped it shut herself? My, she’s well trained,” the female sergeant commented.

“Not exactly, it’s more like she’s training me, Sgt. Debra, if I may call you that. I have to go, sorry. A man like Officer Frankenstein needs to have some sense knocked his head.

“Frank, you assaulted a woman in the clear view of multiple cameras and fellow officers; are you insane? You’re not only a menace, you are a fool. Hand over your weapon and badge to the Sgt. You are relieved of duty pending charges. Officer Ramone, handcuff Officer Frank.

“Ms. Brown, we only need your name, ID and your account of what happened. Between my officers and the closed circuit TV images we can do this without you, but your testimony would help. To minimize your inconvenience, I could interview you while we drive to your gate. You’ll state your name and some ID info then tell what happened as simply and accurately as you can. Unclip it and speak into my shoulder mic. The radio has a built-in in voice recorder; just hold in the blue button while recording. Slick, ain’t it. I hate taking paper notes.” I smiled and nodded in agreement.

We loaded my bags onto his electric cart once Officer *Cop-a-feel* was secured. We drove off at a runners pace.

* * * *

“Captain, I’d take you out for drinks if you weren’t on duty. Are you seeing anyone? ...Why are you laughing?”

“Ms. Brown, if I believed you were serious I’d take you up on that in a second. I can tell you’re just flirting. I’m appreciative, but wouldn’t you miss your flight?”

“I’m serious about the drink. You and your officers treated me well. Ah, shouldn’t we do that incident report thingy? I sounded like an airhead, didn’t I? I don’t mean to, but it happens. Don’t ask me why.”

~~That’s easy, you’re nervous, tired, horny as hell, and he looks a bit like an older Eric.~~

“You… you remind me of my boyfriend, just older.”

“He must be a handsome devil then.”

“Now *you’re* being a flirt, Captain. If I had the time, you’d be successful too.”

* * * *

He asked me to state what happened, clearly and simply. I did, and managed to complete my report in minutes, which was good as that was all the time we had.

“There, told you we be here on time. You likely won’t need to testify but I have your contact information and it will stay confidential. I recognize the address as Whateley. It’s a fine school; I have worked with Whateley grads in the department. Take care, Joanie.”

“Thanks,” I said gave him a hug, grabbed my stuff and hot-footed it the few yards to the gate.

* * * *

My plane was already loading, as I rushed up to the desk. The gate attendant was busy and answered me without looking up.

“Joan Brown, I have two adjacent seats in group two because I have a live animal I must transport. I apologize for being late but I had difficulties with the MCO.”

“I hear they can be extremely strict. Your group has already boarded so you can just head straight to the jetway, Ms Brown.” She still hadn’t looked up at me other than a momentary glance. I *knew* what was coming next. Some of the passengers in line to board were staring at us. I think they were waiting for the gate attendant’s inevitable double-take.

“Thanks.”

She finally looked at me. “You’re her? We were told to expect a Joan Brown, but I didn’t make the connection it was you. You’re quite the celebrity!” Her eyes didn’t quite bug-out, but it wasn’t bad. A couple of college-age men in line gave each other high-fives while another dug out his wallet. He did not look happy.

“Be quiet, now everybody’s gonna’ want one. You’re sure I’m not cutting ahead of others here because of my fame, Mary?” I’m not a mind-reader, folks, I noticed her name tag.

”You have group two seats; you won’t interfere with the other passengers as the aisles are wider in that part of the plane,” she said as another flight attendant answered a phone then whispered in Mary’s ear. “Jacquelyn just told me the press have gotten wind of your incident with the MCO and are demanding you leave the secure area and give a press conference. I’d get on the plane now; it will save all of us a lot of hassle.”

“That seems a wise precaution. Thanks, Mary, and thanks, too, Jacquelyn.”

* * * *

I smiled and waved to the waiting passengers, then I lugged my bag, guitar and Miki to the plane. At over six feet tall, even wide-body jets cause me to duck entering the plane so the flight crew didn’t get a good look at my face.

“Group two, seats 27 A and B?”

“Straight ahead, second section and welcome.”

“Thank you. Will my guitar be a hazard if I store it in the overhead bins? It’s a solid-body electric and heavy,” I said as I cleared the door and could stand full upright.

“As long as the latches snap shut on the bin, it should be fine Miss…” The fight attendant looked closely at me. “…You look just like the singer, Joanie.”

“I do look like myself, don’t I? Hi, I’m Joanie. I better go, I’m holding up the line.” ~~As often as that happens, I’m not tired of it. Guess I’m an attention junkie.~~

* * * *

I walked the short distance to my seats, set Miki’s carrier down carefully, and tried to put my guitar and bag in the overhead. I struggled to get my large guitar to fit; it was a tight squeeze. I noticed quiet a few men and even a few women starring at me or parts of my anatomy.

“Miss, do you need help?”

“Yes, please, my guitar and bag are a tricky fit. I could use an extra hand or two.”

“Try it now,” he said as he gave the Les Paul a modest nudge while helping raise up the bin.

-- Click --

“Thanks Mr.?”

“Matt Ferguson, from Honolulu, but originally I’m from Wisconsin -- Wauwatosa actually. No one has ever heard of it.”

~~Wauwatosa!?~~

I turned to thank him as the gears in my head spun. I looked at him; he was a fit curly—haired man in his upper forties and looked extremely familiar. It came to me at once, and I felt dizzy.

~~It can’t be, after all these years.~~

“Are you okay, Ms. Brown? You are Joanie, the singer?” he asked. He steadied me while I recovered. To be honest, he held me close and firm in his strong arms as I nearly collapsed. I could smell his healthy musk. He was like a fine scotch that only gets better with age. I wanted to drink my fill. I recovered and composed myself.

“Thank you, Matt but I’m fine, just exhausted. It’s been a long day. I’ve flown from New England, to Wisconsin, to Iowa, to Chicago, and now on to Maui via Honolulu.” I had to ask him but how? “What you said shocked me, I know some people from Wauwatosa. ~~Myself for one.~~ Are you a ‘Tosa East graduate?”

He chuckled at ‘Tosa and smiled. He told me the year he graduated and the junior high and grade schools he attended, too. He explained how he’d moved to Hawaii a couple years before to start fresh after his wife of twenty years had died. My heart pounded.

~~He is *that* Matt.~~ Matt was a school pal of mine, but we gradually lost touch after grade school. He was an excellent athlete but was not a show off, which, as a total klutz, I appreciated. He clearly had kept fit and still had those piercing gray eyes. He was an intelligent and good mannered jock as a kid. ~~The whole time we’ve talked he’s looked me in the eyes, only once glancing at my body — what class. The boy was good-looking, the man is… Woof! AND a widower, damn, damn, damn, damn.~~

~~Ghod, why once I decide to do the *right thing* — find a good man and be utterly faithful to him — do you have to tempt me with such… delights? Matt is muscles-on-muscles and on a trim, non-steroid body. Those eyes of his put Robert Redford’s to shame. And he’s interested in me, his *equipment* is clearly in good working order. Momma has GOT to have some of *that*… Bad Girl. Down, heel, stay! Oh no, that smile is like Eric’s; no wonder I’m hot and wet.~~ We moved to one side of the aisle to let others pass.

“I miss Wisconsin, but my talents took me out east, Matt. I hope my sitting here doesn’t disturb you.”

“I’ve sat near celebrities before. The flight crews usually keep things under control. Pleasant dreams, Joanie. This is a long flight.”

“Thanks,” I said then whispered in his ear, “I’m sorry to hear about your wife. I remember hearing that your dad died; what is it now, twenty years ago? He was a nice guy. I felt bad I never sent a card,” I gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek then sat down. The look on his face was well worth it.

“You knew my father?” he whispered back.

“Matt, I graduated from the same high school class as you. I wouldn’t say we were close, but were friends in grade school. We were in the same classrooms in grade school. Heck, we were in the YMCA together back then. Think about it, and if you’d like to get in touch with me, I’d like that. Do keep quiet, please, for my family’s sake.” I handed him a business card with my private email address on it. He looked utterly perplexed, yet happy.

I was taking a big risk, but Matt and his whole family had always been scrupulously honest, so I felt I was safe. Plus he looked much like I envisioned a mature Eric would; how could *he* betray me?

* * * *

We taxied, took off, and soon were climbing to 37,000 feet. I slipped my hand in past the partially open zipper and kept a light touch on Miki while constantly sending her encouraging thoughts.

~~Thank you, Joanie, I feel better now. Rest, I will keep watch.~~

~~Thanks, but you don’t have to, Miki. The plane should be relatively safe. I want you well rested for Hawaii. The life of the girl we are to escort may be in danger. I need you to be my backup.~~

~~I will rest, but remain alert. My duty to you demands it.~~

~~Okay, only so long as you don’t harm yourself, Miki. I’m a tough girl; don’t let the seventeen-year-old body fool you.~~

I sleep when I can, Joanie. Do not fear for me. I failed Mistress Kushala and her pack… her family. I refuse to fail again.~~

~~Stubborn mongoose, aren’t you.~~

~~No less stubborn than you, Joanie; you are more than the silly girl you pretend to be. I am more than most perceive. Trust me to do my duty. I trust you to do yours.~~

After we leveled off, the fight attendants offered beverages and snacks. They were polite, friendly and the attendant with the beverages made a gallant effort to not stare down my cleavage.

“Ms. Brown, um, your blouse is ah…” he said very softly. I peeked down and saw I was giving a grand show.

~~Thank Ghod for my well-fitted bra… Oh joy, I forgot I’m wearing one of my shear Lycra bras; the ones with no padding. It made sense when I dressed; it was going to be a warm day, but the damn thing is all but see-through. If that’s why the AC has be cranked full blast, all I can say is… Whoa, guys it worked. I look like a fembot about to shoot her *twin guns*, my nipples are so stiff.~~

“I am *so* embarrassed; I guess I popped a few buttons storing my stuff in the overhead compartment. Thanks for being discreet.” I buttoned my blouse, blushing slightly in embarrassment. I got a juice for me and water for Miki. He got a smile and a kiss on the cheek for his trouble. After the *eye-full,* the poor man was in distress. ~~Now you know how my boyfriend and I feel, mister.~~ Miki wisely kept out of it, though I thought I sensed someone was softly *smirking* in their mind.

Being a red-eye flight, they did not show a movie or news, only the mandatory safety information and the expected weather for our destination. From the next attendant I bought a snack box that included tuna and crackers in addition to nuts and candy and such. Miki was most appreciative of the tuna. ~~Fish, you got me fish! Bless you, Joanie.~~ After this they dimmed the lights so we might sleep. I could have bought some cheap ear buds to listen to the on-board music, but I needed my sleep.

* * * *

Several times that night as I slept, a disturbing thought entered my dreams and made me feel disgusted with myself. I soon realized what my subconscious was telling me and resolved to make amends. About an hour out of Honolulu -- around 10 o’clock Eastern Daylight Time -- I picked up the handset of one of those seat back video satellite phones and called the Berlin NH Ford dealership. The receptionist recognized me at once. I was lucky they had full Saturday hours, not all dealerships do.

“Ms Brown, how may I… You’re calling from an airplane?”

“We’re about an hour out of Honolulu. Could you get the manager and Ms. Reinhardt from the Service Department on phone, and I’d like this on your PA system if possible. I owe someone an apology, and it needs to be a big, groveling one. In person would have been better, but this will have to do.”

“Certainly, it shouldn’t take more than few minutes to get things set on this end, Ms. Brown.”

* * * *

“You wished to speak to me and Ms. Reinhardt?” asked the manager.

“Yes and I requested your receptionist put this on your PA system, if that’s okay with you. Let me say my piece then you may speak, okay?

“Hello, and good morning everybody, I’m Joan Brown, Joanie the singer, and I was rude and insulting to one of your coworkers recently. I had my blast damaged crew-cab pickup towed in for repair or replacement. For reasons I am not proud of, I went off on your Ms. Reinhardt. I did not give her the necessary time or any real opportunity to do her job. I was impatient, rude and failed to show her proper courtesy. I compounded my bad behavior by giving Mr. Ford an equally hard time. I made a half-hearted apology to him, but not to the person I hurt most, that being Ms. Reinhardt. I acted the stuck-up prima donna, and I am ashamed of it. My parents raised me better than that.”

“That’s all right, Ms. Brown, I…” she tried to answer.

“Thanks, but I have more; please excuse me for being abrupt. It is not *all right* what I did to you, Ms. Reinhardt. I need to make amends to you, personally, for my outrageous behavior. You pick the day, Ms. Reinhardt — subject to my being available, as I do have my duty to my employer. I will work as your assistant, gopher, number-one-son, dogsbody, personal slave — well, maybe not *that* extreme -- for however long you work that day. If you want me to mop floors and clean bathrooms, I’ll do it. Is it fair?”

“You would do that for me?” she asked wide-eyed.

“I was a 24 carat bitch, and I used my celebrity in unfair ways. I don’t ever want to do that again. I hate people who abuse privilege, so what did I do? I abused my privilege.” ~~Ah, I bet that’s what triggered my bad dreams, my run-in with Mr. MCO.~~ “My mother, if she was alive, would be disappointed with my behavior.”

“Ms. Brown, Mr. Ford did say you told him that the service writer was not to blame, that you were. Ms. Reinhardt was not in any trouble with us at the dealership,” said the manager.

“I’m glad for that, but I was taught to act with respect towards others and not to be some selfish tyrant. Mom did not prove of bullying others.” I started to sniffle. It’s wasn’t an act; I was sincerely upset with myself.

“I forgive you, Ms. Brown, and I could use the help. Perhaps on the Friday before the Memorial Day weekend? That’s one of our busiest days,” she suggested.

“If I can work it out, you’ve got a dogsbody for that day. And again, I am sorry. I don’t ever want to be *that* woman again.”

* * * *

We arrived at Honolulu on time, a few minutes prior to 7 o’clock. Matt graciously helped me off the plane with my luggage. I could tell he wanted to speak to me in private.

“Do you have the time to have breakfast with me? I’d like to talk with you some more. Your revelations last night got my imagination running.”

“I would if I had the time, but I see several police officers and Dr. O’Mara ahead; they're my escort. I’m doing them a favor. I’m to travel into a volatile situation and safely escort a frightened new mutant child to safety — the same-old-same-old. Perhaps when I’m done we could have lunch, a drink or something, Matt. I miss my old friends and treasure the few I’ve managed to retain since my mutation.”

“Here’s my business card, Joanie. I can be reached on my cell at any hour. I think I know who you were before all this happened to you.” He gestured at my *new* body. “I can see the family resemblance, particularly to your mother; at least I think I do. It’s been so long I can’t be certain.” He winked, but then he always did have a quiet sense of humor. “I promise I will keep quiet; from what you’ve done in the last year, you deserve your privacy,”

He whispered in my ear. ”Joan, why did you pick such an obvious new *first* name? Only one letter different, are you crazy? …I keep up with the news. I’ve seen what you did, saving those girls, the singing and all. You done good, old friend… And you are so much better looking than John.”

“Thanks, Matt. You always were a classy guy.”

I felt a strange mix of emotions. I was happy and sentimental; I’d rediscovered an old friend, but the dynamic had changed. When we were kids, he was an athlete and a boy I respected, but that was all. Four decades later, the female me remembered all that while feeling more than a touch of lust for my old friend. I did something John would never have dreamed of and gave him a bear hug and kiss from a woman to a desirable man. I heard wolf whistles and some giggles behind us. We broke apart, and I saw several teenagers looking at us.

“Can’t a girl thank a man without everyone getting all silly about it?” I turned to Matt. “Thanks for *everything*, see you soon,” I cooed and I gave him a quick peck on the cheek. Poor Matt was blushing bright red, but he was smiling. Realizing a long-lost male childhood friend was now a major babe had to be confusing. I know it has my head spinning at times.

* * * *

“Who was that man you were kissing, Joanie?” Dr. O’Mara asked.

“That was Matt, I knew him in grade-school. He knows I was a classmate, but not who I was. He’s reliable, don’t worry. Can I get something to eat? And my friend Miki could use a chance to eat and relieve herself. She’s been stuck in her carrier for hours.”

~~Thank you, Joanie, I need to take care of myself.~~

“Your furry stow-away, Ms. Miki. Dr. Sara told us about her. You are a constant source of wonder Ms. Brown.” The doctor paused and a smile grew on her face. “Importing a mongoose to Hawaii, that seems redundant. We have a *few* of them already,” Dr. O’Mara said and chuckled. “Officer, would you kindly take Ms. Brown’s familiar to the secure dog-walk then return her to us at the B concourse McDonald’s.”

I put Miki into her harness and leash and handed her to the officer.

“You take care with her; she is precious to me. Miki, I’ll get you something good to eat. Thank you, Officer James,” I said noting his badge. I gave him big hug and a quick kiss too.

“Yes, ma'am, um, Ms. Brown, right away!” He walked off and I heard him say to himself. “She kissed me! Joanie kissed *me*. Wow!”

We stopped in an airport McDonald’s for something quick. Time was critical and a more relaxed meal would have to wait.

“The Spam, Eggs and Rice breakfast platter looks tempting but I don’t have the time. I’ll have a number 2 breakfast sandwich with juice. I see you have Kona coffee. A large one to go, please, and is it possible to get an order of scrambled eggs but with no salt or seasoning, and also a whole milk, also to go? It’s for my animal.”

“It will take longer, Miss,” my cashier said not looking closely at me.

“That’s fine. Thanks for the special order; I didn’t anticipate traveling with my mongoose. This trip was unexpected.” I got her attention with that and she looked up from her cash register.

“You have a pet mongoose? Ms… you? It’s really you? ...Like, oh-my-god, I am a big fan of your’s_what are you doing in Hawaii_how long are you staying_ why are the police with you? I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to go off like that. I’m, like, so excited!”

“That’s okay; can I get my food and the special order please? I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Michelle, do you need help? The line is backing … up? … Ms. Brown what an honor …”

* * * *

Breakfast took longer than expected -- duh. It worked out, because Miki’s eggs got time to cool and she got ample time to do her *ablutions*. I fed her and let her lap up some of the milk as Dr. O’Mara and I were driven to a military helicopter pad on another part of the airport. Dr. O’Mara gave me an update on Leah and the situation in Hana. I remembered to turn on my cell phone and found Mel had sent me a message a few hours before. I called her back, as she said it was important.

“Terrace Hill, who do you wish to... Good morning, Joanie. I recognize the caller ID.”

“Mel sent me a message. Is she awake? She said it was important.”

“She’s eating breakfast; I’ll inform her you’re on the line.

* * * *

“Joanie, thank God you called! I have my computer on all the time now just in case. Leah is scared. Someone shot at her house last night. She says she fears for her family. The police moved her during the night to a secure place, she couldn’t say where, but she sent her last message a couple hours ago. She didn’t know if she’d have net access, but she promised to try. Please hurry, Joanie. I don’t like the tone of her messages; she sounds desperate.”

I heard a voice in Mel’s background. “Who are you talking to Sis?”

“Joanie, and it’s super important. Quiet, Eric, please!”

“I’m about to board a helicopter in Honolulu as we speak, Mel. It won’t be long. If you hear from her, tell her to obey the police, and I‘m on my way. I’m proud of you, Mel. Thanks for helping a girl you’ve never met in person. That proves you have a kind heart. If I can, I’ll see she visits you.”

“I’d like that a lot. You get her out safe, please.”

“Absolutely.”

I heard an extension being picked up. “Joanie, don’t do anything stupid. I want you alive and unharmed. If anything happened to you …”

“Eric? Don’t worry, I’m no martyr. I plan on getting Leah and everyone else I’m responsible for out of this unharmed. We had our weekend interrupted, I intend to make it up to you, dear.”

I heard a woman’s voice in the background. I couldn’t make out much.

“That was Mom. She says to be careful, too. She expects her sister to be with her in the delivery room this August and no excuses.”

“Mel, tell my big sister I’ll be there. I’ve got to go, Mel, Eric. I’m getting the sign from the police. I’ll call once it’s safe again. I love you, all of you.”

* * * *

I was fitted with a life-vest and emergency beacon and was strapped into the helicopter. My luggage was stowed; Miki’s carrier was tied down next to me at my insistence. I was given an over-the-ear hearing protection/headset so we could communicate and a sound deadening blanket to cover Miki’s carrier. The military helo was loud, and I worried Miki’s hearing might be harmed.

~~Is this too loud? Can you protect your ears, Miki?~~

~~The blanket and my carrier help, but I can shield my ears several ways. I will not be harmed. Please cover the doorway with the blanket as it helps. I will talk to your mind if I need assurance. Your mate and Mel fear for your safety; I *heard* them through our bond. I will do my best to keep you from harm. Mel is a fine girl, and I understand your attraction to Eric. I will not fail them.~~

* * * *

We flew toward Hana, Maui, on a direct bearing to save time. We were briefed on the latest from the State Police on the scene in Hana and on the plans for evacuating Leah and her family. We were in one of a pair of fast troop carrying helos, Black Hawks or some such name. Several large cargo helos followed behind, each carrying dozens of heavily armed US Marine MPs whose duty was to restore order to the town and assist in the capture of any and all provocateurs.

They would approach the town from several directions at once, after I got Leah out. Surprise was the key to keeping casualties to a minimum. “Ms. Brown, you will approach Hana from the National Park a few miles out of town. There is sufficient space to land your helo there. We have a rental car stashed there so you won’t attract undue attention.”

“Ah, I’m coming in the back door then. I’ve been to Hana once as a tourist.”

“You understand then. We will drop you off while the small squad in the other Black Hawk lands in Hana to assist the state and local police and to act as a diversion for you. Leah is in hiding at the US Post Office in Hana. It is as or more secure than the jail and not an obvious place to secret her. You are to pick her up and drive leisurely back to the National Park where we will fly you out together. Your calming influence should suppress her instinct to unleash her time stop anytime she is scared. A simple plan, but one we have faith in.”

“No plan survives the start of a battle.”

“You’re a student of military history, Joanie? We have backup plans. The simplest one is you drive Leah to the main airport in Maui directly -- no helo ride. The island is small. Your car has more than sufficient fuel to drive either way around the island. You will be equipped with a secure police radio and other items to assist you. May I ask why the animal?”

“Miki is my familiar. I recently learned I may be a sorceress. She will assist me with any magical issues and she’s scrappy fighter.”

“Sorceress? I believe it; I’m bewitched by your beauty.”

“Sorry, officer, I’m spoken for, but that is not for public consumption. That goes for both the sorceress thing and the, um boyfriend, got it?.”

* * * *

We arrived at the National Park, the helos waited until I was on my way so they could land in Hana just before I arrived at the post office. The flight crew unloaded my bags while I took care of Miki. I was fitted with a woman’s State Police summer uniform, with shorts and a spiffy hat. I was given dual hip holsters for a pair of Tazers. I thought the form-fitting ballistic vest was a thoughtful touch, and it fit so well. It reminded me of a corset. I asked how they managed it.

“We checked with your Chief Delarose, he gave us your measurements. He said you were uncomfortable with firearms, but competent. He also said you were a crack shot with a Tazer and knew how to make it painfully effective. As they are your preferred weapon and quiet, we got them for you. Our hope is for you to get in-and-out of Hana without arousing suspicion.”

“Thanks, I prefer not to hurt anyone. I’m more a lover than a killer, I mean look at this body.”

The park and police officers looked at me closely and kept looking. I was beginning to wonder if these short-shorts and the v-neck uniform blouse were strictly regulation. ~~It could be my imagination, but a bare midriff is not the usual look for a police uniform. Not that it isn’t a good look for me.~~ The effects of the corset-like upper body-armor combined with the v-neck blouse synergistically. My naturally impressive cleavage became, shall we say, inspirational. “That’s enough. Anything else?”

“Yes, raise your right hand and repeat after me.”

I forget exactly what I said, but less than a minute later I was an Officer in the Hawaii State Police with full arrest powers and licensed to carry all authorized firearms. They had a name tag engraved with my name waiting for me.

“Sergeant Joan Brown, welcome to the force and congratulations.” They made me a sergeant so I’d have some degree of authority with any other police I might encounter and because they considered me a technical specialist with regard to mutants.

They gave me a compact but powerful police radio that resembled one of those old over-the-ear Bluetooth cell-phones. It was equipped with a powerful yet compact camera to record anything I looked at. I was handed a form-fitting bullet resistant vest similar to mine though smaller in *certain* places. But then most girls are not as *blessed* as I.

The State Police officer who had explained things to me earlier spoke again. “We measured Leah for this one when we moved her during the night, but didn’t have one in her size. It came in with your helo, Joanie. We put her temporarily in an oversized vest so she had some protection. We took it off her after she was safe in the Post Office. They are not comfortable to sleep in. Here’s a gym bag to conceal it.” They helped me carry my bags to the rental car. I looked at the vehicle and giggled.

“I didn’t expect *that* response. I assure you this is a good choice. A squad car would be too obvious, and it has plenty of horsepower if needed,” the officer explained.

“It’s just that my father drove exactly the same model when I was here a couple years ago, and he scraped the passenger side on one of those narrow bridges on the road. You know your basic Captain Smith, ‘Iceberg, what iceberg? Glug, glug?’”

“Titanic? You’re a wicked girl making fun of your dad. That road is notorious for fender benders. I’ve had a couple myself. Let’s load you up and get you on your way. Take no chances; if it looks too dangerous, abort the rescue. We’ll use the Marines in the big choppers.”

“Thanks, but Miki and I will get her out. We promised my friend Mel, and you don’t dare disappoint her.”

“Mel?”

“The young lady whose life I saved last fall. She’s the president of my fan club and has web chatted with Leah many times. Miki, we have an innocent to save. I’m opening your carrier so you can act as my backup. No one is to get near this car unless I say so.”

~~I will keep you safe, Joanie.~~

“Wish us luck,” I said and drove off.

* * * *

The weather was pleasant, and the scenery delightful. It was surreal to be heading into a possible armed confrontation in such an idyllic locale. I entered the small town and quickly found the small shopping center and restaurant where the Post Office was located. Under other circumstances, I would have loved to have spent a leisurely afternoon here. I parked in the municipal lot near as near to the post office as possible. I opened the windows for Miki.

~~You know what to do. I opened the windows so you won’t overheat and are free to act. Can you stay hidden but still guard the car?~~

~~I have disguised myself for years. No one can see me unless I let them, and I am filled with magic since we were bound. I have not felt this way in many years. I feel young and powerful again, like when I was first bound to a mistress. I will be fine. Do not worry.~~

~~I worry. I feel responsible for you, Miki. Here I go; wish me luck.~~ I grabbed the gym bag with Leah’s protective vest and started walking.

* * * *

It was a short distance to the post office. Few noticed me, or if they did the shorts atop those sexy legs and the half-unbuttoned, form-fitting top distracted them. I noticed my reflection in a large plate glass window and giggled at the sight. ~~ I look like Laura Croft after a boob lift. That form-fitting ballistic vest sure lifts and separates. On second thought I look like a blonde Xena. And all that leg and sexy midriff showing, I’m a menace to navigation. Eric, eat your heart out.~~ I entered the post office and walked to the counter. There was only one other customer in the lobby.

“I’m here to pickup a package. The name is Joan Brown; here is my ID,” I said and grinned.

“Please come this way Ms. Brown, as we need you to inspect it before taking delivery.”

It was a lame ruse, but it if it bought a few minutes it was worth it. I was escorted into the mail room where we could not be seen or easily overheard.

“Ms. Brown, I’m happy you made it here safely. The situation is bad. I have armed postal inspectors at all the possible entrances and a State Patrol sniper on the roof. Ms. Leah is terrified, and the only thing that has kept her together is the thought of your arrival,” a senior looking Postal Official said.

“Let’s not make her wait.”

We walked to a strong room in the facility where they stored insured mail.

“Leah, I have a friend to see you.”

“Keep away, I’m too scared to see anyone.”

“Mel will be very disappointed in you, Leah. You promised you’d be brave.”

“Joanie?” An exhausted but excited young woman came out from behind a cabinet she was using as cover. She was disheveled and needed sleep, but Leah was a tropical beauty. She was an elegant Amer-Asian/Hawaiian and a joy to behold. I could see how at 13 looking like a college coed was a problem. “Joanie, can I?” she asked, then flung her arms around me like I was a life ring and she was drowning.

“Hey, take it easy, girl. Tongues will wag if they see us embracing like this. Hey, I didn’t say to stop; this feels great.” I giggled from the tension, I guess. Leah snickered and I felt her relax.

“Mel keeps saying how funny you are. Thanks, I needed that. Am I really leaving? The last few days have been a nightmare.”

“You’re leaving with me. We’ll drive a safe distance from town where a helicopter will fly us to Honolulu and our flight back to the Mainland. You’ll love Whateley; it’s just the place for a young mutant. You have your bag packed and with you?”

“It’s with me here. I only took my most precious stuff and a few days clothes like you said.” She walked back to her hiding place and retrieved a small roll-a-long suitcase, the kind equipped with wheels and a telescoping handle.

“That should be fine, and now for your disguise, Leah.”

A female Postal Inspector helped Leah put on the lightweight body armor she would wear under the uniform blouse. We borrowed a female letter-carrier’s uniform. With her mutation induced growth spurt she filled it out very nicely.

“You look sharp, Leah. I’m jealous. Grab your bag and stay close to me. It’s a white Nissan Altima four-door sedan parked on this side of the municipal lot. The windows are open, and it’s being guarded by my mongoose; you can’t miss it. I’m not joking, I’ll introduce you to her later. Keep your head down and act normal. If anything happens, do exactly what I say and let me handle it, okay Leah?”

“You bet, Joanie. You said a mongoose, that means you brought Miki. Mel told me all about her after you left for here. I guess she was trying to cheer me up. Wow, you’re a sorceress and a mutant! Can you do any magic yet?”

“Not that I know of, but Miki can use my magic. Trust her, Leah, Miki is expert at protecting things. She’s guarding the car for us.” I gave Leah a hug and smiled at the harried postal workers and police. “Thanks for everything. Maybe someday we’ll be able to thank you properly for what you’ve done for Leah, her family and me. We’d better go now.”

~~Miki, is the way to the car safe?~~

~~It is safe for the moment. There are angry minds nearby. Some intend Leah great harm. Hurry, Joanie.~~

“Miki told me it’s risky but safe for now. Miki and I speak telepathically so hold off on the questions until we are safely out of town,” I said and smiled. Leah looked at me with awe.

* * * *

We walked out the main door of the post office and turned towards the municipal parking lot. I hit the remote to disarm the alarm. We loaded her luggage in the trunk, got in, belted up and backed out to leave.

We were almost to the main road, and unfortunately out of sight of the post office when a man ran in front of us. He fired a shot over the car when I kept driving. I stopped; he was too close to miss us but too far for me to run over before he could shoot again.

“Get out of the car and hand over the mutant. You won’t get hurt; you have my word,” the gunman ordered us. He looked nervous, angry and possibly intoxicated.

“I’m getting out now, sir.” I said clearly; I whispered, “Stay in the car, Leah. Miki defend her as if she was me.” I said rather than thought that command so Leah would hear and be reassured.

“Hurry, lady, or I’ll shoot!”

“Calm down, I’m out of the car. Can we talk this over? I’m here to take the young mutant girl to a special facility for mutants. You need not worry about her being here.”

“We take care of our own problems. Hand her over, now,” he said and sounded unstable.

“Sir, respectfully, I am an officer of the Hawaiian State Police. If you continue to demand I turn Ms. Haleakela over to you, that would be interfering with a police officer at a minimum. It also is armed kidnapping and that is a Federal crime possibly carrying the Death Penalty. For your own sake, reconsider your actions.” Then he did something I never expected.

-- Blam! --

“Shit, that hurts! I asked you nice. Oh Ghod that hurts -- Timeout!”

I time stopped him, and only him much to Leah’s later amusement. I looked carefully at him and was appalled. I’d froze him in the act of pulling the trigger and he was aiming at where my head had been. I saw people pointing towards us from the distance, and I didn’t have the time or energy to stop everyone.

“Forgive me.”

I partially unstopped him and forced the gun downward. It went off, and I released him completely while simultaneously grabbing the gun away from him. I smashed it hard against the pavement, ruining the barrel, I hoped. Then he screamed and I saw the red stain growing on his shoe.

“Christ! You shot me, bitch.”

“You shot me, jerk, and were about to shoot me in the head. P.S., I’m a mutant, too, like my friend here you wanted to hurt. It’s only your foot, you’ll be fine. You have my word, you liar. Keep it elevated, I’ll radio for help. I’d stay and patch you up, but you shot at me and your friends don’t look any nicer. It’s your fault you got hurt. Goodbye!” I said as I got into the car and started it. We took off, tires smoking as our cover was blown. I heard a few shots, but they missed us.

* * * *

“You were shot!” Leah sounded distraught, not a good thing.

“I’m sore, but I’m fine, Leah; he hit the vest.” I hoped that was the truth. To be honest I wasn’t sure and didn’t have the time to look. “That second shot was aimed for my head. He’s lucky I didn’t have the time to be more creative where I pointed that rifle of his. Are you okay, Leah, Miki?”

“I’m scared, but okay. It was so kewl how you time stopped that gunman. I wish I had your control. Joanie, Miki did something odd when he shot at you. Everything looked weird, kind of gray looking, until you subdued him.” Leah sounded less stressed.

~~I warded Leah so no harm would come to her. I’m sorry I could not ward you too. You are in pain; are you sure you were not shot?~~

~~You did great, Miki. The vest protected me, and you did as I instructed. Keep a lookout for trouble; I’ll radio ahead that we were spotted.~~ I sensed Miki was worried for me and was not convinced I’d escaped unharmed. I wasn’t sure either, but I didn’t have the time to check it out.

* * * *

I drove as fast as I dared, which was frighteningly fast by my usual standards. I radioed that we’d been shot at and I’d been hit, but believed I was okay. I told them I’d been forced to shoot my attacker in the foot and where I’d left him. They said he was already being attended to and was under arrest. The series of still photos and the audio from my earphone radio made locating the wounded man a cinch. The Marines were slowly taking control of the town but were encountering some resistance.

I slowed as I approached the National Park. I saw several heavy construction vehicles move to block the road bridge at the falls after we cleared it. I saw men and women with guns spread out and take cover as I passed by. We got to the park head quarters and parked. I felt the tension release, and the horror of what nearly happened came back all at once. I felt a burning pain in my shoulder.

“Excuse me, Leah, Miki...” I ran out of the car and half-collapsed onto the ground, catching myself just in time. A sharp pain shot through my body. My breakfast wasn’t quite as lucky as I. The ground was quickly decorated with it, much to my disgust and discomfort. I was sick, disoriented and in pain. I had trouble getting up. I tried to stand up on my own, but struggled without success. I made the mistake of pushing hard with my arms to get up. I screamed as a bolt of pain shot through my body.

“Help me, somebody please help me, Joanie has been shot!” Leah cried out.

Leah helped me — half carried me to be honest -- to sit on a nearby picnic table. A female Park Ranger came running up with a first aid kit. Over the next ten minutes or so, I saw Miki running around checking out everything and every one. She was upset, almost frantic with worry and guilt.

~~Mistress, I should have been with you. I could have protected you. I am a failure.~~

“That’s okay, Miki. Leah needed protection more than I. This hurts, but I’ll be okay.

“What’s the verdict?” I said out loud. I was in pain, but the disorientation was fading.

The Park Ranger attending me was looking more awestruck by the minute. “I can’t understand. When you got here, you were bleeding from an obvious gunshot wound. The blood is still fresh on your clothes, but the wounds are closed. The bullet hit above your vest and passed clean though your shoulder. Your uniform blouse has the holes to prove it.”

The Ranger had removed my blouse to treat me. She now showed me the blood-soaked item. If I’d had any food left in me, I would have thrown up.

“This is not possible, unless… you’re a regen. I’ve heard of it, but to see one in action," the Ranger wondered out-loud.

“Joanie, anyone else would have been incapacitated by that wound from blood loss and shock, but your body limited the loss and somehow is already well on the way to being whole again,” the Ranger explained.

“Joanie will be okay?” Leah asked.

“Yes, Ms. Haleakela, and welcome to *your* park. Help me bring your brave friend here to the park office. I’ve a cot she can rest on. Ms. Brown, you may be a regen, but that had to take energy and nutrients. I have performance drinks, energy bars and water. You need to replenish what you’ve lost before you head on. Why is that mongoose looking at us like that? They normally are not that curious.”

“Miki, say hello to the nice officer,” I said.

“Hello,” she squeaked. I got a wave of relief from Miki as she knew I was getting better.

“A talking mongoose? Maybe I need the cot more than you do.”

“Shouldn’t we be heading to the helicopter instead of the Park Office... Where is the helicopter?”

“A change of plans, Ms. Brown,” said an extremely-fit looking man in a Marine Corps officer’s battle dress uniform. “The combatants were better armed and larger in number than our intelligence indicated. We are fine, but several of my Marines and a few of the police were wounded. So were some civilians and several of the suspected terrorists. Nice job on incapacitating the man who shot you. I’d have snapped his neck, but the foot wound was non-lethal and effective. I was briefed about your *combat experience* by your Chief Delarose. He had some interesting things to say about you. I’m amazed your assailant is isn’t singing soprano.”

“I don’t like hurting people, even when they hurt me. Rampage — the Tazer to the, ah-hum -- was a special case. I came close to dying from that attack, and my reputation as a security officer was on the line. He was also resisting arrest and trying to escape. This man was merely misled, and I hope can be shown the way to redeem himself. Why no helo flight out of here?”

“They are full taking the injured to hospitals. They can’t send any more as the weather is turning bad with typhoon Amelia approaching. You could wait it out here; my men can hold the perimeter for a while, but a few gunmen are suspected of having fled town and might find you. I suggest you continue on around the island once you are recovered, which should be soon. I was informed about the aftermath of your assaults in Madison and Whateley as well. I wish all my Marines were a tough as you, Joanie. Even half as pretty would be a bonus. That was unprofessional, but I had to say it.”

“You’re not unpleasant to look at yourself, Major.”

“There is one other anti—mutant hot spot on this end of the island, about thirty-five miles from here. The rest of this end of the island should prove friendly. We’ve cut most communications to that end of the island to give you a chance to slip out the back door. If you’re willing, the State Police will come the other way around and meet you part way. A few hours driving and you’ll both be safe.”

"I’m game, but what of Leah’s family?”

“Several armored Humvees are close to Hana as we speak, and the family will be evacuated using them for protection. The state police and a military escort will guard them. They‘ll evacuate the other way around the island and act as your decoy. You are their decoy.”

“If they are safe, and this is the best way to get Leah to safety, I’m in. We need food, snacks, water and such and soon. I don’t want to be driving after dark.”

I took some time to rest, eat and rehydrate myself. Leah and Miki kept constant watch over me. I was loaned a uniform top by a National Park Ranger, it wasn’t a match but was close enough. We transferred over my name tag and I put it on with her help as I was not fully healed. The authorities loaded us up with chilled, bottled water, some snacks and gave me a nasty looking automatic rifle.

“This rifle is just in case. Face the facts, Ms. Brown, your attackers are well armed and those Tazers are short range weapons. This will give you a chance if it comes down to a fire-fight,” the Major explained.

Some of his Marines demonstrated how it worked and how to load and clear a simple jam. I fired a few bursts, and they were satisfied. Several others gave Leah tips on how to stay safe under fire. The Marines laid the rifle safely in the back seat of the car after ensuring it was unloaded. They covered it with a beach blanket and secured it to the belts using some clips. I was given a knapsack full of loaded clips and told to be careful. I told my friends as well.

“Miki, Leah, don’t touch that gun for any reason; it’s a serious piece of weaponry and dangerous.”

“I promise,” they said or *sent* simultaneously.

“Good luck, ladies. We’ll hold the *back door* closed as long as we can,” the Major said and saluted us.

* * * *

We drove at a fast but sane pace, as I was not familiar with the road and had to slow for the curves.

“Leah, have a snack and give Miki something to eat. The canned tuna snack pack should do. You can have the crackers; make sure she gets most of the tuna. The beef jerky and the sports bars wouldn’t appeal to her. Make sure she gets to drink some water; the empty tuna can should do for a bowl.”

~~Miki, keep alert for signs of trouble.~~

~~I am reaching out with my magics, Joanie. We are fine for the moment. I will warn you when it gets dangerous.~~

We kept on the move, stopping only for a few minutes at Charles Lindbergh’s former home to stretch our legs and let Miki relieve herself; she said it was important that we stop. We paid our respects at the simple grave of that complex man and were about to leave when Miki came out of the bushes with blood on her fur.

~~Are you hurt?~~

~~I am fine. I killed a bird that was tracking us. A sorceress or wizard for hire used their familiar to spy on us. That raven will not trouble us anymore, ever. It was full of disturbing magics. I found it a tasty meal, though the tuna was nice. Thank Leah for me.~~

~~~You are the expert on magic. Are we at risk?~~

~~The familiar may have reported back, but once killed I sensed no other near us. Its master or mistress will likely try again. We must go.~~

“Miki, killed an enemy spy, Leah. We need to go now!”

We drove off once more on what otherwise would have been a scenic and relaxing trip, but was now marred by violence and the threat of more to come.

* * * *

~~Joanie, danger ahead! You must get past these people. They have guns, and several in the crowd are furious at you two. They *know* Leah escaped, and her rescuer wounded one of their people. This is bad; they *know* it was you, Joanie, and have put a price on your head among their believers.~~

I saw a barricade of several cars and trucks across the road in the distance, and a crowd of a dozen or so people around it. Several appeared armed.

~~Thanks, do what you can to warn us and protect us, Miki. I will find a route through or around.~~

“Leah, keep your head down and stay calm as I run this barricade. Brace yourselves.”

“I will be brave for you, Joanie.”

I kept up my speed, easing off a bit at the end. They must have assumed I would try to squeeze though the middle of their blockade and had that well manned. I scanned frantically, and this one person’s lawn looked like a possibility. I veered at the last moment, crossed several lawns, and got back on the road. It was a rough ride made rougher by our back window blowing out from gunfire. Our ears were ringing as glass flew everywhere, and I struggled to keep the car on the road. I caught a glimpse of several men firing at us from behind, and my driver’s side mirror shattered. I saw a pair of men ahead of us on the side of the road take aim with ugly looking shotguns.

* * * *

To be continued.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 7

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Leah and Joanie escape death with Miki's help but are not sure how. A radio conversation with strange call signs leads to a rest stop and a revelation. Joanie and the MCO clash again. Leah is reunited, briefly, with her parents. A bumpy flight to Oahu leads to dinner, a night of drunken sex, surfing, TV, singing and shopping. I'm not saying who does what.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble - WIBBLE!!) Oh, dear! The speaking in tongues is ... fascinating, Itinerant. Here’s a nice str ... striped jacket for you. Let me help you into it. Don’t worry, the sleeves will ride up with wear. (Sorry, the buckles chafe!)

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
Verb verification by Itinerant, verily
Wailing and gnashing of teeth by Janet Nolan of GEBPR
Special thanks to Rose_2 and Karen_J for their helpful suggestions

Chapter 7, Hana, HI 96713 -- Leah 2, Miki 5 -- A Night to Remember, The Devil’s Radio, Lord Almighty!

SW of Hana on the Pililiani Hwy and on to Kahului, Maui, Hawaii; Honolulu and Waikiki Beach, Oahu, Hawaii, May 05-May 06, 2007

May 05, 2007

* * * *

“Shit! Leah, duck and cover your head. Miki, if you can do anything to help us, do it now. You have free use of all my magic.” We were closing on the men fast. I knew we might not make it past them and that was my optimism speaking to me. We had to face the facts. We were temporarily out of range of the people at the barricade, but if these two disabled the car, or I was severely wounded, poor Leah was all but dead and maybe me, too. They had clean lines-of-fire at what would be point-blank range. We were dog meat. I’m tough, but blast me enough times with a shotgun and set fire to the car, and I don’t like my chances.

My mind was racing for solutions and finding nothing. I shouted, “Why don’t you all just go home and think this over? Leah is innocent; why would you want to hurt her?” Then with every fiber of my being I thought and said, “If you Humans First fanatics became mutants, what would you think of your vaunted *purity* then? Ah, go fuck yourselves.” Where this came from -- this vitriol combined with unnatural clarity of thought and will -- I haven’t a clue. Pure frustration, I suppose.

The moment I spoke, my twisted muse flashed this image of ... I am *so* embarrassed, but in my defense I was under stress and not thinking straight. The image in my mind was silly and more than a little hot sexually speaking. The *vision* was incendiary to be honest. My senses blurred for a moment then turned sharper than they’ve ever been. For a moment it was like I had two sets of everything. My senses were hypersensitive. I felt my tail and whiskers twitching, my clothing brushing against my skin and my two huge upper breasts jiggling as we tore down the road. There was this momentary glow, and the two gunmen dropped to the ground, writhing.

This made no sense as I was looking ahead down the road, but I was looking back at the mob; I couldn’t do both simultaneously, could I? At the time I thought nothing of it and *filed* it for later. I was ecstatic, surprised, relieved and needed to mate and soon. The sensations from my tail and whiskers faded; I was confused. I remembered seeing the gunmen collapse, then my view to the rear stopped abruptly.

~~Good going, Miki. You put our attackers out of commission. ~~ I felt sleepy and weak, then felt absolutely nothing, but it passed quickly. I was lucky not to pass out behind the wheel. Fortunately this whole sequence took but a second or two, or we’d have been in the ditch.

“Joanie, Miki’s sick! She’s gone all limp. She’s dying, I just know it!”

“Leah, are we being followed?”

“No, the crowd is breaking up, and no one is coming after us. I don’t understand.”

“I’ll stop and check Miki out, but you watch for trouble.”

I slowed and pulled off to the side, then shifted the transmission into park but left the motor running. I leaned over and touched Miki. I felt a jolt of pain from a mind struggling to come to consciousness. I could feel her tiny heart beating. Leah was crying.

“Miki’s alive but unconscious, Leah. Wake up, Miki; you have us worried. For Leah and me, please wake up,” I said and thought to her. She stirred once, but remained otherwise unresponsive. I got an insight I hoped would help.

“Miki, as your mistress I command you to wake up immediately!” I said/thought forcefully, but I winked at Leah.

~~Mistress ... forgive me, the magic overwhelmed me, ~~ she said to my mind and opened her eyes. She was lethargic, but reasonably alert.

“Good. I hoped your dedication to duty would get your attention, dear friend. Leah, please give Miki some water and anything else she requests. Let her lick it off your fingers if necessary. She’s exhausted from accessing our magic. I’ll keep guard.”

Leah was much happier, and in minutes Miki was back to normal and having something to eat. Meanwhile, I’d shut off the engine and inspected the car for damage. The rear window and the driver's-side mirror were the only damage I could see, and there was no evidence of leaking fluids of any kind. I was worried they’d hit the fuel tank, and we would catch fire or be left stranded. Once I was convinced the car was safe, I chugged most of a sports drink and felt energized. We got going after several minutes, but no one came after us. I drove at a fast, but sane, clip.

“Miki and you ... it was awesome ... You worked magic, wow! I saw you and Miki glow, even though I had my head tucked down tight like you said. That must have been the magic. What did you do? I thought we were gonna get shot by those men, Joanie.”

“I’d go back and look, but I don’t have a death wish. Miki, do you know what happened back there? Can *Uber Mongoose’s* senses reach back that far?” I imagined Miki in a wind-swept cape, boots and a big red U on her chest. I heard a squeak and felt a wave of joy, almost giggles, hit me.

~~Joanie, are you being silly?~~

~~A little, my friend. What did you do to get us out of that trap? Those gunmen couldn’t have missed. At best we would have gotten cut up badly, and at worst ... I don’t like to think of that.~~

~~It was both of us, Joanie. I tried to make them not see us. I am good at concealing myself, and I had hoped to conceal us or confuse the bad men. I wished to trick them into shooting where we weren’t. I tried accessing your magic like I would with Kushala. I do not understand what happened, but we became as one. This has never happened to me, to be completely at-one with my mistress. I saw out of your eyes and felt your feelings. It was like what I, we felt when I met your mate last night but much more so. There was this image in our mind and the magic poured through me. The power was beyond my abilities. It was too much and all went dark.~~

~~ I surmised that much and am happy you were not hurt. But what happened to the gunmen?~~

Miki’s emotions were a swirling mix of amazement, pride, good humor and major guilt.

~~Joanie, the misled people were freed of their confusion. They returned home to contemplate why they wished to harm innocents.~~

~~And the gunmen ... the hard core anti-mutants ... the bad guys?~~

~~Not guys, more like Mistress Pinky ... ~~ Miki thought to me. She *felt* embarrassed.

~~You turned the Humans First creeps into hermaphrodites?~~

~~I don’t know the term hermaphrodites. They are like your changeling *sister*, Miss Pinky, when she is of both natures. I *saw* for a moment as the magic transformed them. They are attractive women in appearance and ... *receptive* ... in season? ~~ I got another surge of embarrassment from Miki. She was clearly uncomfortable with what had happened.

~~I remember saying they should go fu ... you mean they can actually do *it* ?... They’ll go mad, or harm themselves, if they can’t stop! ~~ I was shocked, worried, secretly happy they had *got* theirs and turned on in a sick, perverted way.

~~The compulsion to mate will wear off in a few hours. Their bodies will remain as we changed them. They are not harmed in any other way, but they will no longer be a threat. ~~

“We changed them permanently? Can they get themselves pregnant?” I said out loud.

~~They will remember who they were, but they will be as they are now. They will not be welcome in their cult of hate. They are forever that which they despise, a mutant. I think we made them self-fertile, Joanie~~

“They might kill themselves!”

~~I do not know. They will have free will once the compulsion ends. You are concerned for them?~~

~~I don’t wish to harm anyone, even my enemies. Can we help them?~~

~~We are too far away, and I don’t know *how* we did it. I only know what happened to them. We would have to go back there to change them back, and I would have to access your magic. I don’t know how to control it. I have served many sorceresses; I never witnessed such power, Joanie. From what I sense now, we used but a fraction of your potential. ~~

~~That’s only a fraction of my potential power? Shit!~~~

“Help!” I whispered.

* * * *

I radioed what had happened. The Marine commander assured me help would be sent to the town ASAP.

“Melons One to Blonde One. If your report is correct, they should be safe for a few hours, until the compulsion wears off. We will have help there long before that. I’ll remind my Marines not to take advantage of the over-sexed suspects.” Melons One laughed. “My Marines are a fine unit and will act as the professionals they are. There will be no mistreatment of prisoners; likewise they will insure there are no suicides, I promise you. I am surprised and delighted you harbor no ill will, Blonde One. I saw your bloody uniform top before it was bagged as evidence. I would not be so forgiving under similar circumstance, but then I’m a combat veteran. Melons One, over,” the Marine officer radioed back.

“Blonde One to Mar ... Melons One. If someone shot at us, they must face the law. I will testify, including how and why they were transformed, if necessary. If it exposes me to more publicity, who cares? We were justified in our actions; it happened because we were in a hopeless situation. My magic *expert* hasn’t a clue how to undo it, so they are stuck. Thanks for your help. Tell the State Troopers commander, um Pineapple One -- sorry, these code names are hard to keep straight -- on the other side we’re coming. Blonde One, over.”

Leah nudged me and looked at me expectantly. “Blonde One to Melons One. Do you have info on Le … Surfer One’s family? She’s worried ... and I am going to strangle the idiot who picked my call sign. Blonde One, over.”

“Melons One to Blonde One. It could be worse. I personally said no to *Melons*. I think that’s why I’m stuck with it, Blonde One. We can count our blessings; *Miss July* was seriously in the running -- sorry. Tell Surfer One her family is through the worst of the narrow road. They were shot at once, but the vehicle armor was effective. There is a delay; Someone tried to blow up a bridge, but succeeded only in killing them selves and littering the road with shrapnel. The mess is being cleared away as we speak. Her family will reach safety soon....”

“Mom and Dad are okay?!” Leah shouted into the radio.

“That must be Surfer One. They are fine; your whole family is fine, Miss. Trust what Blonde One tells you; she and her *K9* have done well. So have you; you are one brave young woman. If you ever think of entering the service, call me. I would gladly recruit you. Semper fi, Surfer One and Blonde One. Melons One, out.”

* * * *

The road on the south end of Maui is increasingly deserted, the further south and west you travel from Hana. There are few settlements of note, due to the lack of any decent harbors. The road became narrower, and a significant section was unpaved due to its remoteness. We drove with the windows open because of the loss of our rear window, so it was a bit like being in a convertible. We kept an eye out for trouble, but slowly relaxed as no one appeared to be following us or attempting to block our way. Miki kept up her vigilant scanning, and reassured me we were safe ... for now. I spotted a small roadside park and pulled over so we could stretch, go to the bathroom, and generally get ourselves back together after the craziness earlier. Driving like that quickly dehydrates you, so a stop was welcome for many reasons.

I let Leah use the facilities first, while I kept watch. They were nothing fancy, just good old pit toilets, but then beggars can’t be choosers. Miki took advantage of a nearby boulder to obtain some privacy for her long neglected needs.

“Ladies? You two okay?” I called out.

“I’m almost done, Joanie. Um, there isn’t much tissue in here. Thought I’d better tell you before you found out the hard way.”

“Thanks, Leah, I’ll check the men’s toilet. It’s not like I’m not used to going in there.”~~Miki, are you okay?~~

~~ I’m fine, Joanie, the smells and sights here are strange, yet familiar. It reminds me of parts of my homeland, India.~~

~~You miss your old home, Miki? I could take you there someday. Of course you are always welcome to stay with me, my furry one.~~

~~I would like that, but only if you are with me. Where you are is my home.~~

I smiled and gave her a mental hug, then my bladder reminded me I had ignored it for long enough.

“Leah, I need to go, now!”

“I’m just finishing, Joanie.”

Moments later she came out, and I ran into the 'facility.' I forgot what she’d said and entered the ladies. Leah was right.

“Euwww, no paper.”

I rushed out, and I slipped into the men’s to the amusement of my traveling companions. I did my business and cleaned up. I got to thinking about Eric and began to daydream what it would be like to be traveling with him. The more I imagined, the better I felt. I got to feeling *really* good, you know? I wasn’t touching myself, honest; I’m blessed with a powerful imagination. I got this message from Miki.

~~Joanie, please, no more.~~

~~Huh-wha?~~

~~When you think of your mate, Eric, the emotions are strong. I am not used to these feelings. It is so long since I was ... I feel odd .... This is impossible!~~

I finished my business and washed my hands with one of the moist towelette packets the National Park Officer had included with our supplies.

I was walking out of the toilet, when I felt weak and almost collapsed in ecstasy. A wave of desire washed over me, and I became intensely aroused. I fought to stay focused and leaned against the door frame for support. The sensations were Wonderful and kept coming! ~~Miki?!~~

~~Forgive me, I ... I am in season. It cannot be! I have not been this way since before Kushala journeyed on the man raft ... steam ship you would say.~~

~~I am sorry, Miki. I did not know I was upsetting you. You have been alone for so long, I believe I understand your pain. I will try not to fantasize so much.~~

~~Thank you, but I sense it will not be easy for you. Please understand my difficulty, I love you as I loved all my mistresses, but I miss my own kind.~~

We all stretched our legs, drank some bottled water and generally relaxed. We served Miki some water in that empty tuna can. I was concerned as she could not easily drink while we were driving, and I did not want her in distress. The last few hours had been tense, and the short break was therapeutic. I let us rest for fifteen minutes or so, and was about to suggest we get going again, when Miki came up to me and made an odd request. I sensed she did this after much soul-searching, and she was embarrassed to bother me. She rose up on her haunches and made a slow, formal bow. She had my full attention.

~~Joanie, Mistress Joanie ... this is difficult ... I ... I request your leave to seek a male for companionship.~~

~~You want to get laid?~~ I replied and giggled. My inner *blonde* choose that moment to take over.

~~Laid?~~

~~I’m sorry, that was crude. You desire sexual relations ... What I want with Eric, but don’t dare have until he is older? You know, how a male and a female make babies together?~~

~~Please Joanie. I have been without so long I forgot how much it meant to me. I must have it; this is my first chance since Kushala left the old country.~~

~~Miki, what if you get pregnant? That is your right, of course, and I would support you. Understand, dear, it is illegal to import mongoose into the United States because your species can be destructive to the local animals. You are protected as my familiar, but your children would not be.~~~

~~ I can control my fertility with my magic. You need not fear for my children.~~ I felt Miki sigh from disappointment..

~~Ghods, you want to have children, don’t you. It’s your choice, Miki, but be careful. Before we leave Hawaii, I’ll make sure you get the opportunity. Do be careful; there are poisons people put out to kill nuisance animals, and there are cars and trucks to be aware of. There may even be diseases your fellow mongoose harbor that you have no resistance to. ~~

~~I am protected. Thank you for your concern. I long for what you have. Whenever you think of your mate, Eric, the sensations make me so sad that I have no chance of a mate at Whateley.~~

So my Miki is a furry romantic. I’m much the same. You will get your night of bliss, little one -- I promise.~~

* * * *

We got in the car and drove off. We would soon catch up with our police escort, so I felt happier.

“Leah, you know about me; I’m sure Mel gave you an earful.” Leah suppressed a snicker. “I’ll gladly answer any questions you have, but tell me about you. I know of your mutation and the troubles you’ve had, but I know almost nothing about you. What do you like to do? Who’s your best friend? Do you have a crush on someone special? Do you play sports? That sort of thing.”

“You really want to know about me, Joanie?”

“How can I be a friend and help you, if I don’t understand you? It’s obvious you’re going to be part of my *family* at Whateley, so I’d better get to know my baby sister. You know about me from the press, from Mel, and the fan-club web site. I’ll gladly answer any question you want, but what about you, Leah? What do you like about school; what’s your favorite subject? Are you interested in boys or girls? What do you want to do when you’re an adult? What do you like to do in your free time and stuff like that?”

“I like school, and I’m good in math and science. History is okay and writing and spelling and such. I don’t let the boys intimidate me, even the cute ones like David. I’m too young to date, but I like boys, I think. I like tennis and swimming, and I surf. I’ve done it since I was eight, and I’m pretty good too. Mom taught me; she was a competitive surfer in her day. I wish I could show you her trophies. I have a cousin who was teaching me to wind surf. Oh yeah, I like to chat with my friends at the Joanie Fan Club,” she said and giggled.

“Do you have a lot of friends?” ~~David?~~

“Not a huge bunch, because Hana’s a small town and the school is small, but I have friends, had friends, I guess. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again. My mutation scared some away ‘cause I look so much older. When my power kicked in that scared the rest away, and I don’t blame them. Maybe we could be friends again, but with the shooting....”

“If they are true friends, they will be your friends again, Leah. I had to give up my old friends when I changed and became famous. I’m too much of a danger to them, so I think I understand.”

Leah thought for a moment, then looked at me with an intensity that astounded me. What she said was more shocking.

“Joanie, you said something on our web chat that I’ve been thinking about. You said what had been done to me made us *family*? You said something similar a moment ago, too.”

“I meant what I said, Leah; you are family. Jeese, how can I explain it? Leah, two of my best friends, Tom and Tina Smith, had their mutations triggered by the same stuff that was used on you, the Ultra-X-Amine homolog. And Suzy Kenner, that’s the girl I helped rescue from Lake Wisconsin earlier this year? She’s also a victim of Ultra-X and also my good friend. I don’t like people hurting others, and illegal experiments are disgusting in the extreme to me. You are family, Leah, never doubt it. We may have met under bad circumstances, but we have good things in common too, like being warpers who can stop time. Though our mutations were triggered by different causes, we are both mutants; that gives us a lot in common.”

“Uh-huh. Mel says you like cartoons and stuff? I really like Lilo and Stitch, the movie? The TV cartoons are okay, but I like the original most. There’s this line in it about ‘ohana. It stuck with me because it sounds like my hometown, I mean my old town now, Hana and ... “

“What’s wrong? Are you crying Leah? It’s okay if you are; I hated leaving my home too, but we’ll make you a new home -- my friends and I. One for all and all for one, you understand?”

“Excuse me ... I ... It hurts, you know? What I was trying to say was, when I was a little girl my favorite film was Lilo and Stitch. There is this Hawaiian word they used, ‘ohana. It means family, but in the bigger sense of your extended family and even close friends. How did it go, ‘ Ê»Ohana means family, and family means nobody gets left behind ... or forgotten.’ Did you really mean that when you said I was family?”

I pulled over to the side of the road, stopped the car and took her face gently in my hands. I looked deep into her eyes.

“I meant every word. Like I said before, we are both mutants and girls, right?” She nodded. “We both have warper powers and can manipulate time, right?” She nodded again. “You, Tom, Tina and my blood relative Suzy were all victims of the same unscrupulous experimenters. Leah, last Halloween I was kidnapped with the intention of being sold to similar degenerates, probably to be dissected for my mutant secrets. That gives us common ground. Plus Miki likes you, so you’re in, Girrrl. That makes us sisters or at least cousins to my way of thinking. What do you say, Leah?”

“’Ohana it is, my beautiful ... cousin -- I don’t think we’re sisters yet, but I’ll work on it.” She smiled and giggled a bit.

“Let's have a beautiful cousins hug and get going again, okay?”

We hugged and soon were back on our way.

* * * *

The road was improving in quality; the gravel was behind us, and the road itself wider and less winding. Leah and I engaged in occasional idle chat. We continued talking about her background and occasionaly mine. Leah got excited all-of-a-sudden.

“Whoa, wait a miniute! Rewind! You said Suzy is your blood relative and that she’s the girl you saved from drowding?”

“Her mom is my first cousin. She sees me as a favorite aunt, though technically that makes us second cousins. I’m overdue to help her with her powers training. She’s a mimic and needs to try copying a warper -- that’s someone like you or me, Leah. You want to help?”

“You’d trust me with your, um, niece?”

“Sure. She a tough girl and sexy sweet; you’ll like her. Just don’t get cozy with Tom; he’s her boyfriend. Suzy has a jealous streak, not that she would hurt anyone. I guess it runs in the family, because I feel that way some times about my boyfriend. We can talk about all this later. Rest or talk about yourself, whatever. We should be with our police escort in minutes.”

* * * *

We got to talking about Whateley and its facilites; Leah was understandably curious, as this would be where she would spend most of the next five years. Leah was impressed, but I noticed an air of sadness when I mentioned we were inland in the mountains of New Hampshire.

“I was hoping it was near the ocean so I could surf. I’d have to get different gear because of the cold water, but where there is an ocean there are waves, at least there can be.”

“Sorry about the lack of surfing at Whateley Academy, Leah, though I think one of the pools does have a wave generator. It won’t be the same, but we’ll find a way for you to have fun, I promise.

“Maybe I could take you out once, before we leave the islands? You’d like it; it’s fun, and you’d make all the girls jealous with your body.”

“Then we’d better do it, if we can. What do you think, a one-piece or bikini?”

“One-piece if you’re serious about surfing; two-piece if you want to make the girls jealous. Topless if you want to make the national news,” she said and laughed.

“What do I get if I surf naked?”

“Probably arrested, but the police will be very happy, if they are guys.”

“Leah!”

* * * *

We, well, I -- Leah doesn’t have a license, she is 13 after all -- drove for half-an-hour, until we saw the comforting presence of several police cruisers and a military Humvee. I parked and got out, after confirming they were who they appeared to be. After what had happened earlier, I was taking no chances. I smiled with relief once I was sure.

“I have never been so thrilled to see men in uniform!” I ran up to the nearest officer and nearly tackled him with a hug and kiss. I blushed and giggled, when I realized what I done. The reaction of the police -- all men, I might add -- was more visual in nature.

~~Oh yeah, my kind of a salute.~~ I didn’t say it out loud; I have some level of control. Admittedly not much but, hey, I was justified in being happy to meet them.

“Sorry about that. I thought you guys were used to women propositioning you to avoid arrest or beat a speeding ticket?”

“True, but then they are rarely as lovely as you, Ms. Brown,” a state police officer said, while trying to hide his ~~Oh my!~~... unsuccessfully I might add.

“My apologies. This is Leah, the young woman I was sent to help and now my friend.”

“Friend? Joanie, you are more than that. You saved my life; you will always be more than a friend. You risked your life for me. They shot you, and you worried about me and ignored yourself. I will never forget that. Mel said you were special; she was right.”

“Thanks, but I’m not that special, and you did darned good yourself, Leah. You should have seen how brave she was, Officer, and how she helped me when I was hurt. Enough of the mutual love-fest, girl, we’d better get going.”

I walked back to our car.

“No, Ms Brown. Ms. Haleakala and you are to ride in the Humvee; it’s armored.,” the senior police offer said.

~~This must be Pineapple One.~~ “That’s why we will ride in the rental car. The Humvee is too obvious. If anyone is laying an ambush, that is the vehicle they will expect us to be in.”

“But your back window is blown out, and a description of the car is circulating -- we’ve intercepted radio transmutations from Hana. Is that a bullet hole in your driver’s side mirror?”

“That’s why this car is perfect. The armored Hummer will draw any hostiles away from us and buy time, though I hope we won’t need that anymore.”

“Ms. Brown, I would be derelict in my duty if you and Ms. Haleakala travel exposed, when we have an armored vehicle at our disposal.”

This went on for several minutes. He wasn’t being *too* patronizing. He did have our safely in mind, but I am a stubborn girl and I *knew* I was right. I pulled rank on him.

“Okay, it’s agreed, Leah and I drive the Nissan while ...”

“Ms. Brown!”

“That is acting Hawaiian State Police Sergeant Joan Brown, and Leah and I *will* drive the Nissan,” I said sharply, then I added in my best *persuasive* voice, “Pretty please ... Officer?” I pouted and posed in this hips to one side, hand on hip, chest out, um, way out, licking my lips pose. Okay, I seduced him like a pro.

“All right, we’ll do it your way, and please stop doing that, Ms. Brown. You made your point, and my wife would be upset if she found a pretty young woman flirting with me.”

“I’m not seeing anyone; you can do that to me anytime,” said a young and rather handsome looking officer.

“Officer Jenkins!”

“That’s okay, he meant no harm ... You are most attractive, Jenky-wenky.”

He was, too, damn it.

We drove off with the wind in our hair, and not a lick of trouble other than a few occasions where younger men saw Leah and me at stoplights and the like. Their antics were entertaining, and I swore I saw Leah smile at a couple of the cuter guys.

* * * *

“Joanie, Mel told me lots about your powers and stuff while I waited for you to come and get me out of Hana. I know you can stop time like me, but Mel hinted you could do a lot more, and maybe I could, too, with your help.”

“Go on.” I wondered what Mel had told her. Mel was a smart girl, but might have gone too far, if she thought it would help Leah stay calm.

“She said you have these cats, very special cats. Smilodons. ”

“I do, so?”

“I’m a good student, and I read a lot. Smilodons are extinct. They died out thousands of years ago. You can’t have smilodons unless scientists did something with fossil remains like in that Jurassic Park movie. Or since you can stop time maybe you can ... I have to know, tell me. I won’t tell anyone, I promise!”

“I rescued the smilodons from their dead mother during the last surge of the Ice Age. They would have died nearly eleven-thousand years ago. I can time travel, with some limitations, but tell no one. Maybe you can too, but I don’t know. Be careful who you talk to about this, Leah, time travel is a power that could get you kidnapped or worse. It was tried with me, and they only knew of my time stop and regen.”

Leah thought for a moment, then started laughing.

“What’s funny, Leah?”

"I was thinking it would have been funny if you could have time-traveled the car and us to a couple days ago and driven right past the barricades because they weren’t there ... yet? Is something wrong? You’re scaring me, Joanie, answer me!””

I don’t remember anything much of the next few minutes; I was emotional and unsure of anything for a while. I have memories of shock followed by disgust with myself, then a complete lack of the will to do anything. I took my foot off the gas, and we coasted. We nearly went off the road until Leah got my attention enough that I pulled to the shoulder, stopped, and shut off the motor. I got it together enough to turn to her and speak. The voice that came out was at first unemotional and *dead*.

“I will get you to Whateley, but you must get a new friend and protector as I am useless. I put us both at risk of being killed and for what? Am I so vain, so superior, I thought my very presence would protect us? I could have done it easily, transporting us back a couple days, but I was too stupid to think of it. When I imagine what they would have done with you if we’d been caught ...” I broke down and sobbed. Maybe it was the stress catching up with me? I know I often have a delayed reaction to stress. This time I felt dirty, a waste of life.

Our escort noticed my stop and turned back. One of the officers came to my open driver’s window.

“What’s wrong, Joanie? Are you injured?”

“She’s stressed out from earlier. Give us a few minutes.” Leah was hugging me and doing anything else she could to calm and reassure me. She continued to minister to me for a considerable time, but I could not shake the feelings of worthlessness and sobbed unrelentingly.

Poor Miki was torn between keeping guard and comforting her ailing mistress. ~~Joanie, why torment yourself? I have been a familiar since long before we first glimpsed each other in 1858, and I did not think of it. I saw you in the past, and I knew you are a great time traveler. Blame me for not reminding you. You had too many duties to think of everything. You did not fail; you got Leah and me to safety. Kushala would have approved.~~

I replied out loud in my distress. “Miki, don’t you dare take the blame ...” I was still crying, but I was getting angry. “It was my failure, understand? It was mine, never yours you little upstart ... What the hell am I saying?” I was steaming mad at Miki taking the blame, “That was MY blame! …That was my blame, huh?” It dawned on me how ridiculous that idea was, and I started to laugh. I laughed until I was dizzy, and my sides ached.

“Thanks ladies. Silly, old Joanie needed a good cry. Let’s get going, shall we?" I started the car and the convoy was underway again.

* * * *

We arrived at the airport in Kahului, Maui, our gateway out of this mess. Our escort handed us over to a fresh group of officers after handshakes and a round of hugs from Leah and me; the boys and girls in uniform had earned them. Then they left us and returned the rental car. ~~I wish I could be there for that ... ‘I don’t see why we have to pay the full insurance deductible, there aren’t that many bullet holes.‘ ... Maybe someday I could travel back and ...~~

Our new escorts from the State Police led us through the doors and walked us to the security scanners. We got VIP treatment, meaning we were rushed through security, though we and our baggage were scanned, which I had no objection to. The MCO officer was all but salivating at the sight of me. Our escorting officers informed the MCO officer we were under their protection and were their responsibility. We were nearly through when the MCO officer decided to do his duty *to the letter.* He objected to Leah and my special treatment.

“I must protest! I see, by their ID and reputation, the women with you are notorious mutants. By international treaty, I must insure they are no threat. I will file a protest over this outrageous breaking of security protocols for *those two*. How can I do my duty if known dangerous mutants get escorted through my checkpoint as if they were visiting royalty? Msss. Brown is a devious woman of unknown loyalties, and questionable morals. Our Chicago office warned us how she manipulates those with weak minds ...”

”Are you nuts? Officer Brown, that’s right, *Officer* Brown is temporarily one of us. She is a fully deputized member of the Hawaiian State Police, and every insult you hurl at her is an insult to the Force and WE do not like it. We do not take kindly to *one of ours* being *inconvenienced*. She may be a temporary officer here to aid us in resolving a difficult and dangerous situation in Hana, but she has acquitted herself admirably for someone who is doing this purely as a favor. Now, be quiet and let us pass in peace, sir.”

I tried to reason with the man. Not all MCO officers were like Captain Touchy-Feely back at O'Hare, right?

“I sympathize with your need to do you duty, Officer. I agree mutants need to be tracked for the same reason any normal person who might present a potential hazard should be careful screened. That does not make everyone who is suspicious a terrorist, and that is equally true of mutants. I had a bad experience with an MCO officer at Chicago O’Hare, but I do not hold that bad apple against you or the MCO in general. I’m willing to submit to your screening, if you feel it necessary.

“I must point out Miss Leah is a far younger woman than she appears. With respect, I would ask to be present when she is examined if only to keep her calm and cooperative.” ~~There, I’ve put out a hand in friendship. ~~ "What do you say?”

“Huh?” ALL the officers gasped as I paused. I decided to act the peacemaker. It was worth a try.

I had him by the bal**... I mean I had him between a rock and a hard place. My escort had said he should back off or else, though not in those terms. I acknowledged the importance of his duty and offered to give up my privilege. What would he do?

“This is a trick and harassment; you all heard that *thing* insult me. I’m filing a protest. Oh, it was clever and sounded oh-so-nice, but that’s how these mutants subvert us.”

“I try to be nice by offering to voluntarily give up my VIP privileges and let you do your duty as you see fit, then look what happens. If this is harassment, I’m the Pope! If that’s your response, my offer to be searched is withdrawn. Gentlemen and ladies, my friend Leah and I have plane to catch.”

* * * *

The police escorted us and our baggage to a secured area in the core of the terminal. We were lead into a small conference room where a big, and I mean BIG, hulk of a man and a trim, attractive woman waited. They appeared to be at most forty and gazed at us intensely. From the man’s cinnamon skin, and the woman’s build and face, these were Leah’s parents.

“Mom!” Leah shouted and ran to her mother.

The huge man walked over to me and smiled. “I’m Mark Haleakala, and you are Ms. Brown; I recognize you from the press and my daughter’s crazy obsession with you. Come here, dear lady.” I stepped to him and was engulfed in his arms. Mr. Haleakala was huge, I mean HUGE and all over, oh yes!

“Thnks, cn I blrth nw? … Ooooh, that’s better. Glad I could help,” I said as he eased his bear hug. He was a mountain of a man and part of me wanted to climb his summit; the rest of me blushed.

Leah broke from her mom and walked to me. “Mom, Dad, this is Joanie, and she’s just the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

We spent a half-hour or so comparing our experiences in escaping the mob in Hana. Other than a few rifle shots hitting their armored Humvee, they were fine. The attempt at blowing the bridge was too far from them to cause any injury.

When Leah described our escape and my being wounded, I saw her parents cringe. When she described the men with shotguns, her mom was on the edge of tears.

“Mom, Dad, you have got to meet Miki. Miki is the coolest, and she helped save our lives.”

“Miki? Did you have someone assisting you, Joanie? We would like to thank her, too.”

“Sure, Mrs. Haleakala.”

“Please, call me Leilani.”

“Okay. Leilani, this is Miki.” I opened the carrier, and Miki scampered out. ~Say hello to Leah’s parents.~~

“Hello, I love Leah.”

~~Very nice Miki. Let them pet you if they wish. Okay?~~

“A talking mongoose! It’s so hard to believe. My great-grandmother spoke of animals that talked to women. She said those women could do great things, that they were touched by the spirits. Are you a witch? I thought you were a mutant?”

“Mark, I’m a mutant and have some powers like your daughter. That’s why I was sent to get her out -- that and she was a fan. The authorities thought I could calm her and teach her control over her powers. I’m kind of a sorceress due to some fluke in my warper powers, and Miki here offered to teach me how to use that magic. She’s a brave mongoose, and we can hear each other’s thoughts so she doesn’t speak often. Why don’t you spend some time together? I’ll take Miki, get something to eat, and be back in, say, 30 minutes. Our flight isn’t for an hour or so, right officer?” I asked one of the officers who had been waiting with her parents.

“No, you have an hour and fifteen minutes, but that is the last flight out. This one is only here due to a mechanical problem. The typhoon is dangerously close, though we hope it will miss. Still, in two hours or less it will be too windy to even take off, let alone land here.”

“See you all in 45 minutes, tops, okay?”

* * * *

I walked off to grab some food. Miki draped herself around my neck like some cheap fur wrap, though invisible. She was demonstrating her stealth abilities for me, and I agreed it would save a lot of trouble. I found a popular, but not overly crowded, steak house and entered. I waited to be seated. A waitress walked to me and motioned me to follow

“I hope this won’t take long. I have to be on a plane that is leaving for Honolulu in one hour.”

“You got a seat on the last plane? You must have a lot of pull ... Officer Joanie? You’re a State Police Officer?”

“I was called in as a technical expert on mutants, of all things,” I snickered. “I really am an officer for the time being.” I ordered a 10 oz steak, medium well done and asked for an extra plate. “The plate is so Miki can eat.”

“Miki?”

~~Miki, time to make your entrance.~~

“Aieeee! How did you do that?”

“Miki is a friend, and could I have that extra plate?”

“Uh, su-su-su-su-re. A woman with a pet mongoose that can turn itself invisible; I’ve been working too many hours.”

“Would you add a cheese steak sandwich and bottle water to-go on my order. It’s for a young lady I’m escorting. She’s with her parents at the moment."

I ate a small salad that was part of the meal and gave Miki some water to lap from the saucer under my coffee cup. They had a big screen TV, and one of the all-news networks was on. They had extensive coverage of typhoon Amelia. The big question was ‘would it miss the islands or not,’ but there was another story on the local news; a story that worried me.

“In late breaking news, we have reports of gunfire and casualties from and near Hana, Maui. Reports are sketchy, but there is word of possible terrorist activity aided by mutants. We are attempting to get a crew there before the weather cuts off all but emergency communications with the small village.

~~It’s early, those reports are often wrong. Melons One will keep a lid on things until Leah is safe. You’re being paranoid, Joanie dear.~~

~~You were thinking to me, Joanie?~~

~~I was thinking to myself, Miki. The press reports from Hana bother me; they make us sound like criminals.~~

~~Do not worry, the truth will become known.~~

* * * *

The steak came promptly, cooked as ordered, and the waitress brought a heavy, stoneware soup bowl. “I thought this might do better for your mongoose, Ms. Brown. We’ll keep the sandwich in a warming oven until you are ready to leave, enjoy.”

Miki and I ate, then I left the waitress a nice tip; it was a very good steak. We hurried back to the secured room and Leah.

* * * *

“We hate to see our daughter leave us, but Mark and I talked it over with Leah, and we agree she should accompany you to this Whateley Academy. Someday things will calm down and she can come home, but for now Leah needs a safe place to learn all the normal stuff a person needs to know, plus how to use her powers wisely,” her mom said while Leah happily ate her sandwich.

“Leilani and I trust you. Leah filled us in on what her friend Mel said about you over the computer and what you and your familiar Miki did to protect her. If she must leave, we are glad she will be with you, Joanie. We understand Whateley is expensive. Leah’s doctor told us, before we left Hana, that she arranged for a partial scholarship for Leah as a hardship case. We’ll do what it takes to raise the rest.”

“I suggest you talk with her about applying to the Meridian Foundation for additional grants. They offer assistance to students who need help, among their other charitable projects. Tell her to say that Joanie recommended you apply; it may *grease the wheels.*"

~~Joanie, why are you laughing in your mind?~~

~~Leah will get the Meridian Grant, because I am the foundation. I’ll explain it to you sometime, Miki.~~

* * * *

Leah and I were taken, via a service corridor, to the plane and were boarded immediately. The Aloha Airlines Boeing 737 was an older jet, but reliable. There was no reserved seating, so we took the first available seats we could. Given the emergency, Leah and I set Miki’s carrier on the floor between us. This freed a seat for someone else.

Takeoff was rough. The pilots deliberately stayed on the runway longer than normal because of the strong, gusting headwinds. When we took off, we climbed quickly, shuddering many times as turbulence struck the plane. At altitude it wasn’t bad, and thankfully few, if any, got airsick. Landing at Honolulu was bumpy, but tolerable. An escort met us at the gate, and we were driven to a huge hotel a few blocks from Waikiki Beach.

“Why here and not near the airport?”

“It will be a day or two before flights to the mainland resume. All the nearby hotels are full, and you are safer here as it is a less obvious place. Wear these bracelets on your wrist, or you can put them on your ankles if you must. They are waterproof, so you can shower and swim in them. Press all the buttons at once and it signals us you are in danger. Several officers will be near you at all times. Use this cell-phone to call us anytime you leave your room. It’s encrypted, so no one can overhear.”

* * * *

They got us to our room, inspected it, and left. We relaxed, took long showers, and decided what to do. Our meal in the Maui airport had amounted to a late lunch/early dinner.

“Are you hungry, Leah? There are lots of restaurants near here; what you say we get a late supper?”

“I'm a little hungry; the sandwich helped, but I could use something.”

We called our *tail* and told them of our plans. Leah and I walked towards Waikiki and turned down the sidewalk along the oceanfront road. Miki sat contentedly in her carrier. It was twilight, and the night life was coming out, though subdued by the windy conditions.

To reduce the *shock effect* -- and no that is not a pun -- one Tazer was hidden inside Miki’s carrier; the other was tucked in my waistband and concealed by my top. I felt like a spy, ~~Jane Blonde, agent double-*D* 40, license to thrill.~~ I spotted a popular fifties-styled burger and pizza place I had eaten at the one time I’d been in Hawaii and lead us in. Leah looked at the menu board and agreed this would do. We placed our order, and Leah took Miki with her to save us some seats. I brought our sodas to the table.

“Leah, remember 125, that’s our order number.”

“Ladies, I see you are sitting alone. Mind if we talk?” I turned to see a couple of college age guys on the make.

“You can talk if you want, but Leah here is underage, and, well, I’m spoken for, but you can try.” I turned to face them as I spoke, and their faces brightened then dimmed as I spoke.

“If we’d known it was you, we wouldn’t have bothered you, Joanie.”

“Are you sure your friend here is underage?”

“I just turned thirteen; I’m sorry guys,” Leah replied and giggled like the thirteen-year-old she was.

“It’s no bother; I like to be thought of as desirable from time-to-time.” I gave them each my autograph, and they seemed happier, though disappointed.

“Orders 123, 124 and 125, please pick up at the counter. That’s orders 123, 124 and 125.”

I walked back to the counter and called out, “I’m 125.”

“Joanie, I though you said it was your 49th birthday last December,” a familiar voice called out from behind me.

“Jay? What are you doing here?”

“Getting food, and thanks for the straight line. We are here with the show to do a salute to summer from the band shell on Waikiki, if the weather improves.”

“Summer? It’s May!”

“Kickoff to summer then. This is TV; it doesn’t have to be logical. It’s for tomorrow starting at six PM. We’re doing it live, what with the time difference with the Lower 48. Could you come on? It’s a nearly all music show; you’d be perfect. We’d kick ass in the overnight ratings.”

“I don’t know; I’d have to ask Leah and our *angels*. I’m responsible for her safety. She is in danger from anti-mutant activists back on Maui.”

“You? You were the 'dangerous mutant terrorists' on Maui?”

“What?”

“You must not have seen the reports. For a while, much of the media were reporting that a gang of mutants went on a rampage, shooting at innocents and generally causing mayhem. They said the State Police and Marines were deployed to restore order.”

“Follow me, Jay ... This is Leah, the other half of that dangerous gang of mutants. The vicious animal in the carrier is Miki; she’s my mongoose and a co-conspirator in this evil plot to destroy civilization as we know it.” I giggled, but I was ticked off at the reckless, slanted reporting. “Yes, I imported a mongoose to Hawaii. It’s complicated, but she’s my mentor.”

“A mongoose is your mentor in what, killing cobras?”

“Working magic, Jay, and don’t tell anyone.”

“Wait a minute, there are wild reports of spontaneous mutations of grown men into attractive women with, um, both sexes.”

“That was an accident. We were trapped by an ambush, and somehow Miki and I transformed them; this is also not for public consumption. Jay, you’re the expert on the media; do you think I should I hold a press conference to counter these ridiculous stories?”

“The Governor of Hawaii already has, but I’d have you on my show in a second for an exclusive. She called a press conference and was outraged at the accusations. The Governor practically nominated you for sainthood, and a remote transmission from the Marine commanding officer from Hana was equally supportive. Was it true you were shot?”

“I was hit, but I heal fast.”

“I could get you on our cable news program or maybe the national news. They’d love to interview you. I guarantee I’ll get you one of our serious and fair journalists, not one of those *pundits*. They may bring in the ratings, but they demean the professionalism of the news side of the business.

We ate and worked out a deal. Leah and I had the next morning free, and in the afternoon I would rehearse and be fitted for a costume. Jay agreed to assign his two best security people to guarding Leah. Miki would stay with her in her carrier, just in case.

* * * *

We finished eating and went for a walk along the long sand beach of Waikiki. It was dark, and the waves were high due to the approaching typhoon, so no one was allowed in the water. We were passing a small wooded area near the band shell, on the north end of the beach, when Miki got excited and sniffed the air.

~~Joanie, I can smell him; he is near. There is a prime male living in this wood. I can tell from his scent he is healthy and vigorous. Please, Mistress Joanie, I *need*.~~

~~You promise to be safe, to not eat anything that could be poison? You will not cross the road unless it is safe?~~

~~ I will take great care, Joanie. He senses me; I can smell his excitement. I must go.~~

~~ How will you get back?~~

~~I know where we are staying, the tall *hotel* you called it. I know which one it is of these many tall man-buildings. I can find my way back to the room. If not, I will send you a message of when and where to meet. Our minds are bound, Joanie. We can hear each other from beyond the horizon. Please, he wants me, and I must have it!~~

I took off her harness, and she scampered into the tiny woods. The last I felt from her was intense joy and anticipation. It was a good thing she weakened our *link* at that moment, because we were both aroused. ~~The poor dear needs*it* bad. Good luck, my friend.~~ I *sent* that last bit and got a brief feeling of joy and desire back from Miki.

Leah and I will walk among the tall buildings for a while then come back this way, but take as long as you need.~~

~~Yes, thank you... Hi Mister. I shall call you Eric. Do you like what you see?~~ My link with her quieted; I knew she was alive, but I did not sense her thoughts or feelings. I think she dampened her telepathy so we might both have some privacy.

“Why did you do that?”

“Miki wanted a boyfriend, and she sensed a suitable one here. She will be safe. Let her have some fun. Do you want to do some shopping? My treat, Leah.”

"Shopping?”

“You need some clothes, and I so do I. I never anticipated so much traveling this weekend or for so long.”

* * * *

We wandered up and down the beach front road and its wide variety of shops. We window-shopped, looking for things to interest us. The guys and gals along the busy street were window-shopping us. The guys seemed pleased to see us; the gals were not happy at all. We were the competition, and they were worried. I felt so hot and sexy. My nipples were rock hard, and my panties got moist, but I was in control, more or less..

My, I am awfully aroused tonight ... Is this the flipside of all that upset and stress of earlier today?~~

We bought a few items, including some scandalously scanty one-piece swimsuits. Leah wanted to surf, if conditions allowed it before leaving Hawaii, and our hotel had a pool. As one-pieces, they would stay on in a dive or the surf. With the multiple cutouts, plunging necklines, and high-cut leg holes, they left little to the imagination. Picture those figure flattering swimsuits the lady lifeguards wore in Baywatch, but far less *G* rated. These were *shock your Mama* outfits, but who cared?

* * * *

“We are going to have such fun, Joanie. Do you want to look at that shoe store again? I saw you eying those cowboy boots, the Steve Zink model 27s?”

“Oh my, I feel odd. Whash is wrong? Oh-a-a-a!” I staggered for a few steps, my head spinning, then I was fine.

“That whash strange I felt ... I don’t know what I ...I-I-I ... That whash incredible. This is all wrong but I, oh Ghod!” I staggered again, but my mind was confused and reeling with pleasures long denied and all but forgotten.

“Joanie, are you sick.? You're swaying like my uncle does when he’s been ... Are you drunk?”

“Of coursh not, Leah. I don’t drinks. Oh, I feel dizzy. Whash is with my speeches?” I concentrated and regained some control.

“It’s not me. You were with me all night, and I had nothing alco ... alcol .. acolholic. Maybe it was that papaya. It was extremely ripe but tasted so good ... Oh my!”

“Joanie, why are you trembling? Do you want a doctor?”

“No_oh_oh_oh! Help me to our room; I know what it ... Oh My Ghod. Yes, Yes, YES!”

People were looking at me and Leah, but she resolutely half-walked me/half-dragged me into the hotel, to the elevator, and up to our room. It wasn’t easy with my occasional spasms and sudden urges to moan, squeal and pleasure myself in intimate places. It was all I could do not to offer myself to every attractive man -- and they all looked sooo attractive all-of-a-sudden, or to assault Leah, who was sizzling sexy to my senses.

She got me to my bed and ... I lost it and *let my fingers to the walking.* I felt my love deep inside me, pounding away mercilessly with his manhood, and I loved it. It felt soo good after all these years to be a woman again. To have a man on top of me once more, his powerful body making me *his* was heaven ... His hot fluids shooting into me only increased my desire. We were insatiable, but even mindless passion has some limit. After several hours of his ministrations, I felt limp as a soggy noodle and happier than since I was Kushalla’s fam ... I snapped out of it.

~~Miki ... did you ... were you? ... Was your mate any good? ... ~~

There are some secrets a woman keeps even from her familiar, like the fact I felt fantastic. Her *Eric* was *all mongoose*, if you know what I mean. If my Eric is half this good, I will be one satisfied woman.

~~Joanie? You felt my ... I am sshorry, it wasn’t my intentshhion to disturb you. I tried to block my shensations, but I felt odd after eating that delicic .. delilci .. tasty fruit and ... My head is spinning!~~

~~Miki, I think you’re drunk. That fruit was so ripe it had fermented and had some alcohol in it. Like when people drink wine or hard cider or whisky?~~

It was strangely delic, delic, tasty. Joanie, I can not return to you this way. May I stay the night with my *Eric,* so I may regain control?~~

If you are safe. I could come and get you?~~

~~I have caused you much troublesh. Let me shleep and re-recover. Meet me in the morning near the trees and beaches. ~~

* * * *
May 06, 2007

In the morning, I woke embarrassed but alert. We dressed while checking the local news. The Governor’s press conference had squelched most of the crazy rumors, except for two. The reports of men suddenly becoming female in appearance, yet possessing both sexes, remained a hot topic as was the identity of the mutants involved in the incidents on Maui. They knew I was there from the Governor, but they wanted the name of the rescued mutant. It was explained that the rescued person was a minor, but the press was in a feeding frenzy.

The other topic was the weather. Typhoon Amelia was expected to miss the islands but had slowed, so its effects on the islands would linger. Condition Black was declared for some beaches -- no activity in or near the water allowed. Waikiki, being on the leeward side of the storm, was open to qualified surfers of which Leah was one. We dressed, ate, and went to pick up my wayward mongoose. She’d sent a message she was ready to return to us.

~~Joanie, I am well, happy, and wish to return to you. Meet me in the park where you dropped me off. My *Eric* was everything I could have hoped for. Bless you for your consideration.~~ Miki sounded satisfied and then some.

After recovering her and reattaching her harness, we walked to a local surfing shop on the beach. The conditions were too extreme for a novice to go out even with an expert, but Leah had certification as a Junior Master.

Apparently she had placed high in her age group in surfing tournaments the last several years. Even looking like she did, her certification placed her well above a merely competent surfer of her apparent age. She rented a board and got expert instruction on the local hazards, and the best way to use the waves with safety. She studied the waves for some time, and the actions of the surfers out there, then she paddled out. I noticed a film crew was recording her runs, the logo on the cameras was for the network that Jay’s show was on. I wasn’t surprised; Leah was a fine surfer, and with her new body she was some serious eye-candy. I watched her with pride and a little envy while I enjoyed splashing in the shallows and sun bathing, The cameras got some great of shots of me wet, coming out of the ocean, just before Jay walked up to me.

“Joanie, that is one sharp looking swimsuit. What are you doing on the beach?”

“The girl you met last night is an expert surfer. That’s her in the bright white one-piece. It’s like mine other than the color.” I wore a reddish-gold suit to complement my hair and eyes.

“I’ll see you later today then, Joanie, and thanks." He walked off to record some of those silly man/woman on the street interviews.

* * * *
After returning her rented board, and our showering to rinse off the salt, we walked in our damp suits to the cluster of trailers set aside for the show's guest stars and staff. They were parked behind the Waikiki beach band shell and well protected by police and private security.

The wardrobe and makeup departments got us out of our suits and into some suitable rehearsal clothing. I talked with the director of Jay's augmented band -- members of the Honolulu Symphony Orchestra were added to produce a rich, big band sound. We spent an hour or two trying things out with the band. During my rehearsal, I noticed several major artists had arrived. We smiled at each other; I was known in the *business* by now, but my being there did surprise them.

Mid-afternoon, I recorded an interview with a senior and respected network reporter. We went into considerable detail about how I came to Hawaii, what happened on Maui and what was yet to happen, I answered most of the questions except for a few I though might endanger Leah. I summed things up this way:

“What happened on Maui was solely the responsibility of outside trouble makers, with the exception of several Humans Firsts who took advantage of a harmless young woman’s plight to advance their views. If she had been treated with due courtesy and tolerance, nothing bad would have happened.”

* * * *
After my interview, Leah joined me in a spacious trailer reserved for *talent*. We napped for a few hours, then ate and were prepped for the show. Leah was disguised as a precaution, and I was fitted into several costumes including a sexy cheerleader’s uniform.

I made some quick calls back to Whateley, Wisconsin, and Iowa to let my friends know I was alright and what I was going to do next. I hoped they could watch me perform, and I wanted to thank them for their support. .

* * * *

I waited on the darkened stage, my palms sweating, stomach clenching and heart pounding. I so wanted to impress Leah, and a peek at the crowd a few minutes before had not helped. There had to be thousands out there on the lawn. Up front, protected by two of Jay’s most trusted bodyguards was Leah, Miki was with her in her carrier to keep an eye on Leah just in case. The Late Show band played a shortened version of Jay’s theme music as scenes shot in Hawaii -- including Leah surfing and me coming out of the water -- were projected onto huge screens for the crowd. He came on to one side of the stage, the music stopped, and he spoke.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Hawaii and the Late Show’s salute to the start of summer. Where better to celebrate the coming summer than on Waikiki Beach, and what better music to celebrate with than ... ELVIS!

The band played the extremely brief intro, and the spotlights hit me.

(words & music by linde)
”Lord almighty,
I feel my temperature rising
Higher higher
It's burning through to my soul

Girl, girl, girl
You gonna set me on fire
My brain is flaming
I dont know which way to go

Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love

Ooh, ooh, ooh,
I feel my temperature rising
Help me, I'm flaming
I must be a hundred and nine
Burning, burning, burning
And nothing can cool me
I just might turn into smoke
But I feel fine

'Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like a sweet song of a choir
And you light my morning sky
With burning love

It's coming closer
The flames are reaching my body
Please won't you help me
I feel like I'm slipping away
It's hard to breath
And my chest is a-heaving
Lord almighty,
I'm burning a hole where I lay

'Cause your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love
With burning love
Ah, ah, burning love
I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love
Just a hunk, a hunk of burning love”

I felt like I was channeling The King. I lived and breathed the music; I sang in his key and range but one octave higher. I’m good, okay I admit it, I’m great but that would have been pushing it even for me. It was lower than I usually sing, but the tone was electric, and on hearing it later, sexy with a capital *S*. Maybe it was due to the stress of the last couple days, and the relief Leah and I were safe, I made love to the crowd. Not literally! What do you think I am? You folks are pervs. ~~Tempting, so tempting particularly after Miki and her ... *night* -- the furry minx.~~

I’d put everything I had into my performance, and the crowd responded in kind. The song ended and Jay was in heaven. It took a good minute to calm the crowd, and we performed Leah, the Roy Orbison *Hawaiian style* song. My Leah smiled, cried and applauded enthusiastically. Miki sent me a mental *thumbs up*. I finished my short set with Windsurfer, a lesser known but appropriate Roy Orbison composition. I waited for the applause to die down.

“Good evening to, you know, everybody from beautiful Waikiki. I’m Joanie, um ... I think ... Yeah, Joanie, like duh!”

The audience exploded in laughs. Jay looked like he was about to wet himself he laughed so hard

“I gotta let the big acts up on stage. Before I go I want to say, to a friend I made on Maui, Leah, dear, those songs were for you. I have one work for you, my dear friend, ‘Ohana. Oh yeah, there is one other thing folks ... Aloha!”

The show immediately went to the next performers, some unknowns called The Beach Boys. They dragged me back onto the band shell stage and sang for me, for silly old me, "Fun, Fun, Fun". The audience and I saw, on huge screens, what the TV audience saw, and it blew me away. Somehow Jay had gotten clips from Ford of me driving the Ford Thunderbird GT -- *it* had a new name now. It had little to do with the historic T-birds; it was clearly from the same line of thought as the glorious Ford GT40 from the 1960’s and the Ford GT of a couple years ago, but they saw the dollar signs in tying it to me. The original T-bird coupe was clearly a young woman’s car -- think of Susan Summers as the strikingly pretty young blonde in American Graffiti. The new GT was a coupe, and I was clearly a strikingly pretty young strawberry-blonde. I giggled and blushed like an idiot on stage. Ghod, I probable sold a couple thousand of those extremely expensive cars by how I looked driving mine.

I was half numb from the buzz of excitement and joy when Jay escorted me from the stage. Much of the night was a blur of watching performers I’d idolized serenading me and treating me like I was their equal -- no, like I was their crown princess. I particular enjoyed the performances of The Go-Go’s and The B-52’s. Jay also had several excellent Hawaii acts perform. The state is a Mecca for performers and artists of all kinds. I stood off to the side of the stage and quietly danced to my hearts content. It was nothing recognizable as a specific dance; it was me moving to the music. It felt great to let go for a while and just *be.*

The cheerleaders from the University of Hawaii-Honolulu performed a dance routine to back several of the Beach Boys songs during their second set, and then I came on stage. I would be the closing act for the show. The crowd had grown considerably during the broadcast; the police later estimated it at in excess of fifty-thousand. I wore one of their *hot* cheerleading uniforms, it might as well been a swimsuit it covered so little. In fact it was built like a swimsuit but with a short skirt and some extra fabric applied. We’d worked out a surprise during the afternoon rehearsals, while Leah was taking care of Miki in one of the trailer/greenrooms. The crowd laughed and whistled when I burst onto the stage.

“I have two compelling reasons to sing this next song. I have to do it for a dear friend of mine; I owe her my life. And ... I mean, just look ... this bitchn’ outfit is like so me, totally!”

It may have been a one-hit wonder, but what a hit. We did the Toni Basil mega hit, 'Mickey.' I had a great time singing and dancing, well more bouncing and jiggling all over the stage but it was fun. I got a mental image of a certain mongoose dancing for joy. ~~You deserved it, Miki, every bit of it, brave girl.~~ I sent her after I finished the song..

Jay came on stage, and I was interviewed briefly after the number. I answered with the Reader’s Digest version of my reason for being here.

“The young woman I escorted to safety had harmed no one, yet was treated worse than most folks would treat a stray dog. The community she grew up in, the people who knew her best, with few exceptions, distanced themselves from her in her time of need or actively tried to harm her. And for what? What terrible crime had she committed? The crime of being different.

“From the American West Coast of the early 1940’s there are still survivors of the Japanese and Japanese Americans forced into concentration caps for the crime of being of Japanese ancestry. African Americans were denied the vote and other basic human rights for decades purely for being not-white. This is not right!

“It could be the so-called white man’s turn to be oppressed someday. The same radical Christians, who think it’s righteous to push their version of morality and religion on others, will be in for a rude awakening if the fundamentalist Muslims ever come to political power. Will they demand their religious views be given precedence just as the Christian Right tried to force their views upon us?

“Intolerance breeds intolerance, and I’ve done my share of spreading hate by not living up to the ideals of freedom and tolerance. It’s not enough to be tolerant yourself; you must oppose intolerance by others. I no longer have that luxury of anonymity; I am one of the freaks, the muts, the unclean and unholy. I am a mutant, AND I am a human.” The audience applauded loudly.

“This nation needs tolerance and good will to prosper and survive in the global economy. I hope my friend Leah will live long enough to see tolerance become universal. Sorry to get preachy on you, but my blood boils when I remember what a few radicals tried to do to this innocent young woman and friend. She is here in the audience tonight by divine grace, her boundless courage, and a little help from a friend of mine and me. I must thank the valiant men and women of various local Maui police forces and Hawaiian State Police. With expert support by members of the United States Marines, my friend, her family, and I were able to reach safety and order was restored.”

Leah, though they could not identify her for obvious reasons, got a heartrending round of applause when I revealed she was in attendance as my guest. I was asked by Jay to do a couple more songs to end the two hour broadcast.

“This song I dedicate to the men and women of the MCO who are keeping the World safe from -- something or other; I’m not sure they know what it is, but it must be something pretty darn important. I must say, from personal experience, their search methods are most thorough. They will be hearing from my lawyers about that.” I sang 'Pretty Vacant' by the Sex Pistols. It was the nastiest thing I could sing in protest of my treatment, yet keep us on the air.

~~I’m gonna’ regret that one every time I go through a major airport. But that ... jerk deserved it. And then the dickhead in Kahului ... ~~ “I’d like to give a hearty well done to the hard working airport screeners who have the thankless task of keeping it safe to fly. You guys and gals are the best. My special thanks go to the screeners and security at Chicago O’Hare who went above-and-beyond their duty to assist me. On the other hand, as for the MCO ...” then I giggled which spoiled the effect.

“My last song” -- the audience moaned their disappointment -- “is a gift to those dear friends who stood by me despite my recent self-serving, self-destructive behavior. They saw I needed help, and ... I want them to know how much I respect and love them for it. I owe my greatest apologies to two: Mom, I love you as much as if you were my birth mother. And to my special someone, a quote from a favorite piece of fiction expresses it best, ‘the only way to stop loving you is to die."’ I composed myself, wiped my tear streaked face, and sang.

“Oh, my love, my darling
I've hungered for your touch
Alone, lonely time ...”

'Unchained Melody' been recorded hundreds of times; The Righteous Brother’s mid-1960’s version is probably the best known as it was revived in popularity by being in the film 'Ghost.' All the remaining tension of the last few days poured out of me and into my performance. Jay, the band, and everyone I could see were in shock by the end. The song had gone well in rehearsal, but this was way beyond that in its impact. The music stopped and there was a moment of complete silence. The applause hit me like the shockwave from an atomic explosion. I left the stage emotionally wiped out and a smile on my tear-streaked face.

I waited for the crowd to break up after the show, and was met by Leah and Miki in one of the makeup trailers. I would have signed autographs, but Leah was my responsibility; the TV show was pushing the limits of safety. The makeup and wardrobe people cleaned us both up and changed our looks to something appropriate for two gals in their upper teens out for a night of fun.

We were escorted out the back and made our way down Waikiki Beach until we neared the main shopping district. Miki walked on her leash like some rich girl’s expensive pet dog. I saw our reflection in a shop window and got the giggles.

“What is it, um Joan? “ She remembered not to cal me Joanie on the street.

“I look like Paris Hilton walking her dog with her fabulously skinny girlfriend at her side.

“At your worst, you are not that ditzy, Cousin ... You did remember to wear panties, didn’t you?” Now we both giggled. Miki was confused, but happy.

We switched to the sidewalk and idly window-shopped. Even Miki enjoyed herself. We got considerable action from young guys and gals cruising by on the street. Leah was dressed-to-kill, and I was bordering on illegal. I’m amazed we didn’t cause any accidents.

I spotted a jewelry store I’d been told had an honest reputation -- I had talked with our *tail* earlier -- and asked Leah to come in with me. It was late, but they were open for another hour or so to accommodate the late evening crowds.

“May I help you ladies?” asked a woman in her thirties.

“I’d like to purchase a pearl necklace for my friend, Leah.”

“Certainly, Miss, cultured pearls or natural?”

“Natural or your top quality cultured. I want Leah to have something with class; something she can wear with pride for years to come”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, but with expensive and easily pocketed items ...”

“You need to copy my ID, sure. This is my Hawaii State Police ID. I’m on temporary assignment; I’m something of an expert on mutants. Here’s my MCO issued Mutant ID card or MID, and my New Hampshire driver’s license. Will that do? I have more if you need it.” I smiled and watched the fun. I preferred not to hand her any of my Whateley IDs. I was sure these would do the trick.

She looked at me, then the ID, then back again at me. She scanned them into their computer as if on autopilot and was about to hand them back when another sales person came to the counter. Her dress and name tag showed her to be the manager.

“Is everything under control, Maureen? Need any assistance? Are you alright, Maureen?” Maureen stared at me and handed the manager my IDs. “Good evening, Ms. Brown, and what ... do ... you ... Um, great performance you gave tonight, I, we saw it on TV."

“Thank you, um, Nicole, that’s most kind. What do you ladies suggest for my friend here? I want something that will last her a lifetime or more. I want your very best.”

Leah got these lovely Japanese cultured pearls, a matched necklace and earrings set. I offered to buy her a smaller all-natural pearl necklace, but Leah said it was too expensive. She needed something to remember our adventure that was positive, and the contrast with her cinnamon skin was breathtaking. I bought a gold, platinum and fire coral hair clip for Mel.

“Leah, this will go great with Mel’s blonde hair.”

“You bought a hairclip for a guy?” the sales woman asked. Leah and I giggled.

“Mel is Melissa; I email her a lot, and she’s Joanie best friend, sorry, bestest friend.” Leah giggled and I laughed. ~~I owe you one, Mel; you did everything you could to keep Leah calm. You told her I’m your *bestest* friend, good girl, Mel.~~

Buying jewelry for a man is difficult. I know what I *wanted* to buy, but a wedding ring set was jumping the gun. I thought of buying a fancy pen set, but that made more sense for someone like his dad or the Senator. I settled on diamond and platinum cuff-links and a matching tie tack, as he would soon be a fixture on the 'rubber chicken' circuit. Politics is the family business, so I have to assume he’ll be expected to give it a try. Privately, I hoped he wouldn’t, as I feared it would be hard on our children, and frankly I’m a selfish girl. If I have to wait for him, I’m not sharing him with the public anytime soon. Four years of self-denial is more then enough for me. I expect him to be at my beck-and-call after he turns 18, except when busy with his university studies. I wonder how well I’ll handle his going to the University of Iowa? At least we’ll be able to ... during breaks. He’s going to *need* the class time to recover from the after effects of his semester breaks. This is my solemn vow.

I bought a few other gifts. Matching silver friendship bracelets for my gal pals at MSG; for Dr. Sara, Babs and myself, I purchased three identical gold and platinum cameos with necklace chains to match -- the type of cameos you can put small photos or locks of hair inside. It was a logical extension of what I got for Mel the previous Christmas. Miki got a simple gold heart engraved with her name and my phone number that I hoped to attach to a breakaway collar or harness for her ~~For just-in-case, Miki.~~.

I had the various metal items engraved that night -- the manager knew how to use the machine, thankfully. The manager thought the phrase I wanted on each was unusual, but sentimental. He didn’t realize how literal it was.

“’Eternally yours’, that’s a strong sentiment.”

“They are worthy of it; I hope I prove equal to the sentiment.”

* * * *

To be continued

This is why I value your comments. ‘Ohana would not have been in the story without Rose_2’s suggestion. Thanks to Karen_J for help on police, airports and the press. Itinerant and Janet Nolan, what can I say but thanks.
The quote Joanie said at the concert is from Tanya Allen’s Tango Golf.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Other Keywords:

surfing described by a non-surfer but that never stopped The Beach Boys

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie and Leah meet a fan, get a "ride" from Jay and indulge in more surfing. A secret of Leah's family is revealed. The mommy bug bites Joanie again as does her inability to stay out of the limelight. The girls have lunch in Boston, Miki meets the smilodons and the Sabers. Joanie has suprises at Whateley, learns of Tom and Tina's mom's progress and goes to Boston to finish up for NOVA.

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)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble - WIBBLE!!) Itinerant, straps not your style with your build? Heavens! How about this stunning ensemble’, case-hardened chains, locks, handcuffs and burlap sack swimming costume? (Harry Houdini, cleanup on Aisle 4!)

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
Guest proofing and advice from, TBA.

Chapter 8, Leah 4, Unchained Reaction, M-m-my Jen-eration, Though I walk though the valley of death, Back to Abnormal

Waikiki and Honolulu, Oahu, Hawaii, LAX, Boston MA Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH. May 06-May 12, 2007

Late Sunday May 06, 2007

Leah, Miki and I returned to our hotel after our wild, fun day. I called the airport about a flight to the US and was advised to check with them later as to when space would be available. Limited flights to the mainland were expected resume in the morning, maybe, but likely nothing would be available until mid-morning the next day, unless we wanted standby. At least that’s what the recorded message said as I waited for a live body to pick-up. The typhoon was moving away, but being to the north and east of the islands, the huge storm interfered with the usual flight paths to the US west coast. It would be several days until a full schedule could resume.

“Leah, do you want a good night’s sleep in our comfy hotel room, or do you want to wait in the Honolulu airport for Ghod knows how long for standby seats, um, seats that become available when passengers don’t show up?”

“Bed, please. I want to go surfing one last time if I can. The morning looks promising, what with the typhoon moving away and our being on the leeward side of the island; the waves should still be big, but not the near Condition Black like today. I had fun out there, but anything more would have been beyond me. The surf forecast looks really good for the morning; I checked the marine forecast from the local NOAA web site when you were practicing for the show. The Late Show people had a computer in our trailer, didn’t you know?

"I even got to talk with Mel just before I left to sit in the audience. She was in the Joanie chat room, and everyone was so excited when I said we were safe and that you would be on TV. I told Mel privately you’d call before we left Hawaii. She heard the press reports and that you’d been hurt … you will call her, okay? Please? … I promised Mel I'd show you how to surf. You’ll love it; it’s the greatest!”

“You did enjoy yourself, Leah. I’d better take you up on it since you promised her. Excuse me a moment?” I concentrated on the phone now that I had a live reservations clerk on the line.

”So you are saying there are no seats available on flights to the lower 48 for at least a day, except for standby? No that’s okay, we’re in no rush, I’ll check on availability tomorrow morning. I’m sure you don’t need the extra hassle of a so-called celebrity pestering you,” I told the airline clerk. “Not at all, Ms. Brown, um, Joanie. I saw the interview you gave about the young mutant girl. I'd hope someone would be that selfless should one of my family ever need help. Oh, nice concert! That last song you did had me crying. Get a good night's sleep, you’ve earned it.”

* * * *

We were too wound up after all the excitement. Leah and I decided a dip in the hotel’s pool and a relaxing shower sounded heavenly. We wore the same suits from earlier in the day and were looking fine. Okay, we were looking better than fine -- we were sizzling.

It was quiet in the pool; it was after nine o’clock in the evening, almost ten, and the pool was fairly empty. I don’t think either of us induced too many cases of whiplash and incapacitating blue-balls in the males present. The few individuals present smiled at me; several applauded and politely said they had seen my performance on the show. One of the swimmers, a teenager, had seen my performance at the band shell in person. He told me how much he had enjoyed it.

“Joanie?” the shy teenage boy asked after swimming up to us. “Um, I want to say I’m a fan, and I loved you on TV and you are so pretty I ….” He started to hyperventilate and forgot himself. He inhaled some water and began coughing violently and appeared near panic. My over-30-year-old lifesaving training — plus my refresher classes with Whateley Security -- kicked in, and I put him in a cross-body carry and swam him to the side of the pool. He struggled wildly, but with the cross body carry I had him in there was little he could do to hurt me. So long as we were in the water, I was in total control, it’s all a matter of leverage or the lack of it. I got him safe to the side of the pool, Leah swam alongside just in case.

“You’re safe now. I won’t let you get hurt, guy. Calm down and breathe slowly.” His coughing had stopped, but his breathing was still too fast. I was afraid he’d pass out. Desperate times call for desperate measures. ~~Forgive me, Eric.~~ I kissed the boy hard on the mouth to distract him and to build up his CO2 level to regulate his breathing — like with a paper bag, but so much more fun. He was so shocked by my sudden embrace he stopped breathing for a while. I doubt if we were lip-locked for more than a couple seconds. ~~Damn, I am good at this. I feel like Stupefyin’ Jones from the old Li'l Abner comic strip.~~ Leah helped me restrain him until he was once again in control of his faculties..

“Calm down, I didn’t mean to tease you. The kiss was to stop you hyperventilating. A paper or plastic bag would have worked, but I didn’t have one handy. If I let you go, can I trust you not to panic? I just want to talk. I do have someone I’m seeing exclusively, I didn’t mean to lead you on.. You kiss nice, though,” I said and giggled. We climbed out of the pool, and I suggested we sit on the pool chairs and dry off. He followed Leah and me like a lost puppy.

“Miss Joanie, you must think I’m a player or worse. I didn’t mean to… but I got so excited seeing you then I inhaled that water. I remember coughing, and I couldn’t get my breath; I guess I panicked. Next thing I remember you were kissing me and … I am so very sorry I…”

“What is your name? I’m Joanie, well duh, and this lovely lady is Leah and a dear friend.”

“I, ah, Dave Ohno, my dad is here for a business conference. We’re from LA.”

He was a skinny, but muscular young man. I guessed him to be 15 and probably a JV soccer player or on the track team — he had the build. I swam a lot as a kid, and some parts of the male anatomy are not impressive after being chilled in a pool, or worse after getting out of the pool. Water, as it evaporates, cools you to the point of goose pimples and, um, shrinks things. This is true for guys, believe me, I remember. I’ve learned that it has the opposite effect on women, at least with regards to these two places. To his credit he did not stare at our chests … not too much, mostly.

I am embarrassed to admit — but then I am a female, so I suppose I do this on autopilot — I looked at his crotch. He may have been wet and a little cold, but part of him warmed up fast. Leah noticed and laughed nervously. I remembered her difficulties with sexually aggressive boys and tossed him a towel.

“Dave, cover *that* up. Leah’s uncomfortable, and there are others around.” I said softly. “Don’t feel bad, *it’s* supposed to do that in the presence of an attractive girl.” He looked down and used the towel immediately. I almost suggested he needed a *bigger* towel — the poolside towels were positively huge — but I’d embarrassed him enough. Even my inner girl has her limits -- she does, I swear.

We had a pleasant chat, which helped me relax. I think it helped Leah, too; as she and Dave talked awhile, I went and showered to get the chlorine out of my hair and suit. Leah rinsed off after I finished. Dave and I spoke in the meantime.

“Leah is a nice girl. Does she have a boyfriend? She must, I mean she’s what, 17, 18?” Dave was obviously smitten with her.

“Thirteen, barely, but if you want to write to her you can give me your e-mail address, and I’ll see she gets it. She’ll be attending the same school I teach and study at. Hey, I’m not just a pretty face.”

“I’ve noticed.” He broke into laughter but was still blushing intensely. I figured he had to have a redhead in his family history.

He gave me his email address, and I memorized it. It was easy as it rhymed. Leah came back, and he repeated it to her.

“Will you write to me? Joanie tells me you're only 13, but I just turned fifteen last month. You are pretty, and I liked talking with you, Leah. Whad’ Ya say?”

“Okay.”

He left the pool one happy looking boy, and left Leah with a dazed expression. I questioned her as we dressed for sleep.

“What’s the funny look for, Leah?”

“Dave, I … He’s hot!”

“After what happened to you, the guys trying to ... You liked a boy?!”

“He was nice, and I felt safe with him, you know? I don’t think it would hurt to email him.” Leah was smiling in a *I’m not here at the moment, if you wish to leave a message,* kind of way.

~~Jeese, Leah is zoning out like I do when I see Eric … Oh no, she’s discovered boys!~~

“It’s a good thing this will be by email. You have that look in your eyes, Leah. Be careful, I don’t want you being hurt again. I know dating isn’t easy, I sucked at it as a man. I worry you’ll be taken advantage of. You are vulnerable because you want to trust again. It’s great that you do but still.…”

“Stop acting like my mom!” she said.

“Leah, your mom would not dress like this.” I pointed at my shock-your-mama bathing suit.

“Oh yeah? You should see her when she wants to go out dancing with dad. She wears outfits you’d say are sexy. She may be my mom, but Mom’s no old lady. Remember she taught me to surf, and she’s still better at it than I am.”

“Are you sure your mom isn’t a mutant, or your dad?”

That got Leah to laugh. “No, but sometimes I wonder.”

* * * *

May 07, 2007, Monday

We woke early on Monday morning; the sun was out, and with the wind diminishing it was just an absolutely beautiful start to the day. I was about to call the airlines for reservations, when I noticed a message on our hotel phone from Jay. Leah was using the bathroom so I played back the message.

“Joanie, I didn’t want to disturb you, so I left a message instead. Corporate is thrilled with my suggestion, so if you’d like, we’ll give you a ride back to California. If you wish, another corporate jet will fly you and your friends back to the airport near your school. No strings, dear, just our sincere thanks for a great interview and an outstanding performance on the special. Your producer contacted us, and we arranged with Warners to a joint release of the music from the show; the other bands agreed to it as well. They are thrilled to be on a recording with you. We expect to depart around 6 this evening, Hawaiian time. Call me at xxx-xxxx to let us know. Girl, that last song had me in tears.”

I hung up and found Leah had exited the bathroom at some point during the playback of the message.

“I didn’t hear it all, but do we have a flight?”

“The network agreed with Jay; we can fly back on the Late Show's charter, if we want. That gives us time to shop and surf.”

“What are you waiting for? Call Jay.”

“I hope my cell has service here, I’d hate to pay a hotel phone charge.”

“Joanie, I read somewhere people can pick up cell phone conversations on a scanner.”

“This is a secure phone … Wait a minute, you're right, this is a secure phone, but only when connected to another secure phone. Better bite the bullet and use the hotel’s landline. The risk is low, but you are my responsibility, Leah.

"Let’s see the laminated instructions by the phone say dial nine for an outside line. All local calls are, … Hey that’s reasonable and no surcharge? Not too bad. Maybe that’s why the police put us up here. Okay, here goes, Ahoy-hoy, operator, I wish to make a telephonic call to …”

“Joanie, what *are* you doing?”

“Making a phone call?”

“You were acting like Mr. Burns on the Simpson’s. I appreciate you wanting to cheer me up but we do need a flight out of here.”

“Spoil-sport. Okay, 9, then doot doot doot, dit dit dit boing!”

“Joanie, stop making those silly sounds."

I was about to reply with some of my devastatingly wicked repartee when someone picked the phone. Really, it was this great line, totally original but I don’t remember it. Would I lie? Don’t answer that. So, as I was saying, someone picked up the phone.

”Jay here, how may I help you?”

“Jay, it’s Joanie and her friend; Are you serious about giving us a lift?”

“Joanie, absolutely I’m serious. It’s the least I can do to thank you for appearing on the show.”

“You have two passengers then.” ~~So I lied about Miki, but she’s a carry-on … Damn my conscience.~~ “We have some luggage, and I have a live animal with me I must transport in the passenger compartment. She’s very valuable to me.”

“Not a problem, we have lots of room onboard, Joanie. Be to the airport by five. I’ll leave word with airport security that we are expecting you two for our 6 o’clock charter.”

I thanked him and hung up.

“Joanie, get your swimsuit on NOW! We are going surfing.”

We called our *tail* and checked out of the hotel. They graciously stored our luggage in a secure area and invited us to use the pool shower to clean up after our swim, if we needed it.

* * * *

The surfers and sunbathers on the beach gave us a good looking over, while Leah got us some boards. The waves were low enough a novice could go out with supervision, and Leah was well qualified.

“I saw you yesterday; you rode those big waves like pro. You’re great, miss; ever consider competitive surfing?” the Surf shop attendant asked.

“I have, junior level. I’m only 13.”

“Thirteen? I thought you were least 18. You must be good, particularly given how tall and, um, developed you are for your age. A big growth spurt often throws off an athlete’s sense of their body, their muscle memory. It hasn’t slowed you a bit; you looked great out there, yesterday.”

“I felt like I grew up overnight,” Leah said, as we both giggled. The poor man turned beet red and tried to hide his growing embarrassment with a clipboard. ~~With all the good looking women that he must see, you’d think we wouldn’t have that effect on him. Are we hot or what!~~

Leah gave me a good hour’s dry land instruction. I was taught how to paddle, how to stand up, surfer rules for right of way, and when to bailout, kick out, chicken out, whatever she called it -- all the basics in an intense, condensed version. The girl knew her stuff. Other surfers, several obviously experienced, watched us and nodded their approval.

I’d like to say I took to it like a duck to water, but to be honest, I spent much of that morning spitting up water and sand. Come to think of it, that is how puddle ducks such as mallards sift for food in the mud. Quack!

Leah was patient and kept me out of harm's way, and I did manage a couple modest runs before we had to quit. It was intoxicating, the feeling of being up on that board, the water rushing past, the water soaking my suit, the guys staring at my tightly clinging semi translucent swim suit while wearing their wet clinging … I’m getting turned on again, aren’t I dear d/j/w?

Reader’s Digest version, I -- we had a blast. There was something that had bothered me while I was out on the board, something in the back of my mind, but it wasn’t important at the time. We came in, turned in our boards to polite applause, wolf whistles and worse; I was in heaven and put a little extra into my walk.

The owner of the surf shop congratulated us. “Not bad for a beginner, Joanie. I recognized you.” He turned to Leah. “Miss, you were great out there. Ever considering completive surfing or the pro circuit?”

“I need to finish school first, and I have some other problems to work out before I could do that. I do love to surf though, that’s why I dragged Joanie out on a board.”

“If you ever change your mind, look me up, I have contacts with most of the major tournament organizers here. “ He handed her a card. “Your rental agreement says you are Leah Haleakala from Hana, Maui. Are you related to Mark Haleakala? He was a fair surfer back when I competed in college, and I believe he was from near Hana.”

Leah giggled. “Mark is my dad; he still has his trophies. He’s pretty good on a board yet but fixes boats and fishes for a living. My mom taught me to surf.”

“Your mom must be good. Was she ever surfing buddies with Leilani Naalehu of Maui? Your style reminds me of her.”

“It should, that was Mom’s maiden name.”

“Please call me!”

Leah signed autographs for the group of surfers who has watched us; I was ignored. Apparently her parents were surfing legends in the islands, and by default that made her surfing royalty.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were so famous?” I asked as we walked to the showers.

“I’m not; Mom and Dad are. Jealous are we, Joanie?”

“You bet,” I said and snickered.

* * * *

We were showering to get the sand and salt off our bodies and suits. I turned off my shower and this pulsing spray, like an oscillating lawn sprinkler but much faster, hit all over my lower body.

“What the...?”

~~Forgive me, Joanie, I was drying myself.~~

“Miki?” I said, unable to control my surprise. She was near my feet shaking the water off herself, much like a dog, a handy trick for a fish loving mongoose. ~~I thought you stayed on shore in your carrier?~~

~~I must be near you in case of danger, it is my duty. I rode on Ms. Leah’s man raft, surf board. She is at one with the water, and it was exciting. I was near to both of you, and I can swim without using magic.~~

~~No problem, so long as you were in no danger; I’m simply surprised. If you are dry, get back in your carrier so we can get our luggage and change into travel clothes.~~

The garments for bathing are not suitable? The male humans thought your dress most attractive. Is that not good? ~~

I was shocked, to say the least. ~~Remember how cold it gets back home at Whateley? Remember the white time of death, winter? These swimsuits would not be practical. Most people here wear more clothing than this.~~

~~Forgive me, Joanie, you are right.~~

I thought I sensed something from Miki, something strange and … ~~Is she laughing? Why the little, minx … mongoose devil.~~

~~Miki, have you been playing a joke on Joanie?~~

~~Is Joanie not pleased at my attempt ?~~

I started to snicker and giggle and couldn’t stop; soon Leah joined in as did my furry trickster.

~~N-n-n-n-o, you did fine.~~ I broke up again. ~~I’ve been duped by an animal hardly bigger than a house cat. My Ghod, I AM a blonde!~~

~~Joanie, I like to hear your happy sounds, but there is truth in my joke as you call it. It is hard to explain … I saw how happy you were playing in the great salt water. The people looked on you with desire and envy while you wore the white … swimsuit. Yes, a white swimsuit. I understand more of your language now, but it is not easy. Seeing your happiness while in the swimsuit, I thought you wished to remain like that. When you stopped the man box on wheels … the car, and were consumed with pity and grief I was scared. I feared our enemies had somehow attacked your mind despite my efforts.~~

~~You mean on the island of Maui when I was rescuing Leah, after we had joined our police escort?~~

~~Yes.~~

~~I was upset that I had risked Leah’s, and all our lives, because I did not think things through.~~

~~I said then you did well, and I did not think of you using your time travel power to save us either. You can not be perfect. Only the Goddess is perfect, praise be to her. You must not let your burdens make you sad.~~

~~Huh?~~

~~Your helping Ms Leah for one. Your acceptance of becoming a sorceress under my protection is another. There are other burdens. You must seek the happy things of life. You must be with your mate. My mate was … it was … I am complete again. You need your mate, your Eric, to complete you. You will have many babies. The girls will make great sorceresses and mothers; the boys will be leaders and fathers of a great clan.~~

~~Whoa! I *need* my mate, my Eric, but he is too young — though technically he is ready and able. I’ve seen and felt how *ready* he is and … NO! Miki, don’t project your desires on me. I must wait; humans may be capable of siring and conceiving children at Eric’s age and even younger. That is not to say it is right, or advisable.~~

~~If a girl gets pregnant too young, her physical development as a woman can be harmed along with her long-term health, education, social status and more. I’m sure Eric could have me pregnant quickly — and most happily -- but he is not ready or able to support a family, and he would be harmed. His education and remaining childhood would suffer. He is sexually capable and virile at this age — that is true -- but he is not mature enough to do so of his own free will. Oh he will want to, and I want to, too, but it would not be right. It is hard to explain, but humans are not fully adults just because they can make babies. We take longer than that to become competent as adults, if ever. If I love him, I must wait.~~

~~I feel your pain at the thought of waiting. But I feel pride and anticipation at what will happen if you wait. Oh my, I did not understand. You are right. My Eric was a mature male, one in his prime. I understand now. Forgive me in my enthusiasm. Your Eric is a fine man now; a few cycles of the sun … a few years, will make him more so. I will wait to be guard and teacher to your children.~~

~~What is all this *my children* about? My great-great-yada-yada grandfather said it, and the precognitive lady in Dunwich also said I would have many children. Do you see something of the future, Miki?~~

~~I cannot say. By your desire for each other, and your auras, I am certain you will have many healthy babies together. When I watched you to see if you were my next mistress, I saw as you spoke on the man box, the phone you call it. The sound of your Eric made your aura sparkle with colors. I have never seen its like before. My Mistress Kushalla glowed when in the presence of her Englishman, but nothing like you.~~

~~I have had many mistresses. I know what I know. You will -- the goddess willing -- have many beautiful children with your Eric. I am certain of this, and I will do all I must to make it so. Joanie, I ... I see trouble, much pain ahead, I know not what or when, but you will survive. I do not know why I know this. I could not see things yet to come before. Since we bonded, I have sensed things I did not know of. Does this make sense?~~

~~I may have a latent precognitive talent, as I have a telepathic/empathic talent that you have access to with me. Maybe you are more capable of sensing these visions. They are rare for me. Miki … How many children will Eric and I have?~~

~~The future is always changing, but it will be many. Redheads and so alike! You will be a busy mother.~~

~~I think that’s enough, Miki. Now I’m really worried.~~

* * * *

We walked back to the hotel, finished dressing and retrieved our baggage. We thanked the staff then called our *tail* for a ride to the airport. I had them drive to Matt’s house as it was not far out of the way, but he was out so I left him a sweet note on a scrap piece of paper I had in my bags and slipped it through the mail slot in his door.

“Joanie, why did we stop?” Leah whispered.

“I met a man I went to school with on the plane to Hawaii. I promised to stop by, if I could. He was a good friend when I was a little boy. Oh well, maybe next time; I hope we can visit your parents in not too many months, if things settle down.”

“You would do that for me? Thank you!” Leah squeaked and squeezed the stuffing out of me, rather pleasurable given her delightfully precocious pulchritude --- i.e. her prematurely abundant charms. That tiny remnant of my male ego was screaming in outrage at the unfairness of it all. The rest of me reveled in her generous spirit.

The police escorted us past security, though we did walk through the scanners and have our bags x-rayed. The MCO officer had enough smarts to butt out of this one. I think the word had been passed to them to *chill it dudes*, likely from on high. My suspicion was either the Governor of Hawaii or that hunk of a Marine Corps officer had called ahead on our behalf. If it wasn’t for Eric I’d be begging to have that Marine assault MY beachhead. ~~I must be relaxing after all the turmoil of this trip; I’m so, ah, okay, I want sex and want it NOW -- happy readers?~~

We were escorted all the way to the network's *charter*, the very latest model Boeing 737 executive jet. It had wide leather seats spaced well apart, every convenience you could want, an attentive staff, and it was all on the network's dime. Oh, sure, it was *old* technology but updated, efficient, reliable and it was free.

“Glad you could make it, Joanie and Leah. Let me help you with your bags.” We were getting the full VIP treatment; Jay was helping carry our bags.

“Thanks, but you don’t need to; the ride is kind in the extreme.”

“Joanie, I have selfish motives. For one, word will be *leaked* how the network provided you a ride back from *storm ravaged* Hawaii.”

“Ravaged? The typhoon missed the Islands by hundreds of miles.”

“TV thrives on hyperbole, but you must admit the storm cut the islands off for a while.”

“True … I sense you’re not telling me all.”

“Nothing untoward, Joanie, I assure you The network hopes, make that requests, your permission to film this and to interview you in flight.”

“That explains the shoulder cameras as we boarded. So long as Leah’s identity is protected, Jay, I see no objections. What do you say, girl? Do you want to talk about your ordeal?”

“Sure, if you can do like Joanie says. I don’t want to put my family at any more risk than they are.”

“You have my solemn promise, Leah,” Jay replied.

We strapped ourselves in after securing Miki’s carrier and soon were on our way.

* * * *

We leveled off and preparations were made to film. Leah was disguised again, she made for a stunning Scandinavian blonde. They even touched up her skin to hide her normal cinnamon tone. After a meal, we were interviewed. Everything on the jet was first class; we had poached trout, much to Miki’s delight. I‘m beginning to think she’s a fish-o-holic.

I was pleased at how mature Leah came off in responding to the questions. She may be thirteen, but she proved she was no child. One response was particularly memorable. He asked her, essentially, if she felt she was at all at fault for causing the confrontation in Hana, Maui. I know he was playing the Devil’s Advocate, but I was ready to leap at his throat until she spoke and I saw his reaction.

“I am the same person I was before I mutated. I even look the same, just a little older and prettier,” she said and giggled self-consciously. “I wished only to live as before, yet my family and I were attacked. The only reason I can think of was my mutation. I, we, committed no crime. I, we, threatened no one, yet we were shot at and threatened by a mob. Why?

“And we were not the only ones put at risk. My brave friend here, Joanie, put herself at risk to get me out. She came to diffuse the danger; she came to help prevent violence, and they shot her. They tried to kill a peacekeeper. Why?

“Because they fear the unknown, I guess, because mutants challenge their view of the world. Some call us monsters, but we’re people, too. If monsters are creatures that hurt people, what does that make the people who attacked us? Mom and Dad taught me it’s okay not to agree with what others think, but you should respect their right to think as they do. I want only to live a normal life. I have no intent to harm anyone or to change their way of life. Why do they hate me? ”

When Jay smiled and gave her a hug, I knew what he had been doing and gave him a hug and kiss he’ll remember for years. He deserved it.

* * * *

We finished the interview and spoke socially. Jay was charming and quite intelligent. We slowly relaxed and spent the last few hours napping. I woke shortly before landing in LA.

~~Miki, you’ve been quiet. Why?~~

~~I sensed you needed rest, and I was thinking.~~

~~Are you missing your *man* already?~~

~~No … yes. We, my kind do not remain together after mating. I wish it was like humans, this ohana, *family*, thing feels right. You understand?~~

~~Miki, family, and the love of another, is like the bond with a familiar. Magic is not involved, but it can be magical. In the best relations, each one anticipates the needs of the other. When my parents were at their best, I swear they finished each other’s sentences. When they were at outs with each other, they knew how to hurt the other with a simple glance. Most of the time they were a happy couple, and that is how I choose to remember them. I intend to have you visit my dad and my sister sometime, my blood family. Knowing them may help you understand me. Family is not always fun or easy, but to be alone is … I couldn’t cope if I was alone.~~

Lonely, I understand. I am not lonely anymore, Friend.~~

* * * *
May 08, 2007, Tuesday

We landed at LA well before dawn and inquired about our flight east. The network’s charters were all busy at the moment, but one would be available in six to eight hours to fly us to Berlin and Whateley. The alternative was a commercial wide body to Boston-Logan. That was departing in just over an hour, and there was the chance of standby seats. The network people booked us on the commercial flight as we wanted to get to Whateley the quickest, but they said to call them on a special number I programmed in my cell if we needed a ride. They even paid for our fight. Leah and I grabbed our bags and Miki’s carrier and hustled to the gate.

We were able to stay in the secured area the whole long way down the terminal — it would *have* to be on the far end from us — so we never had to face the security scanners or the MCO. The attendant at the gate said our chances of a seat looked good and to sit near them so they could call us once they knew for sure.

Thirty-five minutes prior to departure, they began to board. Many of the passengers recognized me and most smiled. Maybe one or two frowned, but that was to be expected. Fifteen minutes prior to departure, we were called along with a few others on standby. It was in coach, but fortunately the seats were near each other. Miki would have seat next to Leah, who was a seat ahead and across an aisle from me. I secured my guitar and our luggage above. I turned to sit down and discovered I was the subject of keen interest by the passengers around me, particularly the men. I was furious for a second then I realized *I* would have stared at me if I was still a guy. I smiled, bowed and sat down sensuously. ~~Good thing I wasn’t wearing that swimsuit, I might have started a riot.~~

A mother in the row ahead of me had a difficult time with her child. He was in the terrible twos I suspected, and everything was “NO!” at full volume and for any reason. He refused to be strapped in, and despite the help of a flight attendant he was still on the loose.

"Ma'am, I’m sorry, but if we cannot secure your child, we must escort you from the plane. It’s dangerous to have anyone or anything unsecured on takeoff or landing. The alternative is we do carry some children’s tranquilizers, if you are willing," said the flight attendant.

“No, I can’t drug my child, it’s against my religion,” the frazzled mother cried out.

“If I may, I might be able to help, flight attendant? I’m a fully deputized law enforcement officer in several states.” ~~Religious objections or not, who would drug a child? That’s sick.~~

“If you think you can. In five minutes the child must be strapped in and reasonably calm, or they are off the plane; I have no alternative, I’m sorry, ladies.”

I unstrapped myself, moved forward and knelt by the child.

“What is your child’s name, Miss?”

“Austin and he’s two years old.”

Austin, no wonder he’s acting up. My grandfather hated that name.~~

“Does he have a favorite song? I sing a little.”

“The Itsy-bitsy Spider.”

“I knew there would be days like this.” ~~Could be worse, could be Barney.~~

“The itsy-bitsy spider went up the water spout,

Down cam the rain and washed the spider out,

Out came the sun and dried up all the rain,

And the itsy bitsy spider went up the spout again.”

I did this complete with the obligatory hand gestures. I must have looked a fool, but the boy laughed and smiled at me. I didn’t care, and thank Ghod it wasn’t YMCA by the Village People. Mind you, that is a catchy tune. I kept singing as we strapped him down, and in a few minutes we had him secured. It was that or time stop him to strap him in and freak the poor child.

I went to sit in my seat, and he started to cry. The flight attendant looked at me like “So what’s next?” I don’t think he wanted to kick them off, not after the bad press several airlines got after similar incidents.

“Leah, take my seat, and I’ll take yours.” We swapped seats. I couldn’t watch her as I wished, but she was near me. More importantly, *Austin the Terrible* was now across the aisle from me where we could see each other, and I could make silly faces for him. Austin shut up, and a relieved flight attendant gave me a deep bow then rushed to his jump seat for taxiing and take off.

We got into the air okay, with my making occasional silly faces and soft silly sounds for the boy to keep him distracted. His mom looked at me as if I was her guardian angel. The huge, flat-panel TVs came on, and we saw the obligatory passenger safety procedures. After explaining the snack and beverage program on the plane, they began to show network TV via a satellite link. The attendants offered ear buds for cheap, which I bought for Leah, myself, and the harried lady.

I set the volume low and was keeping the little terror distracted when I thought I heard something familiar. I think it was coming attractions from the show we were about to see. I vaguely recall the phrase 'special encore presentation', whatever they meant by that. I looked at his mom; she was looking at the screen. She turned and looked at me, her eyes locking on me for a moment, them she looked back at the screen then at me and motioned for me to look up.

~~ That looks like the band shell at Waikiki. Another concert …? Oh Ghod!~~ I saw what concert it was and turned up the volume. I could see in my peripheral vision the mom share her ear buds with her child. The music started and this glorious voice sang out:

‘”Lord almighty,
I feel my temperature rising
Higher higher
It's burning through to my soul

Girl, girl, girl
You gonna set me on fire
My brain is flaming
I dont know which way to go

Your kisses lift me higher
Like the sweet song of a choir
You light my morning sky
With burning love…’

It was me doing that Elvis hit again and ~~That costume made me look … I mean I ... I look like *that* when I perform? The woman in the Playboy shoot was sexy and fun loving but this woman is so much more. Ghod, I’m a star!~~

You’re asking yourself, ‘Why are you reacting like this, Joanie, surely you have seen yourself on TV?’

The answer is a qualified no. I’ve seen the press coverage of the rescues, and I’ve heard my recorded singing, but I could never bring myself to watch much of what I do on stage. I’ll admit I’ve watched myself, but I can’t concentrate on it for long -- I feel odd looking at myself. And the little I have looked at I’ve tried to block out of my mind. Oh, and stop calling me Shirley. Stop your moaning, readers; it’s my story, can’t I have some fun?

At least Austin was happy. He was looking at the TV, listening and giggling quietly, so something good had come of this. When the other performers came on he’d look at me occasionally and smile, even giggle. When I came back on stage he was riveted to the screen.

I was a minor wreck, nerves-wise. I felt compelled to watch myself crash-and—burn, but I didn’t. The girl, I mean that WOMAN, on stage had that audience spellbound. I remembered I felt confident once I started singing, but this woman-child I watched was fearless and sublimely happy. Her voice was liquid sex, and combined with that body and how she moved it, if she wasn’t a woman, no one was. And she was me. It was fascinating to watch the show from a different perspective. The show ended almost too quickly then I sang my last number, Unchained Melody.

I found myself softly singing along, but I must have gotten louder at the end, because the cabin erupted in applause when I stopped and they weren’t looking at me on the screen, they were looking at me in my seat. I unbuckled myself, stood, smiled and bowed, trying not to cry. Austin and his mom looked at me, the boy smiling like it was Christmas morning, and the mom was crying happy tears.

* * * *

The rest of the flight was a blur. I was tired and my emotions had been on a rollercoaster for days now. I remember giving the mom my e-mail address so she could write me, and her boy insisting on giving me a hug and kiss. I remember various passengers and crew thanking me though this one man looked at me with contempt as we deplaned. The HF tie tack was a give-a-way – Humans First.

* * * *

In Boston, I called to arrange transport. It was a little after nine o’clock in the morning, daylight savings time.

“Charlie Lodgeman is busy all day, and I’ll have to see when my sister is available, Joanie. If you could get a flight to Berlin, it would help,” Tina Anderson said from Administration.

“I could have had one if we were willing to wait another five to seven hours in LA. Let me know when your sister, Chris, can leave, I’ll see what I can come up with in the meantime. I know the trains are a possibility, but with the baggage and all, I don’t know.”

I made a few inquiries. A charter would take too long to arrange, and commercial was worthless as there were few flights to anywhere closer. Bus connections sucked. It came down to buying or renting a car, waiting for someone from Whateley, or taking a series of trains to Dunwich. We decided on the train.

Leah helped me study the timetables we’d got from the info booth. We found we had a couple hours long layover between the local light rail/interurban system and the Grand Miskatonic Shuttle, if we left now. There were later light rail trains that would still make the connection. We had the time and hadn’t eaten decently since the network charter flight, so Leah and I went to get something to eat. We took a cab to where the local travel guides said were lots of good places to eat. We ended up at an interesting Italian place, Nicola’s. I had heard of them before. It was very small chain of independently operated restaurants, all owned by relatives of the founder. They had a reputation for simple food, done well, at reasonable prices. Plus they were supposed to have a friendly, homey atmosphere. It had the added advantage of not being fastfood. I’d had enough of that on my trip.

“I’ve heard of this place a few times since moving east, but never had the time to stop in. They are a very small chain, Leah, but frequented by some famous people. I pointed to a wall of photos of ordinary people, local politicians, and major celebrites posing with restaurant staff. A waiter found us a seat and got us a menu. We had ordered our meal and were munching on a basket of fresh Italian bread and butter when a familiar voice spoke up. It was my Nova producer. She walked over to us and spoke.

“Joanie, great to see back you in town. I heard about Hawaii; everyone did, it made the national news. Are you in town for long? We could finish up the NOVA narration with a couple days hard shooting.”

“I have to return to Whateley and get Leah enrolled; I’ve been gone too long, but maybe this weekend? What are you doing here?”

“This is a favorite of mine for lunch; it’s not far from the studios. Come Friday evening, we can work for a bit, put you up in a good hotel and finish up on Saturday and Sunday. Any narration you can complete with the TOH crew during the week will help.”

“Deal.”

* * * *

We were well into our meal, nearly done in fact, when a well dressed man came to our table.

“Allow me to introduce myself; I’m Anthony, and I’m the manager here. Have you enjoyed your meal?”

“It was nice, and I loved your seafood sampler. I’m from Hawaii, and I know good seafood,” Leah said.

“Me too, not that I’m from Hawaii, but it was an excellent meal.”

“You may have noticed our wall of fame in the lobby? We take photos of favorite patrons, honored guests and celebrities, Ms. Brown. I would be honored if you ladies would grace ours.”

“What do you say, Leah?”

“Sure, I don’t mind.”

One of the staff took several pictures of Anthony, Leah and I as a group. She took some with just Leah and I together as well. I suspected she was using a digital camera; a few decades back its predecessor would likely have been a Polaroid. We returned to our seats for a complimentary dessert -- some sinfully rich, chocolate pie. I like chocolate. I don’t usually love it, but this pie beat sex. That’s not a completely fair comparison, as I have yet to savor a bite of Eric, but still....

“Joanie, that pie was …”

“Yeah, want to smoke a cigarette?”

Once we stopped giggling, we got our bill, used the ladies room, and paid. I noticed OUR picture was up, with Leah and I flanking the manager. They must have had a photo quality printer on site.

“Joanie, do you see whose picture we are next to?”

“Is that who I think it is? Good lord, it’s Tim Conway!”

“No, silly,” Leah said and giggles, “That is Alexis Eden with Jennifer Stevens, and you are much prettier than either.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

"No, I’m not.”

And so on until we caught a taxi to a Boston commuter rail station. The trip to Whateley was memorable in that nothing memorable happened. After Maui, that was memorable. In a matter of a few hours, we were in Dunwich and picked up by the ever attractive Chris Anderson for the short journey to Whateley. I’d like to say Leah was excited when we arrived late in the morning on campus, but we were both worn out.

* * * *

I concentrated on settling back in after my strange trip out west. I got Leah to Administration, where they filled out her paperwork and assigned her quarters. They would call me when her processing was finished so I could help her. Tina Anderson promised she’d be well cared for. I gave Tina a scorching kiss to make sure of it, and one to Chris for picking us up. I’m a touchy-feely kind of girl, and it was fun.

* * * *

I checked on my smilodons who looked at me like, “Where the hell have you been, stranger?” This aloof indignation lasted for maybe 30 seconds before they pounced on me, viciously rubbing against me and grooming me with their rough, wet tongues. After our reunion, I threw caution to the wind and brought in Miki’s carrier from out in the hallway where I had placed it temporarily.

~~Trust me, Miki.~~

~~I trust you. The tigers, um, smilodons I worry about.~~

“George, Gracie, this is Miki. You met her before, and she’s a friend. She’ll be staying with us, so be good. Down, stay!”

They got down, but kept their eyes on me and my *surprise*. I took Miki out of the carrier and set her next to me on the bed. I could see their muscles tensing.

“George, Gracie, stay!”

I reached into my mini fridge and tossed them each a piece of raw steak. Pinky and I always made sure some was kept there. I gave Miki a piece, too. This is a trick often used to introduce animals to each other or humans as well. Eat together and you are less likely to eat each other. I think with humans you are supposed to cook the steak, but I could be wrong.

~~You’re on, Miki, showtime.~~

~~Joanie?~~

~~Be your cute, sweet self and make some new friends. You can always swat them a good one on the nose, if they get naughty.~~

~~That’s going to stop *them*? … Though I walk through the valley of death, I shall fear no evil — yeah right!~~

~~No backtalking, missy. You’re picking up bad habits from me. Don’t be afraid, I’ll jump in if they do anything. Okay, Miki?~~

Miki approached George and stopped, sniffing the air. George sniffed back, but remained calm. Miki came closer, they sniffed each other then started grooming themselves. George gave Miki a couple friendly licks. I felt so much better. After a few minutes, Miki was expertly grooming their ears and was *definitely* on the smilodons *A* list. The big fur-balls were purring … honest. Miki was happy too.

I heard a knock on my door and was met en-mass by the Sabers. The Sabers were all over Miki and me. Tom and Tina — the ringleaders today — had told them all about my furry sidekick. The twins, on their return, had been eager to speak of their mother and my stow-away. My friends hardly wanted to talk about anything else; well, there was Leah and all the TV coverage.

“George and Gracie like Miki! Aw, that is so cute!” Jenny said in a saccharine tone.

“I think you overdid the *cute,* but I’m very happy they get along.”

“Joanie, why do you keep talking like that, *cute butt*? There are young minds here that your foul language may harm.”

“Jenny!”

The gang was disappointed Leah wasn’t with me.

“She's getting checked in as we speak; you all know what that’s like. If all goes well she’ll be at lunch. At the worst, I’ll make sure she’s at our band practice.”

* * * *
Tina gave me a call on my secure cell/police radio once Leah was settled into her dorm; she had some spare time and took Leah on the abbreviated campus tour, seeing how tired the two of us were. She put Leah on, and we decided on a place and time to meet up. I made a mental note to do something nice for Tina and Chris.

I met Leah at the Crystal Hall for the late lunch; regrettably the rest of the Sabers had class. Cheryl had to work the lunches and couldn’t make it. Leah was sitting alone at my favorite table when I arrived, and I could see she was an immediate hit with the students, or more correctly, was being hit on big-time. She was apprehensive, but after the excitement of her escape from Hana, a few good-looking boys trying to impress her made her smile. She seemed to like the attention; she even blushed at a particularly handsome boy’s compliment.

~~I wonder, did her mutation accelerate her emotional and sexual development in addition to her physical development? The way she reacted to the boy in the hotel swimming pool and the students today was …~~

I sat down next to her, and the kids eased off, though a few die-hards still tried to impress her.

“I see you remembered where I said to sit.”

“It was easy to spot, and Cheryl, the cashier, reminded me when I went through checkout. She introduced herself and smiled at me. She was real sweet and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. Are all the students here so friendly? So many of them were smiling at me and saying hello.”

“Boys or girls?”

“Boys mostly, but some girls were real friendly — Cheryl sure was. I can’t get over how good looking most of them are.”

“Leah, you have to keep in mind you are an attractive, exotic woman.” She interrupted me by giggling.

“I’m okay looking, but I’m not some exotic model or actress.”

“Leah, you need to rethink your self-image. I don’t know what you looked like before your mutation, but take it from me, you are a major babe. I wouldn’t lie. There is enough of the man left in my mind to see you as a hot looking woman, and I do mean woman. People keep telling me I’m an attractive; the Playboy people certainly think that. Leah, you look older than your real age, have lovely Eurasian/Hawaiian features and are new to campus. That makes you *exotic*. Naturally the boys and girls will want to taste the *new flavor*. Most are harmless, but a few are unscrupulous, so be aware and let me or the other Sabers know when you agree to go anywhere with someone. I’m not telling you not to make friends or who to date, but use some common sense. ~~Oh, lovely, Cheryl has the hots for Leah. Then Cheryl has the hots for several guys and me as well.~~

“As to why so many here look great, a large number of mutants are exemplars, and that usually leads to their becoming an idealized version of themselves. You and I are examples of that. Being too much of an exemplar is bad, though. The further you get from the normal human baseline, the greater the chance for problems. That can lead to GSD — Gross Structural Deformity, you’ll learn all about that in class along with powers classification and all sorts of neat stuff. I doubt that will ever happen to either of us. Physically we are very fit but not superhuman. Superhuman or not, you did well on our escape from Hana, you’ll do fine here.

* * * *

I checked with my instructors as to what class assignments I had missed, and with the departments I most frequently substituted for as to my teaching schedule. Security told me to check in with them the next morning.

I formally introduced Leah at the evening practice session.

“Gang, sorry I was gone so long, but something came up.” They laughed. “This is Leah Haleakala, from Hana, Maui, in the State of Hawaii. She’s smart, funny and an expert swimmer and surfer. She is also just turned thirteen so watch it.” Cheryl looked disappointed but not completely discouraged. Tom looked like he was practicing his x-ray vision on Leah, which is odd because he doesn’t have any.

“What powers do you have? Have you been tested?”

“That is Suzy, Leah, she’s a powers mimic and a dear friend as everyone here is.”

“Suzy, um, she’s your second cousin? Mel told me one of the girls was. I see a little resemblance in her,” Leah whispered.

~~Mel and I need to talk but under the circumstance no foul.~~ “Yeah, but never mention it outside the group,” I whispered back.

“Suzy, I’m an exemplar and warper a lot like Joanie. I don’t know if I have any other powers. I can stop time just like her, but I don’t have good control yet”

“That sounds like fun. And it’s okay you know about us,” Suzy said softly and discreetly pointed at herself and me.

I finished introducing her to everyone and asked the big question. “Do you want to try out for the Sabers? There is no shame in failure. Tom here tried and sucked; he still sucks, but he helps us with set up and such so we tolerate him.”

“Okay.”

* * * *

She tuned her ukulele; she’d managed to pack that in her carry-on without crushing it; I was very impressed. She played a few tunes, singing along with her playing. She was self-conscious at first, but warmed to us quickly. Next she got out her harmonica and played that.

“What do you think?” Leah asked when she stopped.

“The uke was lively, and the tone was good. Am I right that since it’s a four string, Leah could be taught to play banjo, bass guitar or even violin fairly quickly?” Pinky observed.

“Violin would take some time because it’s a fretless instrument, but banjo and bass should be a cinch and I know my string instruments. Very good, Leah,” said Jenny. “If you like, I can teach you banjo and violin, if you teach me the uke.” The rest all said similar things. Tom spoke last.

“I thought Leah was great. Leah you play well, and I think you have a sexy singing voice.” Leah giggled. “But best of all you’re a class A babe, and among the Sabers that says a lot. You’re hot, hot, hot! I could give you the in-depth campus tour, take you to all the best places for …”

At this point, I punched Tom in the upper arm, hard.

“Ow! Why did you hit me?”

“Because if I hadn’t, Suzy would have kicked you in the groin, Tom. Flirting with a girl in your girlfriend’s presence is tacky, very tacky.”

“Joanie, I am shocked. And, Joanie, I would have slapped him in the face. I have plans for what’s down, you know. Why would I want to harm that? Joanie, roll your tongue back into your mouth.”

“Then you haven’t, um …”

“No, *Mom*, at least not all-the-way.”

-- Thud --

“Joanie, cut that out. I know you’re faking that faint.”

“No, I’m not!” And to prove it I stuck out my tongue. I am so mature.

“I was jerking your chain, Cuz. All we’ve done is hug and kiss. We do it a lot, but that’s all and I mean it. I want to be sure before we … go further, and Tom agrees, believe-it-or-not.”

“You’ve all heard Leah. Is she in the band, an auxiliary like Tom, or just a friend like Mystor?”

She was voted in unanimously, and we both had ... we all had a good cry. I think Leah and I set the others off. Tom is no dummy. It may not be *manly* to cry, but his quiet tears scored brownie points with the gals. Something about “Being a sensitive person and not a macho jerk,” I think that’s what Cheryl said. The end result was Tom received kisses from all the girls WITH Suzy’s permission. I kissed him too.

“Tom, that was impressive conning that many girls into kissing you, and if you do it again, you’re dead,” I whispered in his ear, then giggled.

“Ms. Silly is back, and she’s BAD!” I slept great that night. I dreamt I was kissing Eric and we … I wonder why?

* * * *

May 09, 2007, Wednesday

I needed to get back into my routine. The unexpected trip to Hawaii had thrown my ordered life into chaos. You believe me don’t you? So what if it’s was more accurate to say it threw my crazy life into the Twilight Zone, but you understand. I needed to get back on track, however warped and twisted it was. After our group morning run and breakfast, I resumed my part-time teaching and checked in with Security. Both the students and Security bombarded me with questions about my trip. I answered what I could, but some details had to be kept vague as there were pending criminal cases.

That morning I learned I would be soon be training with, and formally inducted into, the New Hampshire National Guard. Whateley had a cooperative agreement with the State Guard and Reserves much as MSG did back in Wisconsin. They provided training facilities and support, and we provided much needed expertise in handling mutant supers. My induction and abbreviated *basic* training was scheduled to begin in a week.

I figured it wouldn’t be all that different from in Wisconsin, and the odds of our ever being called to active duty were minimal; what would the military want with us anyway? Okay, we are the experts when it comes to mutants, but look at me, what can I do other than jiggle my boobies to distract the baddies, though there is the time stop and time travel. Then there is the transformational magic if Miki and I can ever figure out how we did…. They really could use me, yikes!

* * * *

The day was crazy busy, what with making up missed classes in the morning, teaching one period of intro mutant history and pulling a half shift with Security in the afternoon. That latter part was painful, as they helped me analyze what I’d done right and wrong in rescuing Leah. I think I got a B over all. I would have gotten an A- because so few got hurt, but lost points on misjudging the shooter. The magical transformations Miki and I did they didn’t know how to rate.

“The word will get out that someone did magic, major magic, to facilitate your escape. Eventually you or Leah will be targeted,” one officer worried.

“I think the cover story the Marines spread may work.”

“Cover story, Chief Delarose?” I asked.

“I spoke with the officer in charge of the rescue. They, Melons One that is, are spreading the story that an elite covert operations unit trained in magic was part of the operation. It has the semblance of truth behind it, you were brought in as an expert on mutants, time manipulating warpers in particular. With Miki, you technically were a unit. A group of skilled military wizards is more believable than the truth, that a total novice and her mongoose transformed a half-dozen grown men into true hemaphrodites AND convinced a whole town to take what amounted to a child’s *timeout*. Who would believe that?”

“I feel better, I think, Chief.”

“Oh, I was told to pass on that, when the Marines were told they were designated Melons One to your Blonde One and Pineapple One, the consensus was, “We are WHAT!?” That is the censored version; the unedited responses were *colorful*, or so I’ve been told. I understand that, after they learned you’d been shot and how you handled it all, they are having an embroidered patch made they will be permitted to wear on their dress uniforms proudly proclaiming them as veterans of Melons One. They, the Marines, passed on through their commander, a request that you autograph the copies of Playboy they would be mailing to you once published.”

~~I bet that wasn’t their only request, they are healthy, fit, young and … Could have been fun … I need a looong run and a very cold shower.~~

* * * *

That evening after practice, I hustled to the farm to check on progress. Miki accompanied me at her insistence. That small section of woods beyond my farm continued to worry her.

~~That place beyond your land is a focus for dark powers. I must not let you near it without my protection. I know not what it is, but it is tied to an ancient evil, and it is getting stronger. The evil and the source of its growing power remain distant, but I fear it will come.~~

~~Are the people at the farm at risk?~~

~~Not directly from the evil; your farm is at worst neutral ground. Parts are now a sanctuary or will soon be; I am working to make it so. With your magic and my skill, the entire farm will be repellent to demons and evils. The wards at Whateley are powerful, but our wards will be formidable given time. I will not let Kushalla’s fate happen to you and yours. You will be safe from magical attack. That does not mean you will be safe from man. The wards will warn me of trespass but may not keep out a determined animal or person. That is how I failed Kushalla.~~

~~That is why I consulted Whateley security for ideas on how to protect the farm. We will work together to keep all our loved ones save.~~

* * * *

I caught up with the camera crew, while Miki patrolled the farm doing whatever she does in warding things. The sun was setting minutes before 8 o’clock in the evening — it was late spring after -- so the camera crew used the extra hours to plan the next day's shooting, get close ups of the latest work and so on. The construction workers were gone by then except for my ever diligent cleanup crew. A pair of off-duty Whateley Security officer patrolled the grounds -- on my tab, of course. ~~They made so much progress while I was gone, they all deserve a bonus.~~

“Hi, Joanie, great to see you back! You missed the foundations being finished.” They showed me pictures of Fran *flowing* the local stone into place on the new farm house and the barn conversion. Fran’s face was suitably unidentifiable on camera for her protection. The entire barn was supported on great timbers, which in turn were boosted by hydraulic building jacks. It was low tech, but reliable and efficient. Fran had repaired the farmhouse foundation with her gift, and dug and shaped the entire barn house foundation. The excess rock was in a storage pile to become walkways, drives, a pond, swimming pools, and so on as further construction made possible.

We agreed to do some TOH and NOVA narration filming for a couple hours Thursday morning and night. It was too late for anything today.

* * * *
I was settling in on my second night home when my cell rang. I smiled when I saw the caller ID.

“Sis, great to hear from you. How are are you ….”

“Have you gone nuts? I thought I knew you, but your mutation and fame have gone to your head. How dare you snub Milwaukee like that! What kind of stuck up bitch are you, sis?"

"Whoa! Slow down! What did I do, Sis? I admit I like the limelight, but I would never be deliberately rude."

"Joan, they had a press conference to announce last minute changes in the headline acts at Summerfest; it's their 40th anniversary. The press noted your name was not on the list. Someone asked why the hottest new singer in America was not on the bill, particularly when she is from the area. The entertainment director hemmed and hawed a bit, then all but stated you turned them down flat. He intimated you thought Milwaukee was not worthy of your talent. He didn't say it that way, but it was the message I got."

"Sis, no one ever asked me to perform at Summerfest., My producer never said a thing about Summerfest to me. I'll ask him; let me call him and I put you on a three way with him...."
* * * *

“Warner Records, how may I help you?”

“This is Joanie, can you get Mr. Karaoke on the line? It’s very important, please?”

“You sound upset, Joanie. Are you alright?” I dealt with his receptionist before, so she knew my voice well.

“I’m fine but something has upset my sister, and when she’s upset, *I’m* upset. I need my producer’s help with this, please.”

“I’ll put you through. By-the-way, Joanie dear, he has a name.”

“Yeah but it’s more fun this way.”

* * * *

"Joanie, a pleasure as always. The recording from your performance in Hawaii is making the network and us a bundle. What a night you had! So what can I do for you?"

“Excuse me, recording? You released another recording?”

“You weren’t informed? The Waikiki show was so well received that the network, the other performers and their labels all agreed to release the music jointly. I approved in your stead, and here we are. The first shipments hit the record shops two days ago and already we are sold out. We are also offering this as a download — for a reasonable fee — and the servers can barely keep up. At this rate it will go multi-platinum — physically -- before the end of the month. In downloads, we are way past that already. Is this what you and your sister are upset about?”

“No, I trust your judgment in this area. It’s the recent Summerfest announcement of their headliner acts. The news has her upset; she is on the line and is pissed at me. Please answer her questions with absolute honestly."

“The entertainment director for Summerfest says Joanie turned them down and insulted her old home town. My sister says she was never asked to appear; this year is the 40th anniversary of Summerfest in Milwaukee.”

"Ma’am, we were never contacted about Joanie. Oh, Summerfest asked for a list of any of our contract artists who were planning to or might tour. I specifically suggested they book Joanie, saying only that she had security concerns because of the kidnapping, but we could work that out. I even admitted she'd likely waive the huge fee an artist like her usually receives in exchange for a modest contribution to a reputable charity. I also told them I thought she was the nicest person of any of our artists. God's honest truth, I would never lie to Joanie's sister."

“Sis, forgive me for yelling at you like that. I should have known better.”

“If I’d heard that press conference, I’d be angry at me. So what do WE do about this?”

“WE, Joanie?” Mr. Karaoke exclaimed.

“Well, my sister’s role needs to be discreet, but I did mean WE.”

“I can start spinning the usual damage control. Warner’s could issue a press release refuting the Summerfest entertainment director’s story.”

“That’s not bad, but I want this jerk to hurt. I mean, calling me a stuck up bitch — well not in those terms — and not mentioning my looks at all? I am so upset, fer sure!”

“That’s my broth … sister alright, silly like a loon. What else have you got in mind, oh devious one?”

“Can you get me the phone numbers for the news departments for the four biggest Milwaukee TV stations and a half dozen radio stations? I have a pot to stir.”

“Joanie, do me a favor and take it easy on the Val talk; your mind could get stuck like that.”

“Sis!”

* * * *

My sister tore through the phonebook with her usual efficiency; she is a branch supervisor at the bank. Mr. Karaoke and I broke up the list and called. A few stations were rude, but most I called recognized my voice and agreed to interview me via a web video link. I figured the stations that didn’t believe me could try calling Warner’s later after I'd interviewed with their competitors, and I *might* consent to a phone interview. He had better luck, but then this was his business -- developing and promoting talent.

We launched a coordinated, multi-pronged assault on the entertainment director. ~~I feel like General Patton.~~ Warner’s went first and announced they had offered my services to the festival, at a bargain price to boot, and hadn’t received a nibble despite Summerfest’s strong interest in a number of their other artists. Summerfest argued I had raised unreasonable demands. Warner’s countered with, “What demands? We said she had security concerns but that they could be worked out. They never asked us what her worries were. I can assure you her fears are justified and the necessary accommodation would be trivial. ” Mr. Karaoke played his part magnificently.

I told the interviewers a consistent and honest story. It was the truth, which helps, believe me. I suck at lying.

“I was shocked to hear Summerfest hadn’t made any effort to contact me. I was, until recently, a lifelong resident of Milwaukee County and would love to perform in front of a hometown crowd. I have family in the metro area, and this would be a golden opportunity to visit them. I am concerned about security because I was kidnapped in Madison last year, and I fear for my fans if another attempt is made. Given the excellent on-grounds security and camera system at Sumerfest only a modest change from their procedures should be needed.

“My sister read me the riot act when she heard I wasn’t coming. Believe me, you do not want to anger a natural blonde; they’re dangerous,” I said then broke into giggles. ”Sis is going to get me for that one. I’m sorry they dropped the ball; I would love to come.”

I poured on my natural charm and had the press in my hands, except for a few whackos who objected to a “mutant” corrupting the youth of Milwaukee. They, of course, chose not to interview me lest their world view be shattered. My *corrupting* Milwaukee’s youth was total nonsense, as the only youth I wanted to *corrupt* was Eric, and we had a deal about when that would happen — after he turned eighteen and not a moment sooner. ~~And not a second later either. Your eighteenth birthday will be memorable for both of us, or else, Hon.~~

Summerfest then argued I had a previous commitment and was not available. They were half-right. My schedule did conflict, but the festival -- which runs from a Thursday though to the second Sunday -- wasn’t starting until June 28th. I was scheduled to be back on Sunday, July 1st and we let the press know that I was hardly *unavailable.*

Then they brought out their trump card. “If we’d only known she was available we would have loved to have her here, but now that all the stages are filled it wouldn’t be fair to hire her at the expense of someone else. Perhaps she might be interested in performing next year?”

I felt so much better after that heartfelt expression of admiration. I’m being sarcastic you know.

We countered one last time with an argument he couldn’t refute. “I’d have no problems performing with another act, or several for that matter. I don’t *have* to be a headliner. It would be a joy just to perform for the home crowd. I’ll gladly perform for union scale and donate that back to the local American Red Cross.” ~~Slam dunk for Joanie, I think.~~

They stuck by their guns, saying it was too late to reprint all the festival schedules, and they were sorry. The press kept up the heat, but a new story stole the local headlines.

“We gave it a good try, Joanie. I can see about getting you a gig at one of the other big summer festivals, or maybe a State Fair?”

“I’d like to, but I wanted this for my sister. My summer is pretty busy, so I guess I’ll take a pass unless you really need me. I owe you for trying.”

* * * *

May 10, 2007, Thursday

By Thursday, I was back in the groove, more or less. Leah joined in with the gang for the morning runs; she would have preferred to surf but …

“Joanie, I need a big favor, not that you haven’t done a lot for me already,” she said as we ran around the campus with Tom and Suzy in the lead.

I got the impression Leah worried Suzy, what with her exotic and surprisingly mature looks. I doubted Leah would do anything to hurt my friends after all we’d shared in Hawaii, but the siren call of her budding sexuality was hitting her hard. Most kids have months, even years, to adjust to their changing bodies and minds. Leah was having to do it virtually overnight. She understood logically, but I was worried she’d fall easy prey to the first person to get her in a *clinch*.

“Yes, Leah, what do you want?”

“I understand the big campus swimming pool has a wave machine. Would it be possible to surf in it?”

“Possibly, why do … oh you want to try it.”

“Yes, but it’s hard to get any time in the pool, so many others use it. But you are on staff here, and I was wondering …”

“Okay, I’ll ask. You’ll need a wet suit; the pool is cold, plus a wet or a dry suit would be great for windsurfing. We may not be right on the ocean here, but there are a lot of lakes and rivers, a windy day and you're set; you don’t need waves.”

“Thanks, that’s a great idea. I’ve done some windsurfing, and it’s fun. I’ll see if Dad can send me one.”

“Or you can order through a catalog or online. Find what you need, and I’ll pay for it; you pay me back someday with lessons, all right?”

I got a shriek of joy and an equally enthusiastic hug from Leah for my troubles.

~~Maybe it will keep her mind preoccupied long enough she can get control over her self.~~

* * * *

I kept reminding myself I needed to finish my narration duties for NOVA. Meeting with my producer in Boston was an unwelcome reminder of my delays. It was embarrassing how behind we were from where I had hoped to be. I met with the TOH crew at my farm early that morning, and we talked with the NOVA director and producer back in Boston via a video link

“Joanie, it’s not that bad. As I said when we met in Nicola’s, if you can come Friday night we can finish this weekend. We were ahead of schedule; your first sessions went that well.”

“But I thought we didn’t do all that much?”

“Some of your so-called tests were so good we’ve decided to use them in the program. If you are willing to put in some long hours, as I said the other day, we can finish this week. The TOH camera crew is willing to work until eleven tonight to help you, and if you could come this weekend to the studios we should be done. Don’t feel like you promised something then didn’t deliver. Hawaii was unexpected, and performing on the live special was justified. You needed to unwind after the horrors of the girl’s rescue, and it was an excellent opportunity to counter the vicious rumors the anti-mutant types were spreading. Oh, do us a favor and bring your menagerie; our nature producer is driving us crazy.”

“Bring my menagerie?”

“The *cats* and your mongoose. The film crew saw and filmed your *cats* while you were out of town. Ms. Conners brought them to your farm. Those *cats* are impossible; they cannot logically exist. To put it bluntly: Where the hell did you get live smilodons? The TOH producer showed the video to an expert on extinct and modern felines, and he freaked. Our expert consultant for a NOVA on the Ice-age wanted to know how we faked sabertooths. I promise we will keep your name out of it, but we must see them. As to the mongoose, we are in the early stages on a special on magic, the myth and reality. What happened on Maui was remarkable. Our sources say a battle-hardened unit of military mages -- a mongoose and her sorceress novitiate -- was behind those amazing transformations. Don’t worry, it is not public knowledge. My brother is a Marine Corps colonel stationed in Hawaii; you met one of his Majors, I believe.”

My eyes went wide, and I mouthed, “Melons One?”

She nodded and continued, “If you are willing, we’d like to use your Miki in a segment on familiars; no one need know she is yours. You must admit she’s unique; a black cat she is not.”

“I’ll do that, but I’ll need to be convinced about my anonymity if you do use them on camera. I don’t want my animals put at risk, right Miki?” She materialized out of nowhere. It still gives me the willies. The camera crew broke up laughing.

“You have *got* to bring her. That was amazing.”

“And she works for food.” I giggled shamelessly.

~~Joanie, were you telling a joke again?~~

~~I’m afraid so, Miki. That was a nice entrance, dear, very theatrical. You impressed the television people.~~

* * * *

Tom and Tina’s classes were such today that we had lunch together. This was the first time since I’d gotten back from Hawaii the three of us were alone.

“I have to know, how’s your mom?”

“She’s slowly getting better. The doctors decided the best treatment was to do all the conventional medicine first: fix her bones, cure her infections, that sort of stuff. They are giving her lots of counseling to help her handle her grief, and physical therapy to keep her joints and muscles from deteriorating. After she is healthy, she will receive her magic makeover,” said Tom.

“Mom and we agreed, as much fun as it would be for her to be my identical twin sister and thus make us triplets, it wasn’t practical. She needs to earn a living and to be an adult. She’s seriously considering being transformed into a college age woman. She’s torn between becoming a younger version of herself or someone new. Mom has a little Native American blood in her ancestry and possibly even some African American way back. The thaumatologists say it’s easier and more predictable to change someone based on their ancestry. They would adjust the mix, so to speak. I’m hoping for a kind of Selma Hayek/Raquel Welsh/ Holly Barry/Hillary Duff blend. Mom would be hot,” Tina said.

“You want your mom to be hot?” I asked.

“Yeah, she deserves to find another good man like Dad; why not go for the very best? They might transform us to look like what we would have been if this version of Mom had married Dad so that no one could question that she was our mom. They’d probably have to make us younger too, though, and I like being a teenager. They might still do it, but Mom would now be Mom’s much younger cousin; that way Tom and I could stay as we are or as teens at least. She could always get carefully faked papers naming her our guardians, like she was the best college pal of mom and dad or something.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

* * * *

May 11-12, 2007, Friday and Saturday

* * * *
I made my call to Eric and Babs earlier than usual. Notice I said Eric and Babs, well … and Mel too, usually. I’m making a point of talking to Babs every time I can to help keep up her spirits. Both Eric and Mel, my friends and spies, say she’s doing well, but I don’t want her to become anxious again. Her talk of dying scared me.

With Pinky’s help, I loaded the cats into their carrier/kennel in the truck bed after some empathic soothing and a nice treat. We tossed our weekend bags in the back of the crew cab, lashed down Miki’s carrier to the rear seat, and we were off. We raided my mini fridge and the Crystal Hall on the way out and had the built-in electric cooler in the console filled with cold soda, ice tea, sandwiches and perishable pet food.

The smilodons were used to moistened dry lion cub food; they even liked the dry food plain, as well as the occasional piece of raw steak or fish. They were inordinately fond of trout since their escape that one day late in April. Someday, maybe, I’ll write about it. From the havoc they wrought, I think I know where they traveled on their adventure. For now, they benefited from a little formula in their diet. In the wild they would only now be weaning. I had been forced to start weaning them early; fortunately they adapted well. Their mother must have been exceptionally good at caring for them. I promised her then I’d care for them; I intend to keep that promise.

We made good time on the trip into Boston Friday night and were let into the secure parking. I lugged Miki’s carrier, while Pinky walked the kitties. We were led to the studios immediately.

“’Evening, Joanie, and this must be Ms. Conners, I remember you from the video with the cats. Oh, they are darling, may I?” My producer knelt down and let them smell her. I was concerned this trip and the unfamiliar surroundings would scare them, but their native curiosity won out, and they checked her carefully. Miki was happily wrapped around my neck playing fur collar commando again. I couldn’t see her when I looked, but I could feel her weight and heat. In a pinch she could hide her warmth, but not for long. Pinky met with the expert on Pleistocene animals; the woman was practically drooling upon meeting my smilodons. Miki came with me, but promised to keep *tabs* on the smildons and Pinky to ease my mind. Once in the studio, Miki stayed on or in her carrier, but always where she could watch over me.

I did several hours of taping and prep work for the Saturday marathon.

“Joanie, if we push hard tomorrow, we might finish early on Sunday..”

“That would be great. You have rooms for us you said?”

“We have you booked in one of Boston’s best hotels, and we have made provisions for you to keep your animals safe with you. The parking structure is well ventilated and secure. You may leave your smildons in your truck kennel overnight without fear of anyone harming them, or you may take them to your room. They made an exception for you, so long as the animals are never off leash in public, for everyone’s safety.”

"That would be nice. There aren’t any couches in the rooms or leather furniture?”

“No, a pair of queen sized beds, a few stuffed chairs and a table. Why do you ask?”

“You don’t want to know.”

Around ten we quit. We were escorted to the hotel where we went up to our rooms — a suite in fact. We ate in the hotel dining room, then got the animals in from the truck. We transferred the perishable animal food from the truck to the mini fridge in our suite. Miki had kept George and Gracie company, and somehow warded the truck in our absence. The little schemer had squirreled away a supply of suitable pebbles for ward markers somewhere in the truck bed. Oh, I still have those colorful stones she gave me as an offering way back. Something tells me they are special, so they are always in my purse.

We got to our room and all of us soon were asleep.

* * * *

I woke at 6 o’clock the next morning, with George lying across my ankles and Gracie curled up behind my head. Miki was lying to the side of my legs, a paw resting on George.

~~That proves they like each other. As to Pinky laying spooned to my backside …~~

“Um, Pinky, I do like you, and snuggling is nice, but we have two queen beds.”

“I got restless during the night and figured your furry friends would share.”

P.S. My dear readers, about those colorful stones; Miki warded our hotel suite during night, but my purse was a mess come morning.

* * * *
To be continued.
Jennifer Stevens is the creation of Bob Arnold and Alexis Eden is the creation of Julie_O. I wish my characters were half as memorable as theirs.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 9

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 9

Joanie meets one of her idols, who prefers to be called Jen, they talk, have lunch and she gets an invitation to appear on a TV show. The narration duties for NOVA finish up. Joanie gets a shocking surprise from a close friend and a whopping big surprise from her familiar. Oh, did I mention the idol is Jennifer Marie S...

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble - WIBBLE!!) Itinerant, you got free again? No more caffeine for you. What is this behind your back, The Idiot’s Guide to Escapology? (But ... but ... it's got PICTURES!!!! *drool*)

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
Guest proofing, dialog suggestions and advice from To Be Announced
Special guest appearance by a possibly recognizable character
Test reading by Karen_J, an act of extreme bravery on her part

Chapter 9, Leah 5, M-m-my Jen-eration 2, Ring of Fire, *Mothers* Day — urrp!

Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH. And Boston, MA May 12-May 14, 2007

Noonish, Saturday May 12, 2007

I had been in the sound booth for what seemed hours, or standing by a green screen pointing at things that weren’t there, when the director left us for a few minutes. We — the crew and I -- got a message from her minutes later to go on break for 30 minutes. I went to see Pinky and find out how they were treating her and my kitty cats.

I walked down the halls towards the conference room I’d been told they’d be using. I saw my producer, Pinky -- sans smilodons -- and a woman with her hair in a tasteful, high ponytail. Though I only saw her from the back, I could tell her outfit was casual, but very upscale. The custom tailoring was obvious in the way the clothing hugged her figure. I recognized the quality in her clothes, and these were not your off-the-rack from K-Mart.

“Pinky, I’m on break for the next 25 minutes, want to grab some lunch? Did you get a chance to feed George and Gracie? I don’t want to ignore them, and I *know* Miki is famished. Thanks for the break, Ms. Russell, it was getting to be a grind. Oh, sorry didn’t introduce myself, I’m Joanie and you are …”

The woman turned, and my brain decided to flip-flop, then go AWOL. “Wha?” I stood there dumbstruck, and the expression on my face could not have been flattering. ~~So much for Ms. Cool-under-fire.~~ At least part of my brain was still functioning, sort of.

“That’s not the typical greeting I get, but it will do. I’m Jennifer Stevens, please call me Jen. I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, Ms. Brown; I’m a fan.”

“A fan of ME? I … I, ah … Well, I admit I’ve had some success singing, and I am in the public eye. Ghod knows why, it’s all dumb luck and being in the right place at the right time, or is that the wrong place and wrong time? You are a legitimate celebrity and deserve your fame. I keep waiting for my fame to crash and burn.” ~~You meet a genuine superstar, and you gibber like an idiot. *Great* first impression, Joanie … Ghod, now I think I need to go bathroom!~~

“Excuse me I have to ... Excuse me, I’ve got to go.” I ran to the women’s room, making it in time, just.

I returned to a snickering Pinky, a smiling producer, and Jen, who had a knowing look on her face. “Okay, what are you up to Pinky? Sorry, this is Miss Pamela Conners, my good friend from school, but everyone calls her Pinky.”

“We’ve been introduced, Joanie, but thanks. Jen was asking me all sorts of questions about myself and what I like and don’t like. And she knows about me, Joanie, I told her about my monthly shape shifting, and it didn’t faze her a bit that I’m in my *dual* form.” Pinky grinned happily.

“Having gone from a huge, arthritic man in his forties to *this*,” Jen swept a hand along herself like a model on 'The Price is Right' introducing a showcase, “little surprises me anymore. I just finished complementing Pinky on her choice of dress shortly before you met us. Looking at her I see a handsome, somewhat tomboyish young woman. Her voice is deep for a woman, but the way she speaks reminds me of Kathleen Turner, Fay Dunaway or even Lauren Bacall. All have deep voices, all sometimes dressed androgynously, but you would never confuse them with men. That Pinky is currently both sexes came as a complete surprise. Despite the difficulties this must present her, she strikes me as a well adjusted young woman. In my brief conversation with her, she has been witty and intelligent beyond her years. I see why you two are friends,“ Jen explained.

“I thank you for that, Jen. Pinky has had a hard time of it since her mutation and not all are accepting of her. It's taken time for her to become comfortable with her situation, and I’m so glad you see what a fine person she is. If you think she’s a looker now, just wait until you see her in her all female form. Pinky is fast becoming a heartbreaker.”

”You’re embarrassing me, Joanie, but thanks, and thank you too, Jen. Joanie, I was telling Jen how you don’t take yourself seriously. Jen was asking me all about school and stuff.”

“And stuff?” ~~What did you tell her, Pinky?~~

“What you are like; what you like to do; you know.”

“Whatever she told you, you must remember she’s just one of the many minions under my evil mutant influence.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Miki said, popping into view at my feet.

“What?” Both Jen and my producer exclaimed.

“Sorry, my friend here is very good at sneaking up on people, aren’t you Miki?”

“She spoke!”

“Yeah, Jen, but she’s not much of a conversationalist.

* * * *

"Miki, this is Jen Stevens. Jen, this is Miki. She has adopted me as her next Mistress; she *thinks* I might have the makings of a sorceress. She’s very ambitious for a mongoose.” I broke into a fit of giggles. I hoped Ms. Stevens didn’t believe I was really a sorceress. Hell, I didn’t believe it until Maui.

“Joanie, behave yourself. I thought I was the child here.”~~Smart move, Pinky, now Ms. Stevens will think I’m joking.~~

“Okay, Pinky. I was nervous, but I’m much better now. No laughs? I’m parodying John Astin from Night Court. C’ est la vie!”

“Tish! You spoke French! You know how that excites me!” Jen said as she grabbed me and did a theatrical kiss with me bowed way back.

“You watched the Addams Family on network TV? That’s right you’re nearly as old as me, Jennifer. You were born, what, early January 1958, it’s December 18, 1957 in my case. Ms. Russell can’t be more than 40 — I mean, she’s clearly in her prime -- so that makes me the oldest and obviously most mature person here.” Everyone snickered or smiled.

~~Joanie, I am far older. I am not certain how long I since I was born, but the British were not in the old land then.~~

~~Let’s keep that our secret, Miki.~~

“Joanie, were you *talking* to Miki? I sensed something,” Pinky whispered, and made quote marks around talking as she spoke.

“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Sorry there ladies, secret girl talk; it’s very hush-hush. Shall we get something to eat? I’m starved.”

There was a quiet buzzing sound. “Excuse me, ladies,” Ms Russell interrupted and took out a phone from her PBS tote bag.

“Yes … uh-huh … Are you certain? … Understood.

“Joanie, I have to play troubleshooter for a few hours for another production. Why don’t you and Pinky take a nice long lunch, say two hours? We can resume after that. Oh, Jen, your chair is ready for you anytime at loading bay two. Call this number when you are at the dock, and they’ll bring it straight out. Until later,” Ms. Russell said and hurried off.

“Joanie, Pinky, would you like to have lunch with me, my treat? I do have an ulterior motive; I would love to have you as a guest on Around Midnight. I guest host for Wayne on a regular basis.”

“I’ve seen you host the show; you’re very good,” I replied.

“I almost got to see your Mouse World attraction — The Future is Now -- but then I mutated and Mom and Dad canceled our trip,” said Pinky. She tried but could not keep from sniffling. I gave her a clean hanky to dry her eyes.

“You should go someday, Pinky. I’m proud of my association with the project. Let me know when you go, I can let them know you’re coming and to give you the VIP tour. There’s also a touring exhibit based on what was done in Florida. It’s not as impressive, but it uses much of the same technology. I could arrange for a behind the scenes tour there as well.”

“You’d do that for me? You barely know me!”

“I like being able to help people, and maybe this will persuade your elusive friend to come on the show,” Jen said and laughed.

“I *like* you, Jen, you’re my kind of woman. You’re young, beautiful, talented and sneaky,” I replied and broke up.

~~Might be fun to go to a theme park with the gang before we get much, I mean they get much older.~~

I made it this far without joking about that PBS tote bag; I am so proud of myself.

* * * *

Moments later, we were at the small conference room where George and Gracie were being kept.

“Pinky, I never did let you answer. Did they get fed?”

“I fed them less than an hour ago; they should be fine.”

“Want to meet my *cats*, Jen?”

“I love cats. I used to have one. My housekeeper has a great cat; Gillie accompanies her whether we are in my New York, Florida or LA home.”

“I must warn you, they are rather energetic, George and Gracie are still mostly kittens.”

“Energetic is not the word for it. They had me and the police dog trainer run ragged while you were out of town, Joanie.”

“Police dog trainer?”

“They’re being trained as police cats; I’m helping Joanie.”

“What, to sniff for bombs and drugs?”

“That’s part of it, though it’s more for the intimidation factor,” I replied.

“How intimidating can a cat be, and why are you smiling like that, Joanie?”

“Ready, Pinky?” She nodded, and I opened the door.

“Where are they … Oh my! WHAT are they?”

“At least you didn’t faint, Jen, though wait a year or two until they are fully grown. George, Gracie, say hi to Ms. Stevens.”

They came over, sniffed Jen for a while, then started rubbing against her legs.

“My, they are affectionate, but what are they?”

“Take a guess, Jen.”

“From their size, and your hinting, they will get much bigger, I’d guess them to be lion cubs, but the tails are wrong. They look more like bobcats or lynx, but much bigger given they clearly are kittens despite their size.”

“And so?”

“It’s the teeth that are throwing me off. Their necks seem too long for most cats, their backs slope wrong, too, but it’s those teeth … I can see their adult teeth coming in, and they’re going to be huge … like … No, that’s impossible!”

“What’s impossible? I’m having fun watching you struggle with this; you know that,” I said, snickering.

“Okay then, Miss Smarty-pants,’ Jen smiled and laughed. “I think they are smilodons, but that can’t be; they are extinct something like ten-thousand years.”

“Not as extinct as some might believe. These are a brother and sister pair of smilodons I managed to obtain. Let’s say our school is very special and leave it at that.”

“Special? Where do you ladies go to school, Bedrock High? There is a mystery here, but I’ll let you tell me in your own time, Joanie.”

* * * *

Pinky and I made sure the kitties were safely secured in the room, provided with fresh water and a clean litter box. I’d left Miki’s carrier with Pinky this time, so Miki was set as well. She was not happy to be left behind, but behaved herself after some persuasion.

~~Miki, I sense Ms. Stevens is a woman I can trust, but for now let’s not tell her everything, okay?~~ “Miki, stay. You can play with George and Gracie, if you are good. We won’t be gone long. ~~Guard the smildons, and let no one near them until we get back. Okay if Jen pets you, I mean Ms. Stevens?~~

~~I will protect your *children*, Joanie, but I should be with you … The Jen human may pet me.~~

“Jen, care to pet my mongoose? She knows to treat you as a friend.”

“That’s an offer I don’t get every day. Hi, Miki,” she said and stroked the mongoose. “Her fur is surprisingly soft, softer than the raccoon I raised as a child. And you *say* she’s your familiar?” Jen asked playfully, but I got the feeling she wasn’t completely convinced I was joking.

“Miki is a fastidious animal, and the three of them help groom each other. A familiar? Jen, do *I* look like a witch to you?” I grinned and snickered. Pinky slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Pinky, you’re right; Joanie is a loon. I see why you like her.”

"Time for us to go ladies,” I announced.

My three *children* were grooming each other. as we left.

* * * *

“I’ll call and get us a cab. I know this great Italian restaurant; I go there whenever I’m in Boston.”

“Save the cab fare, Jen; I have my crew cab. I know it seems silly, a mere slip of a girl in a huge three-quarter ton 4X4, but I’m building a house, so it comes in useful.”

“I have a Ram 1500 with the big Hemi V8; it looks a lot like the truck in the film Twister. I’d love to see yours, Joanie.”

“It’s a Ford.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.”

“Joe E. Brown in Some Like it Hot. I love that film. And Daphne — Jack Lemon’s character -- was right, women are like a whole different species. I know that from personal experience now, not that I’m complaining. Follow me, Jen, please?”

* * * *

“This is some truck; from its appearance it isn’t stock. What kind of mileage do you get?”

“Better than you’d think. It’s powered by the latest in reversible fuel-cell technology and has all-wheel drive. It has the police/emergency handling package, bullet and blast resistant passenger compartment, run-flat tires, and a few extras as well. Take it easy on the throttle; she’s fast off the line,” I said, tossing Jen the keys. “Oh, be careful with the switches, or the machine guns and ejector seat might fire,” I added and giggled. “I couldn’t resist. Sometimes I swear this truck is straight out of a Bond film. My name is Bond, Joan Bond. No applause? My Sean Connery isn’t the best.”

“Connery? I thought you were doing Walter Brennan.”

“Now that is plain cruel, Jen. I’m impressed.”

“How fast is it?”

“I’ve never taken it to its maximum speed, but it would beat any vintage Corvette Stingray … easily.”

We got in, and after adjusting everything to her body — I am tall for a woman, not that she’s short by any measure — we drove to the restaurant. She drove carefully out of the parking structure and onto the street. The street was completely clear, Jen touched the *gas* pedal and …

“Yes!” Jen shouted. “I have got to get me one of these.”

Yup, she floored it. And you all thought I was going to make some lame reference to the film Independence Day -- shame on you. I think we went from zero-to sixty to zero in ten seconds; a red light spoiled Jen’s fun. Bits of me took longer to come to rest.

“My *baby* meets your approval, Jen? Can I have my stomach back, please?”

“But you drive like tha …”

“Pinky, it’s not nice to tattle.”

I think we turned a few heads in nearby vehicles, laughing as we did.

* * * *

“Why the rocket sled, Joanie? You said you’re building a home, but why such a fast truck?”

“I admit I like that it has decent power.”

“Saying this has decent power is a gross understatement, Joanie, and I drive a Dodge Viper.”

“I am part-time security at the Academy so it needs to be fast, and to be honest, I have this nagging fear about being kidnapped.”

“Back last Halloween, in Madison; I saw it on the news. They say in show biz there is no such thing as bad publicity. Your *rescue* from the kidnappers was hot news for a while. I suspect your brief moment of nakedness contributed to that as well. Personally I don’t think I’d care to launch a recording career that way. It must have been terrifying, Joanie. How you handled the press afterwards was pure genius.”

“I had nightmares for a while; the kidnappers did some things to me I prefer not to talk about.” Jen cringed involuntarily; I continued, “The whole press incident was a combination of outrage at what the kidnappers did to the crowd and I and at those damned cameras. I was so angry I didn’t have the time to be frightened. The whole incident did ultimately lead to my going to the Academy, so good came out of it.”

* * * *

“Why are you here in Boston, Jen? Not to see me, I’ll wager?”

“I was in town to meet with Faith Bowie, the writer/producer of Erin Flynn. It’s the cable TV detective show Alexis Eden stars in. Faith lives in Connecticut much of the year, but comes to Boston when they film the show. I’ve done a cameo and directed an episode. Have you seen the show?”

“No, but then this last year has been a busy one. I’ve seen almost no TV since my mutation. I did see that adventure film Alexis did … Minotaur? We have film nights in our huge cafeteria at school; the boys particularly insisted we show it. I don’t blame them; she is a lovely young woman. For an action film with corny dialog, she was convincing in her role. The woman has screen presence, whatever that means."

“What was that back at the studios about a chair, Jen?”

“As to the chair, Joanie, I saw Norm Abram on the New Yankee Workshop build this gorgeous upholstered cigar chair. I don’t smoke, but that leather covered chair looked so comfortable I just had to have one. I contacted the show, and eventually Norm, about buying one from him, but they were long since auctioned off to raise funds for the station. I met with Norm, turned on the charm, and I got him to make another one for me. I’m a weak woman, so sue me.”

Pinky and I snickered, loudly.

“What’s going on here? Don’t tell me you’ve met him?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Smart move, Pinky.”

“Another mystery, ladies?” She parked, and we walked up to a familiar building for me.

“Here we are, Nicola’s; you’ll love it,” Jen announced. We walked in and waited to be seated. It was the noon rush, and the manger was working as the greeter/headwaiter, the maitré, matre … whatever; I can’t spell it.

“Good afternoon, ladies. My dear Jen, what a pleasure.”

“Hi, Anthony, how’s business?” I said, causing Jen to double take.

“Ms Brown, I mean Joanie, this is a rare treat to have Jen and you here at the same time. Who’s the charming young lady with you, and where is your delightful Hawaiian friend, Leah?”

“You’ve met Anthony, Joanie?” Jen asked.

“We met earlier this week, didn’t we? I’m sorry, but Leah,” I pointed to our photo on the wall, “is at our school today.” Jen looked at the photo and laughed. “This is Pamela, or Pinky, another friend from school.”

“Charmed, Ms. Pamela,” he said and kissed the back of her hand. Pinky gasped then blushed. We were led to a table, and a waitress took our orders.

* * * *
“I was here a few days ago on the way back from Hawaii. Leah said their seafood sampler was good. I think she charmed the pants of Anthony.”

“And I thought I was treating you to something new.”

“It’s new to Pinky, and thanks. This is a sweet gesture.”

We engaged in some quiet small talk; Pinky and I described a typical day at *The Academy. * Jen described what her life was like as an actress, producer and all around Hollywood insider.

“I would love to have you on Around Midnight. To be honest, you kicked our butts when you were on that other late night show last December. The overnights — the audience share -- from the LIVE Hawaii special were something out of the days before cable and satellite TV. What do you say; want to come on the show?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in performing, but I don’t see where I could find the time. I don’t wish to, and I can’t afford to, cut anymore class time; I owe it to my students and myself to be there. I’ve missed too much this session as it is. I feel like I’ve let them down, Jen.”

“How about in June? That should be after the spring term is over, but before any summer school unless the *Academy* has a strange schedule. And why *The Academy*? That can’t be its real name.”

“Sorry about that, Jen, but until I know you better, it’s safer to be vague about the school’s name. I’m not the only mutant who has taken refuge there. Several of my friends are there for their personal safety as well as the special facilities the school has for mutants. Pinky is at the school because of the intercession of her aunt, a senior administrator, and remains there because of a dangerous situation at home. I must protect them, thus the subterfuge.

“As to your first question, our class year is pretty much like the average in the US. Finding the time to come on Around Midnight will be difficult; I have so much going on this summer. I promised to spend the first half of June with my friends in Iowa. I … apparently I impressed the Johnsons; they appointed me their … let’s say they did me a great honor and leave it at that. I take their trust seriously, and Babs — the Governor’s wife -- has twins on the way so I want to help out. Plus her two kids are such fun to be with. I’m very much a child myself again, and I look forward to our time together.”

“The Governor of Iowa’s family? You saved their daughter’s life, and didn’t you go to a dance with their son?”

“Mel is a bright and funny young woman, Jen; she always makes me smile. Her brother Eric is a charming young man. He’s well mannered, studious, athletic, clever, tall and good looking with the warmest smile. His eyes … What was I saying?” I paused and Pinky giggled, though she tried not to. “To be honest, he is doing his damnedest to impress me. I think Eric has a crush on me. Plus I never went to dances when I was that age, so I figured why not?” I smiled wistfully.

“Pinky, I heard you suppressing a laugh. What gives?” asked Jen.

“I ... I met Eric this Easter; he’s … he’s hot!”

“Pinky, that’s not ladylike. And yes, I think he’s good looking too, but I saw him first!”

“Aww, no fair.”

“Finders-keepers.”

“You’re a meanie.”

“Do you two often act like this, Joanie?”

“Like what, Jen?”

“Like two silly schoolgirls.”

“Pinky, that sounds like a straight-line to me. On the count of three, one, two, three ... But we are school girls,” we said in near perfect sync, but then Pinky is an empath.

Jen broke into giggles, ”H-h-how’d you do that?”

“I was going to say we opened our mouths and spoke -- ba-doom-ticsh! -- but I have to be serious … eventually. I love to hear Pinky and my other friends laugh, it’s one of my greatest joys at school. ~~Ducked that one.~~

“I take it the first two weeks of June are out. What about appearing on the show in the latter half of June?”

“I’ll be out of the US the last two weeks of June, and the summer session at school starts in early July, Jen. July and early August are difficult because I’m teaching and Babs's delivery date ...”

“Wait a minute, you said ‘out of the US’?” Jen leaned in close and whispered. “Could it be Wales, England?”

“Ehhhhhh, could’st be, Doc.” I said as a certain wascally wabbit.

“I remember the photos with you and David Tenant. You’re going on Doctor Who? I’m jealous; I love sci-fi,” Jen asked me softly so no one overheard.

“It’s just a cameo.”

“Two weeks for a cameo?”

“It’s a long cameo, three episodes as his companion; it’s no big deal.” Jen’s eyes went wide for a moment. “I have no illusions of being an actress. This is for fun, and I get a free trip out of it,” I whispered back.

* * * *

Our food came and we ate — what else would you do with food? Partway into a to-die-for pizza — yes, I ordered pizza in an Italian restaurant, is that so strange? — my cell phone went off.

“Forgive me, but this is my private phone so it’s important.”

I tried not to disturb the other patrons — using a cell in a restaurant or theater is plain rude -- so I talked as softly as I dared. Anthony had given us a table that afforded more privacy than most, which helped. The only people I would disturb were at our own table, if I was careful.

“Joanie here … Yes? … Eric, WHAT!” I forced myself to be calm before replying. “… How did it happen? … Thank Ghod she’s okay, and the babies? … Should I come and see her? I can be there in a few hours … If you think so, but I feel bad thinking of her in the hospital alone … Bob’s staying with her? … Sounds like something your dad would do. You tell your mom I’m praying for her and tell Mel hi. We’ll talk Friday like … Yes? … I can’t, I’m in public … Where did you learn about THAT! … I have to go now, and shame on you.” ~~Eric, you devil. Even if we were married, that is illegal in several states, Georgia for sure. I hope nobody notices how aroused you got me. I’ll get you for this, Eric.~~

“That was one of your *friends* in Iowa, Joanie?” Jen smiled in a predatory way.

“Stop grinning like that; you’re scaring me, Jen. It was Eric. Babs, his mom, was in a car accident, and she’s in the hospital as a precaution. She has some bruises from her seatbelt, and a few cuts from flying debris, but nothing serious. She’s in her third trimester, and with twins they are being careful.”

“What happened?”

“A freak accident, Jen; these things are common in the fall rut, particularly at twilight, but in the late morning this time of year? A deer ran out onto the road, and in trying to miss it a driver clipped Bab’s vehicle, forcing it into the ditch. They want to make sure the jarring didn’t harm the babies. Bob, the Governor, is staying with her. Eric said his dad felt guilty, as she was on the way back from a campaign brunch fund raiser. I know Babs pretty well; we talk like sisters. She’s a US Senator’s daughter; she understands the need to fund raise for the party. I doubt if she’s angry with him, not that she won’t get a few *concessions* out of Bob,” I said laughing with relief.

“I’m glad she’s alright. Ms. Johnson, Babs, treated me like family when we were in Iowa, Joanie. She made me feel welcome,“ Pinky said.

“We have a lot of wildlife in my part of New York. Deer/vehicle collisions are quite common. Joanie, I heard how you reacted to his voice. You clearly were concerned for Babs and her family. Do you have feelings for the young man?”

“I would be lying, if I said I didn’t find him attractive. I’m physically seventeen; I find myself looking at men, and my interest is not platonic. As Pinky said, he’s *hot* for a young man his age. If I am not involved with someone else by the time he’s eighteen, I would have no qualms dating him, if he’s interested. In the meantime we are good friends. The whole family treats me like I’m part of them. How could I not find him … fascinating?”

“I’ll accept that for now. You are comfortable with being a woman and all it implies? You see men as attractive, and you are comfortable with this?”

“Delightfully so once I got used to the idea, but what about you? I hear about you and, um … Adam Tilton? That’s his name, right? I’ve seen him in a few things, he’s a fine looking man and talented. His voice work for cartoons is brilliant and reminds me of a Billy West or even the late Mel Blanc, if you remember the classics. So when are you going to get hitched? Sorry, that was rude; you don’t need to answer, Jen.”

“Who is interviewing who?” Jen asked back.

“This is an interview? I though it was a lunch, Jen. Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Allowing that the press sensationalizes Hollywood romances, you have been with him a long time with little evidence of either seeing anyone else, not that *I* follow the gossip pages. But then I’m a blonde so what do I know?” I said and giggled.

“It’s complicated,” Jen said, her tone flat, almost sad.

“What’s complicated, Jen? ~~Believe me I know complicated.~~ Don’t tell me you fear you’ll be another failed *Hollywood romance*? I know it sounds cliché, but if you never try you’ve already failed.” I paused to think, then I continued.

“I have multiple reasons, all highly logical, why I shouldn’t get close to someone, let alone have children.” I whispered. “Maybe someday I can tell you why…” I continued, speaking in my normal voice. “Despite that, I dream of the day I can hold my own offspring as it nurses at my breast. That’s why the house project. And the linen closet I live in is getting cramped with my menagerie, as Pinky can attest.”

“I’d rather not talk about my romantic troubles.”

“I apologize; I was being pushy, Jen. I hope you can resolve your troubles.”

“I prefer to keep my private life separate from my public life, but the Hollywood romance myth is no myth. The business is hard on relationships. I have other concerns; as I said, it’s complicated. I’ve been a woman over half a decade, and this new life still surprises me. Sorry I didn’t really answer your question, Joanie.”

“I see I’ve touched on delicate subject, Jen.” ~~Someday I may tell you about my fear of outliving my friends and lovers. Ghods, what an understatement … When my Eric dies I’ll … Buck up, Girl.~~ “If it helps you to understand me, Jen, there is one overriding truth I’ve learned about myself in my short time as a woman -- I refuse to waste this second chance I’ve been given. I talk with Babs, Ms. Johnson, often, and I envy her pregnancy despite its trials and tribulations. I *will* be a mother. I owe my late mom; she would have loved grandchildren,” I explained.

“Now I’ve gone all preachy on you. I didn’t mean to upset you, Jen. Any other suggestions on a show date?”

“How about in late August, Joanie?” Jen suggested. “I’ll be hosting from Syracuse, New York, for a couple weeks while Wayne is on vacation. It’s a working vacation for me, as I can visit family and friends. The Around Midnight dates overlap quite deliberately with the New York State Fair this year. Around Midnight will promote the fair and upstate New York to the nation, and the overflow from the crowds drawn to the fair will ensure the theater will be packed for each show. The network and Hollywood types would call it something like ‘proactive synergy’. Wayne and I call it ‘good business’”

Jen continued. “I’d be happy to take you to the fair, Joanie. It’s lots of good clean fun and entertainment, and there are lots of great foods to try. If you are watching your weight it is definitely a place to avoid. It’s also NOT Tinsel-Town, if that helps.”

“That's tempting; Babs’ due date is in the second week of August, so I should be available by then. I love the Wisconsin State Fair; seeing a different state fair would be fun … Could I bring some of my school friends along? They might like to see how a TV show is done, and they are the right age to enjoy the rides and food at the fair,” I asked.

“I don’t see why not, Joanie. If your group is small, you could all stay at my place outside of Syracuse. I’ve got a huge house and 200 acres of land you could camp on and explore. It’s full of wildflowers and animals. It’s my retreat from the artificialness of the entertainment world.”

“I’ve only 53 acres myself, but then it is in the White Mountains.”

“Ah, then Syracuse is not that much more of a trip for you than Boston,” Jen said then mouthed, “New Hampshire?”

I nodded. I thought Jen looked shocked for a moment, but it passed, to be replaced by a vaguely unnerving smile.

~~Odd, now Jen seems almost too happy, like a cat about to pounce.~~ “I’ll think about it. How soon do you need an answer?”

“For an August show? Here and now would be ideal, but as little as a few days notice is okay. We schedule to allow for mishaps and last minute cancellations,” Jen explained.

Our waitress stopped by to check on us. I almost didn’t notice her at first; she was professional to the point of being invisible. By that I mean we never ran out of ice water, coffee or anything, and the empty plates disappeared as if by magic. ~~This gal deserves a whopping big tip … Nice blouse, I love the embroidery accents. I wonder where she bought it?~~ That last thought still scares me. Am I becoming a clothes horse?

“Anyone for dessert?” she asked.

“Let me order; I think you’ll like it.”

“Okay, Jen, I’ve only been here once so you’re the expert,” I said.

I turned to the waitress. “Ma’am, um, Gina?” I noticed her name tag. “Where did you get that blouse, it’s lovely.” ~~I can’t believe I just said that.~~

The waitress was surprised by my question but recovered. “It’s a standard waitress blouse, straight out of a uniform shop. A local shop does the embroidery, Ms Brown.”

“Please call my Joanie, Gina. That really is a lovely blouse.”

“Thank you … Joanie. Did any of you ladies have a preference for dessert, or are you going with what Ms. Stevens,” I saw Jen shake her head. “I mean, Jen, orders?” I saw Jen nod and smile.

“I’ll go with whatever they have,” Pinky added.

Jen motioned to the waitress and said something I couldn’t quite hear. The waitress nodded and walked away.

“Joanie, any other questions I can answer?

“There is one last thing, Jen, and I guarantee you won’t like it. If we come to terms, I would prefer if my appearance was not well publicized.”

“But why not? Oh, you fear a repeat of last Halloween in Madison.”

“Exactly, and it’s the crowd I am worried for. I’m not *brick* tough, but I have a few tricks up my sleeves and I do heal fast. But innocents …”

“We have the best in security for the shows. The City of Syracuse and New York State take pride in hosting them. They provide a visible and well equipped police presence. The grand old theater we use has been extensively upgraded with help from the network and Wayne’s production company. That includes safety and security systems. Wayne and Around Midnight are security conscious ever since the arson of part of his studio, and I have my own private security people I trust with my life. They saved me from an assassin so I believe in them.”

“That makes me feel better, but I do need to run this by my advisors.”

“Advisors?”

“It’s not like I have an entourage. But I know people I trust, so I’ll run this past a couple of the staff at Wh … what was I saying … the Academy, maybe my dad and sister, oh and the Senator.” ~~There she goes, smiling that *knowing* smile again, Damn, I must be imagining things~~

“Senator Williams? I met him once. A charming man and sharp as can be. He might make a good guest on Around Midnight, since his son-in-law is a dark horse candidate for President.”

“I doubt if Bob would run, not that I don’t admire the Governor. He has a great ass by the way; he was in this skintight jogging suit and … It was embarrassing, but he was utterly charming about it. This new body sometimes has a mind of its own.”

“I know the feeling; it’s called being a woman, Joanie.”

I nodded and continued. ”Bob loves his wife and family too much, and with her carrying twins, I can’t see him running for President. Then there is the matter of that unholy mutant woman they associate with,” I said and snickered, but a part of me was serious and Jen noticed. ~~Am I a detriment to my Iowa friends? I have to be costing Bob and Joe the votes of anti-mutants at least.~~

“I suspect their connection to you will gain them more votes than it loses, Joanie. You saved their daughter; unless you’re a political Jonah, they would stand by you. The voters you would turn off are hard-line religious conservatives and anti-mutant types who would never vote for Bob anyways. His record is too moderate, almost liberal by modern standards. In contrast, moderates and liberals would support him strongly; you wouldn’t have much affect on them. The youth vote would swarm to him because of you -- the guys for sure.”

“Now you’re being silly, Jen.”

“Am I, Miss July?”

“I’ll have you know I’m fully clothed … on the cover. That baring of my flesh earned my school well over two million dollars, and we get a chunk of overseas profits. And we got a sweetheart of a deal on Coke products.”

“That’s something I could never do, Joanie -- appearing naked in public. I applaud your reasons for doing it; your school sounds like a worthy recipient. In my experience, most nakedness in the media is to boost interest in a poor quality product … I can’t do it. I have it written into my contracts. I’m not ashamed of my body, Joanie … I believe nudity without a valid artistic or political purpose is trash and an invasion of my privacy -- what little I have.”

I felt defensive after Jen’s comment on nudity. It was her choice not to appear naked, but it didn’t mean it was wrong for me to have posed.

“I don’t mean to belittle your decision against performing nude, Jen. Yes, yes, I do remember the jokes made when the Library of Congress stopped producing a Braille version of Playboy -- that the blind were the only ones who actually read the articles. They publish photos of naked women, but I can tell you my experience has been entirely positive. The nude photos were shot in a professional manner. There was no pressure to do anything else other than pose attractively for the camera. Several of my friends at MSG back in Wisconsin posed nude as well, and they are good people. If you like, I’ll send you an advance copy so you can see for yourself, Jen. I like to think of my photo shoot as cheesecake or glamour photography taken a little farther. It’s not like the gynecological porn that some magazines do,” I said.

“I meant no insult, Joanie. If I have offended you, I am sorry.”

“No offence taken, Jen, I assure you. Whether to pose or not is a deeply personal decision; no one should decide it for you. I weighed the potential for my own discomfort, and that of any future harassment related to my posing, against the potential benefits. In the July issue, I have an extensive interview, and I speak at length about mutants. Several acclaimed medical experts on mutants also have in depth articles. One is by the physician who saved my life during my burnout. She is a fellow mutant and a valued friend. She treats me like a daughter, and I like to think of her as my mom. She has a brilliant article on mutants in the issue and posed for a photo shoot herself, she felt so strongly about proving mutants are people like everyone else.

“You’ve done well without resorting to nudity -- not that you couldn’t pull it off magnificently, Jen. You have perfect girl-next-door looks and the personality to match. In my case I’d already been seen naked in public, however briefly, during my rescue after the kidnapping. A few months later, at the Academy, a pair of students made money selling racy posters of me and other attractive female staff, totally unauthorized I might point out. A few posters got into circulation outside of the school, and I got this offer to pose. I was going to say no, but a staff member, ah-hum …”

“Why are you looking at me like that, Joanie? I had nothing to do with what my aunt did,” Pinky laughed.

“Pinky’s aunt sent in my acceptance as a joke, and I accepted their generous offer. I figured with my looks and background it was bound to happen eventually. Rather than have the paparazzi hunting me, I turned the tables and controlled how and when I would reveal my, um, charms. It was a golden opportunity to make my pitch that mutants are people and should be treated as such. The crazy thing is I’m not the first mutant to pose, just the first to do so publicly. One of our staff posed years ago under a pseudonym and has actively supported my posing. She shed her clothing to raise funds for the supers group she belonged to at the time; the parallel to my raising money for the school scholarship fund was not lost on her.

“I’m very chatty, aren’t I? I must be more nervous than I thought. Go ahead and finish your pitch, Jen. Feel free to whack me on the back of the head, if I don’t stay quiet.”

Jen laughed. “We don’t pay a lot to guests, but I can offer free transport, food and lodging. The local businesses throw in some generous perks and gifts to our guests in exchange for recognition on the air.”

“I could care less about the money, personally. I make an obscene amount on my music, and I made some very good investments awhile back, so I’m set financially. Anything I can do to help out my school friends is welcome, though. Private schools are expensive; imagine what a private school for mutants is like.”

“Beyond the usual perks for coming on the show, what if we made a contribution of a few thousand dollars to your school’s scholarship fund?”

I exploded with the giggles. “Jen, in December, Jay’s show paid me fifteen thousand per song, no limit. I sang six times. They paid me 50 thousand additional to stay on the whole show, plus 100 thousand because I gave all they paid me to charity. Then there was the 100 thousand to the school scholarship fund that they later doubled, simply because I rode my 1915 Harley on stage.”

“That’s 440 thousand dollars! And you personally got nothing?”

“They were very generous to my charities and the school, so I was happy. I wouldn’t expect that much for an Around Midnight appearance; frankly, Jay went overboard, but then it was my first ever appearance on TV that wasn’t the news. Whatever is feasible will be appreciated, Jen; the scholarship fund is always in need of more. I think technically some of it went to me, which I immediately turned over to charity, all to satisfy union rules, the labor laws and the tax man. I did it for fun and to get the word out that being a mutant isn’t bad. I wanted people to know there is help out there for new mutants or any mutants who need it. I’ve got to think with your origins, Jen, you must get you share of people trying to denounce you as ungodly or an abomination.”

“I’ve had problems, but I let them have their say. The moment they harm me or my friends, or libel and slander me, the gloves come off.”

"I vaguely remember you successfully suing some tabloid. They used old photos out of context to … make up a story, wasn’t it? That was disgusting, and I applaud you for nailing their sorry asses. Sorry, Pinky, you didn’t hear that.”

“Heard what, Ms. Manners?”

* * * *

Our dessert came, and we stopped while our waitress served.

“This is Nicola’s signature dessert. Bite into the best cho…”.

“…colate pie you’ve ever had. Leah and I had some when we were here.”

“Do you make a habit of stealing other people’s thunder?”

I laughed. “I’m sorry but it is a great pie, Jen. I’m not much of a dessert person, but this pie is, well, sinfully good.”

Gina, our waitress, served us each a small slice of the decadent treat. I was admittedly eager to taste it again. Jen was nearly drooling in anticipation.

“Wait, girls, you want cold milk to go with this. Be patient,” Jen said solemnly.

Gina poured us each a glass.

“Now, you can eat,” Jen declared.

I watched each woman carefully. Jen's eyes closed as she slowly ate each forkful. I noticed Pinky’s expression turn to one of utter bliss. As for me, I was totally unaffected, except for a growing and pleasant *tension* in … It’s been claimed for ages that chocolate is an aphrodisiac. I like chocolate, in moderation, but it never did anything for me. But this pie — I was going to have some *great* dreams tonight, I just knew.

We finished and Jen spoke. “Did you like it, ladies?”

“It was very good, Jen. It made me feel so satisfied. Thank you for ordering it.”

“You're welcome, Pinky, and you, Joanie?”

“It’s okay.”

“Just okay, Joanie? You look like bride on her honeymoon.”

~~Wonderful, I just had to wear that stretchy soft cup bra today too. Then again it’s not like the *girls* haven’t been seen by the public before.~~

Pinky noticed and struggled to not laugh at my predicament.

This got me thinking about how I’d been acting the whole time we’d been with Ms. Stevens. I was embarrassed. I’d been so boy-on-first-and-only-date-with-a-pretty-girl chatty but at least I had managed to speak with Jen. ~~I’m calling Jennifer Stevens, Jen? She’s a major force in the entertainment business: acting, singing, producing, directing. I’m Miss Flash-in-the-pan. I don’t deserve to be considered an equal.~~ I was having an attack of nerves, of self doubt to be honest. I still feel that way sometimes. I keep thinking these wonderful gifts will all be taken away from me and given to someone who is worthy. I know this is wrong, that this is what and who I am. I guess I have a ways to go towards being fully confident in who I am.

~~Time to buck up, Joanie.~~

“Jen, I’d like to apologize for coming off as manic as I did. I’m in awe of your accomplishments, and I’m a little intimidated in your presence… Jen, I’ve been a woman less than a year. I didn’t have a hint I had any talent as a singer, or anything else for that matter, until the whole Labor Day fiasco.”

“Fiasco? That was one of the most selfless acts of bravery I’ve ever seen.”

“You misunderstand me, Jen. Until I ran into that highway, I didn’t know I could stop time. I was reacting to a child in trouble and didn’t have clue how to save her. Maybe it was the mommy in me trying to get my attention,” I said and giggled. “By fiasco I mean my becoming visible to the press and discovering I had a commercially viable singing voice. Those few days destroyed any hope I had of retuning to a *normal* life … That fiasco also was the best thing that ever happened to me, but I’m not completely adjusted to all of it’s myriad complications? Does that make any sense?”

“You mean you love your new life, but don’t know how to handle it at times?”

“Bingo!”

“Welcome to my world, Joanie. It’s over five years since I was struck by lightning, and I’m still a novice. And I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Don’t feel bad, veterans of show business sometimes choke in my presence. I can be intimidating, but I’m just Jen, a girl from the snow belt of New York. I don’t bite, not hard anyway.” Jen smiled, and we all relaxed.

Like many restaurants, Nicola’s had music playing softly on a sound system for ambiance and to muffle the conversations of each table from the others. They had an adult contemporary station on, Neil Diamond, Billy Joel, The Righteous Brothers and other artists of that ilk, or is it soft-rock? A familiar song came on, but the version was different somehow.

“You love 60's and 70’s music, Joanie; that is the Beach Boys, but the recording of Fun-Fun-Fun isn’t one I’m familiar with -- recorded at a concert from the sound of it.”

“They sound pretty good to me; I wonder where the recorded that? It was great hearing them in person, believe me.”

The song ended and went to a commercial. I excused myself to use the ladies room. There was a line in the room, so it took awhile. On leaving, I thought I heard the last notes of Burning Love, but I wasn’t sure, there was a lot of noise from the nearby kitchen. I walked to our table, and many of the diners were staring at me. ~~The price of fame, oh well.~~

I got to our table and noticed Jen smiling at me; so was Pinky.

“What’s wrong? Is there toilet paper hanging off my shoe?”

“You didn’t hear?” Jen asked.

“Hear what?” I sipped my ice water and a new song came in the radio. “All right, George Harrison. This one’s a favorite. I never knew he recorded a concert ... version … Oh Ghod, they didn’t.”

What *they’d* done was release a song we practiced for the Waikiki show, but never used. With live TV, you have to be flexible. People trip and fall and break a leg; it happened to Jackie Gleason years ago. Songs run shorter or longer than expected and so on, so most shows plan on more material than they need as a cushion. This was a cushion we never used. I’d forgotten we’d recorded it.

“That’s 'The Devil’s Radio' by George Harrison. I was mad at the press for they way they covered Leah’s rescue, and I intended to sing this as a protest, but did Pretty Vacant instead, my *tribute* to the MCO. I’d had several less than pleasant experiences with them in the days just prior to the show. We never had time for this one on the broadcast.”

“That was a practice session? That was a practice session I’d love to have. Joanie, you have a beautiful singing voice.”

“Thanks?”

“You have to come on Around Midnight.”

“Can I think on it?”

“Here’s my card with my personal, private number. Call me whether you decided to come on the show or just have a question. I have voice mail on it, so call any time,” Jen said and so sincerely too.

“If you’d added a girly pout you would have had me, but too late now, Jen.”

Anthony came by with a different waitress and that camera. “Ladies, if you will pose with me, the meal is on the house.”

“Free food? I’m in,” I replied. Jen and I arranged ourselves around Anthony, while I hugged Pinky with my free arm. He got his picture, and Jen was off the hook for the meal.

* * * *

We walked out of the restaurant — P.S. I left a generous tip -- and were assailed by photo flashes in broad daylight. The paparazzi had found us. I spoke up; the words came to me in a rush. “This is a public sidewalk, and you are within your rights to photograph us; however, that only applies to Ms. Stevens and me. The young lady with us is not of legal age, is not a *famous* individual and has never done anything remotely akin to *performing* in public. She is currently under the protection of a court order. If you publish any photos of her, I will personally pursue any and every legal remedy at my disposal to make your lives a living hell; got it, boys and girls?” They remained defiant.

“I formally permit you to use any photos taken here of me as long as they are presented in a fair and honest way. Ms Stevens is a different matter. I cannot speak for her, but publish even one grainy photo of this young woman and I will have your balls on a platter.” To emphasize this, I time stopped the small group of photographers and pulled their pants down to their ankles. “Do we have an understanding?

They agreed -- I wonder why — and Jen agreed they could take some photos of the two of us. After that they left us alone and we walked to my truck.

“I would never have done that even if I could, Joanie. That could have backfired. The court order was a touché of genius.”

“Touche’, Jen?”

“It was at the point of a sword, so to speak.”

“Huh?”

“You promised to, quote, ‘have your balls on a platter.’ You will be a great actress someday. You were utterly convincing in your outrage, even though it was a bluff.”

“That wasn’t entirely a bluff, Jen. Pinky is …” I looked around to make sure we were alone. “I am Ms. Pamela Conners' legal guardian. Her mother is anti-mutant; her dad is separated from her mother and doesn’t care. She needed someone, and once I knew her I couldn’t help myself. You talked with her before we met. Would you let anyone harm this young woman, if it was in your power to prevent it?”

Jen shook her head.

“I didn’t tell the press the complete truth. Pinky was with me in Iowa this Easter weekend, and we sang on A Prairie Home Companion. That is radio, though they do a live web cast. Those photos are low resolution, so I doubt she’ll be recognized.”

“Joanie helped catch the men who assaulted me while I was drugged. She turned my life around,” Pinky said and hugged me.

“More secrets? You are not the blonde ditz you like to make people think you are."

“Keep that our secret for now.”

We drove back to the PBS studios, but no one followed. My stunt scared them off -- that and Boston traffic is a nightmare on the best of days.

* * * *

“I hope you accept my offer to appear, Joanie. I think with your talent and enthusiasm you’d make a great guest. You have my card with my private cell number; you can reach me on it almost anytime.”

I dug in my purse. “I should have given you this earlier; this is my card with my e-mail address.” I stopped and wrote on the back with a cheap ballpoint I always carry. “This is my private number to the phone I have on me now. I can’t say for sure if I’ll come on, but a reminder now and again wouldn’t hurt. I’ll think it over, and I do mean it. I’m not blowing you off, Jen.”

“You have any questions at all, call me; we can work it out … Joanie, tell Ms. Carson thanks for the tour she gave me of Whateley, and that I am still considering her offer of a teaching position or at least teaching a semester of theater arts. Bye!” Jen walked off briskly. I swear she was chuckling.

Pinky and I turned to each other. “She knows!?” we gasped.

* * * *

Pinky left to check on our furry friends, and I returned to my narration work. The crew and I were quickly back into the groove. Miki was as quickly back by my side. How she got into the closed recording studios, I have no idea. Maybe she’s Hairy Houdini? No laughs? *Hairy* … it’s a joke … That was my *A* material too. Oh well, I tried.

It was a long day, but productive beyond our expectations. I knew we were doing well, but what I heard around ten that evening shocked me.

“That’s a wrap.”

“That’s it for tonight?”

“No, Joanie, we finished it all. I told you we could do it, and you proved more than equal to the task.”

“We’re done for sure, no fooling? You wouldn’t kid a tired mutant with homicidal tendencies would you?”

“You’re finished, honest. Did you want to go out and eat?” My producer asked smiling.

“I’m hungry, but it’s awfully late. What do you think, Pinky?”

“I’m fine, Joanie. I took a nap with George and Gracie earlier; they make great bed warmers,” she said and giggled. I was happy to see her carefree and acting like a normal teen. Sometimes she was so serious, I worried she was crawling back into the shell she’d erected after her assaults. I was glad to see it was simply normal moodiness; that was something I understood well.

I was in the fertile part of my cycle and was increasingly moody and, um … I was envious of Miki and her assignation back in Waikiki. Logically, it was fair; she had done without for 150 years and was a single, desirable mongoose. I was single, but attached, and I would be able to get all I wanted in a few years. I could have all I wanted and then some now, but I was trying to be faithful. It’s the way I was raised. Miki could only *get some* if I helped her; mongoose are not common in the US. ~~That proves how tired I am. I’m envious of my familiar’s sex life.~~

~~Oh Yes!~~ I thought I *heard* a happy sigh from the cheap seats.

“Dinner sounds wonderful, but what of my furry friends?”

“The smilodons will be safe in your truck bed carrier as will your mongoose inside the cab. The hotel I have in mind has reserved secure parking; in fact it’s the same hotel where you spent the night, so you don’t have far to go after your late supper. The room is reserved for tonight and tomorrow night if you need the rest. I can’t see you driving back this late at night -- it’s just not safe.”

“A good meal and a warm bed would be welcome,” Pinky replied.

“Fine, Ms. Pinky, I’ll give you ladies, say, 30 minutes to get dressed then we’ll go and eat.”

“Get dressed?”

“It is an upscale restaurant; you’ll want to look your best.”

“I anticipated this, so Pinky and I each brought a classy outfit.”

“That’s why you told me to bring something suitable for fancy dress,” Pinky replied, sharp girl, boy, well both at the moment. I’m not fully used to her monthly transformation but I’m getting there...

* * * *

I’d packed a simple but elegant strapless evening dress and some strappy heels. Pinky brought a well tailored but androgynous women’s suit and a pair of medium heeled dress cowboy/cowgirl boots. She was in her dual form, as we’d began to call it; *dual* was both accurate and short. She was outwardly a wiry male, in terms of her visible sexual apparatus and lack of female curves. At the same time she remained a fully functional female, the opening to her sex being temporarily concealed by her temporary maleness. She could have tried to disguise herself and force a look one way or the other, but she wouldn’t have been comfortable faking being one or the other. Pinky, I realized, had an aversion to lying, even if it was convenient. The way she had acted after her sexual assaults disgusted her, and she fought tooth-and-nail against backsliding into *that* personality.

This way was honest, yet flattering. As Jennifer Stevens had noted, Pinky appeared most attractive -- a mysterious, handsome and athletic tomboy. In reality, she was both at the moment. She didn’t appear fake or an obvious cross dresser, so the look worked for her. I was pleased with the outfit and said so.

“That is a good look for you; it’s honest, attractive and practical. The question is, do you like it?”

“To be honest, I wish I was always a girl, but then I still am, aren’t I? I could dress completely like a man while in this form, but that would not be true to who I am now. Equally, my dressing completely like a woman would be dishonest while in this form. These women’s versions of men’s clothing are perfect for me when I’m *dual*. And this form has its perks. I’m stronger, and depending how I dress, I can use either bathroom. Not having to sit down sure saves time,” she replied and smiled, too wide to my way of thinking.

“Are we rubbing it in, again?”

“Joanie, I do not! … A lady does not admit she masturbates,” she whispered and laughed. I burst out in a giggle.

“I didn’t mean *that,* and you know it. By the way, I do and it’s great,” I replied and grinned.

“I was having you on, Joanie, but I am getting to like being both ways. I wish I had control over when, but at least it’s predictable. I have a secret; I’m gonna’ do it someday, I swear. I’m gonna’ have sex as a man someday, but when I’m ready and I find someone special. Since I’m both, why not *be* both, you know?”

I gave her/him both a hug. “That is great. I want you to like yourself, and this is as much a part of you as the lovely woman. I have to say, if I hadn’t found Eric, I’d be tempted to pursue you as a lover and life partner. Whoever wins you will be lucky; just do me a favor and wait until you are eighteen.” Pinky blushed at my comment. She appreciated the compliment. The last year had been hard and her self-image needed some work, but it was getting there.

* * * *

We arrived at one of Boston’s fanciest downtown hotels. The place was elegant, and reasonably modern without being too modern. This was clearly one of *THE* places to be seen in town. I anticipated this and was armed with some of my nicest jewelry. It was nothing fancy, but okay it was very fancy by my standards. I had brought the gold/platinum and emerald necklace and earring set I’d bought in Dunwich last December. They combined with the hot dress I was almost wearing to make a statement. The statement was “In your face, Boston; lock up your men and boys, mothers. Joanie is on the prowl, Roar!”

My producer excused herself, while we were led to a table and a pleasant surprise.

“Joe, Sara, what are you two doing here?”

“Having dinner?”

“Sara! Why are you here?”

“It’s my fault, Joanie. Remember what we were talking about a few weeks back?” Joe asked.

I looked at Sara’s hand and the diamond ring she proudly displayed. It was a classic design and sparked as if on fire. “You said yes, thank Ghod!” I gave Sara a big hug.

“Joanie, I can’t thank you enough for fixing us up. I forgot how much I missed being this close to a man -- and what a man.!” Sara said and rolled her eyes.

“Sara’s a nutcase, but I love her, Joanie.”

“This call for a celebration, maybe some champagne on me, though Pinky is too young. I try to avoid alcohol, but for you two.…”

“I have to abstain, as well, for my baby.”

“That’s underst … BABY!?” Dr. Sara nodded and smiled, Senator Joe’s face beamed with love for his wife to be. A number of the nearer dinners turned to look. “I told you to give her a good … but you didn’t have to get Sara pregnant!”

“I know you’re a busy girl, but I would love for you to be my Maid of Honor. We’re planning on getting married right after you return from Wales. If we wait much longer, I won’t fit in my wedding dress.”

“What about Carrie?”

“She agrees with me. You will be co-Maids of Honor; Carrie insisted when she heard. She knows how you played matchmaker. The rest of the Gang of Four will be bridesmaids, and Gin’s new sister Katie will be the flower girl. I know it sounds a bit overblown, but it will be a modest ceremony, just immediate friends and family -- a few dozen at most.”

“How is Katie?”

“That’s the little girl who used to be a guy? The one who tried to shoot Joanie?”

“Yes, Pinky. Nice outfit by the way.”

“Thanks, Doctor.”

“Call me Sara. You're Joanie’s friend so that makes you one of the Gang,” Sara said and gave Pinky a hug. Pinky was so happy she cried.

“Katie is doing well. She’s happy, healthy and smart as a whip. She remembers who she was, but in every meaningful way she’s a normal young girl. She talks of both you ladies often. You really should visit her someday soon. She thinks you two are special.”

“But why?” I asked.

“Because you both treated her nice after he tried to kill you, Joanie, Katie remembers that. You treated her honorably, so the code of honor he lived by makes her fond of you. As a little girl, it’s the highest honor she can bestow.”

“He’d been deceived; I had no reason to hate him, particularly after Gin changed him into her younger clone.”

“I feel about it like Joanie says, except I saw Katie as he changed and again right after. He suffered a lot but did so bravely. Once he, um she knew the truth, she was apologetic almost to the point of wanting to kill herself. He, I mean she, has a strong personal code of honor. I hated what he tried to do, but I couldn’t hate her. Does that make sense?”

Sara’s smile, and the hug she gave Pinky, told me she was pleased by what she heard; so was I.

The rest of the evening was a blur, but a happy one. My producer mysteriously reappeared.

”I’m feeling ill. I think I should go home. I’m sorry.”

Yes, I think it was a set up too, readers. We went dancing in the hotel’s ballroom. I enjoyed myself immensely. Pinky looked like an angel in Joe’s arms. Sara and Joe looked complete in each other’s arms; the image of her and Joe is burned in my mind as The Couple. Pinky and I retired to our hotel room exhausted and grinning our ears off.

* * * *

May 13, 2007, Sunday

The ride back to Whateley was uneventful. We’d rested well that night, and the weekend traffic out of Boston was light. My menagerie was happy to be home. I thought Miki seemed a bit off somehow, but I couldn’t pin down a reason. I commended her on keeping George and Gracie calm during their potentially stressful trip to Boston. ~~I like them too, Joanie. They treat me like family.~~The rest of Sunday we took it easy, did laundry and the like.

* * * *

May 14, 2007, Mother’s Day plus one

“Good morning, Miki! You were so helpful this weekend you deserve a treat. Would you like some tuna?” I was in a good mood, so I spoke to her out loud.

I held out a stoneware bowl with a small can of tuna already opened and placed on it. Miki sniffed it and ran off; she was making retching sounds. I felt dizzy and a bit queasy.

~~What’s wrong, Miki? I sense you are ill.~~ A second wave of nausea hit me, and my breasts ached.

~~I do not understand, Joanie, but the smell of your wonderful tuna treat disgusted me. I have never felt this way. I never get sick, at least not since I bonded with my first mistress.~~

~~It isn’t me, is it? Is something about our strange bond harming you?~~

~~No, though our bond is different from my other mistresses, I have no difficulty accessing your magic. There is no reason to be concerned … Oooh! I feel sick!~~

“Magic or not, *we* are going to medical.” I picked Miki up, cradled her in my arms, and carried her to medical.

* * * *

“Well, Doctor Pollard, what’s wrong with my friend?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? She feels dizzy and nauseous. Miki hasn’t been sick in ages, and you say there is nothing wrong with her. I felt her breasts, because I had an empathic reaction, and they are swollen, flushed and tender. This is breast cancer, isn’t it? We had a cat die from it.”

“Joanie, Miki is in the best of heath. There is no evidence of infection, poison, parasites, cancer or a host of other reasons for her symptoms. There is no evidence of magical attack or enchantment. The swelling and tenderness in her breasts is normal and to be expected. Put simply, Miki is a superbly healthy female mongoose and should have no difficulty in carrying her babies to term. Congratulations.”

“Miki’s pregnant!?”

~~I’m a mother?!~~

-- THUD --

-- Thud --

“I have two female patients who have fainted in examination room three; I need assistance,” Dr. Pollard called into the intercom system.

* * * *

To be continued
Special thanks to Bob Arnold for his advice and the use of Jennifer Marie Stevens and other wonderful *toys* from Zapped

Faith Bowie, Erin Flynn, Alexis Eden but not the State of Connecticut are all the properties of Julie_O

Karen_J, thanks for your advice and for spotting that missed punchline.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 10

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

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

Miki's *predicament* becomes known to the Sabers. Joanie's BET recording project gets a Weird producer. End of semester looms; Joanie impersonates Experiment 626. A shapeshifing experiment goes Blondly wrong; people start seeing double or is that quadruple? A BAD hair day follows. The Asian Playmate and sister stop by. Joanie subverts the American justice system.

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

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
Verb verification by Itinerant, verily
Kwality Kvetching by Karen_J

Chapter 10, *Mothers’* Day 2, You BET Your Life-Dangerous, DON’T PANIC, And Now in Stereo-Revenge of the Blondes, The New New Avengers-Resurrection, Hang um High

Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, Boston MA, May 14-May 25, 2007

May 14, 2007,

“Doctor Pollard, I had the strangest dream. I dreamed you said Miki was pregnant, and that I strangled you with barbed-wire -- or was it I castrated you with a hand--cranked sausage grinder … slowly.” I grinned predatorily; he looked concerned.

“I, ah, um …” He didn’t seem to know what to say.

~~Mistress Joanie … I am at fault. I have brought shame upon you. … I … There are herbs I can take to stop my …~~

I felt Miki’s shame and sorrow; she was distraught. “Doctor Pollard, may my friend and I have a few minutes alone?”

“You both appear to be recovered. Take it easy for fifteen minutes and you are free to go. I will read up on mongoose prenatal needs, ladies, so I can prescribe a suitable diet. I’ll make sure you have it in a day or two.”

He left, and I turned to her. I placed a hand on her and gently stroked her fur. ~~Miki, it’s your life, your body, your decision. It’s a shock, your being pregnant, but I’d be a hypocrite to say you must abort your fetuses, your babies. You know how much I want to have children. If you don’t want to or can’t handle being a mother, do it -- have an abortion. If you have any doubts it is the right decision for you, know this -- I would love to be a friend to your children. And I will also support you if you chose not to become a mother.~~

~~You don’t mean it. You are angry at me. You think I am a wanton.~~

~~Where did you get that idea from, Miki?~~

~~I see it in your mind and you fainted when told.~~

~~So did you, Miki. It was the shock and surprise. If I thought badly of you *I* should be the one to apologize. If anyone is a slut here, it’s me. I simply think of Eric and I become aroused. I speak to him and I want to become a mother and his lover, that very moment. Oh my … Miki, can you *feel* it?~~

I got a mental giggle, then embarrassment, followed by understanding from Miki. ~~I *feel* it, you are aching for your Eric. Your body is making ready for sex even though he is not here.~~

~~You understand me, Miki? I know I cannot have him until he is of age. I have pledged I will be faithful to him. I am not intoxicated by fermenting fruit, yet my body reacts as if Eric and I were about to have intercourse. I am no more a slut than you, Miki; it is our nature as females to want children. And your being so totally pregnant is like, um, practice for me, for sure.~~ I broke into giggles.

~~Why do you laugh?~~

~~I sounded like a blonde bimbo in my own mind. See, I am excited but I am not angry. This is not a time to be sad, this is a happy accident.

~~I may not have understood what I was doing when I agreed to be your mistress, but I do not regret it. You saved us on Maui, do not doubt it, Miki. If you want to be a mother, I will find a way to keep your children safe from the law. I know of two sorceresses who have no familiar: Gin in Wisconsin and Lonnie here at Whateley. Gin’s new sister is identical to her and may become a sorceress in time. She’s preschool age and could use a friend, teacher and protector. That’s three possible mistresses for your children. We will find a way.~~ I felt a wave of relief and love wash over me.

~~Thank you, Mistress, I am in your debt.~~

~~As I am in yours, dear friend.~~

I had a disturbing thought.

~~Joanie, what is wrong?~~

~~Telling Administration will be a bitch, and the Sabers will be a pain for the next few months.~~

~~I don’t understand.~~

~~You will, once the Sabers start treating you like a delicate and helpless mother-to-be. They will pamper you to the point of inducing nausea.~~

~~Why would your friends wish to make me sick?~~

This was going to take a lot of explanation, I could tell.

* * * *

The rest of my friends were naturally curious, when I called for a formal meeting as part of our late afternoon practice. Miki sat in my lap as I petted her to keep her calm. I was not sure which of us was more anxious.

“Joanie, what’s up? The rumor is you and Miki were both treated by medical today.” Cheryl looked worried.

“We’re fine, better than fine actually. Leah probably has a better idea what I’m about to say than anyone as she was with us at the time. Leah, dear, remember the first night in Waikiki when I let Miki have some *personal time* in that park?”

“You mean when you acted so, um … strange after?”

“That’s putting it mildly; I was acting like a nymphomaniac on aphrodisiacs.”

“You never told us that, Joanie.” My friends were looking at me and were confused big time.

“That was mental feedback from Miki. She had eaten some overripe mango and was pie-eyed drunk. It was partially my fault, as I agreed she needed some time as a woman.”

“You mean she and that male mongoose … that they?”

“Yes, Leah, that was the intention, to let her experience being a sexual creature again. But being drunk -- accidentally I must add -- she let her magic contraception drop and … Miki will be a mother in early July.”

“Pregnant? Miki is pregnant?” several asked in shock.

“How did that happen? “ Tom asked and immediately regretted it as all of the rest of us laughed, snorted or giggled. The gleam in my eyes must have been frightening.

“Well, Tom, the mommy mongoose and the daddy mongoose love each other very much and want to share that love. They kiss and 60 days later the stork brings a baby or babies. Oh, and they fuck like weasels.” I giggled until my eyes watered.

“Joanie, that was not nice to make fun of my Tom that way. Tom, I’m sorry my cousin treated you so poor. I think I’ll …” she whispered something in his ear. He broke out in a shit-eating grin.

“Are you sure, Suzy?”

“If you don’t want to …?”

This exchange was raising red flags like dandelions in an abandoned farm field.

“Do you have to ask? Of course I want it.” What Tom said did not worry me half as much as Suzy licking her lips provocatively. I wasn’t the only one this conversation was upsetting to.

“Tom, I’m telling Mom if you don’t behave yourself, you promised her.” Tina was cross.

“Suzy, tell Tina what you told me.”

Suzy whispered to Tina and Tina broke-up.

“I smell a set-up. Have you two been pulling my leg?” I asked.

“I’d say both of them while making a wish. You’ve been had, Joanie.”

“There’s only one fitting punishment for these children, they have to help me build Miki’s den and nursery. The rest of you are to furnish it, on my tab of course.”

“That is soooo wrong, Joanie!” Leah practically screamed at me. “After all she did for us in Hawaii, it’s only fair I buy or make her something in thanks.”

“If Leah is getting Miki and her babies something, I’m doing it, too. I’ll not look like a cheapskate,” Jenny said firmly.

I was assaulted on all sides with girls angry at the effrontery of my paying for *their* gifts to my precious momma mongoose. ~~I warned you, Miki, and it’s only going to get worse. Prepare to be pampered to within an inch of your life.~~

I think Miki gave a resigned sigh; it’s hard to tell with mongoose.

* * *

That evening’s clean-up at the farm project was not as I expected. For one, the TOH producer was there along with the camera/sound crew and all the main on-air talent -- Roger Cook, Tom Silva, Richard Trethewey, Kevin O’Conner, the TOH producer and…

“Norm, what are you doing here, or the rest of you for that matter? Duh! You’ve here to film.”

“That, and I understand from your NOVA producer you will be out of state and/or overseas most of June.”

“I’m a busy girl. How do we work around it?”

“That’s why we are here, Joanie. Whateley Operations informed us the farm house will be done in a matter of days, except for finishing details and some painting. All those prefab walls and modules speed construction immensely. It will be ready for occupancy no later than the first week in June and that includes the heated garage. Completion of the farmhouse and related jobs will free up resources to finish the big project, your barn conversion. We’re here to see the finalized holographic walk-though of the projects and discuss some secondary issues,” Mr. Abram finished.

“Like?” I asked.

“Out buildings, landscaping, security and so on,” Norm replied.

“I do need a garage or two because of the rental property, and I need a four season animal shed and exercise yard.”

“There is talk of converting part of that modern pole barn into a recording studio; I haven’t a clue why,” Tom Silva said and laughed.

“Are the guys always so silly?” I asked Kevin, the primary host.

“They are usually worse.”

That got him a chorus of boos from the gang.

I’d try and describe the walk-though, but I can’t. The best I can say it was like walking into a real home; we could even walk *upstairs* due to the military derived gravity/force field technology. What was spooky was when they turned off some of the shading and the walls became transparent. That way we could see the mechanicals and other hidden facets of the buildings.

“I’ve seen aircraft simulators before, but this is incredible,” Kevin exclaimed afterwards.

“Well, Joanie, what do you think?” he asked.

“I’m overwhelmed with how close this is to my ideal, and I wasn’t here for most of it. I think I will be very happy with this.”

“When you offered this project to us, you said you were not expecting any donations, which is in part why we accepted your offer on such short notice. We didn’t feel right about us not contributing something, so we called in a few favors.”

“That is so vague a Presidential candidate might say it. What does that mean in plain English?”

“The landscaping, including materials, and the full cost of building that animal enclosure will be picked up by our underwriters,” Kevin said and the producer nodded. This was unexpected. I was so happy, I started hugging and kissing the guys mercilessly.

I regained control and was embarrassed. “I am … I didn’t mean to ... I … Ah fudge!” And I broke into the giggles.

Norm said it best. “You’re welcome, Joanie. Wow!”

* * * *

May 15, 2007

I got a particularly early start on Tuesday. Exams and end of session papers were due by the end of the month so time was precious. After my run and breakfast I prepared to drive to the farm. Pinky was waiting for me along with my menagerie in their travel kennels.

“What gives, Pinky?”

“I was told to bring them, it’s important.”

“Okay, but I don’t want to see them get hurt.”

Several of the Sabers got in my truck with us. We drove the short distance to the farm then parked in a shady spot. I noticed Leah was feeding Miki a hardboiled egg piece-by-piece.

“Spoiling Miki already are we?”

“She deserves it. My, don’t we look lovely today Ms. Miki.” Leah’s words dripped with sugary sweetness.

~~Miki, I warned you this would happen.~~

~~I do not mind, Joanie. Ms Leah means well, and the egg agrees with my stomach.~~

“There you are, Joanie. So these are the animals the shelter is intended for.”

“Good morning, Norm. Yes, these are my furry friends. They will often spend time with me, but I’m sure a proper enclosure will be to their benefit. Did the people at NOVA give you information on their adult size? The cats are but kittens yet. Miki, my mongoose companion, though an adult, is expecting, so she will need several nesting and nursing boxes. Don’t worry; I do have the necessary permits to keep exotic animals. I want the best for my friends, and safety is a must both for them and for guests to my farm that might inadvertently cause the animals to defend themselves. The enclosure and shelter will need to be hazard free and escape proof. It also will need smoke detection and fire suppression systems, security alarms and the like.”

“I visited a large eastern zoo and got advice on designing an animal enclosure. Adequate space for exercise, comfortable shelter, food, water and security -- both theirs and your guests -- are all a part of the redesign of the horse shed. I also have a list of safe materials and of materials to avoid in building the facility. Nice kitties, what big teeth you have.”

The smilodons decided Norm was okay by them and were rubbing against his legs, sniffing his work boots and such.

“Give it a few months,” I said softly.

We reviewed a set of blueprints and a model of the proposed facility. Pinky took my animals out to explore the farm. The plans were everything I could ask for and then some. He’d designed in a weather controlled HVAC system, auto-refilling and flushing water dishes, timer-controlled food dispensing bins and other comforts for my animal friends. My friends would be well cared for when it was completed, though I intended they be frequent houseguests as well. Similar features would be built into my home; I made a mental note to make sure of that.

Pinky returned sometime later, sweaty and flushed. The smildons looked very satisfied with themselves.

“What happen, Pinky?”

“Squirrels, lots and lots of squirrels, I barely kept them under control. If these two had had their way, there would be a lot less squirrels left. Miki got in on the game too.”

“What?”

~~They wished to bring food back to *new mommy*. Their minds are difficult to read, but they think of you, Joanie, as new mommy. I wished to help them. I have eaten tree mice, squirrels, before. You provide generous food; it is proper we provide as well.~~

~~That is your choice but as long as the animals are harmless, I prefer my farm be a sanctuary. Thank you, George and Gracie, but you need not hunt food for me. Miki, hunt for your own needs if you wish or as your duty to the Sisterhood requires, but I am content with obtaining my own.~~

And I thought cats bringing presents of mice and birds was bad.

* * * *

Many classes were meeting only briefly in recent days, to give the students time to finish their end of session papers and presentations. My classes were no different. This allowed the entire gang to meet for the early lunch, something that rarely happened.

“How is everyone coming?”

The consensus was that most were in good shape for their class assignments, but a couple needed help, Leah, because she was a late start, could have been exempted, but she wanted to do a paper anyway. Then she is a brave girl. I had to finish my research -- all those *interruptions* -- and most thought a bit of extra credit wouldn’t hurt.

“Put together a list of what you need, and we’ll do a mass data search in the library. With all of us looking, we should find everything in no time flat.” They agreed. “Off to the Bat Poles ... the library!”

“Joanie!”

* * * *

We broke into groups. Tom and Tina -- you didn’t think I’d put Tom and Suzy together? -- would look though the electronic catalog for on-line stuff. Cinda and Lonnie would check the Web. Cheryl and Leah would consult the electronic card catalog for books, newspapers and magazines. Jenny and Suzy would dig though the references to the technical papers on file from staff and former staff. And I, the old fuddy-duddy, would use the paper card catalog to look for sources not on-line and even, gasp, microfilm. Pinky would be our swing woman, helping out whoever got stuck.

After an hour’s hard work we had all the leads we needed; we just had to retrieve it. Half the group reviewed the electronic stuff, printing out the most useful articles, a couple organized materials by student, and the rest of us dove into the stacks. “Arr, we be lookn’ for treasure, arr!”

“Joanie, can’t you be serious, and quiet? The librarian is looking at us.”

“Sorry, this is always the fun part for me; it’s a real hunt. The studying is the serious bit. Well I’m off, 'Up, up and …'”

“That one’s under copyright, girl, and you’re not wearing a cape.”

“Darn.” Pinky had to be the spoilsport.

* * * *

One hour later

“Where’s Joanie? I haven’t seen her since I left the media center,” asked Suzy.

“I saw her up in periodicals, but that was thirty minutes ago,” Jenny replied.

“Ohmygod! Look over there,” Tom cried, and they turned my way.

“Hi! SorryItooksolong.,” I said as I hustled down the middle of the reading room pushing a stainless steel library cart with one hand while pulling another, both loaded to bursting. “Wouldhavegotyoumorebuttheywouldn’tletme haveanothercart.” I was pumped, excited and a bit manic, to be honest.

“Experiment 626 is obeying her destructive programming. There is no stopping her,” Leah said in mad scientist accent, maybe mock Russian?

“Experiment 626?” Suzy asked.

“The alien monster from 'Lilo and Stitch,' Lonnie, the Disney animated film,” Leah explained.

“I am not an alien monster,” I argued and pouted firmly. I resisted the urge to smash a model San Francisco. I’ve seen the film; Leah insisted on it.

“Two carts of material and the semester ends next week? You *are* a monster gone amok,” Leah replied. We were giggling like idiots when we left the library. We did not leave entirely voluntarily, I must add. They did let us check out what we wanted so long as “…you … you … go away, please?”

* * * *

That evening I got a message from my record producer, and he put me on a three way call after I confirmed I was alone. I went to my dorm room; I figured my kitty cats and Miki were trustworthy.

“Joanie, I found a producer, composer, performer who is eager to help you pull off a fast one on the industry. I’ll let him speak.”

“Joanie, I may call you that?”

“Sure Mr…?” He sounded familiar and not what I’d expected.

“My name is not important, though you can call me Al.”

“Brother, can you spare a dime?” I sang back and he laughed.

“You’re a nut. We’ll get along fine. Your producer tried helping me out when I had a fight with my record label. It’s a sad fact, but disputes between artist and labels happen all the time, and it’s usually the artist who gets screwed. I went so far as to threaten to record under a different name in protest until we came to terms. After you-know-who pulled that stunt, my threat to do the same was taken seriously. I understand BET invited you under the assumption you were *ethnic* shall we say.”

“Yeah, it happens now and again -- brainless database programs with data entered by even dumber people. I swear database errors follow you for life. One major list had my dad’s house as an apartment, in a city block that consists of only single family and duplex and no apartment buildings. You sound familiar; I keep picturing you in a dark conservative suit while fighting space aliens for some reason. You’re not Bob Dylan are you? Him and that other guy from that Minneapolis/St Paul club are so alike.”

He laughed. “No, I was not in Men in Black, I’m not from Hibbing, Minnesota, nor do I wear lace cuffs. For the record, I do play the accordion, but then it is the sexiest instrument around, Joanie. I may call you Joanie?”

“I insist.”

“I think this could be fun, and I don’t mind us keeping your name under wraps for a while, mine for that matter. I’d like to offer my services. I could meet you in Boston; they have several excellent studios there. I’ll even bring my own band members with me to maintain the secrecy. I understand we need to do the album in a few days of recording at most. We’ll have to e-mail sound files back and forth so we can practice remotely. We could practice via a conference call if need be.

“I have some songs in mind. I imagine you have ideas as well. We can work out a selection and record this coming weekend or the next. I understand you won’t be available much after June first, but your producer says you are a fast study.”

“Why are you doing this? This is an odd project after all. I need to know.”

“Because I think we could make a great product and to thumb our noses at the powers that be. I always try to have fun with music. This will be an opportunity to be serious, yet still be funny.”

“Funny? Geez, I always thought your songs were deadly serious.” I held it in for a few seconds then giggled like the teenager I am.

“Are you sure you’re not one of those early teen female bubblegum pop sensations, like that Hanna Wyoming or whatever her character’s name is?”

“Look in this July’s Playboy, that will prove I’m no *little* girl.”

“Be serious for a moment, Joanie. In a twisted way, this is the ultimate in song parodies; doing them absolutely straight forward, then letting the press and public jump to all the wrong conclusions. It will shake up their preconceived notions of what-is-what in music, I love it. After all music is universal; it should transcend race and gender.”

"My thoughts exactly. That’s why I asked my producer to find me someone who can produce urban/hip-hop and adult contemporary jazz. You can do that?"

“I am familiar with a wide range of music, You have heard my music?”

“I have some, and my sister is a big fan, Al”

He suggested the Swedish group Roxette’s hits The Look and Dangerous reworked as a funk/rock duet. Apparently I had the right kind and style of voice for those songs. I countered with Roxette’s Listen to Your Heart in an updated rock ballad form, closer to the original than Kelly Clarkson’s country/pop version. He got excited at my suggestion.

“You’re willing to take on Kelly Clarkson? This is going to be fun, Joanie; I like your attitude. With your powerful voice, I say we do all three. Listen to Your Heart will be a monster seller, I swear.”

“What else do you have in mind?”

He mentioned several Beyonce’, Maria Cary and other more recent artists hits, as well as a few I hadn’t though of.

“A reworked version of Respect might be hot; it worked for Aretha. Possibly a few Supremes standards. I know you like oldies.”

“Oldies? Why not go for broke. I like powerful singers and emotional songs, add in 'Stormy Weather,' the full version with vamp of 'Somewhere Over the Rainbow,' 'Will You Love Me Tomorrow?' and 'A Love So Beautiful,' by Roy Orbison. I remember a pretty good cover of it on the urban radio stations a couple years back. Something from The Class of 55, 'I’m Coming Home' by Roy Orbison and Waylon Jennings comes to mind. The guitar work in parts of that one makes my want to cry. You might want to rework it as urban or rock, obviously. Oh, just to drive the business crazy, 'Black Leather.' I’ve performed it on TV. If they fail to figure out who I am with that clue.…” I giggled.

He laughed. “You are such a tease, Joanie. I’ll work out the orchestrations. Your producer says you have an unusually wide range but he says he’ll give me your preferred keys.”

“Thanks, my schedule is so frantic.”

“My pleasure, Joanie. I always have loved the sight of beautiful women in my band. You will be the crowning jewel.”

“So that’s how you got so many of them into your bed?” I asked and giggled.

“That and my manly charm,” he said and laughed.

“Right, like any girl would fall for an accordion player.”

“It’s the sexiest instrument there is. I mean, it didn’t get nicknamed squeeze-box for nothing.”

“You are weird.”

“Exactly.”

“Works for me; let my producer know and he’ll set things up.”

~~Well, he’s not what I had in mind, but his taste in music is wider than mine. And he does have similar taste in hair. Come to think of it, an accordion is sexy, all that in and out and squeezing … Oh my! I think we can pull this off. ~~

* * * *

Monday May 21, 2007

I was working security that morning, unusual for me as I usually worked evenings. A few officers were on vacation, so I picked up some extra hours. I was surprised when Chief Delarose radioed me to meet him at Administration.

“Officer Brown reporting per Chief Delarose’s request. Tina, any ideas what’s going on?”

“Nada, sweet-cheeks,” Tina Anderson said then laughed. “Nothing serious I’m sure. He’s in with Ms. Carson, I’ll page her.

“Ms. Carson, Joanie is … Right away.

“Go in, Joanie.”

I walked into her office and met Ms. Carson and the Chief.

“What may I do for you?” I asked not sure why I was summoned.

“Don’t look so worried, this will be fun. We got a call from the Berlin School District. They are desperately short of teachers today. One of the teachers had a celebratory dinner yesterday, as she has recently become engaged to marry. She’s well liked, a great many attended, and half came down with food poisoning -- contaminated salad I understand. That leaves the district some twenty teachers short after all the regular substitutes were called up. The surrounding area public schools are lending out who they can, but they are still short. We are sending several to help out. Christina Anderson will teach automotive shop and you will teach …”

“Not music, no!” Then I giggled.

“As I was about to say, you’ll be teaching gym. I am informed the students in Survival 101 are terrified of you. You’ll be perfect.

“Joanie, I hear your farm projects are coming along well. June first is the completion date for the farmhouse portion so I’ve been informed and early July for your own home.”

“That eager to kick me out of Poe and my luxurious linen closet, are we?”

”No, Joanie, simply pleased that the proof of your long term commitment to Whateley is so well underway. We will miss your living on campus but it’s not like you are going anywhere and I suspect your animals will be much happier. I am certain your friends, student and other, will be frequent guests of yours. I envy your situation; it’s the best of both worlds. Plus how could you raise a family in that closet? Your husband would surely prefer a quiet private retreat with you rather than the communal living of the dorm.”

“I’m not married yet!”

“I *know* you, dear. You and your young man’s souls are wrapped up so tight neither can ever let go. I look forward to the day when I can meet him ... as an adult.”

She gave me a motherly look that showed she approved but that *we* had better cool it until he was of age. It not so much a ‘Thou shalt not …’ as it was a ‘Please be careful.’

“You’ll need to hurry. Go grab your Security workout clothes, and meet Tina back here in 15 minutes." Before I left she handed me an envelope with my destination and duties inside. Something about part of that conversation troubled me but couldn’t figure out what. ~~Maybe she wants to throw me a house warming party?~~

* * * *

I felt bad leaving Miki behind, but I couldn’t see how to bring her along and not have all kinds of grief afterward. Some kids can be cruel to animals, and there are always those parents who freak at anything out of the ordinary.

~~Joanie, I am no invalid.~~

~~It is too dangerous, and it’s only for part of two days. I’ll be fine. You guard my friends for me.~~

~~I will do as you ask. I am not happy, Joanie.~~

I wasn’t happy either but it was for the best, wasn’t it?

* * * *

“Chris, lookin’ sharp, Girl.” And she was. “You do things for that mechanics jumpsuit that are inspirational.”

“Joanie, you would do things to a jumpsuit that border on obscene, but thanks for the compliment. I figured if I was working with you I’d better look my best, and short of a LBD or a cat suit this is a good look for me. It’s a nice day; we could take our cycles, hum? Yet another reason for the jumpsuit.”

“Maybe, but I was thinking taking the, um, GT, unless you don’t like exotic sports cars?”

“The GT? Let’s go!”

I was naughty, and let’s say it was a white-knuckle flight. Yes, I know technically I should say it was a ‘white knuckle ride,’ but the way I drove, it was more like we flew. I don’t normally drive like a maniac; I’m usually a good driver, honest! We got to Berlin in record time. I dropped Chris off at the high school, while I went on to the middle school. It wasn’t a long drive. Like many smaller rural communities, Berlin had a combined school campus with three huge but separate schools on the property -- one each for grade, middle and high. A few hundred yards later, I was in the visitors’ lot by the middle school. I parked, grabbed my kit and walked to the entrance.

* * * *

A woman of around forty spotted me. She wore a well-tailored women’s suit, and, well, John would have thought she was hot for her age. This woman’s face and figure screamed, “I am woman, hear me roar”, but in a dignified way. Let’s not go into what my body usually screams; it’s likely obscene.

“Miss, high school admissions is the next building … Oh, you’re Joan Brown from Whateley, I recognize the school logo on your uniform. We were told you looked young but … has anyone ever told you look like that singer, Joanie…”

“My record producer does all the time.”

“The rumor was true? But why Whateley?”

“I’m a new mutant. Can you think of anywhere better to get training?”

“You have me there. Let me escort you to the women’s locker room so you can change. You are familiar with athletics?”

“I sucked as a man, but I’m pretty good now. If need be, I’ll make them run with me. I’m very good at that.”

* * * *

She took me in through the coach’s entrance, and I changed into my workout uniform. I waited while she introduced me. I could hear them talking as she opened the door to the gym.

“A substitute? They won’t know a thing we’re supposed to do. This will be sweet.” It was a boy’s voice.

I looked at my clipboard. I was about to confront eight graders, all boys. ~~The scum of the Earth, just my luck to get stuck with a bunch of walking hormones pretending to be people. I remember what I was like back when I was one.~~~ This time around I’m a hormone crazed teenager in perpetuity which is like a really long time. The difference is I’m viewing it from the other side of the reproductive equation, the winning side.

“Class, Mr. Long is out sick today so we have a substitute. She’s a part-time teacher at a local private prep school but she is qualified.”

“Probably some middle--aged cow.”

“William, say that again and you’re on detention. Joan is a lovely young woman and even if she wasn’t, your teacher deserves respect.”

“Sorry, Principal Sorenson.”

~~So I’m getting the VIP escort.~~ “You’re not far off, William,” I said as I walked into the gym. “I am 49, but I’ve aged well, don’t you think.” I did a model's turn, and the poor boy’s eyes bulged out. Yes, that was over-the-top, but he asked for it. “Boys, I won’t bite. Neither am I a piece of meat, so stop staring at me like deer in the headlights and pay attention.” ~~And stop staring at my 'headlights,' too! … Where did that thought come from?~~

“M_m_m_ma’am? Are you Joanie, the singer?”

“Regrettably yes. I’m here to see to your physical fitness today not your musical talents. I see from the notes I was given you are doing track and field this week, primarily running events. We are using field number three, so let’s go, and show me some hustle.”

“What?”

“That means run hard as soon as it’s safe to do so.”

I ran out the door; they followed en-mass. I stopped outside to make sure everyone was with me. A couple had tried to weasel out.

“Boys, today does count toward your grade; pay attention or you’ll have to make it up … in summer school.” They kicked their butts into high gear.

So I was exaggerating, but I took this assignment seriously and boys are so easy to manipulate. I know, I used to be one.

* * * *

“If you all behave, and try hard, I’ll try to make this fun, is it a deal?” They nodded or mumbled their okay.

“Tough crowd, huh? This will be real simple. We will run around the track continuously for ten minutes, no goofing off or rough housing, got it? If you all give it your best, then we can have some fun.”

“I suppose you’ll be standing around and watching us?” one of the troublemakers asked.

“No. I’m running too, but I’ll have my eye on you all. I have a very good memory. Everyone to the starting line and pay attention, please. Remember this is for ten minutes; run hard, but not too hard. Pace yourself. Ready, set, go!” I shouted as I pressed the start button on the countdown timer in my watch.

We started and most behaved themselves. I noticed a few lagging, so I slowed up to let them catch me. A couple students were heavyset boys and from their sweating they were trying hard.

“Good effort guys. Not everyone is a star athlete, but you’re trying hard and that’s all I can ask. As for you, Mr. Lazybones, catch me or you will be serving detention.

I sprinted, and he soon fell behind; well, I am an exemplar, and these are middle schoolers -- eighth graders to be precise.

“Come on, this is pitiful. A lousy girl is beating you handily, have you no pride?” I ran backwards to give him a break. Even so, I was almost as fast as all but the best of the boys -- my long legs I guess. I don’t know if it was pride, my gentle taunt or the added incentive of my jiggling … The best of sports bras is only so effective, and let’s face it, mine has two BIG responsibilities. Electric rabbits work at the dog tracks; I simply used a different kind of lure. ~~Was I this easy to manipulate at this age? … Absolutely!~~ He ran harder and gradually caught up. The alarm on my watch went off and the ten minutes were over. I looked around and everyone was there and sweaty.

“You all tried hard, and I will keep to my word. Have you ever watched one of those old war films where they show soldiers marching while they sing or chant in time to their marching? I think the chants are called Jodies.”

“You mean where someone calls out a line and everybody repeats it and that’s a Joanie?”

“Exactly, it’s called a cadence call or a Jodie. But you call it what ever you like as long as you do it right. Some calls are clean, some are downright filthy. Often they have to do with the unit and where it is stationed. I was thinking we could do the same but make up verses about the school and the teachers but nothing mean or dirty. The intent is to march in time to the call, think of it as poetry, think of it as rap without all the gold jewelry and girls in tight shorts shaking their *booties*. I’ll start you off. As long as it rhymes and it’s clean I don’t care. If you’re can’t think of a line shout out ‘I am stuck I pass one two’, got it?”

“Yes, Ms. Joanie,” they all said.

“I’ll start you off. Then you repeat after me. Oh, occasionally I will call out double time*. That means we go twice as fast, a moderate running pace, but I won’t do it often. Fair enough? Let’s begin.

“In class today we learned to call, it hardly seemed like work at all.”

“In class today we learned to call, it hardly seemed like work at all,” they echoed.

“Teacher says her name is Joanie, her hair is in a tail of pony.”

“Teacher says her name is Joanie, her hair is in a tail of pony … Pony? Ewh!”

I heard some groans. “They can’t all be gems. Okay, think you can do better? You, the tall blond guy in the red shoes, you are next.”

It took a while but by the end of class, we had several good calls worked out, and all of them were clean. Really, I mean it. Well, they did try a couple times but the moment I heard lines ending in words like class, best or bit -- you get the idea -- I laid down the law.

“Any lewd references to parts of my body or sexual acts will get you *all* an *F* for today, got it?”

“Yes, Joanie,” they muttered.

Over-all the day went well except for the mixed boy/girl volleyball class. I don’t want to talk about that. I am sooo embarrassed. I swear, I am never buying that brand of sports bra again.

Oh, we both got asked to come back the next day. Chris was a hit in the automotive shop. The high school guys paid close attention -- I’ve seen her in a mechanics jumpsuit, lucky boys -- and the few women in her classes were inspired to see a female mechanic who clearly knew her subject. And Principal Sorenson was a dear, considering she was observing my class when the *wardrobe malfunction* occurred.

“Joanie, *that* happened to me when I was a college cheerleader. It’s the price we pay for being, um, well developed ladies.”

* * * *
Tuesday May 22, 2007

Chris and I returned on the 22nd to help out at the local school again. The day went quickly, and my new sports bra proved up to the task to the disappointment of many, including a number of mostly male teachers taking their break in the folding bleachers instead of the teachers lounge. Perhaps they were painting the lounge or shampooing the carpet? Nah! Soon, or so it seemed, we returned to Whateley. Late that afternoon Suzy came up to my room, as I finished changing into something casual.

“Joanie, may I come in? I need a big favor.”

“Sure, Suzy. What do you want?”

She entered and closed my door. “Joanie, I need help with my powers class project. You know how I’ve been practicing and *storing* a variety of bodies and powers?”

“You once told me the doctors think you can copy a person’s BIT and *overlay it* on yours for a time.”

“Exactly. I have to successfully copy and reproduce six different individuals and/or their powers, preferably both.”

“I think I know where this is heading but I’ll let you finish, Cuz.”

“I can successfully duplicate Cindy and her fire energizer powers, I can do this cool boy brick, I can do a great copy of Jenny and her manifestor power -- the steel lotus blossom throwing daggers?” I nodded. “I have a speedster down pat -- her name is Pat, honest, Joanie -- and I managed to copy Tina’s inverter powers. I can’t do magic, and devisor powers, though useful, aren’t flashy enough for a presentation.”

“I said long ago you could copy me, Suzy.”

She ran up and hugged me. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You won’t regret it. Let’s do it right away … So I can get it down solid for my class presentation.”

That hesitation should have been a warning sign but I blissfully ignored it.

* * * *

“What do we do, Suzy, or more properly, what can I do to help.” I was being the perfect patsy if Suzy was the least bit unethical but she was *blood* and a good friend after all. I’d saved her life and her mom was a first cousin, Suzy was a safe as they came. Plus any girl that girl-next-door cute and sexy had to be nice.

“We take off everything except our under things, please, Cousin. It’s important”

We stripped down to our bra and panties. I tried not to stare; she was my cousin after all. Still I couldn’t help comparing our figures and a tiny but vocal part of me, my inner bitch for want of a better term, said “’I’m much better looking.’ ~~My cousin is one attractive young woman, maybe she has a little exemplar in her after all. She’s a genuine girl next door type. Oh, I like her butt and legs. Nice body, a little small in the breast department but compared to me, who isn’t.~~

“Explain again why we are naked, cousin? Some details would be welcome this time around.”

“It comes down to how much direct body contact we can get. Completely naked would be better yet but this will do. The more body-to-body contact I have, the easier and quicker I can copy another mutant. It’s only mutants I can copy, by the way.”

“I’m glad you copied Tina, if it had been Tom …”

“I’d be pregnant. I’m on the Pill, Joanie. Tom and I may kiss and hug, but that’s the limit of it. We know we’re too young, but yes, intimate contact would speed things up,” She said and snickered. “We can lay spoon fashion or back-to-back if that worries you. I haven’t tried to copy a warper so I want maximum contact for a good result.”

“Shouldn’t we have supervision?”

“I’ve done this dozens of times now. I’m capable of doing unassisted copies, and this will make for a flashy finish to my presentation in class.”

“Okay, but only if you are certain. And you may spoon to my back if it helps.”

“Don’t worry, I can only copy you, I can’t copy your thoughts or alter you in any way. I’m not a body swapper and you are my cousin, second cousin but you saved my life. That makes us like sisters or even twins in my mind. I wouldn’t subject you to any risks I’m not taking.”

“Risks? What risks?”

“Hold still, Joanie, this takes all of my concentration. In a few minutes we will know; it either works or not at all.”

I held still and tried to remain calm and centered. I considered her a friend first and my cousin -- second cousin -- second. That was before any consideration of her as a budding young woman. This kept me from responding to her charms as a woman. I remain attracted to women and believe I always will be so. I am just as certain I fancy men, one in particular, but Suzy was a friend and a minor, thus verboten in my mind. Being family made her verboten with an exclamation point. I stayed relaxed, until I heard her moaning.

“Oh-oh … something is wrong, Joanie, I feel weak and dizzy. My body is on fire, help me!”

I turned and saw she was convulsing in agony, I could feel her pain but why? I managed to grab my secure cell phone radio and press the panic code. “Timeout to Security, medical emergency my dorm room third floor Poe. Complications of shape-shifting experiment, need transport for two female patients. I am one of them. Hurry! Other female is in severe pain and in and out of unconsciousness. I am experiencing possible empathic reaction. It is difficult to concentrate. I feel wrong. I will stay on the phone as long as I.…“ I passed out.

* * * *

I woke feeling refreshed, happy and -- to be honest -- more than a little aroused. A nurse had finished checking me over.

“Your vitals are normal, for you anyways, Joanie, other than some unusual persistent brainwave patterns often related to emphatic and telepathic communication. How do you feel?”

I got up slowly, the hospital gown felt divine on my body. “I feel great, better than ever. Where’s Suzy?” I was bouncy and high energy and I didn’t think it was odd, but then I often feel like a girl.

“I’ll take you to her; she’s almost recovered.” We walked to the next patient’s room in the infirmary and I saw.… me!

“Like wow, that’s me! I mean that’s exactly me. I’m a babe!”

“You’re a looker too, Joanie. It worked, I did it! I copied your form exactly.” I felt a wave of euphoria wash over me. We both giggled from the excitement.

“Any kewl powers, girl?” Huh, why did I talk like … What was I … ooh, I love Suzy’s hair but then it’s like mine, you know.~~

“No powers stuff, yet, but that takes a while lots of times. Can I get up? I want to compare.”

Suzy got out of bed and we stood back—to-back, face-to-face, and side-by-side. A large mirror on the bathroom door made it easy to check. We were identical twins from the tops of our tall heads to our cute, tight butts. We giggled and smiled identically, and it felt so good. I loved to be near her; she made me so happy, and I made her happy, too.

“Can we get dressed and go now, I’m soo hungry, and we have lots to talk about, don’t we Joanie?”

“Yeah, okay if we go?”

“I guess so, but if you feel odd again...?”

“We’ll be right back, Nursie. Let’s get dressed and have some fun, Cuz.”

“You’re on, Joanie.”

“Quit acting like a couple of airheads, girls. I can tell you’re faking.”

“Aww, you’re no fun,” we said together.

* * * *

There were no clothes there for us, other than our school uniforms that someone had got for us.

“Look, Suzy, only our sucky school uniforms … though if we unbutton the tops and tie the bottoms in a big knot they might be hot. What do you say? Want to show off our sexy tummies?”

I should have realized something was wrong. I can be silly, impetuous and a bit flirty on occasion, but for this long? And I sounded like an airhead, but so did my cousin.

“I feel so perky and full of good stuff, Suzy. So like how come you passed out and all?”

“That hunky Doctor Pollard ...”

“Oh yeah, he’s packing, packing big if you know what I mean, Suzy girl.”

“And what an ass!”

“I totally agree, Suzy.”

“... Doc Stud Muffin said it was because I so completely copied you, but you are bigger and taller, so I needed food and energy to make up the difference. They stuck lots of IVs in me and a feeding tube and then I ate all these yucky power bars. I gained over twenty/thirty pounds, I feel soo fat.” She giggled and I giggled.

“It looks bitchin’ on you; let’s say we put on a few more pounds in the right places?”

“Nada, Joanie. When I got like as big as you I couldn’t gain anymore. Said it’s ‘cuz of your BIT or something like it. It was all so dull and techie yah know?

“Oh, poo! Wanna have some fun? You’re like a blood relation or a relative or whatever, you know. That means were almost sisters. Doh! We’re totally the same now, identical and all that so like we can’t fool around. It’s such a pity ‘cause you are like so my type, one totally bitchin’ babe. Maybe we can have fun with Tom?”

“He’s mine, keep your, our, sexy body off him!”

“I was just foolin’. Wha’d you say we...?” I whispered to Suzy, and we giggled, but I, we, felt wonderful. It was like we were high and would never come down. We weren’t drunk or anything like that, it was more we were so happy, you know? We didn’t have a care in the world except where to get some bitchin’ clothes.

“Our school uniforms are so totally not the look no matter how much we unbuttoned and tied them, Oooh! Your belly button is the sexiest, Joanie Girl.”

”Just like yours. We are so hot we’re on fire or something’. Hey, you think maybe we should get them pieced?”.

“First things first, we need proper clothes and not these yucky prison rags. How about we get matching tattoos, Joanie?”

“Wicked!”

* * * *

We worked our way to my dorm room for some decent clothes though we had fun with the boys on the way.

“It’s so easy to tease boys. I don’t know why I didn’t do it before?”

“Did you see Peeper when we almost flashed our boobies. I think he, you know?”

“You know what, Suzy?”

She whispered to me.

“I think he did, and that is a wicked thing to say. Not every boy can control himself and face it we are scorching hot, Cuz’.”

* * * *

We changed into something little more scandalous. “Cuz, how come you, we wear a bra? These won’t ever sag cuz’, cuz’ we’re regens. I mean, my Ghod, it’s a sin to hide these from the boys.”

“Whatever you say, Suzz-zie. You have the most sexy name, you know girl. Hey, these old T--shirts were tight before they shrunk in the wash and ooh, I forgot I had these jean cutoffs. We’ll be smokn’.

We changed into our tight tops and hot shorts -- no panties. We were so naughty! The two of us got this mondo funny idea, and then I don’t remember much more.

We woke the next morning wrapped in each other arms -- clothed I might add -- and Suzy back to her normal self. My animals were looking at us strangely as we fed them. Miki seemed like she wanted to say something but didn’t. We showered and dressed, and she helped me carry my trash to the dumpsters.

“Joanie, look at all those empty bottles of food coloring and theatrical hair dye in the dumpster. Somebody must have had a wild makeover party, Look, neon pink, fluorescent hunter orange and day-glow lime green? Is that Punk look you told us about making a comeback? See you later. Thanks for letting me copy you. I’ll practice changing under adult supervision, and let you know when any powers surface.”

“Take care.”

We went our separate ways. I started walking down stairs in Poe. ~~I have this nagging feeling something weird happened after she tried to copy me, but I can’t remember for the life of me.~~

“Joanie, did you hear?”

“Hear what, Jenny?”

“Some gang on campus, no one knows who, switched hair dye with the shampoos and conditioners in a couple shower rooms here and in Dickenson. Boy, are those kids pissed too.”

“Huh?” I saw several girls walk by with berets and scarves pulled down low on their heads and bright, almost neon pink hair peeking out from under them. Then a couple guys walked by with baseball caps over lime green hair. “That is weird.”

* * * *

I walked to the Crystal Hall where I saw several Whateley staff members wearing hats to cover blaze orange hair, including Ms. Hartford.

~~Who would be insane enough to pull a stunt like this? It’s pretty funny, in a juvenile way, I have to admit.~~ I grabbed some food and sat down to eat. I noticed a spot of something orange on one of my perfectly manicured nails. I rubbed it of with a paper napkin and …

~~ No! No way … absolutely no freaking way in Hell!~~

* * * *

Wednesday May 23, 2007

I took a run out to my farm later in the morning; the late spring weather was glorious. Construction had temporarily slowed as the end of term approached, and for once I didn’t need to haul anything that day. At the site, I saw the Whateley Security officer who was moonlighting as a guard; he waved and I waved back. Great progress was being made.

The farm house modules were assembled, stockpiled on site and many already fastened in-place. From a foundation with a floor over it and nothing else the transformation in a week’s time was amazing. I looked it over then headed to the more complicated barn conversion.

Two college-age women, of apparently Asian heritage, sat at one of the picnic tables the construction crew had made from some scrap lumber so they could have a nice place to eat their lunches. They saw me and broke out in glorious smiles.

“Joanie, you look great. That running outfit suits you.” May Lee looked as lovely as ever and far happier than the first time we met.

“Thanks, May Lee; don’t tell me this is Anna?” I was stunned by her appearance.

“It’s my sister Anna alright.”

“I told you not to tell me,” I said. I giggled and motioned for Anna to stand and give me a good look at her. “Anna, you must be almost done with your treatments; you look, well, hot and so young.” And she did too. She was wearing not all that much more than I was, and from what I could see those awful tattoos were gone. Her figure appeared restored to her natural body shape; I’d seen some pre-college photos of her before, so I *knew*. ~~Why did they tamper with *that* body? She’s lovely. Scratch that, she’s … Ghod, if I didn’t know about all the physical, mental and sexual abuse those creeps had done to her I think I’d *want* her. Anna is one desirable woman but I would never take advantage of her. What those people did to her was sick. Please forgive me for even fantasizing about her, Eric.~~

“What do you think, Joanie? I’m almost back to who I was. The surgeons did a great job and those thaumatologists were careful and kind. They set me up with a colleague near where I’ll be going to school to give me occasional checkups, just to be safe.”

She was so upbeat and bubbly it was infectious. ”You sound much better, Anna. Your eyebrows, eyes and lips look normal for once, none of that garish permanent makeup. How did they do it?”

“It was exactly as they suggested. They used several small localized spells to *grow* the tattoo pigments out of my skin. The skin over the tattoos was tender for a few days, and I felt the occasional tingle, but there was no pain. It worked better than they thought; it was a lot quicker and there was less residual magic than they expected. My skin peeled like I’d had a moderate sunburn, but only over and near where the tattoos were. In a week most of the tattoos were gone. A couple stubborn areas required a second treatment, but that was it.

“I’ve finished a whole body magical *tune-up*. They think all the damage to my breasts has been reversed so I can nurse properly if I have children. The sensitivity is back too; it’s not like my nipples are half-numb anymore. I can think straight for the first time in ages. The effects of the drugs and other things they did to me have been reversed, and they say any damage done to my mind has been repaired from a physical standpoint.

“I test out as biologically eighteen, so I’m a little younger than when all the trouble happened. I’m a physical virgin again. Mentally I’m not, but most of those *scars* have been faded by the counseling I received and will continue to receive. The people who treated me felt it was only fair I get a few years back after all I’d gone through. They made me feel like family. Thank you for getting them to help me, Joanie.”

“I could help and I did, though all I did was point you to the right people. Your recovery is due to your hard work, Anna.”

“I remember when we first met, I … I tried to seduce you because it was all I could think of to show my thanks. I was so out of it … I nearly seduced May Lee, when I realized I was free of my masters. Please forgive me, not that I don’t think you are a wonderful girl and if we were so inclined … What I mean is ... thanks.”

“You had been drugged, brainwashed and treated like an animal. You have nothing to apologize for. And let’s face it, your sister and I are two hot babes.” We all laughed. “You said earlier you will be going to school, not back at …?”

“No, that place frightens me. Your friends set me up at another great university where I will have counseling for my trauma along with medical and magical monitoring. The magic expert is someone you know, she said I should call her Gin. I talked with her and she says you’re friends.”

“You’re enrolled at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, Anna?”

“And I’m going with her, Mr. Hefner insisted. He felt it would be better for Anna with my support. He helped me get all my credits transferred and Anna’s college grade records expunged so they won’t hurt her,” May Lee added.

“You two will love Madison; it’s cold and snowy in winter, but there’s lots to do indoors and out, and it’s a great school. Don’t party too much, okay? Summer is glorious what with the lakes and parks. Have Gin introduce you to the rest of the Gang of Four -- that’s the nickname for the group of girls I hung out with last year. Tell them I said they should keep an eye on both of you as a favor to me; they’ll understand.

“Anna, what about your former fiancé? Did you get back together?”

“Yes and no. We’re seeing each other, but I have put any marriage on hold. I’m not so sure I want to be a *traditional* Asian wife. The whole experience of being under the complete control of another frightens me. To be fair to both of us, I’m seeing him again on a trial basis. I need to be sure this is who I want to be, and how I want it. I’m not rushing things, though I would like to be a mother at a reasonably young age."

“I have to ask you, why are you out here on my farm?”

“You told us about it, and so did the doctors here before we left for the surgery to get rid of Anna’s implants. It’s a nice piece of land and Security let us see the general site plans. This will be a beautiful when you are done; I hope we can visit someday. And Security told us you were out here. Anna and I wanted to thank you before we left town. We’re about to travel to Wisconsin so we can take some summer classes. Anna needs to catch up, and I left school for awhile because of her troubles so it will do me good as well,” May Lee said happily.

* * * *

I worked on my class papers and other school work most of the morning. With end of session soon approaching, we had the day off for study. I took one of my papers with me to work on as I ate my lunch. I’d settled in, sandwich in one hand, class paper in the other, when I heard Pinky call me.

“Joanie, I have your mail and it looks important.”

I’d given her the authority to pick up my mail, as I was often busy and I trusted her. She took this trust seriously.

“Thank you, Pinky. You know I did this as much for you as for me, allowing you to receive my mail. Your happiness means a lot to me and I know I can trust you. If I can trust you with my most guarded secrets what's a little first class mail?”

Pinky ran up and gave me a hug. “I can sense your sincerity, Joanie, I didn’t mean to but I couldn’t help it. You’re broadcasting your emotions again, Joanie.”

“Thanks for warning me. My empathic and telepathic powers still are beyond my conscious control. That’s it! Oh wow, maybe I have *unconscious* control of them. Like, oh my ghod, I have this so totally cool Blonde power, the power of unconsciousness.” I giggled in a particularly ditzy tone. Pinky just stared at me. I remained undaunted. “What do we have for Joanie? Show me, pretty please with sugar on top!”

“Cut it out, Joanie, you’re embarrassing me.”

“It’s my duty as your friend to be a silly pest. So what do you have for me?” My tone was far more serious this time.

“It’s an official letter from the county seat in Berlin. Looks like they gave it *special* handling too,” she said and snickered. The letter was torn almost in half diagonally, spotted with oil and taped up. A damaged mail label was attached. I assume the post office was afraid the damage they had done was not obvious enough for us *amateurs* to notice.

“Can’t be taxes, Pinky; it’s the wrong time of the year. It looks like a jury duty summons. Let’s see … ‘yada yada yada, please return the enclosed jury questionnaire by May tenth,’ I think. It’s hard to make out. ‘You are to report 8:30 AM Thursday May 24, and Friday May 25, or for the duration of the trial should you be chosen for a jury.’ Crap, that’s tomorrow!”

“Joanie, such language, and in front of an impressionable child!”

“I’d better call in right away, thanks again, Hon.” I hugged her, but the kids in the Crystal Hall thought nothing of it. I had a touchy-feely reputation and there were several groups of students openly kissing and more at some of the tables. It’s spring, and the hormones are flowing. I know the feeling.

* * * *

The official letter included a number to call if you had questions or a problem with serving on the dates assigned to you. I took out my phone and dialed it.

“County Court House, Jury Assembly. How may I help you?”

“I received a jury summons today, but it was damaged in the mail. I’m due to report tomorrow. What do I do?”

“Is your juror number still readable and do you have Internet access?

“Yes to both.”

“Got to our website and do the online survey before four o’clock today, then show up at 8:30 AM tomorrow as requested and you will be okay with the court. Show up in any case. If you need a short delay in your service you must report in person tomorrow. Do bring the letter, we need to see it.”

“I’ll get off work somehow. Ms. Carson is accommodating of my needs. I’m a part-time teacher and student”

“Ah, Whateley Academy, Ms. Carson is well known to the courts here. Be on time, you mustn’t disappoint your boss.”

“That I would never do: I have a morbid fear of spandex. Thanks.”

I do, would you piss off a world-class super like Ms Carson?

* * * *

I wolfed my sandwich -- okay I saber-toothed it, I’m more of a cat person -- and hustled to Administration.

“Is Ms. Carson in?”

“Sure, go in, Joanie,” Tina Anderson said. “What did you do this time, Joanie?”

“Jury duty, and the letter came late.”

“You on a jury? Civilization is doomed!”

* * * *

“Yes, what do you need off for this time?” Ms Carson was making what would seem a wild guess, but with me it was more of a turkey shoot.

“It’s not my fault; read this please.” I handed her the letter.

“You on a jury? Horrors! Sure, we can work around it, Joanie. Odds are you won’t be picked. In my experience lawyers don’t like mutants on juries due to prejudice against us and fear they might be mind readers or worse.”

“That sucks, pardon my French.”

“I know that look; I’ve seen it on you before, that look of mischief brewing. Don’t do anything foolish, Joanie.”

“Who, me, cause trouble? Perish the thought.”

“I’ll put the National Guard on standby.” She laughed. “Please behave yourself.”

* * * *

I told the gang at practice, which was more of a joint study session these last days of the semester. They fired questions at me machinegun style. I couldn’t keep track of who said or asked what.

“Do you get to hang anyone?”

“I hear juries get to stay in hotels.”

“My dad said waiting to be picked was booooring.”

“Do you have to wear some stupid suit, or you will you be dressed sexy?”

“Slow down! No they don’t hang people in New Hampshire, I’m pretty sure of that. No, they use lethal Injection, still yucky-poo.” - editor: see SECTION 630:5 PROCEDURE IN CAPITAL MURDER. -- “The bit about hotels is only if we are sequestered, but that happens rarely, most commonly in high profile trials. I’ve served before and the waiting is boooooring, but I’ll take my schoolwork with me. As to dress, I’ll dress to represent my school, tasteful, professional clothing that shows off my figure. Satisfied?” I finished and stuck my tongue out. It seemed the thing to do.

The Sabers set up a schedule to care for my beasties, Miki presented a different problem.

~~Joanie!~~

~~Miki, no! I can’t see how they would make an exception to have an animal with me …. Wait a minute … Seeing-eye dogs are permitted. There may be a way.~~

~~I’m not a dog.~~

~~No, but the concept may apply. You say you must serve me, and we are joined.~~

~~I made offer and you accepted as is the way with the Sisterhood~~

~~A moment, friend,~~

I dialed again, and got the jury assembly desk.

“I called earlier about receiving my jury summons late.”

“As I explained, if you need a short postponement in your service you must appear in person.”

“I have no problem with that, my employer has already made provisions for my absence. What is the rule on aid animals, seeing-eye dogs and the like?”

“A recognized disability can be accommodated. Are you disabled?”

“Not as such. I am recognized by the United States of America as a Sorceress with a familiar -- a mongoose to be precise. I have all the required papers.”

“That’s a new one on us.”

I heard her call out to a coworker. “Clarisse, I’ve got a live one here, she claims to be a federally registered sorceress with a familiar, and, get this, it’s a mongoose.”

“What’s her name, and where does she work?”

“Your name and place of work, ma’am?” she asked.

“Joan Brown, and I am employed at Whateley Academy.”

“Thank you. “

She spoke to her coworker again. “Joan Brown and Whateley Academy.

“It’s entirely possible. I’ve met at least two prospective jurors from Whateley who were registered sorceresses that I can remember but then I’ve worked here for twenty-five years. Give me a moment to check the Federal Magic Users Registry, Beth … Hang onto your seat, Beth … it’s a match … Beth, speak to me, Beth?”

I got my permission. Tomorrow was going to be a strange day by even the standards of my last year, I knew it.

* * * *

Thursday May 24, 2007

Miki and I left for Berlin extra early after spending a couple hours getting ready. We both were dressed to the nines: me in one of Cecilia Roger’s custom tailored woman’s suits, modest heels and my best jewelry; Miki wore her dress collar with sterling silver ID tag. We used her soft-sided airline travel case, which I had since modified to wear as a back pack -- no need to carry it like a shoulder bag any more. For my study needs, I took my school laptop and my secure cell phone plus a few texts not stored in the computer. I wanted to take my guitar, but it wasn’t practical. We drove off to Berlin, secure in the knowledge that my friends had everything under control. I warned Chief Delarose to keep an eye on my friends, or he would answer to me. The hug and kiss I gave him didn’t hurt matters.

* * * *

Getting through security to enter the courthouse was surprisingly easy, but then I was cooperative and ready when my turn came to be scanned. The security staff was more surprised by the jewelry I placed in the tray than by the now naked mongoose on my shoulder as we walked though the scanner.

“Aren’t you worried someone might steal your jewels or computer?” One asked as I put them back on. I am referring to the jewelry; I don’t wear my laptop though I hear it can be done.

“Nah, they can be replaced, and anyone intending me harm would upset my friend here. She packs quite a wallop.”

“Sharp teeth and claws?”

“That, too,” I said and walked of wondering what the two of us could turn the guard into if we could figure out how we did those transformations back in Maui. ~~I think those MCO officers have me spooked. The guards here were perfectly polite and courteous and I’m thinking of transmuting them? Bad Joanie!~~

* * * *

“Reporting for Jury duty. Here’s my summons. Sorry, but the letter got mangled in the mail.” I handed her the document. She scanned it and gave me a sticky badge and fact sheet. Then she saw my mongoose.

“Beth, it’s her, the you-know-what from *that* academy. She really has a mongoose with her.”

I laughed. “Miki won’t be a problem. She’s toilet trained, and thanks for being understanding. We are partners after all, and I couldn’t leave her behind, pregnant and alone.”

“A mutant sorceress with a pregnant familiar; it must be a Thursday,” a coworker said, shaking her head.

* * * *

They used a pool system similar to what they use back in Milwaukee County. It reduced the number of prospective jurors needed compared to summoning for specific trials. We waited in an auditorium and watched a presentation on how the process worked. A family court judge gave us her perspective on service.

“If you are not called, you have still done a service. Many cases settle just before a jury is formed. The knowledge that the case is about to be tried is a big incentive. How may of you have served on trials before?”

I raised my hand along with roughly one-third of us.

“More than once?”

I raised my hand along with a much smaller number.

“You veterans know the drill. Did any of you serve in other states?”

I was the only one. More and more people looked my way and I knew the wheels in their heads were spinning.

“May I ask where?”

“Milwaukee County in Wisconsin, this is my first time here though. I moved to the state this last December.”

“You’ll find the process similar, and welcome to New Hampshire …?”

“Joan, but most people call me Joanie.”

Several of my fellow pool members gasped.

“Ma’am, you needn’t answer, but are you the Joanie who is a famous singer?” the judge asked.

“I have that among other *hats* that I wear.”

She smiled, “See folks, it’s just like the poster in the lobby of J-Lo reporting for jury duty. It takes all walks of life to fill a jury. I have been summoned myself in the past as well, so I understand the disruption this is to your lives.”

* * * *

We settled into seats in the auditorium to watch a movie or at tables in a separate work area where we had limited wireless connections available while in the pool. Every half-hour or so, they called out a series of names followed by numbers. We were to stand on the matching number in a hallway to be escorted to a courtroom. The courts knew who we were by our numbers. They used a PA system that was even in the bathrooms. I lucked out on the first several calls, so I managed to get some studying done. It was close to noon when my name was called. I packed up fast and moved to my spot in line.

“I’m Frank; I’m a bailiff and will escort you to Courtroom 316, Judge Smith. Please line up again outside the courtroom in the order of your numbers and stay quiet until questioned by the court. If the judge excuses you, report back to the jury assembly area. Any questions?”

“Why is this teenager in a jury pool and carrying an animal to boot?” a man asked. He must have not paid attention to the judge during orientation.

“Ma’am, may I?” The bailiff looked at my special badge, driver’s license and papers they’d given me to explain Miki.

“Sir, the animal is covered under a provision allowing aid animals to accompany their human partner. Her papers are all in order, and she is an adult resident of the state despite her youthful appearance.”

“Thank you for the compliment. Are you single?”

That hushed my fellow juror for a while and got a big smile out of our big and buff bailiff.

* * * *

We piled into several elevators and rode to the third floor where we lined-up in order outside the courtroom. We were directed to seats to wait for the voir dire, or whatever the jury sifting process is called. I’m lousy when it comes to Latin or maybe that’s French? Like I said, I’m not very good at languages. (Editor: Middle French: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Voir_dire)

The judge was introduced after the usual “Hear Ye!” and so on. He spoke to us. “This trial involves a defendant charged with hit and run injury to a pedestrian by the use of a motor vehicle while intoxicated. In other words, the State is attempting to prove he drove drunk, hit a person, thereby injuring them severely, and then drove off without offering to aid the victim. The defendant claims to be innocent and says though he admits it was his car, he was not in the car at the time of the accident and someone unknown stole it and committed the crime.

“I anticipate this trial to last from two to five days. Anyone who cannot serve for at least five days please inform the bailiff and you will be excused to return to the jury assembly. Legitimate reasons are scheduled surgery, pre-paid vacations, or the needs of your employer.” Two were excused out of 25.

“Attorneys from the state and the defense will ask you questions. Some may be embarrassing, but answer truthfully, as it is important to the fairness of the trial. If you are excused it is no shame on you, you have served and will be excused to return to the jury assembly room and possible assignment to other trials. Begin.”

The process can be fast or tediously slow. From my limited experience it was average but this was a serious case. The penalties for hit and run are severe. The sides removed several for cause -- one was a retired police detective, another was a schoolmate of the victim. I figured as a Whateley Security and National Guard member, I would be struck.

“Number 20, Joan Brown.” The defense attorney called to me. ”You list your occupation as part-time teacher, security officer, member of the National Guard, professional singer, magazine model, actress and student? Is this correct?”

“Yes.” They said to give concise, to the point answers.

“Could you explain this briefly?”

“No. All these are the result of an incident last summer. It’s complicated.”

“That’s vague, please explain.”

“I underwent a mutant burnout, and it changed me radically. I am learning to deal with theses changes, thus I returned to school after a long absence.”

Some in the courtroom seemed to recognize me and several on the prosecution side fought hard not to laugh at the defense lawyer’s confusion.

“Your age, Ms. Brown, you appear too young to be an adult.”

“I’ll be 50 this December 18th.”

“I remind you are under oath, Ms. Brown. Your age?”

“Forty-nine years, five months and six days.”

“Your honor!”

“If I may clear up council’s confusion, your honor?”

“Proceed madam prosecutor.”

“Ms. Brown is known professionally as Joanie. She is a world famous pop singer and mutant; am I not correct, Joanie?”

“I wouldn’t disagree with that assessment.”

“Joanie, just for my own curiosity,” the judge asked. “I understand everything except the actress and magazine model. Where have you performed, and for which publication have you posed?”

“I’ve done some work with PBS, narrating a three-part documentary and will guest star in a TV series early this summer. As to a magazine model, posed is the operative word, your Honor. I am the cover, I have a lengthy interview and I am the Centerfold in this July‘s Playboy. Telling my Daddy I posed naked was not easy, but he’s cool with it.” I smiled, then giggled. “I’m sorry, I can’t control that; it came with the mutant makeover.”

I noticed some of the men, and the female prosecutor, looking at me and imagining what I looked like naked. The defense lawyer looked very self-satisfied.

“Strike this juror for cause.” He was out of the ‘strike the juror, no reason given’ option.

“Cause?” asked the judge.

“Miss Brown is a distraction to the court. Look at her; half the courtroom is staring at her as I speak.”

And they were too, and he was one of them. I spotted his … I was distracting him badly. I broke out with the giggles. I couldn’t help it, then several other spotted the tent in the defense lawyer’s trousers.

The judge noticed, too, and tried valiantly not to laugh. “Defense move to strike juror for cause is accepted. You are free to go, Ms. Brown, and thank you. Please return to the jury assembly room. I declare a fifteen minute recess for the court to recover its decorum and … do something about that, council.” The judge said pointing at the defense lawyer. “On second thought, make it thirty.”

I walked out of the courtroom, into the corridor and down to the elevator bank. I only snickered occasionally.

* * * *

Assembly released me for lunch until two in the afternoon. That gave me an hour and a quarter until I had to report back. I decided to use the courthouse basement cafeteria to save time. I got in line and selected a few items. I had to pay cash. ~~Miki, a twenty dollar bill please.~~ The carrier was the safest place for my cash. She handed me a bill, her paws are unusually dexterous for a mongoose. I paid and sat down, surprised no one noticed where I got the cash from.

I returned to assembly and checked in. I got called to one more court, but they settled before we even sat down for the voir dire thingy. We were released for the day and told to return at 8:30 next morning. I walked out of the courthouse on the way to my truck and was pounced on by reporters. ~~Must have been a slow news day.~~

“Joanie, is true you were rejected from a jury because you were too good looking?”

“Are you a sorceress?”

“Did you pose naked for Playboy?”

“What does your boyfriend think of that?”

~~Whoa!~~ That worried me. I had to answer, but how?

“I was here to answer a jury duty summons, and that’s all I may say about that as I don’t wish to interfere with any court proceedings. I have posed for Playboy for a generous contribution to the scholarship fund of the institution where I am employed. Whether or not I have a boyfriend is my own business, and do I look like a witch to you?” That shut most of them up, but one was persistent; it was the network owned by that billionaire on the far side of the World. Why I was not surprised?

“Then why the animal you are carrying, and you do spend a lot of time with Governor Johnson’s family and their son Eric, a fourteen year old boy.”

~~Miki, can you do anything?~~

~~I will try.~~

“Miki is an animal I rescued and am caring for. I had her here by special permission of the court. And if I was a sorceress, and she was my familiar as you insinuate, by now you’d be growing a tail or be turning in into a little girl or something worse, right Mister? Do you realize how strange your accusations sound?

“And never insult the Johnson family in my presence. They have been extraordinarily kind to me, since I aided their daughter. Everyone in the family is a pleasure to know. Their son Eric is charming and intelligent, as is his sister, Melissa. They are my friends. Why would I not speak with them when I visit the family?”

I walked away ignoring him I. I kept thinking to my self ~~I wish that jerk would shut up. What an idiot!~~ It was almost like a mantra. I drove back to Whateley undisturbed and resumed my routine

* * * *

Friday May 25, 2007

I slept well, did my usual morning routine, then went to the Crystal Hall for breakfast prior to leaving for Berlin. They had the huge flat-panel TV I donated turned to the news. I nearly did a spit-take when I heard…

“Anchor and reporter Philip K Dick was admitted to the hospital last night for treatment of a suspected stroke. He collapsed shortly after interviewing the singer, Joanie, who was in Berlin for jury duty. His bizarre behavior and total loss of speech faded after several hours but doctors are keeping him for tests. We wish him a quick and complete recovery.”

No, it couldn’t be? Could it? ~~Oh, Miki!~~

To be continued.

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 10.5 AKA 11

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

Joanie's jury duty ends spectacularly. She makes new friends and enemies, maybe. The spring session ends. Joanie makes plans for summer. A new woman will be joining the staff in July, from Egypt. Carson gives out details. Joanie brushes up on her Steve Martin tunes. She and Suzy ride a train and tease the boys.

Andy Warhol said, "In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

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

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html), The Crystal Hall (http://www.crystalhall.org), or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble - WIBBLE!!) Not recovered yet? Time for the horse pistol, I mean the hospital. (Running off to a more stable state of mind. Horse! Stable! That's a Joke, Son!)

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
Verb verification by Itinerant, verily
Special thanks to Paula Dillon for advice
Jennifer Marie Stevens comes courtesy of Bob Arnold. As to mixing the Zapped and Whateley universes, I have no problems with it. Bob has no problem. This is fan fic and if it still worries you, think of this as this an alternative universe. I mean, it worked for Star Trek TM so...

Chapter 10.5, AKA Chapter 11, *Mothers’* Day 3, Hang um High 2, DON’T PANIC 2, You BET Your Life-She’s Got the Look, The Desert Song, On the Road Again

Whateley Academy, Dunwich NH, Boston MA and points in route to Chicago May 25-June 01, 2007

May 25, 2007, Friday

~~Yes, Joanie?~~

~~Did *WE* have anything to do with that reporter’s mysterious illness?~~

~~He was a threat to you and your friends. You wished for this to happen. He will recover unharmed.~~

~~I didn’t mean it! I mean, I thought it, but I wouldn’t hurt him unless he tried to hurt someone.~~

~~But, Joanie, I am certain you wished it. I heard clearly ‘I wish that jerk would shut up. What an idiot!’ I did as you willed, I had no choice. I could feel the spell forming around you. I could not stop it, I could only alter it. I insured it was temporary. It has worn off, as you would wish. You are a kind human and wish to harm no one~~ I blushed at her compliment.

~~I did this? I used magic on someone?~~

~~I am not sure. It may be us both, together; your will accessing my magic skills. This let you tap your magical shell.~~

~~I need to get some training and quick, even if it’s only to avoid accidentally doing something like this. This is very bad. What if I get angry or scared and wish something terrible to happen. I could have wished him dead or changed into a pile of crap or a real dick hea …~~

My anger at myself dissipated at once, and I started giggling. The image of that reporter with his head shaped like a giant … I can’t say it or I’ll start giggling. I couldn’t stop laughing; I could hardly breathe. It was right out of one of those crude jokes thirteen-year-old guys like to gross each other out with. The ones where an overly aggressive man insults a witchdoctor or a voodoo priestess. Hey, I was in both the Y and the Scouts; I heard a lot of them.

The students around me must have thought I was on something. Here’s Joanie eating quietly by herself, and moments later she is giggling uncontrollably for no apparent reason. I quite literally fell out of my seat. I was lucky didn’t wet myself. I slowly wound down and regained control, or so I thought.

I climbed back in my seat and returned to my breakfast — BIG mistake. I’d selected a classic American style breakfast; it was going to be a long time before lunch at the courthouse. My tray held coffee, OJ, toast, eggs and …

“Sausages!”

I gave my tray to a hungry-looking student with my compliments and bought a breakfast empanada and a coffee to go.

~~I am not cut out for celibacy. Eric, grow up fast. Please!~~

* * * *

We, Miki and I, arrived nice and early in Berlin. I walked the few blocks to the courthouse and into a pack of reporters. Some were there following up on Mr.. P. K. Dick’s baffling illness. All were there to make my life miserable.

“Joanie, are you on a jury?”

“What happened last night between you and Philip K. Dick.?”

“Did you use some weird mutant power on him?”

“What’s with the weasel on your back?”

I restrained myself, barely, until I heard weasel.

“WEASEL!” I lost it. Then I got it back. I have all the emotional stability of a yo-yo at times.

~~Miki, time for your introduction to society. Open the carrier and get up on my shoulder. If we *play* this right, the press will think you’re a trained pet -- no offense intended. Plus you are so damned cute, how can they not fall in love with you, my little debutant? ~~ Miki giggled back mentally to me. We have a similar sense of humor. The reporters were surprised, and a few gasped as she opened the carrier and climbed out.

“My friend, Miki, is not a weasel. She is an Indian/Javan mongoose that I have the honor of caring for. As you may know, mongooses are restricted from import to Americabecause of the potential for environmental harm should they breed in the wild. Due to an extraordinary set of circumstances, she came into my care. I have all the required papers and exemptions for Miki to be here legally, and I take my responsibility seriously. Take a bow, Miki.” She bowed deeply while balanced on my shoulder and had the crowd won over.

Somebody had to ask, “Why do you own a mongoose? That’s an exotic, and as you say potentially dangerous to the environment. Why not donate her to a zoo or have her humanely put down?”

“Hey, I don’t like reporters, but I don’t advocate locking them up or euthanizing them … usually.” I smiled like a tigress eying a herd of deer she’s cornered. The news people laughed nervously, and the reporter looked rattled. “I don’t own her so much as we have adopted each other. Her previous human died, and she was left all alone. She chose me, to be honest. Sometimes I think I’m her pet. She does not like us being apart, so I got permission to bring her with me. As long as I’m around, she is content, even in crowds. She's fastidious, litter trained and she makes an exceptional watch … mongoose,” I snickered softly.

“Please go back into your carrier, Miki.” She scampered back into the carrier and zipped it shut. The reporters laughed until she zipped it shut; that shocked them.

“She’s quite clever; I’m thinking of having her do my taxes. I have to go or I’ll be late -- excuse me,” I said and walked past them.

* * * *

My fellow jurors were far friendlier today, now that the ice was broken. Many wanted my autograph, so I set up at a work table to minimize disturbing those who wished for quiet. The first call for jurors came and went without my being named. The demand for autographs being satisfied, I moved into the auditorium to watch TV; it was too difficult to study. They had the cable TV tuned to one of those nature channels, the ones that show film of humpback whales, shows with crazy Australians handling dangerous animals, and documentaries with film of animals mating. I dreaded what was likely to come on and it was not that poor man dying in a freak accident with a stingray, though knowing the *refined* tastes of TV programmers, seeing *that* was a given. My fear was …

”The typical male feline will mate with a receptive female anywhere from fifteen to thirty times in the span of a few hours.”

That subject was one I already was obsessed with. I did not need more gasoline thrown on the fire. When the show did start I felt relieved. ~~It’s not as bad as I feared. Hey, Miki, this might interest you. Meerkat Manor is coming on.~~

~~Meerkat?~~

~~They are a kind of small mongoose that live in Africa.~~

~~Mongoose? I will watch.~~

* * * *

Partway through the show, we were interrupted to pull another jury from the pool. I got called this time. Miki kept watching the TV; her eyes were locked on the screen. She didn’t go back into her carrier automatically like I expected.~~We have to go, Miki.~~

~~Must we? May I stay? I can catch up with you.~~

~~Miki?!~~

~~But … Joanie, Flower reminds me of Mom. ~~

~~ I can’t say no to that. Watch your show, if you are certain you can find me safely after.~~

~~Thank you!~~

I got a mental hug, as I left to get in line for the jury. I knew she’d be safe with her ability to blend into the background. She’d lived on her own for 150 years and knew her stuff, but I worried a little. ~~I can’t do this to her. She’s a pregnant woman, and I left her alone in a strange place … Wait a minute, she’s about as defenseless as a tank battalion, with her access to my magic. Am I that much of a softy? Get a grip, girrrrl.~~

* * * *

I grabbed my stuff, sans Miki, and got in line. The bailiff counted heads, said her spiel and led us to Courtroom 310. We stood on our numbers as instructed.

“Remember to stay in the order you are now, as this is how the court will identify you during the voir dire or jury selection process.”

We entered the courtroom and sat down. A bailiff introduced the judge; we stood up and sat down again. I think they do this to give you exercise and let the blood flow to your legs, as much of one’s time in court involves sitting and waiting.

“This is a serious case. The gist is the plaintiff, the side bringing this case, claims he was fired in an illegal manner. The defendant, his former employer, claims the firing was done lawfully and for cause. Each side is suing the other for damages. I anticipate the trial will last for two or three days. Anyone who cannot serve the entire period please inform the bailiff now.”

One person was excused leaving twenty three of us.

The lawyers started interviewing us. I waited my turn. They had assigned our numbers at random down in jury assembly, and like the previous time I’d gotten a high number. This meant I might never get interviewed, or they might have to take me anyhow as they might be short on candidates by the time they got to me. I was called and was ready to be heading back to jury assembly again. The plaintiff’s lawyers went first.

“Juror number 23, have you ever served on a jury before?”

“Yes, twice.”

“The type of trial?”

“They were both civil cases involving cars. One was a drunk driving case, the other was a pedestrian accident.”

“Would you have any difficulty reaching a fair decision?”

“I take this duty seriously and would try to be fair and unbiased.”

“One last question. What do you do for a living?”

“I am employed at a local private boarding school where I also am a student. I sing a little, too.” That last statement got some laughs from the court.

I saw the light come on over his head. “Ah, so you are her. I have no objection to this juror.”

The defense went next; a woman took the lead. “You are a professional singer?”

“Yes, though accidentally at first.”

“Accidentally?”

“A recording of my singing at a birthday party got posted to the Web, and next thing I know I’m a 'recording artist.'” I made quote marks in the air with my hands. There were further snickers from the court, until the judge frowned.

“You are also a student? Will that interfere with the attention this case requires?”

“I’m only a part-time student, and my school is most accommodating. A few days disruption would be no imposition.”

“Are you related to any of the parties to this case?”

“Not that I know. I moved here from Wisconsin last December, so I doubt I know anyone.”

A fellow lawyer said something to her, and I heard her reply almost angrily to him.

“Is there a problem, Counsel?” the judge asked.

“My colleague just reminded me of something. Juror 23, am I correct in assuming you are a mutant?”

The plaintiff’s council was about to interrupt when the judge beat them to it.

“Counsel, you had better justify that question. You know questioning a juror about their race, sex, sexual orientation and mutant status is illegal unless there is cause,” The judgehwas not pleased but neither was I.

“Your Honor, we, my colleague and I, are concerned that her celebrity status as a public figure and known mutant will disrupt the proceedings.”

“May I answer their concerns, Your Honor?”

“If you wish; you are under no compulsion to answer.”

“I’ve been on juries prior to my mutation, and I know that whatever the issues at stake, a trial is important to the parties involved. I consider jury duty a task deserving my best effort. I assure everyone present I will be as fair and unbiased as I possibly can. I would expect no less if I was one of the parties involved. I will do my best not to be a distraction, and I know not to discuss the case with anyone, including other jurors, until released to do so by the court. I’m a teacher as well as a student, and I want to set a good example for my fellow students.”

I must have said the right thing because I was seated on the jury. The defense never challenged me after that. When the last juror was seated the judge gave a warning.

“Jurors, not discuss the case between yourselves or anyone else until I say so. Do not try to investigate this case on your own. The evidence and testimony presented in this trial are what you must go by. I will instruct you on the law if and when the case goes to you for deliberation. Wear your juror badges at all times; they remind others not to discuss cases in your presence. If someone should approach you about the case, or you overhear anything related to this case, inform the bailiff.”

* * * *

The case started after a fifteen-minute bathroom break. The lawyers for each side laid out what they intended to prove. A longtime employee was suing over his firing. He claimed it was without cause and possibly discriminatory. The firm argued it was a legitimate business decision and based on performance.

From what the sides were saying, the ex-employee’s performance was key. The man, a middle-aged African-American, was fit, well groomed and spoke in a cultured tone. I was impressed with his dispassionate testimony. His lawyer presented a stack of performance reviews from the last five years, plus numerous letters from customers of the company praising his work. The defense stipulated these were all legitimate documents and did not dispute them. So far it seemed a slam-dunk for the plaintiff. This went on for several hours until the judge had us break for lunch.

Miki caught up with me, as I headed to lunch. She called to me from a little used stairway where she got into her carrier.

~~I did not wish to disturb you. I patrolled outside the room you were in. I found some tainted creatures, but they were human.”~~

~~Must be lawyers. Good thing you didn’t eat any, they might give you indigestion.~~ I giggled a little.~~ Is there any risk?~~

~~I will keep vigil.~~ Miki was quite serious, and I felt ashamed; that made me giggle. I am sooo blonde some days.

We walked down to the basement cafeteria where I had a soup and sandwich plate and Miki got a piece of poached cod. I let her have some of the cheese from my sandwich and a little of my milk; I figured she could use the extra calcium for her future babies. I got some stares, but my jury badge kept people at bay. Anyone with the badge is in a trial and no discussion of any trials may be carried on in their presence. We finished eating and walked slowly towards the elevators. A school group was touring the courthouse, and the kids went crazy when they saw me.

“Are you Joanie?”

“What kind of animal is in the cage?”

And so on.

“I’m on a jury, so I can’t talk about anything to do with the case. Yes, I’m Joanie the singer. I have to do jury duty like any other adult. It’s important work and interesting. The critter in my carrier is Miki. I have special permission for her to be here. You can see her, but be careful, she’s pregnant.”

I let her out and held her gently so the kids could see.

“What is it?”

“She is a girl and my friend. Miki is a mongoose. If you remember the Disney film, The Lion King, Timon the Meerkat is another kind of mongoose.” That got smiles of recognition from most of them. I let them pet her then excused myself. I returned to the jury room for our court and waited until we were called.

The afternoon was tied up with a series of supporting witnesses, some current employees testifying what a good worker he was. The defense was permitted to cross-examine, but his witnesses stayed consistent in their testimony. This continued on until late afternoon when the plaintiff finished and the defense began. The Judge had us break for the day and admonished us not to speak to anyone of the case.

“Trial will resume at 9:30 AM tomorrow, Saturday. Remember, no discussing this case with anyone. Court adjourned.”

* * * *

The press was more respectful today. I think a few were afraid of me.

“Sorry, can’t speak, I’m on a trial. Take care and I hope Mr. Dick is up and better.” And I meant it too, but I did snicker at his name.

* * * *

Back at campus, I practiced with the Sabers and worked on one of my class papers. I stopped by The Crystal Hall and the school store that evening to pick up fresh supplies for my menagerie. George and Gracie were growing at a furious pace, and I needed to provide them with the best quality food possible. Miki had her needs as well, though she could supplement them with hunting. I loaded up a campus utility cart I’d borrowed and made my way toward Poe.

“Joanie, wait up please.”

“Dr. Pollard? What can I do for you?” I stopped my cart for the moment.

“I have those recommendations for a pregnant mongoose’s diet and exercise I promised. I asked Security to locate you for me.”

I quickly scanned the list he gave me. “This is close to what I’m giving her to supplement her hunting.”

“I recommend you let her hunt, as the small creatures she eats whole will provide valuable minerals.. A standard human multivitamin with calcium and other essential trace elements — not one of those mega vitamins though — can be used, but the dosage needs to be cut way down. The ones formulated for pregnant women would be ideal. If the bottle says one per day, dissolve it in a little water and add it little by little to her water over a week’s time.

“Joanie, as a rule of thumb, the nutritional needs are proportional to weight adjusted for metabolic rate, assuming an average sized human female is about your weight. In other words, Miki’s sixty-day pregnancy and faster metabolism means she needs more than a proportionate dose, but I don’t want her to get an overdose either. Save the unused portion in a sealed bottle in the refrigerator for use later or just dispose of it as these supplements are inexpensive.”

“The kitties drink out of her bowl and visa versa. Is that a problem?”

“Either put her bowl where they can’t reach, or you could dose all the water; the supplements would not harm the smilodons and could prove beneficial as they are actively growing.”

I asked various questions, including one about the vitamin C in the pills. “Humans are one of the few animals that can’t make their own. I worry the cats in particular might suffer from an overdose.”

“Joanie, don’t worry,” he assured me. “As a water-soluble vitamin, it won’t harm them, particularly in the small dosage they would get.

“If you are worried, a supplement intended for farm raised mink would do as well. The feed stores in Arkham or Berlin should carry it, or we can order some for you. Let her have all the water and food she wants, but I don’t want to see Miki get fat. A ten to fifteen percent weight gain is quite sufficient for the healthy development of her kits, and most of that gain is late in pregnancy. Bring her to me weekly at first, so I can watch for signs of trouble.”

“What about exercise and …?”

“Leave her routine unchanged, except for the supplement and checkups. The activity will keep her healthy; you don’t want to coop her up or stress her out. Normal activity is fine. She’s survived on her own for 150 years; she knows what she’s doing.”

I told Miki that later, and it made her day.

~~Thank you. Then I may continue my duty to Kushala?~~

~~ Guarding the demon your late Mistress and her friends contained and then buried at a terrible price in lives? Miki, remember, I witnessed the burial of her and her unborn child and that of her husband. It was such a gray, wet November day. It was also day we first glimpsed each other. Absolutely, you may continue to guard the demons tomb. I would never come between you and your duty but be careful, my friend.~~

I spent some time with my cats -- they deserved some attention, too -- and went to bed early.

* * * *

May 26, 2007 Saturday, yes it’s a Saturday

You’re wondering why a trial would be continued on a Saturday? Because the Court said so, so there! — Joanie sticks out tongue at her d/j/w readers -- And would you argue with a judge? Plus the guy had to be a bit loopy; I mean he wore this silly black robe that looked like cheap kimono rip-off to me, and it didn’t do a thing for him. The color was so totally not right. Now the same *robe* on me, with some lacy red dainties and open toed heels … I was kidding; you people are no fun at all. Mind you that idea for an outfit, maybe using a real kimono, could be hot!

The trial was to resume at nine-thirty in the morning. Miki and I got to the courthouse a half-hour before, to be safe. We started on time, which surprised me, as court tends to be hurry-up/wait. The defense opened with a shocker.

“Mr. Roberts, did you witness the plaintiff drinking alcohol at work?”

“His last few months in our employ, I noticed the smell of alcohol on his breath with increasing frequency. I reminded him of the company policy on being drunk at work.”

“Objection! We were not informed of this witness and his testimony in advance.”

“I will allow this for now, but there had better be supporting evidence soon or I will exclude this testimony.”

The defense continued and produced a company physician who testified to counseling the plaintiff for alcoholism. They presented documents in support. The case was getting interesting.

The plaintiff’s lawyer asked for a few minutes with her client. While the court paused for a few minutes, I looked around from my seat. My fellow jurors looked as surprised by the defense testimony as I was. The plaintiff looked clean-cut and sober, but then any lawyer worth their fees would present their client in the best possible light.

The plaintiff’s wife and daughter were sitting in court and were equally shocked or so their body language indicated. Something about the family and their daughter struck me as odd. Dad and mom were what my former inner-city coworkers would call ‘dark-skinned’. The daughter was more of a ‘milk chocolate’, had a slight, delicate build, and her facial features were far too soft, almost Asian, whereas the parents had angular, strong faces and muscular, athletic builds -- what a fashion photographer might call ‘good bone structure’. For a moment, I wondered if she was adopted or from a previous marriage. Then she moved, and I saw her elfin ears poke though her hair. Her oversized violet eyes cinched it. ~~His daughter is a mutant … and she’s so cute!~~ My male mind does surface from time-to-time -- it has very good taste, too.

* * * *

We broke for lunch after that, a two-hour break as the judge granted a plaintiff’s request for more time to prepare for rebuttal after the surprise witness.

“Be back here in time for court to resume at two. If you need a suggestion for lunch, the food cart on this floor does a great Chicago-style hot dog with real Vienna brand sausages. I went to law school in Chicago, and these are the real deal. Wang’s Garden, a Chinese restaurant one block east on Main is good, too. Remember, do not discuss the case with anyone. Back at two, everybody.”

Something about the defense bothered me, but I couldn’t pin it down. I decided to remain neutral and set my feelings aside. As I left the jury box, I noticed the woman and the mutant teen girl embrace the plaintiff. ~~I was right, they are his family.~~ They had to be his family or very close friends. I rode an elevator to the basement cafeteria. The wife and daughter were in there along with me, a bailiff, and several people I did not recognize. On seeing my jury badge, they kept quiet.

In the cafeteria, a name invented for the Colombian Exposition in Chicago in 1892, really, I didn’t see anything much that appealed, so I got a small garden salad and juice for me plus a hardboiled egg and a carton of whole milk for Miki. I found us a quiet corner table, and we sat down. One of the defense lawyers, a man in a dark pinstripe suit, came in as did the man who gave the devastating testimony. Then I saw something that chilled me, a silver HF tie-tac on the lawyer and a HF lapel pin on the witness. They seemed very chummy, as they talked. I thought I might have seen a small Manila envelope passed between the lawyer and the man. The wife and daughter of the plaintiff were also eating here, and the lawyer saw them. I saw his facial expression turn hard; the look scared me.

~~Joanie, the man in the dark coat with stripes hates mutants. I sensed it. When he looks at the girl-child of the dark man, he is full of hate. He tried to suppress it when he looked at you. He would kill both of you, if he could get away with it. Forgive me, I did not speak of this before.~~

~~That is your job, to determine who only hates and who is a danger. What of the man he spoke with, the man who said the girl’s dad was a drunkard?~~

~~Drunkard?~~

~~Like you felt after you ate the spoiled mango in Hawaii. Not the sexual feelings, but the lack of control and dizziness.~~

~~He hates mutants. He is proud of his lies. The other man, the doctor, was scared. Something he loves is in danger. He lied, Joanie. I am certain.~~

Now what would I do? Miki’s mental powers are not exactly proof in court. I did see the HF pins, and the reaction of the men to the mutant girl was unmistakable. And there was the envelope. Not much, but I considered informing the court as this hinted at perjury. We finished our meal and headed to a restroom.

I did my duty, as did Miki; I said she’s toilet trained. I was leaving the ladies room when Mr. Mutant-hater lawyer and pal walked by. I caught part of a conversation.

“… make sure he doesn’t change his mind. If he recants …” they saw people walking by and stopped. Fortunately they didn’t see me.

I had a big problem and decided I must inform the judge -- plus I was still hungry. The salad wasn’t enough. I walked up to the courtroom floor and got one of those Chicago dogs and a soda. I was nearly finished when I heard.…

“I, um, see someone has good taste in cuisine.” It was our bailiff; he smiled at me but was blushing. It struck me as odd.

“It’s pretty good -- messy but good. I have a problem I need to see the judge about. Is that possible?” I took another bite of the sausage and licked my lips clean. I caught my reflection off the glass covering a nearby bulletin board and all became clear. ~~The way I’m eating my *dog* is … Oh my! No wonder the bailiff is all *flustered*. I’ve been teasing him, subconsciously. I guess I miss Eric more than I thought.~~

“Wait here.”

A few minutes later, I was led into the judge’s chambers.

“The bailiff said you needed to see me?”

“I remember your instructing us to report to you if someone approached us or discussed the case in our presence? I was eating lunch in the courthouse cafeteria, when I noticed one of the defense lawyers, and the man who was first to testify that the plaintiff was drinking at work, talking with each other. They both wore Humans First insignia. One had an HF a tie-tac and the other a HF pin. As a prominent mutant, I am familiar with their logo. They were very chummy, and the lawyer passed a small envelope to the man.”

“Continue.”

“I noticed the lawyer looking at the defendant’s daughter and wife; they were also eating in the cafeteria. I assume they are the plaintiff’s family from where they sat in court and their embracing him as we broke for lunch. The lawyer’s facial expressions showed hatred towards them. You honor, I work at a school for mutants and the daughter is a mutant, I am certain. I …”

“There is more?”

“I was exiting a ladies room and I overheard part of a conversation between the two same men. I heard the lawyer saying, ‘… make sure he doesn’t change his mind. If he recants….’ Everything I have related occurred by accident. I felt I must report this to the court. I’m sorry, if I caused trouble.”

“You did the right thing. Please wait in this side room until the bailiff comes for you. I need to see both sides in chambers.”

`* * * *

A while later, I heard people entering the judge’s chambers, and his questioning each side. At one point he got loud, possibly angry, and the bailiff came for me. I saw both sides' lawyers, the plaintiff and the chief representative of the company in the room with a visibly upset judge.

“Ms. Brown, please relate exactly what you told me earlier.”

I did, and the plaintiff’s lawyer listened intently, while the defense’s team of lawyers looked at the HF-tainted lawyer with increasing contempt.

“Your honor, may we have a moment to confer with our client?”

“Granted, but be brief.”

A minute later, “The defense is appalled that one or our team would stoop to suborn perjury. He is, of course, suspended until we can investigate further, but be assured his days with us are over, if this proves to be true. My client wishes to withdraw his defense and settle.”

“A bit late in the game,” the judge replied, clearly pissed off.

“In the interest of saving the court the burden of a trial, what is your offer?” The plaintiff’s lawyer asked.

“We will double the total cash value of what we last proposed.”

“So you’re offering sixteen weeks severance pay for an unlawful firing and deliberate injury to my client’s reputation? We will no settle for less than reinstatement to his position with due compensation for lost opportunities for advancement, salary increases and incentive bonuses, the payment of all his legal costs and court fees, a comprehensive plan to prevent such abusive and discriminatory practices in future, and a public apology.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I agree, but my client wishes to get this over and is not interested in seeking punitive damages … if we can settle.”

“I’d reconsider, if I was your client, defense. The plaintiff’s demands appear reasonable. We can always go to the jury and let them decide after I instruct them to ignore the perjured testimony and falsified evidence submitted by the last two witnesses. I will pass all of this on to the District Attorney and the State Bar. They frown on conspiracies to commit perjury, particularly by members of the bar. Then there is the matter of the company’s doctor that suggests coercion. Or the plaintiff could move for a summary judgment, and I assure you the imposed remedy will be *memorable*. Bailiff, please escort the juror back to the waiting room and thank you, ma’am.”

One hour later we were led back into the courtroom and dismissed with the judge’s thanks. The lawyer and witnesses I’d fingered were *politely* requested to remain behind, while the judge decided whether to hold them in contempt or let the DA charge them with perjury. The defense looked like they wanted to kill me, but the way they looked at the likely-to-be-ex lawyer in their midst was far worse. I walked towards the elevator, until I saw men with HF pins. To be honest I didn’t exactly see the pins, but they had *the look* and certainly gave me the look. ~~They could make a fortune curdling milk for cheese makers with *that*. Ehw!~~ If I’d had the presence of mind, I’d have wet myself; these guys were that scary. Instead, I chose a different elevator. I was exiting the courthouse, when the plaintiff’s wife and daughter came up to me.

“Thank you for what you did for us in court.”

“Ma’am, I only did my duty as a juror. Oh, lovely, that sounded like a bad script from an old cowboy movie. I should have said that in a fake Gary Cooper voice, huh, I mean yup.” I giggled from nervousness.

“I understand what you meant, Ms. Brown.”

“Joanie, please.”

“I appreciate your sticking you neck out, Joanie.”

“I accidentally learned of something that the judge had to know. If it had been your side acting suspicious, I would have done the same. I noticed your daughter is like me, a mutant. Has she been evaluated or received training since her mutation?”

I turned to face her daughter and smiled. “I love the look. You’re very pretty.”

The previously nervous, almost timid teenager smiled and blushed. I swore I heard her ask, “I’m pretty?” but her mouth never opened.

“Mariel’s been evaluated locally, but they recommended more testing. Unfortunately, with my husband being fired and the expense of the lawsuit and trial, she’s had to attend a public school. No one there has the training to deal with new mutants. She’s not happy.”

“With your exotic looks, I imagine some students bully you, Mariel. I imagine the boys try to take liberties, like they think you’re a slutty girl. Sorry, but I bet it’s true.”

I sensed a wave of happiness, bordering on embarrassment that quickly changed to sorrow and almost anger.

“The girls hate me. I used to be kinda fat and plain, and now they accuse me of seducing their boy friends. I don't know why they say that; I'm not after anyone's boyfriend or girlfriend. I'm still getting used to the new me. They call me a slut, and I even got detention once for fighting because the teacher couldn’t figure out who started it. I was only defending myself when the teacher walked in. It’s not fair. I’m still the same person except for my appearance. I’ve never hurt anyone.” Her voice was sweet and innocent.

“I teach at a school for mutants not far from here; it’s one of only a half dozen or so such schools in the US. If you have any major powers, Mariel, you might want to check it out.

“It’s horridly expensive, but they offer a lot of financial aid, and I know of an organization that might offer Mariel a grant. If you mention my name, they’ll do their best to help you.” I gave the mom a card with the Whateley web site on it."

I turned to Mariel and whispered “You’re a telepath and or an empath, aren’t you?”

She nodded but looked surprised.

“How did you know?”

“I have some friends who are, and I could sort of *hear* you earlier. You need evaluation and training for your health, safety and sanity. You have a gift that is potentially very lucrative. If you are any good at it, you will be in demand by all sides of the business and political worlds, including the bad guys.” I got out a pen and another business card. “Mariel, this is my private email. Write me, and I’ll send you and your mom info about the school and the foundation offering the scholarship grants. Do you have online access?”

The mother nodded. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do; people helped me after my mutation, I’m just passing on the favor. It’s nothing spiritual or some mystical/karma thing like in the films Magnificent Obsession or Pay it Forward, it’s simply the right thing to do I’ve got to go, but do email me, okay? Mariel needs special training plus …”

I went into blonde mode, “Us hot-looking girls have got to stick together. Fighting the good fight against those yucky bad people and, um, split-ends, you know.” I giggled and Mariel laughed, any remaining tension broken by my dumb bunny act. I had a thought. “Mariel, do you sing or play an instrument?” I asked this in my normal voice … the serious girl, duh!

“Piano, voice and, this is embarrassing, I play accordion”

“I suppose somebody has to,” I sighed. We all laughed. “I’m in a band with a great bunch of girls, all students at the school. I’m a student as well as an instructor there. I’m still learning about this new body and my abilities the same as you. We’re always looking for talent. At a minimum, I could introduce you to the gals so you’ll know a few people on campus. There are quite a few other bands as well, so you won’t have to give up your music.” ~~I’ll have to get her a signed photo from Al.~~

I walked away and noticed a man with a camera and big telephoto lens was snapping pictures. ~Paparazzo already? Oh well, let’s make his day.~~ I smiled and waved at the man, and he ran off. ~~Weird.~~

* * * *

I had a pleasant drive to Whateley, checked in, and took care of my critters. I had a large overnight package waiting for me. In it was a letter from Al -- my producer/collaborator on the BET recordings -- explaining his intentions, along with sheet music and disks with tracks he’d recorded for me.

“I hope the songs and arrangements are to your satisfaction. I checked with your Warners producer, and everything is in keys and formats you are used to. Once you are familiar with the material, we can set up a time for rehearsal and recording at your convenience. I also included my concert schedule, so you know when I am available.”

I decided to practice as much as my schedule allowed, so we could record before I left for Wales.

* * * *

Suzy came by my linen closet and asked to see me. I was on such informal terms with the Sabers it was surprise she was so formal. She was also extremely excited about something. She was excited, even by *teenager in love* standards.

“Joanie, I have the greatest news.”

“You’ve sworn off boys and are now a confirmed lesbian, so I can finally get some sleep at night?”

“Joanie! You know Tom and I only kiss, and … We just kiss.”

~~Peachy, I bet she was about to confess they masturbate each other or have had oral sex or have just ... I do NOT want to know this!~~

“Sorry, Suzy, he’s a perfect gentleman.”

“He is, I’m the one who usually starts something, not that he doesn’t follow eagerly. Boy is he ever eager, so VERY eager,” she moaned and rolled her eyes in mock ecstasy”

“Whaaat?” I gasped.

Suzy giggled. “You are so easy to windup, cousin. Don’t worry, we haven’t done *it* yet. What I want to tell you is Mom and Dad are visiting my grandparents in Wisconsin the first weekend in June and if I can get a ride to …”

“You want me to drive you to my Aunt and Uncle’s house in Glendale?”

“Yeah, it will be safe, no one knows we’ll be coming and your MSG friends are watching over them all the time. Pretty please?” she cooed and batted her pretty eyes at me.

“Oh, all right. I planned on visiting my friends out that way anyhow so, yeah, you have a ride.”

“You’re visiting Eric, aren’t you?”

“Well, Duh!”

“Do I have to take you to medical and get you on birth control too?”

“We are not … I mean, Eric and I don’t … We …Oh Suzy, I wish I could take the Pill but being a regen it doesn’t work for me. And as much as I’d wish it he’s still male jailbait. Kissing and holding hands is the limit of our intimacy for now. Believe me when I say Tom and your restraint is admired. I want Eric so bad it hurts sometimes. I imagine you feel the same about Tom.”

“It isn’t easy but I respect Mom and Dad too much to hurt them and speaking of Mom and Dad…” Suzy took a cell phone out of her school blazer pocket and spoke into it. “Mom, did you hear Joanie accept? Yeah, it worked like a charm. Sure, I’ll put her on.” She handed me the phone.

“This cell hone was on? I was set up, Christine?”

“You betcha! It was like shooting fish in a barrel. Thank you for doing this for us. Suzy loves you and we trust her with you, Joanie. We’ll make sure she gets safely back to Whateley. Your MSG friends have offered to help so all you need to do is get her to Mom and Dads’, your Aunt and Uncle’s house.”

“You do that and you’ll have my gratitude too.” It was her husband, Bubba. Hey, he’s from the South so he’s far game.

“I promise.” I handed the cell back to Suzy.

“Thank, cousin. We are gonna have such fun on our trip!”

~~You know, I think we will.~~

May 27, 2007, Sunday

The spring session was scheduled to end by 12:30 PM, on May thirty-first, this year. After that, students were free to start vacation, though Graduation wasn’t until Sunday, June the third. I considered attending Graduation, but none of my friends would be there, except for staff. I got a call to meet Ms. Carson for a rare Sunday meeting, at 7:30 AM no less. I brought my Whateley laptop along in case of whatever. It pays to be prepared with regards to the boss.

She asked me questions about my time here, how I was fitting in, and where I was uncomfortable. She also inquired about my school friends, how we were getting on and the like. She even complimented me on how fast my farm projects were progressing, and that the farmhouse was complete except for a little paint and some landscaping. We conversed casually for some time about this and that. When I felt relaxed — like any successful hunter -- she sprang her surprise.

“Joanie, I will cut to the chase, I want you to attend our Graduation ceremony this coming Sunday. With few exceptions, you are the most famous person on campus, and you get on well with the students. I think the students would welcome your presence at what by reputation is a boring ceremony.”

“Physically and emotionally I’m their age, so that’s understandable. Other than having a pretty face the kids like, why me? What would I do?”

“You could do a speech about your time here, and what it means to you to be a mutant. You could tell about the responsibly that comes with being a super.”

“I am not doing that awful line from the comic books. Let Stan Lee do it, not me. ‘With great power comes yada-yada-yada.’ What a pompous twit.” Then I giggled which spoiled the whole outraged bitchy woman thing I had going.

To her credit, Ms Carson smiled and ignored it. “Just tell the students what happened, and why you acted as you did. Tell the truth and be yourself. Perhaps you could hand out awards and so on.”

“Ah, I heard the *and so on*. I know what this is all about; you want me to sing. Sorry, you couldn’t possibly afford my services, I’m far too expensive.” I said and giggled …again. Even in front of Ms. Carson, I giggle; it’s so embarrassing.

“Joanie!”

“Give me a moment, Ms Carson ….” Center yourself, Joanie. Time to act your legal age and not your physical one.~~ “Sorry, Elizabeth, I am so used to being a teen, being one of the students here, I fall into *blonde* mode instinctively. I didn’t mean to act like my IQ is less than my bra size.”

“I understand the need to maintain a false front. I would never have survived as a mutant super if I’d not reinvented my identity many times over the years.” She smiled. “You know, that would be a respectable IQ score in centimeters.”

I laughed. “Very good, Elizabeth and I deserved that for earlier. I would love to stay for the ceremony. You know me by now; I can’t keep out of the limelight. You could ask me to sing in a giant chicken costume or stark naked and I would do it. Well, maybe not the chicken costume; I have my standards.” I laughed and so did she.

“You are trying to tell me no, Joanie?”

“It’s not that I don’t love the campus. I’m building a home down the road; that must prove my dedication to the Academy. Ms. Carson, Elizabeth, I promised Suzy Kenner’s parents … let’s be honest, I promised my dear cousin I would keep her daughter safe. They want to see each other, and MSG assures me they have tight surveillance on the neighborhood where her grandparents live. Christine wants me to escort Suzy to her grandparents where they can all have a quiet reunion.

“I know the house and neighborhood very well, so I can get there from several different routes should I think we are being followed. They will get Suzy safely back to Whateley a week or so later. MSG says they can arrange cover for the trip back. Ms. Carson, it's family, and I have so little left since my mutation. I’m sorry I didn’t inform you but Suzy only asked me last night.”

“I don’t know. You can’t delay a few days?”

“I want to spend some time with my dad and sister, and as much time as I can in Iowa. I miss my family and I owe the Williams-Johnsons so much.”

“So this is about a boy, Missy?”

“Damn straight, Skippy!” I broke up, and Ms. Carson relented.

“Granted, but you owe me and Whateley a big favor.”

“”Name it, within reason. I’m not stupid enough to give you carte blanche.”

“I may have the very thing. Meet me in the executive conference room in ten minutes for the staff meeting. I’ll bring up my favor there.”

“Staff meeting? No one told me about a staff meeting.” I had to look confused, because I sure felt that way

“There was a memo sent via private email, and a notice in all the staff lounges.”

“I was busy studying for finals and helping my friends, so I’ve not been in a staff lounge lately. I do check my email several times a day, and I never saw a notice. Here, let me show you.”

I set my laptop on her desk, opened it, logged on and checked my mailboxes. There was no record of my receiving any such memo though I did receive one from Mariel requesting materials on Whateley, application forms, scholarships, grants and the like. I flagged it with a note to answer her ASASP.

“I met a recent mutant, Mariel, while on jury duty and gave her my email address. She’s a telepath and might benefit by coming here.”

“Collecting another stray are we, dear?”

“Just passing on information to someone in need of it”

“Have her write to me, I’ll handle it, Ms Softy.”

“Thanks, that’s kind of you. If you can’t swing it, Meridian might help out …” I gave her a big smile. “Getting back to the upcoming staff meeting, see, no memo from Ms Hartford. I’ll scroll through them all again to be sure.”

I let Ms. Carson watch as I did it, and she looked upset when I’d finished.

Ms. Carson pressed a button on her intercom. “Ms. Hartford, please come to my office,” she said without a hint of emotion.

Ms. Hartford entered promptly. “Yes, Ms. Carson, Ms. … um, Joanie.”

“Thank you, Ms. Hartford. I appreciate you calling me Joanie. I know it goes against your instincts regarding social formalities.”

“If you can *refrain* from referring to me by the *A* word, I can be less than strictly formal with you … Miss Brown.” She seemed to smile for a moment.

I had a hard time not giggling inanely. “A joke? *You* made a joke, and a subtle one at that? I am impressed … Ms. Hartford.” I smiled likewise.

Okay, who thought I was going to call her Amelia

“What may I do for you, Ms. Carson?”

“We were looking at Joanie’s school laptop, and there is no record of her receiving the notice to this morning’s staff meeting. She’s only here because I spoke to her in person, yesterday. This was completely unrelated but has proved fortuitous it seems.”

“Let me look. I sent the notices myself, and she was on the list.”

“Do you need my passwords?” I asked as she typed on my laptop at breakneck speed.

“I have overrides; I’m the sysop, after all. That’s odd, nothing in your staff email ... maybe in the general ... no. Your Security emails … personal emails … student emails, most recent saved, opened or deleted files?” She looked shocked.

“Believe me, I read your memos, Ms. Hartford.”

“I’ll need to test this unit at once. I have everything I need at my desk to run a full diagnostic; excuse me, but this could be serious. We may have a breach of computer or system security.”

“It’s not a prank, Ms. Hartford; blonde’s honor.” I giggled. And I swear for a moment she smiled back. ~~She smiled twice in the same meeting? There may be hope for her yet.~~

* * * *

My machine was being automatically tested, while the staff meeting commenced.

“Everyone, this meeting will be brief and of interest to you all. We have a new and distinguished part-time instructor coming to Whateley, and I’d like the department heads and certain members of the staff,“ she stared directly at me, “to organize a reception dinner and entertainment in her honor. She’ll be arriving at Whateley in approximately one month. She’d be here sooner, if not for private and governmental red tape related to her *change*. Initially, she will be here to obtain housing and get settled in prior to her formal introduction to the staff and faculty. The reception will be timed so that most of the fall staff and faculty will be able to attend. I suggest a date somewhere in mid-August. I have every confidence in your abilities to plan an appropriate dinner and reception with entertainment.”

“As an aid to your planning, the entertainment for the evening’s festivities will be organized by our Mr. King aided by Ms. Brown, who I am told has some abilities in this area.” That got some polite chuckles. “Are there any questions? One at a time, please.”

“What is this distinguished individual’s name, their area of expertise, and are they a mutant. I meant to say, what kind of a mutant are they?” Rev. Englund asked. Somebody had to, and if he hadn‘t I would have.

“That’s three questions, Reverend, but I will let it slide as they are all relevant. Doctor Danielle Edwina O’Neill will be a part-time instructor in the History and Languages departments.” The Reverend perked up noticeably on hearing this. ~~He seems inordinately interested in Doctor O’Neill. I do hope she’ll be okay; he gives me the creeps.~~ In addition to her duties at Whateley she will continue teaching at Brown — no snickering, Joanie — University in Providence, Rhode Island, and possibly several others on occasion. She's a Professor Emeritus in Egyptology at Brown.”

I struggled to contain myself. Emeritus, not Emerita, but the doctor is a woman? Sounds like a candidate for Poe.~~

“She will continue consulting on archaeological excavations. She’s a world-class expert on ancient Egyptian civilization and language, and the most knowledgeable living scholar on the early history of the combined Upper and Lower Kingdoms.

“She does not produce scholarly works exclusively. She is not just a field researcher but also an educator, which is why Whateley is fortunate to obtain her services. For those who wish a *general audience* example of her work, she recently appeared in The National Geographic. She has written several articles for them over his, Dan's, now her, Dani's, long career and recently authored a major article on the ancient Egyptian capital of Memphis complete with illustrations of what it may have looked like.”

~~Ah-ha!~~ I wrestled with my silly demons and felt my control slipping. They were not playing fair.

“There are several excellent photos of him, prior to her transformation, and of his dig crew, for those who are curious. As Dan he was a longtime contributor; you might wish to look up some of the old issues for additional background on the doctor.”

That did it; the demons won.

“Joanie, stop snickering! I’m referring to Dr. O’Neill, not that fictional Time Lord with a penchant for British gravel pits and screaming female *companions*.”

I was tempted to cry out, ”I resemble that remark,” but decided not to. Okay, I thought of it afterwards, damned 20/20 hindsight.

Ms. Carson smiled at me, and I felt better.

“She is coming to Whateley in part to be evaluated and receive training for her powers. She has offered to devise, research, and teach a class here on mythological races -- the first of its kind anywhere. She also has significant findings she wants to write up for her colleagues. Thank you all. Joanie, would you wait behind, please?”

* * * *

Everyone left, except for the two of us.

“Okay, this is where I get *volunteered* for the suicide mission? Remember, my codename is Timeout, not Kamikaze.”

“Hardly that, Joanie. I want you to be Doctor O’Neill’s mentor and troubleshooter regarding all things Whateley. She will be a great addition to our faculty, so I need someone she can feel comfortable with to ease any difficulties that arise. There is no doubt of her qualification to teach and research, so she needs no help with that. Pick her brain, Joanie, you might pick up some useful tricks of the trade. Where she will need assistance is in getting used to Whateley and our *unique* culture. You must admit, Whateley can be intimidating to the newly arrived.”

“I can see how Whateley will benefit, particularly from her course on mythological races given the considerable number of living mythologicals and avatars on campus. I find it odd you picked me. What do I, Miss July, have in common with such an eminent and senior scholar? I mean, you said she’s a Professor Emeritus. They usually get that distinction after years in the profession. What is she, sixty-five? I repeat myself only because I need to know: why was I volunteered?”

“As arguably the most famous, or is that infamous, face at Whateley, and the Meridian Chair holder, you’re ideally suited,” Ms. Carson said, then chuckled.

I could tell from her tone I was not getting off lightly for the couch attack. This was clearly in retribution for that. I decided to counter attack.

Oh, I didn’t tell you about her office couch and a fatal — for the couch -- attack by two crazed smilodons, did I? It must have slipped my mind, dear d/j/whatever readers.

“It was the couch’s own fault, Ms. Carson, teasing my smilodons like that, sticking its plush armrests out in that provocative manner. The sofa was asking for it,” I said, and Ms. Carson shook her head and smiled.

In my defense I must point out I did pay for a replacement for the custom, imported leather, hand-made couch they destroyed. Oh-boy, um girl, did I pay; my furry friends have expensive tastes.

“I must thank you; the new couch is an excellent replacement, though I should have kept the old one as a trophy. This is no punishment, Joanie. You truly are the logical choice to organize the reception and to ease her arrival on campus. You will like Ms. O’Neill. I called some friends at Dartmouth to ask about her; she has a reputation as a kind-hearted, patient person, a dedicated scholar, and has a sharp wit. He dealt primarily with graduate students in recent years but did teach introductory courses so the transition to her dealing with teenage pupils won’t be a total shock. Joanie, what I am about to say is to stay between us, do you understand

“I can keep a secret when necessary. Since you are asking, it must be a whopper.”

“This is difficult to put into words. In the time since her change, she has experienced something similar to your *research trips*. I will leave it to her to give you the details, if and when she is comfortable with it. You would do well to return the favor and tell her about your *trips*. Joanie, once you trust each other she may wish to enlist your unique talents for various projects of hers and her experience could help you make better use of your, *talent* ... Her love of music and singing is legendary among her graduate students, or so I am told.”

~~Huh? That last comment came way out of left field.~~I thought I caught a hint of a wry smile on her face. Ms. Carson’s been doing the superheroine and schoolmistress role for so long, it’s hard to read her.

“What kind of music?”

“She’s partial to music of the first half of the 20th century, classic country music -- pre-1950, in particular. I’m sure you can devise suitable entertainment, in good taste, of course. Most importantly, you and Samantha Everheart have more in common with Dr. O’Neill than any others on campus -- you in particular, John.”

When she used my male name, it hit me why I was her choice. “Though you didn't say it explicitly, you implied she is a male-to-female mutant. I mean,’ In the time since her change, she has experienced’ and ‘She has written multiple articles for them over his, Dan's, now her, Dani's, long career,‘ are not what I would call subtle clues, and there were lots more.”

“A brilliant deduction, Nancy Drew.”

“I’m trying to be serious here, but well played, Elizabeth. And thanks for not calling me Daphne.” Now she laughed. I giggled openly. “However, even a blond snail could have figured out Dani’s mutation involved a sex change. Something you said was much more informative, you said she was a Professor Emeritus, not Emerita. I’m not student of Latin but the meaning is clear. Combine it with everything else you said Doctor O’Neill must have had a late onset mutation, very late, I take it. She mutated at what, sixty-five or even seventy years of age? That is unprecedented to my knowledge. She’s lucky to be alive,” I said.

“You're partially right; all three of you underwent your transformations far later in life than most. Sam transformed in her early 40s, you in your late 40’s, Dr. Dan O’Neill transformed at 97 years old into Dani, who is physically 19. All of you are students of history: Sam as a soldier, you as an amateur and now a researcher, and Dan grew up at archaeological digs and made that his career. Dani -- she prefers we call her that -- is here to be trained in her powers and in adjusting to her new gender in the modern world. Dani has some unusual powers that need our expert instructors. That is why you are more like her than most on campus; she has time traveled, though the mechanism is different. Some of her other powers are effectively like your time-warper abilities. Dan never married nor had any children -- another fact you share.”

I was shocked she’d brought that sad fact up, and found myself wiping a tear almost immediately. Mom so wanted to see a grandchild before she died, but us kids failed to fulfill that wish.

“I’m sorry to remind you, Joanie, but it’s important for you to understand Dani’s past. In some ways it parallels yours. She is one of the best in her field, and will be another crown jewel among Whateley’s outstanding staff.”

“So she’s here to offset the disaster that is me?” I said and laughed.

“Absolutely. She’s also looking for off campus housing with good office space, and a place to store her SUV, Farmer Brown.”

The toggle switches went ‘clickity-click’ in my mind, the tape reels spun, the punch cards … I’m a late 1957 model after all … but I had to be certain.

“You said she loves to sing … Ms. Carson, I think she’s the woman from my dreams, or nightmares,” I said excitedly.

“Nightmares, Joanie?”

“Bear with me a moment, Ms. Carson. Tell me if I’m right. Dani is an attractive woman with a slender, but not too slender, build and of average height. She has classic early Egyptian features and glorious black hair. Her eyes, though young and vibrant, are a window to a soul that has seen a century of happiness and pain. She has a personality and warmth of character that makes you want to be her friend. She’s spent so much of her life in the desert she likes her rooms and truck hot by any normal standards. She’s has a strong sense of duty to others; she’s the kind of person who will always offer you a lift or help someone in trouble. She has a wicked sense of humor and can’t sing to save her life -- or yours. There is a mysterious quality to her; I’m not certain what it is. It like she has been touched by the ages in some way, perhaps even by a higher power. I don’t know why I sensed that last bit, but I do. Perhaps what I sensed is a combination of her long life and the time travel?” I asked myself as much as Ms. Carson...

“It sounds as if you know more about her than I do.”

“It's not that I have made a study of her or anything, though I might have read one of *his* old articles in my Dad's National Geographics. I'm not trying to be funny, but really believe I met her in a dream -- at least I think I did. It was not a routine dream as I experienced everything in exacting detail. Ms Carson, my doctors said I might be a low level precog, but I have never been able to trigger it on demand. The images in this particular dream were so detailed I suspect it was a precognitive vision.

“It is possible, given your unusual warper gifts. I don’t know about Dani's singing from personal experience, yet,nor can I speak with authority about what people *see* in her eyes. I can say this, from what I've been able to learn, your *dream* describes her to a tee, Joanie.

“Though she has not yet been evaluated by Whateley’s medical staff, she has provided us with the MCO's preliminary description of her powers. In Whateley terms she’s a low to moderate level exemplar, a mid-level avatar, and has mid- to high-level TK powers. She has the power to manipulate time, though not quite as you do. When you get into time related powers, the lines between magic and physics get blurred.”

“Tell me about it, I'm practically the poster child. Sorry, please continue.”

“*AS* I was saying ... She can accelerate and reverse the flow of time within a limited area. She accelerates the aging of objects so they crumble to dust in seconds, or spark a fire from rapid oxidation. The effect appears as if an object has been moved far forward or back within its time line. Living objects are affected as well. She mentioned that her patroness can read and change the BIT of individuals. During Dani's travels, several adult males who were trying to stage a 'coup de etat' were changed from adults to infants -- one was even changed to a pubescent female,” replied Ms. Carson.

“She can change the age and sex of living beings? That’s dangerous! Misused, such power could kill,” I said.

“She assures me that BIT rewrite power is firmly in the hands of her ‘patroness’ and she cannot access it. She acted purely as a conduit for her ‘patroness’ in that instance. The rapid aging or catastrophic disordering of things is dangerous and she does have *access* to that power; that is why she is here. Dr. O’Neill is here to learn to control it and her TK. Her patroness is Ma'at, the Egyptian goddess of truth, justice, and order. She does not wish for Dani to do others harm and Dani is completely in accord with her patroness in this,” Ms. Carson assured me.

“I’m glad she feels that way. I would have a hard time with a power like that. The temptation to use it on rapists or other violent criminals would be awful. No one is qualified to judge another so harshly, no matter their crime. It’s hard enough for a jury of 12, judge and a courtroom full of lawyers and witnesses.

“I’d be terrified of controlling such power. It bothers me no end that my powers could be used to kill. My innocent seeming time stop could as easily be used to place someone in the path of a speeding truck as it was to save Melissa by taking her out from in front of one. Or what if my ‘freeze a can of soda in the air’ trick was done to a person’s heart or brain? That I even imagine these misuses disturbs me. I never want to be like that -- to hold the power of life and death in my hands. A moment’s uncontrolled anger could have horrific results. I sympathize with Dani’s position; she bears a heavy burden.”

“Since, as you say, she was in your dreams, was there anything else that stood out about her?” Ms. Carson wondered.

“It’s been something like a month since it happened, but the dream sticks in my memory. It was so vivid I thought I was awake. I suspected it was a precognitive vision; now I know. One thing stands out above all others from my dream. Remember, when I first came here, how you kidded me about having Sara Grobeschmidt-Taylor as my doctor? Dani may be the one person who can unseat her as Whateley’s all-time greatest prankster. Combine 97 years of hanging around grad students with powers granted by her ‘patroness’ and we’re all doomed!” I said, and then giggled.

“Don’t worry; I’ll organize a nice, respectable evening's entertainment. Given her academic status, I think the Crystal Hall is the best venue. Lots of room to mingle, eat, and dance, and it is an impressive structure. I’ll ask Mr. Lodgeman if any of his ballroom dance students would like to perform. I know this great little student band that would love the opportunity to play. I’m sure I can persuade them, I know their lead singer, intimately; I sleep with her every night,” I said, sort of straight faced except for the occasional, explosive giggling outburst.

“Now I’m worried. You *will* be dignified?” Ms. Carson asked.

“Me, Joanie, be disrespectful of my elders? Perish the thought. I wonder if my Dad can dig up that old Steve Martin LP of mine? My record producer can always send the sheet music. What was it, Steve Martin and the Toot Uncommons? (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/King_Tut_(song)

“Joanie, NO! Behave yourself, please?”

I walked away, my mind awash with possibilities. I sang softly to myself, no tune in particular. It was more like someone pushing the buttons on an old-fashioned car radio in rapid succession. ‘Walk like an Egyptian,” “Istanbul not Constantinople now it’s …”, “Midnight at the oasis, sing your camels to bed” … …”Don’t want no fancy funeral, just one like old king Tut…”

I was very happy. ~~Muwha-ha-ha-ha-!~~

The last few days of the semester are a bit of a blur. Between papers, exams, and helping my friends and a few classmates who had trouble, I had almost no free time. That got sucked up by practice for the BET recording. I managed to find some time to pass info on to Mariel so she could get Ms Carson’s assistance. The one thing that stands out in those hectic few days was Miki insisting on watching Meerkat Manor like it was almost a religious thing. So long as it kept her happy.

Oh, the laptop. Ms. Hartford checked it out and could find nothing wrong. So she inspected all of the staff laptops and PC’s and still found nothing though apparently something suspicious going on but there was no solid proof; that was as much as she would tell any of us. That had her in a bad mood; somebody had managed to get past her security systems, and she was pissed. I don't want to be around when she catches the fool; there will be blood. Probably some kid on campus trying to out do Mystor's Barbie doll clothing trick on me, I hope. The idea it might have been some outside group trying to track me down worries me.

* * * *

June 01, 2007

I got up bright and early Friday morning. Okay, WHO’S laughing Dear d/j/w? I did, I really did. I AM a morning girl. I was eager to take a trip and well … there was Eric and the fun we could have, *within certain, reasonable, preset parameters*. Yes, I’m misquoting the mechanoid Kryten from Red Dwarf, but the line applied. This would be the BIG test -- could we be girlfriend and boyfriend without sliding inevitably into...?

Yes, I DO want to slide his tab A into my slot B, so to speak, but we have to be patient. I WILL be patient; I WILL be faithful; I WILL kill him, if he ever cheats on me! Whoa, where did that come from? I would be upset and disappointed, but I would understand. Anyway Mel would kill him for me. Am I that possessive? Am I that obsessed about a boy and his dick? You bet your ass! Okay, I promise to be gracious if he falls out of love or finds my celebrity off putting. But I WILL also promise to make his eighteenth birthday so *memorable* he wouldn’t stray from me if the entire US Junior Miss Pageant stripped naked, tied him to a bed and tried to have their wicked way with him. Hey, I WAS a guy for 47 years; I know what they like. They say ~~Hum, those *theys* again.~~ that all is fair in love and war. Well, I’m taking no prisoners and giving no quarter … with respect to love. Zero hour is midnight the morning of his eighteenth birthday … I need yet another cold shower and a less vivid imagination.

I went for my morning run, and the gang was waiting.

“Joanie, do you have to go? Some of us are stuck here.”

“Leah, I know, and I’m sorry. Pinkie, you know I’d love to take you along, but it’s not for long. I’ll try to stop by before I leave for Wales, plus I’m counting on you ladies, notice I did not say girls, to take care of George, Gracie, Miki and mongooses to be named later. You all have my instructions for their care and feeding?” They all nodded, as they all wanted to help.

“Okay, but we’ll miss you.”

“Good, I’m glad you’re suffering,” I giggled. “Keep an eye on the farm and take advantage of it if you like. You have my permission to go there anytime, just let Whateley Administration or Security know first. And don't pick ALL the wildflowers, I'd rather they stay in the ground. But if you want to start a garden of any kind, sunbathe, hike, or whatever, it's okay with me. I was thinking of planting berry plants along the outer fence line for the wildlife and us. Give it some thought, but have fun; you've earned it. Ghod, I'm gonna miss you.” We hugged each other and headed off to shower and dress.

* * * *

We met one last time at breakfast.

“Joanie, you were so busy this week I didn’t get a chance to tell you. The This Old House People have offered to set up a recording studio in your pole barn. They say it could be done with prefab panels quick and easy.”

“That’s nice, but it wasn’t a high priority for me. The homes and my animal shed were the priorities, not a studio, Lisa.”

“We were thinking, since most of us are staying for summer session and the breaks, why not have our own practice space? We were lucky to get rehearsal space during spring academic session, and the summer is when Operations paints and everything.”

“What about your instruments, power, heating and cooling and … How are you going to move a vibraphone or a piano back and forth?” How would Lisa answer this one?

“We figured, um, the big items could stay there permanently. Operations says they can have sound proof panels, HVAC, power and a security system in place in a few days to a week, tops. They think they can install a small bathroom too.”

“And a galley kitchen for snacks and cold soda, I suppose?”

“With a microwave, compact refrigerator/freezer and a table top pizza oven. We just HAVE to have a tabletop pizza oven.”

Lisa had researched this in some depth, sneaky girl. But I now knew her fatal weakness, pizza, mua-ha-ha-ha! That was my Evil MastermindTM laugh number seventeen. The Lady Lighting comics had a bunch of evil laughs numbered and cataloged so I was justified in mine.

“And where would we get a piano, drum sets and the like? Whateley isn’t gonna’ just give them away and serious instruments cost serious money … as if I didn’t know where this is leading. Sorry, didn’t mean to say that last bit out loud, never mind.”

“But we’ll be ever so good to the animals and be good girls and basically suck up to you like crazy, p-u-leeese!” they chorused.

“All of you at once? That’s vicious! I know when I’m beaten; I’m impressed, by the way. Work out with Mr. King and Operations what you all need to equip it, including recording and playback equipment. If we don’t know how we are playing, it’s hard to get better. Have them bill me, but keep it within reason -- no cathedral size pipe organs for one.”

“Spoilsport!”

“I heard that, Pinky.”

* * * *

Suzy and I had a pleasant drive to Boston and the Amtrak station to catch the Lakeshore Limited to Chicago. The weather was mild, and the company sublime. We even drove with the windows down, enjoying the spring air. Suzy told me stories about her parents. I learned things I never knew about my cousin Christine, deep dark secrets only a loving daughter would know. Christine would pay, bru-ha-ha-ha!

“I promise to never use this knowledge to blackmail my dear cousin, but embarrass her? Oh yes!”

Suzy laughed then turned to ask me a question. “Explain again why we are taking the train in your truck instead of just driving or flying out?”

“It’s an Autotrain. It's a lot like the original one from DC to Sanford, Florida. It saves gas, and they hope it will boost ridership -- no need to get a rental car or a taxi at your destination. The truck will ride securely in a special rail car while we ride, sleep and dine in comfort in the train. I came to Whateley by train the first time with my motorcycle in the baggage car. I liked it, and this way we can enjoy the sights and not worry. I like to drive, but that is a long one. This way we can watch the scenery or pursue other *interests* and not have to worry about a thing. Maybe you’ll meet some handsome man and have a wild, brief fling. I hear doing it on a train is the best -- all that rocking motion I guess.”

She gave me a dirty look. We were stopped at a light at the moment; I’m not a fool. Then we giggled, recovering only when the vehicles behind us politely reminded us that the light had been green for some time now. The language used lacked a certain civility.

“Same to you, *&@#$)&^%!!!”

“Suzy! You and I need to have a talk. Where did you learn that … No, don’t tell me!”

* * * *

A short while later, we were at Boston South station and on the train. We even had a berth for the night where we secured our luggage. We found a pair of facing seats in the upper level of our coach and sat down.

“Remember your ticket number. They’ll call us to eat later, but if you want a snack or something, let me know. Suzy, are you okay traveling back to school with your parents?”

“It will be fun, and your friends in MSG promised us an escort all the way, so no sweat. Are you visiting Grandma and Grandpa, I mean your aunt and uncle, too?”

I was surprised at her bluntness, but we were alone for the moment so it was okay. “I’d like to, but I don’t want to put them at risk. I know them; they are good people, but it would hurt too much if they rejected me … I’d rather not risk it.”

People started filing into the car, and we began to get looks. Here were two unescorted and apparently single young women. The younger woman was attractive, and the slightly older one was a bona-fied hottie, um, me. The sharks began to circle. The train started moving, and so did the young, and a few not so young, men.

“I see you ladies are alone. I’ve been on the train before and would love to show you two the sights.” The college-age man spoke in an overly suave, self-assured style, and I was not interested in the least. I was looking out the window, and he was behind me, so he didn’t see my face. Suzy showed equally good taste and ignored him. He got bolder. “If you are worried about going out with a stranger, I’m amenable to entertaining both of you fine ladies.”

Suzy couldn’t contain herself. “My friend here already is seeing someone; she’s on her way to visit him, in fact. And I have a boyfriend back at school. He’s younger, fitter, better looking and kisses divinely. Why would I want to risk that?”

“You don’t know what you are missing.” His voice began to grate.

“My dear friend has said no. A gentleman would excuse himself at this point, but you seem to not be paying attention,” I said, my face still turned to the window.

I stood up and turned to face him. In my stocking feet, I was taller than him by several inches. With my boots, I towered over him. We were eyes to boobs, so to speak. He realized his predicament and was speechless -- a wise move on his part.

“You’ve overstayed your welcome; time to find greener pastures, *stud*.”

He walked off dejected; the other young men stared at me and my … well they stared at all of me, but more at some parts than others.

“You're, I mean … “

“My god, it’s really her … I …”

“I knew she was *big*, but look at the size of those.”

When they saw the anger on my face, they scuttled off. Suzy noticed and laughed.

“Suzy, it worked didn’t it?” I bowed to the remaining passengers and got applause.

* * * *

“Tickets, please!”

We got our tickets out and waited for the conductor.

“Joanie!”

“Yes?” I didn’t recognize her.

“I’m sorry, I’m Mary; you sent a nice present to my cousin last year. She works the Lake Shore Limited as a Conductress.”

“Oh, the lady who woke me up and saved my ass from going to the wrong destination when the ticket agent messed up my berth assignment. How is she?”

“She’s taking some vacation time. I’m filling in for her from another AMTRAK route, I usually work the Capitol Limited. She said if I ever had you on my train, to treat you special.”

“You don’t need to. All I ask is my friend and I have a peaceful trip, so not too many autograph seekers.”

“Celebrity, what celebrity?”

“Mary, I think I love you.”

* * * *

We were called to lunch in the dining car. We looked at the selections and ordered the trout. They played a wide variety of music over the sound system from oldies to top 40 formats. I was half-afraid I would hear one of mine and I was mildly disappointed when I did not. I must have more of an ego than I thought but then I do like meeting my fans, especially the kids.

A word of explanation is in order. It’s nearing a year since my mutation, a few months less than that since I rescued Mel but I’m not fully comfortable with my celebrity status, a good thing too. The last thing I want is to become a prima donna. Fortunately my mind did its usual thing and the strangest thought bubbled to the surface.

“Just because we are eating trout, don’t use that as an excuse to seduce an older man. This is not North by Northwest, and you are not Eva Marie Saint.”

“I was thinking more Silverstreak or maybe Throw Momma from the Train, but okay ... mommy.”

“I’ll get you for that!”

* * * *

To be continued, and soon, honest!
No, I mean it.

Okay, Jen Stevens wasn't in this chapter but she was until I broke it into two chapters. Next chapter for sure!

Timeout 4- Reel to Real - Chapter 11, it really is, honest: The Homecoming

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Posted by author(s)

The train trip continues. A VIP calls Joanie's private cell, providing her with multiple thrills. Joanie glimpses motherhood, in more than one way, her reaction surprises her. Suzy and Joanie have a happy homecoming, Joanie’s tusch stops traffic. Joanie travels to Iowa, gives Eric an ultimatum, “Now get those clothes off, and you’d better be up for it.”

Andy Warhol said, "In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?

P.S. Never trust sneaky authors and their teasers.

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 Sapphire's Place,

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html), The Crystal Hall, ( http://www.crystalhall.org), or the Big Closet, (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still coherent. (wibble - WIBBLE!!) Foghorn Leghorn? You chickened out on me for the last time. This time it’s personal, “Oh, Colonel Sanders?” (Great. Now I'm getting 'cheep' shots ... Doo-dah! Doo-dah!)

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
Jennifer Marie Stevens comes courtesy of Bob Arnold. Really, she’s in this chapter, honest. As to mixing the Zapped and Whateley universes, I have no problems with it. Bob has no problems. This is fan fic and if it still worries you, think of this as this an alternative universe. I mean, it worked for Star Trek TM so...

Chapter 11, it really is, honest: The Homecoming

Various locations in and between Boston Massachusetts, Wisconsin and Iowa, June 01-02, 2007

June 01, 2007

* * * *
In my last entry to this rambling diary/journal/whatever of mine, Suzy and I were on the Lake Shore Limited autotrain waiting for our lunch. I wrote …

‘To be continued, and soon, honest!
No, I mean it.’

Well, I did come back. So there. — Sticks out tongue defiantly though in my case it looks rather sexy or so others tell me..–

* * * *

Our silliness was interrupted by my cell phone. Yes, I was considerate and had it on vibrate. No, I did not wear it positioned to provide cheap thrills when it went off, as temping as it might be to a sadly celibate girl.

“Who is calling me now? I’d better get it. It is my private number.”

“Hello, this is Joanie, who may I help you? Sorry I mean how may I help you?” I giggled. Okay, it was positioned *near* that part of my body when it rang. It was purely by accident I had laid my purse across my lap … I might do that again, oooh.

“You’re in a really good mood, Joanie. Do you have a few minutes? It’s Jen, Jennifer Stevens.”

“Who is it, Joanie?”

“Just some pesky woman, Suzy; I’ll get rid of her.” I said so Jen would overhear. We both giggled, and I heard Jen laugh.

“One of your friends, I presume?”

“Her name is Suzy. We met earlier this year while swimming.”

“Swimming?”

I handed the phone to Suzy. I mouthed to her, “It’s Jennifer Stevens, the actress. Play along with me.”

“Yeah, we met swimming in Lake Wisconsin. Word of advice, don’t swim in a northern lake in early April; it’s freezing. So why are you pestering my friend, bay-ich?” Oh, Suzy was good at this. We broke into giggles and so did Jen.

“I see Joanie has been corrupting another of America’s youth. Wait … Suzy? So you and Joanie met while swimming in Lake Wisconsin in early April? Ah! You’re the girl Joanie saved off of that ferryboat. Put your friend back on, I need to ask her something.”

“Okay, but only if you are nice to her; Joanie is my best friend. Understand?”

“I promise, blonde’s honor!” Jen did this ditzy giggle; my ear was near the cell so I heard it.

“Joanie, she sounds just like you.”

“I do NOT sound like that! I am so not like some totally mindless sex crazy, bimb ... bimb … Fur sure I am not like that!”

“Joanie, dear, as much as I am enjoying your antics, I do have a serious proposition.”

“All right, Jen, but I’m on vacation and you’re spoiling my fun.” I giggled again, and Jen laughed in return.

“I’m calling from New Mexico, and I have a proposition for you … What, no smart-aleck remark?”

“You asked for serious, you’ve got it. When a woman, or anyone with your clout calls, it’s important. I’m listening.”

“When we met in Boston, I left right afterward for New Mexico to shoot my latest adventure film.”

“The entertainment press had something on that; it sounds like one of those films Oscar will ignore, except for *technical* awards, but the box-office will go crazy over.”

“Exactly. I play an Indiana Jones/Laura Croft type and become involved in the discovery and preservation of an ancient sacred ceremonial site. The story the screenplay largely follows is based on the real story of an archaeological find and some illegal activities that could have destroyed it if not for several remarkable people.”

“Ah, so we’re talking grave robbing, artifact smuggling and the like with lots of T & A thrown in -- much of it your delectable body, Jen?”

“I prefer LMC -- Legs, Midriff and Cleavage. I’m at best a fair singer and a so-so actress, but I can bare skin with the best. Throw in some romance and some mystic mumbo-jumbo and you have it.

“Lots of top-notch special effects and some outstanding natural scenery don’t hurt either. Gone with the Wind it ain’t, but it looks like a box office winner whatever the critics' reaction. Mind you, I bare only so much skin, I don’t do naked … Sorry I didn’t mean to insult you, Joanie.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. Maybe at some level I felt insulted; though I was sure she didn’t mean it that way.

“I didn’t hurt your feelings, did I, with the comment about nudity? You seem so quiet.” I heard the concern in her voice.

I laughed. “I’m not insulted, Jen. I only did the Playboy stuff to help the school and to have the last laugh on the staffer who submitted my application to pose as a joke.”

“I understand why you did it, pose for Playboy, Joanie … What I mean is I’m personally not comfortable being naked in a film or any form of entertainment. It’s not that I’m ashamed of my body, far from it. I simply believe that too often nudity is used to cover-up for a poor script or worse. I’m not implying it can’t ever be justified artistically or on socio/political grounds. It’s simply not *me*.

“It’s not *me* either, usually,” I snickered, “but one time and for the school scholarship fund, why not?

“You really feel this good about the film, Jen?”

“I have every confidence in its success. The same college student who wrote the Erin Flynn episode about a murder at a college wrote this one and is penning another Erin Flynn I may guest star in as myself.”

“Must be someone special to be that good so young. I’ve heard the creator/producer of Erin Flynn is very selective in choosing scripts.”

“The writer is very special and something of an adoptive sister of mine. The young woman has a great talent, and I am happy this will promote her career. Understand, I would not have used her story unless it was good, Joanie. I called because filming is winding down. Things have gone very well. We have a few scenes to finish, and I’d like to offer you a role.”

“Me? A cameo in your blockbuster? I’m flattered, but I’ve never acted. Doctor Who will be my first, and likely my last-ever, acting job.”

“Joanie, don’t lie to an expert. I pulled a few favors. I have copies of your work for NOVA and your audition with David Tenant for Doctor Who. You have real potential, and it’s not just because the camera loves you.”

“The only reason the camera *loves* me is I have a pretty face, I’m tall and have tits the size of Cleveland.”

“Hardly Cleveland, more like Texas, but that is not the point. The point is I think you would boost the popularity of my film. I am particular about *the business*. I may do mostly fluff material, but it's always done with class and it's entertaining; the audience gets full value for their money. Ask your Warners producer, he’ll tell you true. Ask the host of that *other* late night show.”

“Oh, you mean Jay.” Notice I had not pounced on Jen’s unfortunate double use of *point*, talk about your double-entendre …’ and I have the pair of *entendre’s* to do it’. Read that in a Groucho voice and its much funnier. I was so proud I resisted; I can be a good girl when I want to.

“Yes.” Jen faked a cough. I tried hard not to laugh ... I failed. “It’s a great opportunity and would only take a day or two. You said you’re on vacation, Joanie; why not spend part of it out here? We’re at this great resort in the high desert canyon country. They have a natural hot spring soaking pool, mud baths, wildlife trails, and food to die for. You’d love it. I built a guest cabin here just for that reason, and so has Alexis Eden, the star of Erin Flynn. I could get you into the real Anasazi site that inspired the movie.”

“You’re offering all of this to persuade me to appear on Around Midnight Jen?”

“There is that too, Joanie. I find the better I know someone, the better we are on the show.”

“Can’t argue with that, Jen, But…”

“Oh-oh, this sounds bad.”

“I have to get Suzy to her grandparent’s house in Milwaukee tomorrow to a secure meeting with her parents. My friends at MSG are providing protection, but the people who artificially triggered her mutation are still at large and dangerous. That was why I was in Hawaii for Leah; the same thing happened to her and to two others I know of....”

“See Suzy off safely, and then fly out. I can get you a good, discreet charter. My people are very security conscious,” Jen interrupted.

“... then I’m off to visit friends in Madison and Des Moines … very close friends.”

“Ah, the wannabe boyfriend is not so much a *wanna* as an *is*?”

“It’s as I told Ms Carson, ‘Damn straight, Skippy.’ Or more precisely, it’s as *is* as the law and good sense allow. I’d appreciate it if you kept our budding romance a strict secret, Jen.”

“I understand; your private life is just that, private. I’ve fought hard to keep mine that way.”

“Jen, thanks. I’m glad you understand where I’m coming from. I’m very fond of Eric and would never want to hurt him … Um, you never heard that name.”

“What name … Joanie, is it?”

“Exactly,” I giggled. “Beyond that, I love the family, and their mom, Babs, is pregnant. I’m her personal cheerleading squad. I owe it to them to help out.”

“It could be done after the main filming is finished. We’re bound to re-shoot some scenes, possibly well into June. A way could be found to work you in after the fact. That’s why editors and special effects people are paid so well. You worked in front of a *green screen* for much of your NOVA work, so it would be nothing new to you.”

“Late June is Wales and a busy two weeks filming so that’s out, period. As to the first half of June … I wish I could. It would be great fun, but I cannot see how I could swing it and not hurt my dearest friends. I’m not saying no, but I doubt it can be done. Plus, once the Doctor Who episodes are broadcast, my acting career will be dead.”

“I seriously doubt that, Joanie. Here’s a thought: you could consider an appearance in my film as practice for Doctor Who , just absent the big blue box and the BBC gravel pits”

“You ARE a geeky girl, Jen. I agree it would be fun and an education for me, but I can’t see it working out.”

“Well, I tried; you still have my private number?”

“You bet. If I get a free day, I’ll call you. I am thinking seriously about appearing on Around Midnight during the New York State Fair run. Thanks for calling. Those added little polite details do impress me.”

“It’s the way I am. Treat people the way you want to be treated.”

“Jen, if I do come to Syracuse, I have this group of close friends at school. You’ve already met two, Pinky and Suzy. Could they come and see the show, maybe from backstage? They are clever kids and would appreciate seeing what goes into producing a show. There are nine of us, including myself.”

“Consider it done, Joanie. Can we agree to a date?”

“Let’s talk in July after summer school has settled in -- sometime after the fourth.”

“You have a deal. The offer to appear in one of my films stands, Joanie. I’m serious; if you want to pursue acting, I can help. I work with Wayne Zachery; he produces TV dramas and films in addition to Around Midnight. I know good people at Mouse World, and I am in negotiations to do a film with Richard Thorn. There’s a man who knows how to keep his audience happy. I’d bet any of these people would jump at a chance to use you.”

“I’ll think about it. And Jen, don’t feed me straight lines like that last one -- ‘jump at a chance to *use* you.’ I barely stopped myself. Please do call me occasionally. I find a good whack on the head with a 2-by-4 does wonders to get my attention.”

“Oh, Joanie dear, that shouldn’t be a problem. Speaking of 2-by-4’s, the July issue of Playboy is out. Believe me, if you weren’t already a hot commodity, that issue alone would make you one. You will get a lot of offers, and soon. Talk to someone you trust before accepting any. Your Warners producer is respected in the business; ask him. Feel free to ask my advice. Anything I’m not qualified to handle, Wayne's people will gladly do for you, I promise. There are a lot of sleazy people out there.”

“They don’t know me v-very well, hee hee hee hee hee!”

“Bugs?”

“My personal hero. Don’t worry, I may look naíve but am not stu …stu … stu … a dumb blonde.” I giggled. “That would be like totally … so not kewl, yah know?”

“Ewh! That’s frighting how well you do that. You’re almost a bad as me.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Jen. I need to go, they’re bringing our lunch. It’s trout. I half expect to see Cary Grant and James Mason.”

“Don’t take that bus out of Chcago and get off at Prairie Stop.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for cropdusters, and no way am I getting near Mount Rushmore. Thanks for calling; I mean it.”

* * * *

Suzy and I concentrated on our meal, and soon were fed and content. Our previous spot on the upper level of our coach was taken, but we found acceptable seating next to a young family with several children.

This one lttle girl, the oldest child, keep sneaking peeks at me. By little girl, I meant she couldn’t have been more than five.Her siblings were a toddler, a boy I think, and a baby a few months old at most. “Mommy, look.”

“Look at what, hon?”

“Look Mommy! It ‘portant.”

“So what am I supposed to look at?” Mom clearly recognized me but was playing with her child.

“Mommy, her!” The girl pointed at me and sounded frustrated.

“It’s rude to point at people, Di.”

“But Mommy!” Di was stressing out.

The mother turned to me. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but my daughter Diana thinks you’re somebody famous and has to meet you. I imagine you value your privacy, Ms. Brown. I couldn't help but recognize you, too. I’m sorry, for both of us,”

“Why should you be? I got excited at all sorts of things, at that age. Kids are naturally curious, so I don't mind. You asked nicely, too; it's okay. I have to ask, Diana as in the late …?”

“I thought she was so elegant, when I was a little girl. I suspect, when it’s her turn, her first daughter will be named Joan.”

“You're kidding?”

“The truth.”

“Joanie, put the kid out of her misery.”

“Right, Suzy.”

“Do you want to sit next to me, Diana, if your mommy says it’s okay?”

Diana waited, staring at her mommy.

“Oh, alright, but don’t be a pes …”

I was instantly engulfed in Diana. And I thought Mel was a tad enthusastic!

“You so pretty, like the Little Mermaid. Ah … you seen The Little Mermaid, Joanie?” She was hesitant. I guess I intimidated her.

~~Lord, another kid bites the dust courtesy of Mouse World and all those animated films. But then I saw Bambi at four and it warped my brrrain.~~ I chuckled quietly at the thought.

“I’ve seen most of it. “Under the Sea” is a catchy tune. I look like Ariel?”

“Yeah.-My-friend-Madison-says-you-look-like-Barbie.” The *dam* broke and the words poured out.

“Is Barbie a friend of yours or a friend’s older sister?”

Dianna giggled. “No,-Barbie-the-doll …a-Barbie-doll.” She said confidently. “You-sing-pretty. Momma-likes-you-too-she-listens-everyday.”

“You’re a fan?”

The mom nodded.

This prompted Diana to tell me all about her home and her mom and her baby brother, her kittycat and … You get the picture. Fortunately at her age, the energy reserves ran down fast. She leaned into me as she tired, gently propping herself up with shoulder against me at first.

“Are you okay, Diana? Want to sit with your mom?”

“No. I am a little tired. I be okay… Where you get such pretty — yawn — clothes? I like your hair.”

I stroked her head softly, her hair was like the finest silk. “Your hair is so soft and pretty, Diana. You must take good care of it,huh?”

She nodded back at me, her eyes half closed and a smile on her face. Her *motor* was winding down fast, yet she was supremly happy.

After ten minutes of non-stop questioning, Diana fell asleep in my lap.
She lay with my left arm wrapped around her like a blanket, her head cradled between my arm and the bottom of my left breast.

“I can pick her up, Joanie.”

I didn’t have the heart to disturb her, and I didn’t want to. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. She’s quite a sweet girl.”

It felt odd yet satisfing somehow. I thought she was the most precious thing and that thought didn’t disturb me in the least. Eventually I nodded off.

* * * *

I don't recall much, other than I felt contented. The next thing I remember was Suzy gently waking me as the mom, Linda, detached Diana from me saying, “That was sweet of you. Di will talk of this for months. You made her very happy. I imagine you may want to eat; they just called your numbers, or so Suzy here informed me.”

“It was my pleasure. You have a darling daughter. If the rest of your children turn out like her you will be a lucky woman.”

Suzy and I hurried off to the dining car and a much appreciated dinner. I had some sort of meatpie, and Suzy had a burger with the works. We split a basket of onion rings. Real healthy. The sun had started to set, and the land took on a surreal aspect.

“Joanie, can we walk the train? I want to see all of it at least once.”

“A walk will do us good,” I agreed. I think she suggested it so I wouldn’t get engulfed by the Di-monster.

“And by the time we get back Diana will be in bed with any luck.”

“Suzy, that’s Di-abolical” We giggled. I felt a little sad, but why?

Suzy snickered, as we walked.

“What gives?”

“Nothing.”

“Suzy, you’re a terrible liar. What’s going on here?”

“We’re going for a walk?”

“Suzy!”

"Okay, it’s … when Diana fell asleep in your lap, and you nodded off, the expression on your face was so sweet. It was like one of those Madonna and child paintings; you had a look of absolute contentment. It could have been a cover for a woman’s magazine or an Ivory Snow box.”

“I do remember feeling strangely happy with her on my lap.”

“Good, you won’t mind that I shot a few photos, Joanie.”

“Suzy, Diana is someone else’s child. You could get in trouble.”

“I got her mom’s permission. I took some with her camera, too, so Diana will have a memento.”

“Okay, but be careful; some people don’t like it when you take their picture. In big public areas it’s one thing, but up close … And thanks, I think I’d like to see it”

“Somebody wants to be a mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy!” She sang the last bit like a school kid teasing another. You know, 'na, na-na, na-na, na'!

“Yeah, right,” I muttered, but deep down inside …

Sometimes *I* scare myself.

* * * *

We walked though the various coaches forward, then back to the club car at the tail of the train. They had a small bar, places for entertainment, card playing tables, a few arcade/video games and the like. They carded everyone, but we only ordered sodas to be safe. A four-person combo was setting up as we sat down: a male guitarist, keyboard player and percussionist and a female guitarist/singer. They were pretty good, performing old jazz classics -- mostly forties and fifties stuff. They played a little oldies rock-and-roll and some country, but jazz was nearest to their hearts. It was a nice way to let our food settle and simply relax.

“They’re good, and the lady's very good; not as good as you, but still.”

“Any requests?” the singer asked.

“Yes,” Suzy called out. “My friend likes all kinds of music, but is particualry fond of songs with a lot of emotion in them. Do you know 'Crying' or 'Unchained Melody'?”

“You don’t ask for much, do you? They are lovely songs, but it’s hard to do them justice with such a small band.”

“I’ll be right back!”

They went and did another request, as I tore after Suzy. I caught up with her as she was coming back with my Les Paul and amp.

“Are you nuts?”

“Joanie, you know you want to sing. Let's show off for the people; it will be fun.”

* * * *

That girl will get into a lot of trouble someday with her powers of persuasion -- normal human powers, not mutant. Though since she can copy other's powers ... I wonder? Nah! We got back to the club car, and she walked right up to the singer.

“Told you I’d be back; I had to get my friend's guitar and amp. We play together in a band in school. She’s very good.”

“That’s nice.” The singer decided to play along, figuratively speaking. “What’s her name?”

I stepped forward. “I’m Joan, but you can call me Joanie.”

“Eek!”

-- *Thud!*--

Despite the awkward start -- a few cuts and scrapes, but no major injuries from her faint -- the evening turned out well. Suzy and I did several songs with them, and it sounded nice. We turned into bed early to be fully rested for tomorrow, the day we would drive to my aunt and uncle's; then I’d drive on alone to Iowa. I was worried something would go terribly wrong tomorrow, but managed to sleep satsifactorally. I had two dreams that night that were odd, seriously odd. One was naughty and … that rocking motion really does help you sleep, though it did make me dream of Eric and I … but then what doesn’t?

The other dream was of that summer day in a park. I’d had it before, but it was more detailed this time. There was Eric -- I think it was him -- but he was older, in his twenties, maybe thirty tops, and he looked … I’m drooling thinking of him. He was flipping burgers on a portable grill as two identical, tall, redheaded high-school girls helped him. A boy-girl pair of maybe four-year-olds played near me in a sandbox as several animals watched us. I’d thought they were cats when I dreamt this earlier but they were clearly mongooses. Then I saw myself, eight, maybe nine months pregnant and smiling. I don’t remember anymore.
~~But if Eric is thirty and our oldest kids are in high school, why am I not in prison?~~
This dream is really beginning to worry me.

* * *

Saturday June 02, 2007

We made excellent time on the Lakeshore Limited auto-train from Boston to Chicago. The Hiawatha was not set up as an auto-train — it is primarily a commuter line connecting downtown Chicago to downtown Milwaukee -- so we drove the 90 miles to Milwaukee. The Lakeshore Limited was not an Auto-Train when I left Chicago back in December on my trip to Whateley; they added that when the gas prices shot up … again. Having taken the overnight train, and it being the weekend, the Chicago traffic was not as daunting as say a Friday rush-hour, thankfully. Driving my ¾ ton blast resistant crew cab, I was less concerned than driving in Chicago on my grandfather's Harley last December, though I still was not happy with the congestion. I would never make it as a commuter in LA or some other city with serious traffic problems — though maybe in an M1 Abrams tank … fully armed.

I do know Suzy and I got some strange looks from our fellow drivers. I believe it came down to a combination of “Did you see who was driving that truck? Damn, I swear it was that Joanie, the sexy singer,” and it being a hot day. It was already 80 and humid at 8 o’clock, so Suzy and I were not wearing a lot.

She was in this daring halter top and shorts combo with built-in undergarments. They were practical and suited her build. My cuz’ is no slouch in the breast department, but then neither am I. I was in a tight-fitting, man’s-style sleeveless *A* undershirt -- i.e.., a wife-beater -- and jogging shorts. For practicality, we both wore tennis shoes … and bras, I might add, hers being built-in as I said earlier. I was sorely tempted to skip the bra, but with my *sensitive* assets, um, ah … Let’s say that would not be advisable. The soft, seamless Lycra bra I chose offered support, was cool enough, and matched my panties. We both looked great. And it concealed my nipples, mostly. I wanted to look sharp, not induce heart attacks.

I amaze myself with how comfortable I am in showing skin in public. You might think that as an ex-man I would be conservative in my dress. I know how men react to women in sexy outfits and what they think. Frankly, I don’t care. I dress for me and for comfort. If it’s attractive, great, if it is not, who cares? I’m young — that’s an understatement — and attractive — ditto — so why not dress the part? I didn’t think Suzy’s mom would complain how we were attired. We weren’t dressed any wilder than most of the girls we saw that day.

Once on the toll-way, we made good time heading out of the city. At the state line, it changed over to freeway. In less than two hours after departing from the train station, we were in Milwaukee County. I drove to my dad’s home first, but he was out. We used the bathroom, left him a note, and drove on to my aunt and uncle's home in Glendale. I turned onto their dead end street, passing by my cousin’s -- formerly my uncle’s — service station. I pulled into their drive, let Suzy out and handed out her travel bag.

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“I don’t think I could stand to see them and not be able to tell them who I am -- I mean who I was. You have a great time with your family, Suzy. I’ll wait until you’re safely in the house then go. Your mom and dad said they would return you to Whateley on their own. You should be safe; remember MSG is keeping an eye on them. You have MSG’s emergency number in your cell?”

“It’s on speed dial, Joanie. I’ll be fine, but are you sure? Mom and Dad would love to see you, and I’m sure Grandma and Grandpa will want to see you.”

“I’m too much of a risk for them. Take care.”

Suzy walked to the door of the 60’s ranch house and rang the bell. Moments later the door opened, and I heard the happy sounds of family reuniting. I prepared to back out and leave when Christine — my cousin and Suzy’s mom — walked out of the house and straight to my driver’s door. Christine’s hair was graying, and she had a modest middle age spread, but she remained an attractive, confident woman in my eyes.

“What is this nonsense about you not coming in, Joanie? My mom and dad are very old; they won’t live forever. They miss their nephew, but I’m sure they would love their grandchild’s savior and good friend.”

“I don’t think I could stand it.”

“Please? For me? Dad calls me often, and he’s said many times he wishes he could meet the brave woman who saved his granddaughter. You would make him and me very happy, Cousin.” She finished and half dragged, half pushed me to the house. She’s a lot stronger than she looks for a woman nearing sixty.

“Mom, Dad, I’d like you to meet someone. She is one of Suzy’s teachers and one of her best friends. I met her hours after she rescued my Suzy, and she’s the just the nicest, most unassuming person I’ve ever met. Mom, Dad, this is Joan, or Joanie as she prefers." Christine finished and I stepped around from behind her. It would be more accurate to say she moved around and behind me. I was nervous and ashamed. How could I see them after lying about myself? I saw my aunt and uncle and fought to hold back my tears. I had to look away from them. ~~This is a mistake.~~

My elderly uncle stood up and placed a hand under my downcast face, raising it gently. Looking me in the eyes he spoke, “I have wanted to meet you ever since I heard of what you did for my granddaughter. I owe you more than I can ever hope to repay, Joanie. Bless you.” He grabbed me in a strong bear hug, not easy for him in his mid-eighties and with two artificial hip-joints.

“T-thanks.” My eyes were watering, and I was shaking.

“Joanie, come here please.” It was my aunt, Dad’s older sister. I turned to her and knelt next to her chair, almost collapsing from the shakes. “I don’t know what to say to you, dear, after you, a total stranger, risked your life to save my granddaughter. And it’s not the first time you’ve done something like this. I remember seeing you rescue that girl from a busy highway. I couldn’t love you more than if you were my own child.” She put her arms around me and kissed me on the cheek.

~~Ghod, no!~~ I started sniffling. I didn’t know what to do; I was going into shock.

“Why are you crying? Is something wrong, Joanie?” I couldn’t stop my tears. I could barely think.

“I know what’s wrong, Grandma; she’s overwhelmed, because she hasn’t seen you in over a year and was afraid she never would again.”

“Suzy, No!” Christine yelled. I was too out of it to do anything; all I could do was tremble and cry.

“No, Mom. Grandma and Grandpa deserve to know. Grandma, Grandpa, Joanie is not just my best friend, she’s your niece.”

“N-no!” I tried to get up and leave, but my legs wouldn’t support me. I collapsed in a heap at the side of my aunt’s chair.

“She’s our niece? How?” Grandma asked.

I felt a pair of arms wrap around me. It was Suzy.

“We stopped by Joanie’s dad’s home in Wauwatosa, but he was out.”

Grandma gasped when Suzy gave them the final piece of the puzzle.

“Joanie … Joan used to be his son.”

“John?”

I nodded, and the dam broke; I lost it. I collapsed in Suzy’s arms, sobbing. My aunt had said the one word I most feared, yet most wanted to hear. I cried until it hurt. I cried, but I had no tears to shed; only slowly did the hugs and gentle words from my extended family break through to me. It was some time before I could look at them and not feel overwhelmed.

“Joanie, it just struck me; you look so much like your mother when she first dated your father. I can see her in your face. That’s all the proof I need that you are her child. Why didn’t you see us after your mutation? We would have understood. Man or girl, you are still family -- my pretty and brave niece,” my aunt said as she held my hand.

I’d calmed enough to talk. “I wanted to, but when I learned what my powers were, I feared for your safety. Once I was outed to the press, I thought it was impossible to ever see you again. You saw the news; people kidnapped me because others wanted to discover my secrets. They took me at gunpoint from the middle of a huge crowd. What if someone tried that and I was with you? After those criminal experimenters triggered Suzy’s mutation, my friends at MSG put you under continuous protection as a precaution. They are the mutant supers group in Madison who helped me after my mutation. There is someone out there now keeping you safe. The people who did this to Suzy are dangerous; they’ve done it to others. Excuse me.”

I dialed my private cell, and soon our guardian angel answered.

“This is the Kid, I’m on duty. This had better be important.”

“It’s Joanie, *Bog-fruit boy*; I’m trying to reassure my relatives. I'll be just a moment and thanks, I owe you.” I muted the phone.

I turned towards my *lost* aunt and uncle “One of my friends is monitoring your house as well as my cousins’ homes in the neighborhood. He’s on top of your son’s service station under camouflage.”

I spoke into my phone again. “Kid, Joanie here. Sorry I put you on hold. I’m visiting Suzy’s grandparent’s You keep them safe, or I’ll tell Red you planted micro-cameras in the nurses’ showers and are selling the DVD’s to adult book stores.”

“Joanie, she’ll rip my privates off and shove them down my throat!”

“You know she’s a pussycat, Kid. As to little old me, I’d worry if I was you. These folks are special to me; you do your best, hear?”

“Absoluntemont, mon cheri.”

“That is the worst French I have ever heard.”

“I thought I was speaking Italian.”

“Amateurs! I’ll be leaving later today; Suzy will travel with her parents back to school in a few days, so you’d better keep them all safe or I’ll be looking for a very dull hand hedge lopper.” I hung up and giggled.

“Sorry about the giggle. I guess I’m a girl now.”

“No, you’re a woman, Joanie. And happy to be one from the way you laughed. I’m so glad for you, Hon,” my aunt said.

“The man I was kidding is the Cranberry Kid; he can fly and is combat trained, so you are in good hands. As to his code name, I blame those comic book publishers who copyrighted all the good ones. All silliness aside, do be careful who you talk to about me though. I’ll give you my private cell and e-mail numbers, but don’t tell anyone. I don’t want you put you at anymore risk.”

We soon were talking like nothing had changed, which made me happy. I missed the mundane things of my old life, and this was a precious gift.

“Mom, Dad, you wouldn't believe who called Joanie while we were on the train.”

“Somebody famous from the way you’re grinning, child,” Her dad said.

A similarly silly grin crept onto my face. “I met this woman back in Boston, and she keeps pestering me about coming on this TV talk show.”

“Sounds like a reporter who wants an interview, but if Suzy knows who she is, she must be a national figure. What’s the show?”

“Around Midnight; she sometimes hosts it. You may have heard of her, Jennifer Stevens.”

“Joanie, she’s just about the hottest thing on TV or in films nowadays.” Suzy’s dad sounded impressed.

“She said something similar about me. Scared me senseless.” I laughed, and my cousin-in-law laughed back. Note to my readers: what else would you call your cousin’s husband? And *Bubba* is right out! I’ll admit he’s a good-ole’ boy but he’s a classy one. Plus he has a wicked sense of humor and Christina loves him.

“She’s real nice and has a good sense of humor, Dad. She sure wants Joanie on that show, but she wasn’t pushy about it.”

“I might go on the show in late August, that way it doesn’t interfere with summer classes, and I only have to travel to Syracuse, New York, instead of LA. That way I can take my Whateley friends with me.”

“That’s good you’re making friends at school.”

“They’re more than just her friends, Grandma, Grandpa. Joanie has this band at school, and we’re all in it!”

“Suzy is very good; she’d one of our best singers and plays keyboards. Christine, you have a talented daughter.”

“Could you sing something for us?’ my aunt asked.

Suzy and I talked privately for a moment and agreed on one. “We’d like to take the mood down just a bit,” I said in a cheesy nightclub singer’s voice. Suzy giggled, and I broke up. “Ready?” Suzy played the old upright piano as we sang the Bette Midler hit, The Rose, as a duet. We sang softly at first, gradually building then dropping in volume, trying to remain faithful to Bette’s interpretation. There was complete silence until Suzy spoke.

“What do you think?” Suzy asked.

“You were beautiful, both of you,” my uncle said. My aunt simply cried as did I.

“Thanks Grandpa, Grandma.” Suzy gave them both hugs.

“You don’t know how much that means to me,” I said.

“I was so busy learning church and classical music, I never got into popular music, but I wish I sounded that good.”

“Christine, coming from you that is high praise indeed. I always thought you had a great voice, and you still do.”

“Mom!” Suzy said and hugged her.

Her dad said nothing, but hugged his daughter then kissed me rather passionately.

“My, aren’t we frisky!” I fanned myself like some overheated southern belle. “I do believe I have the vapors.”

“Why do you think I married him, Cousin?”

* * * *

They offered to take me out to eat to celebrate, but I felt it was too risky. They reluctantly agreed. I said my goodbyes, hugging and kissing everyone in thanks for their accepting me.

“I have to go. I wish I could stay, but I have friends in Iowa who are counting on me. They’ve accepted me into their family, and you know my feelings about family.”

Before driving off, I spoke to Suzy and her parents. ”It’s okay, now, to tell my aunt and uncle all about me, but maybe not the Playboy stuff -- at least not until they have had some time to digest my being a girl. My posing naked might be a bit too much, too soon.” I took Suzy aside. “Suzy, be very careful about describing my relationship with Eric, please! You can tell them we met when I saved his sister and we became close friends, but don’t tell them about us being boyfriend and girlfriend. I don’t want him hurt, and he will be if word leaks of our relationship.”

“But you’re doing no more than Tom and I, heck you’re doing less. Weekly phone calls and few kisses here and there is pretty tame.”

“The press will assume it is otherwise and hound us. Someday I will be happy to tell the World about Eric and me, but not now. Please?”

“You’ve got it; you and him are friends and that is all.”

“Thank you, Suzy.”

“No sweat, girlfriends stick together,” she said then hugged me.

“Auntie, Uncle, I have to go, but thanks. This means more to me than I can say.”

“Same here, dear. Give your uncle one more hug. How often does a man my age get hugged by a gorgeous young woman?”

“Well, if Suzy and Christine do it, that makes three of us, four including my aunt.”

As I drove off I thought, ~~I don’t ever remember my eighty-something aunt laughing that hard.~~

* * * *

I stopped at my cousin’s station to top off my fuel. The multi-fuel air/fuel-cells could use most motor fuels. Regular unleaded gasohol would do fine. I shut down my motor and swiped my debit card through the reader — pay-at-the-pump is great. I bent to reach the gas cap and started fueling. I heard squealing tires and brakes then a crunching sound. I turned to see several cars in a classic fender-bender.

“Someone call 911!” I yelled back towards the station and immediately finished fueling. I moved my truck off to the side where they usually parked cars awaiting their turn in the repair bays, but as near to the road as possible. I grabbed my oversized first aid kit from the truck bed — almost an EMT’s kit with what I carried in it -- and ran out to the road to see if I could help.

“Is anyone hurt? I may not look like it, but I have advanced first-aid training. I’m in training for my EMT certification.”

The collision was slow speed, and everyone was belted in, so only the auto body-shops would get much business from this. There was no sign or smell of spilled fuel, so fire was not a danger. I walked from car to car, asking people how they felt. Everyone was alert and could safely wait for the professionals to check them out.

“Miss, I’m in pain.” A high school age boy standing by the ditch called out. His car was at the front of the chain, so he must have been the cause of it all.

~~Strange, he looks uninjured.~~ “Where does it hurt?”

“Deep in my heart, lovely lady. Care to have a drink with me? I’ll show you a great time.” He did look me in the eyes, though he took a longer look down my cleavage. I looked at him again and was both disgusted and pleased by what was the true source of his *pain*. ~~That must be painful, and no way am I offering to help him get relief.~~

“How old are you?”

“Um, ah, twenty-two. I’m twenty-two.”

“Yeah, and I’m Winston Churchill. I’d guess you to be seventeen, nineteen tops. Isn’t the legal age for drinking in Wisconsin twenty-one?”

“But you could drink, Joanie; you’re of age.”

“Glad to see you know me. So you spotted me, your little head overruled your big head, and you slammed on the brakes so hard you caused a chain collision. Then you offer to get me drunk. ‘I’ll show you a great time,’ that was a euphemism for us having sexual relations, I presume? None of these points are much in your favor. Just because I am pretty does not mean I am of easy virtue,” I said and giggled. ~~The sight of my tush sticking out caused an accident? This is right out of a slap-stick comedy. No, this is right out of Lil’ Abner; I’m a real-life Stupifyin’ Jones!~~

Around then the police, paramedics and fire department showed up. I had my ID at the ready. By this point, we were gathering a significant crowd. I called the Kid on my cell.

“Kid, Joanie here. I assume you recorded the accident on your surveillance equipment?”

“You betcha, girl; we have sensors all over the neighborhood. These folks are your family after all. Why do you need to know?”

“Just in case the authorities give me a hard time. Keep a low profile, okay? I think I’ll be fine, but you never know.”

* * * *

“Miss, I’ve been informed you caused this accident,” a police officer said, breaking my concentration on the phone call.

“I have to go now, the police have arrived. We’ll talk later.”

“I am alleged to have done what, Officer?” I turned and saw I was dealing with an officer from the Dark Side, i.e. the Village of Fox Point.

A word of explanation is in order. The road where the accident occurred is a former US Highway long since replaced by a freeway which was upgraded to an Interstate. It remains a busy local road, connecting some of the posh North Shore suburbs to various shopping centers. My cousins and their families, plus my aunt and uncle, all live on the Glendale side; across the road is Fox Point. Back when my uncle drove his service garage’s wrecker, he had the cops called on him if he stopped for more than a few minutes on a Fox Point street. This happened just blocks from the station, which he lived next to and co-owned with his brother. These people knew him and his trucks and still called the cops.

“You were reported as flashing the traffic in an obscene manner, thereby triggering a potentially fatal accident." He said this in a matter-of-fact tone, like my agreement was already assumed.

“At the time of the accident, I was fueling my truck -- with the motor off by the way. I see this station is equipped with video cameras to identify drive offs. Shall we view their tapes and see what really happened? With luck they caught the accident on camera as well.”

“You may talk a smart line, but you are dressed like a prostitute.”

“I was trying to be helpful, and I object to being called that, sir. It’s a hot and humid day; this is appropriate clothing for a young woman in the outdoors and in no way violates any decency codes I know of.” ~~Why hasn’t he asked for any ID yet? That is standard procedure for most departments.~~

“That box of medical supplies will get you in big trouble. Practicing medicine without a license is a serious offense, young lady.”

“Officer, first of all, why haven’t you asked me for any ID? If you had, you would see I am certified in advanced first aid, and I am a deputized member of law enforcement in New Hampshire.”

“Show me your ID, carefully. This had better be no BS.”

~~Does this guy pal around with members of the MCO? What a jerk!~~

He looked at my ID and was mulling over how to react. They clearly conflicted with what he had been told. His dilemma was resolved, when the station owner walked up. The owner, my cousin, looked at me and smiled.

“I think I may be of assistance, Jimmy. I was ringing up a customer in the office and had a clear view out the plate-glass window. This woman did nothing to contribute to the accident. Whoever reported this got things wrong or is trying to make the police look foolish. You know me from Rotary and the recreation department boy’s baseball leagues; would I lie to you, Jimmy?”

He was in a mechanics’ jumpsuit -- greasy and showing his 50-something years -- but my cousin never had looked so handsome to me. The officer returned my ID and looked sheepish.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Ma’am … Ms. Brown. I was led to believe things were different than they were, and well, I acted badly. You have my sincere apologies.”

“That’s quite alright.” ~~Maybe he just puts on this tough guy act for teens in general?~~

My cousin started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, Dave?”

“Do you know who you were on the edge of arresting?”

“Her ID said Joan Brown from New Hampshire, but I don’t see …”

“This is the woman who saved my niece, Jimmy. She’s a world famous singer. Joanie, I’m very pleased to meet my niece’s best friend.”

He shook my hand. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged, hard. I gave him a quick kiss. On his cheek -- he is my cousin and this is not Arkansas. A little grease wasn’t going to harm me. ~~I know you work out regularly along with your wife, but damn, you’re fit, cousin.~~ I gave the officer my contact info, if they needed a witness. I was right; the station cameras were working and had caught most of the accident, so I’d likely not have to testify. The officer left, and it was just me and Dave standing near his gas pumps. Most of the accident was cleared up by now, except for a couple of disabled cars. From the looks of discussions between the drivers, and one of my cousin’s employees, his station might get some extra business. A custom van pulled into the station and my cousin’s husband got out to fuel it.

“I thought you’d left for Iowa, Joanie? Did you change your mind about coming to dinner with us?”

“I was gassing up, and there was this accident on the old highway. Some young man decided watching my rear was more important that watching traffic; I know I’m cute, still … I’m in training as an EMT and Police officer so I ran down to help. You know me -- little Miss Trouble-magnet.”

He laughed in his charming, southern good-old-boy voice. “Yes, you do have a habit of finding trouble and jumping in. I see you met my brother-in-law.”

“Uncle Dave!” Suzy shouted and ran up to him. “You met Joanie? She’s just the nicest girl I’ve ever known. Joanie, this is my Uncle Dave, but then you’ve known him for … Oops!”

“Oops?” Dave asked. At this point the doors to the van opened, and I saw Christine and my aunt and uncle.

“I had better go, or I’ll never get to Iowa. Suzy, if you and the rest would explain what *oops* means -- discreetly -- I would be much obliged.” I whispered to her, “I trust your uncle; I have for years.” I stood up, smiled at them and walked off. “Goodbye, everybody!”

I stowed my first aid kit back in the truck, got in and drove off. The only sounds were the faint noise of the electrics, the tires on the pavement and Suzy’s girlish squeals. ~~I think she just told Dave who I used to be.~~ I drove the short distance to the freeway on-ramp and was on my way.

* * * *

I made great time, but it is a good six hours minimum to Des Moines from Milwaukee. I stopped two hours out, in Dodgeville, WI, to stretch my legs and get something to eat. I ate in this Wisconsin-based fast food place; its name begins with a letter *C*. Their prices are a little higher than the big national chains, but they cook your order after you place it, not before, and their food is great. Plus they have custard and all kinds of soda fountain treats. Can you say fattening? I had a North Atlantic Cod Filet sandwich, a coffee and a large banana shake.

I got a few looks from the staff and patrons, but they treated me like any other customer until ... ~~Odd how the volume on the sound system has gone up since I ordered.~~

“The top two songs this week were recorded live at the same concert a few weeks ago in Hawaii. The artist has had a song at number one and at least one other song in the top ten almost continuously since her debut last Halloween. Now for the number two song in the nation, a recording even the King couldn’t improve on.”

"Burning Love" had done well for Elvis, and it was doing very well by me. It and "Unchained Melody" were a juggernaut on the charts. It was almost embarrassing how well they were doing. I quickly finished my coffee and sandwich. I tossed my trash and took my shake with me to the bathroom where I washed my hands; I’d gone bathroom while my sandwich was being cooked. I was heading out of the bathroom as "Burning Love" ended. They broke for a commercial immediately after. ~~Thank you, Ghod.~~

I was about to leave when several kids ran up to me and asked if I was Joanie. “Yeah, I’m afraid so; disappointed?” Then I giggled like the seventeen year-old I am. I ended up signing autographs for everyone in the place. I rather enjoyed it. I exited the building to the sound of "Unchained Melody" and feeling all was right with the world.

* * * *

Four hours later, I pulled into Terrace Hill. This time, after being checked in by the guards, I drove my truck right up to the family parking area. I was surprised no one ran out to greet me. I grabbed my bag of presents for the family and walked in the mansion. I was greeted by a new tour guide, and she was definitely frazzled.

“Miss, you are late for the tour; please keep up or wait for the next one.” I immediately disliked this gal.

“I’m not with the tour. I’m here to…”

“You need to get a ticket; the fees help maintain this grand old house. The ticket booth is down the hall.”

“I’m a visitor here to see the Johnsons. Excuse me.” I turned and walked to the main staircase.

“Miss, you can’t wander around unsupervised. The top floor is private and off-limits to the public.”

I ignored her. I can be stubborn.

“Ma’am, I’m calling security!”

“Go for it; this should be interesting.” I stopped and sat on an intermediate landing. I heard people coming running from upstairs. I turned to look; the officer saw me and broke out laughing.

“Joanie, dear, please be nice to the tour guides. Many are college students working part-time, and they are not familiar with your comings and goings.” He escorted me down to the now confused student worker.

“Judy, Ms. Brown is a regular guest here. I’m sorry if you weren’t informed.”

She apologized then walked off muttering something like, “First day on the job, and I’m toast.”

I ran after her and gently stopped her. “I was in a mood and gave you a hard time. You were protecting the Johnsons by your actions, Judy. Just because I am famous doesn’t mean I necessarily had permission to go where I was going. You were protecting my friends; I am extremely fond of them, so I am not upset in the least. No bad feelings?” I offered her a hug; we are women after all. “I’ll see if I can get you a raise or a bonus for being alert to a possible intruder.” I whispered in her ear. She looked much happier.

I waited in a fourth floor parlor for the family. The officers on duty wouldn’t say where the family was but that I was welcome to wait. I nodded off on a huge overstuffed couch and was woken by someone tickling me.

“I was tired and I … Babs?” She was huge but looked healthy. That bit about pregnant women glowing was true for her. “I didn’t hear you come up.”

“We used the elevator; the stairs are too much for me.”

“I wish I had come to visit you in the hospital; I feel guilty I didn’t.”

“Eric told you not to come, and I told Eric to tell you that. You did as I wished -- no big deal.”

“But you were in pain.”

“Almost none, dear, I had some bruising from the seatbelts, and that’s almost faded away. They kept me overnight to make sure about the twins who are also doing fine. Now give your big sister a hug, will you, and quickly. I want to use the bathroom.”

I gave her a hug and helped her to the nearest bathroom. She sent me on my way.

“I’m not an invalid. You want to stare at a woman’s private parts? Stand in front of a mirror and strip. Now go!” she said and laughed.

Bob came up next and gave me a bear hug, lifting me off my feet. “Thanks for being a friend to my wife. Your calls do more good than you know. She means everything to me, Joanie, so thanks.” He kissed me sweetly, like I was Babs’s younger and favorite sister. ~~Duh, Joanie, Babs just called you her sister, and he does what she says after all.~~ Then he gave me a second kiss, a knock-my-socks-off kiss. I was dizzy, could barely think a coherent thought, and was pleasantly aroused afterwards -- oh my yes! Part of me, the naughty girl lurking deep inside, wanted more — much, much more. “That’s for the Senator and playing matchmaker. He hasn’t been this happy since the day Eric was born.”

“You’re welcome?” I slurred, confused. A pair of skinny arms wrapped around me. I opened my eyes and saw my increasingly lovely young friend.

“Mom looks like that, too, after Dad kisses her. Thanks for coming, Joanie, I missed you,” Mel said and she kissed me on the cheek. Her tone projected pure love for her older sister/best friend.

She backed off, and another pair of arms encircled me from behind. They were higher off the ground and definitely more muscular. So was the body they were attached to. “Don’t I get a hug?”

I was tempted to spin hard on my heels and ravish the boy, but I knew I had to be mature about this. I giggled, turned, blushed and kissed him like a girl at her first dance afraid that boys have cooties. So much for mature.

“Eric!” I squealed, almost squeaked. “Ghods! I sound like a love-struck teenager.”

“Joanie, dear, you are one.”

“Thanks, Babs, for your *kind* words of support. Where were you all earlier? Usually someone is here to greet me; I feel so rejected.”

“Having a big, long prenatal checkup, I’m in my third trimester. After the auto accident, my doctor wants to see me more often as a precaution.”

“Why did everyone go?”

“Mom wanted us to know what to expect in these last months and when she gives birth. Joanie, we got to see the babies. They used one of those sono … sonogram machines. John and Joan look so cute. I saw their tiny fingers and toes, and where he has his boy thing and she doesn’t. It was real tiny,” Mel said and giggled.

“My brother isn’t even born yet, be fair.”

“I agree, Eric. Your brother John will be a proper man in his time. No fair picking on him when he can’t defend himself. Once he’s old enough, go for the throat, Mel, no mercy.”

“Joanie?”

“Sorry, Eric, but I have to side with my fellow girl here. It’s tradition. If I was a guy I’d side with you, but then I’d be dating Mel, so count your blessings.”

“Okay, but I feel like the girls are picking on the boys.”

I kissed him on the cheek. “How do you feel now?”

“Much better.”

* * * *

“I’m yours for the next two weeks then I have to fly to Wales. So what do *we* want to do?” We were sitting together on that big couch, Babs, me and Bob in that order. Eric and Mel sat on the carpet facing us.

“Mel and I are in school through the end of the week.”

“Okay, say for this week I spend the days with your mom and dad, and in the evenings maybe help you study for your exams? Starting this weekend, through to the weekend after, how about I take you and Mel on vacation? I can show you my favorite places in Wisconsin, or we can go wherever you two like — maybe a theme park like Great America or one of the Wisconsin Dells attractions. There’s a real stern-wheel steamboat that does day cruises out of Lacrosse, the Amy Belle Swain, or I could take you to see where I grew up. We could visit my dad and sister? That’s just a few ideas; I’m open to suggestions.”

“That sounds good. Can we visit your friends in Madison?” Mel asked.

“Red, Gin and Carrie of MSG? Sure. Maybe we can see Dr. Sara. She was my doctor when I mutated and helped me a lot. She’s very funny too.”

“Grandma Sara? We met her, and she’s silly,” Mel replied.

“You met … Grandma Sara?!”

“Grandpa brought her to visit. She’s a pretty woman like you, Joanie. I see why Grandpa loves her,” Eric added.

“Dad wanted my blessing to marry Sara. He felt guilty I hardly remember my mom. Dad feels that he deprived me of having a chance to love a new mother as I grew up. I told him it was about time he had a girlfriend and to stop acting like a fool and marry her.”

“I’m happy you approve; I would have felt bad about it, if you didn’t.”

“Dad and Mom -- I like the sound of that word, Mom -- told me how you played match maker.”

“I thought they had a lot in common and might hit it off.”

“Hit it off? Joanie, though they tried to restrain themselves, during the visit they were all over each other like teenagers in heat. I thought Bob and I were wild in our day; I don’t know how Dad can survive being alone with her,” Babs said and grinned.

“Mom and Dad said it was okay for them to be so intimate with each other, because they are going to be married. I’m glad for Grandpa, he’s been on his own too long,” Eric added.

Eric had not mentioned something important about Sara, neither had Babs or Mel. I had to ask. “Bob,” I whispered “did they tell you about, ah, her being, um …”

“... that this is a shotgun wedding? Sure!” I was in shock, then Bob started laughing.

“You knew?”

“Joanie, we saw how Mom changed with her pregnancy. Grandma Sara is definitely pregnant -- even Eric noticed,” Mel explained.

“How do you feel about her having a baby?”

“I always wanted a sister, and now I have two,” Babs said and hugged me.

“Though she’ll technically be our aunt, to me she’ll be my little sister. I’ll get to teach her about being a girl and stuff.”

“I think it’s good, too. Having an aunt younger than me will be strange but fun,” Eric added.

“Whoa, slow down, a sister? I knew of the marriage proposal and the pregnancy, but a girl?” ~~ Plus wouldn’t she be more like a younger cousin? … Then I think of Babs as my sister and I want to marry her son. Ghods, we’re both loonies. ~~

“It’s the latest development in early tests for a baby’s sex. Sara and Joe called us late last night to let us know. She tried to call you, but your cell was off.”

“I was on the night train from Boston with Suzy and didn’t want to disturb anyone. That was my piece of news for you; well, one of the pieces anyway. I took Suzy Kenner to her grandparents’ house in Wisconsin. Her parents were waiting to meet her there. She and her mom decided I was being an idiot, and well, I have an aunt and uncle again, and maybe another cousin besides Christine, one of her uncles.”

“It went well. I can tell from your expression.”

I nodded in agreement, I could barely think let alone talk. My emotions were building as I fought to stay in control. “There wasn’t a moment’s hesitation in accepting me as their former nephew. They love me as much as before, maybe more so because I saved Suzy. I …” I started crying.

“You missed them that much?” Babs asked softly.

“I …”

I was not coherent for some time, but eventually I settled down.

* * * *

“Are you seeing a doctor, Joanie? Getting any counseling, hon? This last year had to be stressful, what with your mutation and all the emotional highs and lows.”

“I was seeing Dr. Bellows at school, for a while …”

I was interrupted by Bob's laughing. He had a deep infectious laugh -- the male counterpoint to my frequent giggles.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Joanie, but Dr. Bellows? Does he have an ornate glass bottle in his office?”

“A matter of fact he does, and he knows all the jokes about his *twin* on I Dream of Jeannie.”

“You should get help, Joanie; I think all the traumatic things that happened since last July are overwhelming you,” he said.

“I would, but when can I find the time?”

“Make time. It’s your wellbeing at stake here, sweetie.”

“I’ll consider it, and if you call me sweetie one more time, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Bob challenged.

“This,” I launched myself at Bob, attacking him mercilessly. I pushed him onto his back and … “I knew it, you’re just like me! Now that I know your weakness, you are at my mercy, mwah, ha, ha, ha!”” I cackled in triumph as I had my evil way with him.

“N-n-n-n-n-no, st-st-st-st-o-o-o-o-op!” he sputtered between gasps for breath. ~~Damn but the man is ticklish and in so many places.~~

“Joanie, that’s not nice to exploit my husband’s weakness like that. The last time I *assaulted* him so aggressively, he got me pregnant.”

I was on top of him, straddling his body... I suddenly *knew* how the twins were conceived. ~~Oh my Ghod, what am I doing!~~ I backed away immediately. “Whoa, I’d better stop. I’m so sorry, Bob, I didn’t …” I was terribly embarrassed and excited at the same time. “Um, Eric? Come here, please,” and a part of me meant it. Thankfully, I recovered my sanity, if not my dignity, in spite of that siren’s voice.

“Joanie, leave my son alone, until he’s eighteen, at least. And he is just like his dad by the way.”

“Is he?” Mel asked and winked at me. Eric tried to run, but I got him around the waist, while Mel went straight for his armpits. I worked on the sides of his ribs. We relented, eventually.

“Brother, I never knew you could turn that shade of red.”

“I’ll get you for this!”

“No you won’t, Eric.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s not nice to threaten your sister, and because you will be too busy … with me.”

“Oh!”

“Now get those clothes off, and you’d better be up for it.”

* * * *

Now if I was a tease, I’d break my d/j/w at this point, leaving you thinking Eric and I were about to … well, you are wrong ... regrettably. We played Horse. It’s a game of shooting baskets to spell out horse or whatever. The least misses wins. John — the old me -- was a terrible ball player, but I, Joanie, remembered from previous visits Eric liked the sport. I have to do what he likes some of the time to be fair. We hurried of to our respective rooms to change.

We’d agreed to meet out by the basketball hoop. I spotted him first. “Nice outfit, Eric.”

“I wore it ‘specially for you.” This caused me to giggle as it was Eric’s school Phys Ed uniform — very generic and strangely sexy in its utilitarian plainness. That he was wearing it had a lot to do with why I liked the look.

“Like mine?” I'd worn my running outfit.

“Do you have to ask?”

“Yes I do, Eric. I’m getting better at this girl stuff, and all the movies and TV imply this fishing for complements is important.” I pouted then giggled again. My emotions were all over the map today.

“It looks terrible on you. I know, lets play shirts and skins. You can be skins.”

“Don’t you wish, Eric, and thank you, I feel better now. Shoot the ball, pervert.”

I played badly at first. To be honest I sucked at it, but then John was never much of an athlete. Eric was creaming me, and part of me didn’t like it. I kept at it and surprised myself with how rapidly I improved.

“I thought you said you were bad at sports, Joanie?”

“John was bad; I guess Joanie is better.”

“Okay then, try some one-on-one?”

“You’re on, Eric!”

This was much harder as my dribbling was terrible. Eric was beating me easily, again, but I was having fun. My play soon improved, and he was no longer dominating me. After a while he forgot himself and was blocking me pretty roughly, but legally -- no elbows. I gave as good as I got. We were bumping into each other, getting sweaty, grimy and having the time of our lives. I felt alive, strong and oh so accepted. Strangely, despite the close, almost intimate contact, I was not aroused -- or not much, anyway. I was having too much fun competing with Eric to be thinking of sex with him. We were like two school pals testing our maturing bodies against each other in preparation for competing for mates at a later age. I was simply one of the guys, just built kind of funny.

* * * *

It was getting late into the afternoon when Mel came out to find us. “It’s nearly time to eat. Euh! You two need a shower; you stink.”

“Want to shower with me, Eric?” We laughed, ran into Terrace Hill, and off to our respective -- and separate -- showers.

I was luxuriating in the warm spray and started to think aloud, “That went well; I think we can pull this off. Lots of wholesome physical activity together with restrained but affectionate contact, but nothing else happened. This means we can have lots of social intercourse and get to know each other as good friends before we become lovers. I think I have this whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing sussed … then why did I think intercourse and not interaction?” I asked myself.

I dressed nice for the Saturday dinner, a mid-thigh summer dress, pumps and some tasteful jewelry -- some of my Hawaiian acquisitions. I entered the family dining room and found Bob in a polo shit, khakis and tennis shoes, Babs in a simple maternity gown and bunny slippers, Mel in Capri-styled jeans, a sleeveless top and cross trainers, and Eric in jeans, a printed U of Iowa t-shirt, gym socks and clean basketball shoes.

“Joanie, you look lovely, but you didn’t have to dress up; we’re having tacos tonight. Takeout, actually, as Bob felt we all needed a day off from any household chores. It’s from a local Mexican restaurant, so it’s really good,” Babs said and smiled.

I felt foolish, until I saw how Mel was studying me, like she was memorizing this look for future reference. Eric’s warm smiles every time he looked my way told me I’d worn the perfect outfit.

* * * *

We all helped Babs with clean-up after diner; Eric wanted to spend more time with me, alone. Mel objected, as I was her friend first. I went all Solomon on them.

“You both claim I should spend the next few hours with each of you exclusively. The problem is there is only one of me. I guess I’ll have to cut myself in two, so I can do both.”

“Works for me.”

“Me too.” They replied in turn.

“That’s not what I expected. I thought the more worthy one would back off, like with Solomon, the two women and the baby … Oh yeah, wrong example, huh kiddos?”

“That stunk, Joanie.”

“What my sister said; sorry, hon.”

“I maybe 49 years old, but I’m not omnic … omnice … prefect, perfect, that’s it! Perfect. I have my blonde moments, you know.” I snickered and they both laughed.

“You were having us on, Joanie?”

“What do *you* think, Mel? I tell you what, here’s my deal. Eric gets a scorching hot kiss with lots of tongue and sexy fondling, and then Mel gets my undivided attention until bedtime. Sounds fair?”

Eric’s shit-eating grin told me I’d hit pay dirt. “Absolutely!”

“Seems fair to me, Joanie,” Mel replied.

“Okay, then. Mel, kiss your brother, and then we can go off and have some fun.”

“What!?” Mel screeched.

“Why you dirty little tease!” Eric grumbled. They looked at each other, and I bolted. I ran for my guest room, but I forgot to lock the connecting door to the next room … Babs and Bob got some really good photos of me, as I was being tortured by Mel and Eric -- home video actually.

You must remember I am an exemplar *across the board*; that includes the responsiveness of my skin. John was quite ticklish. My mom was not, but my female self, despite many outward similarities to Mom, is ticklish -- very, very ticklish. And many of the same pain and pleasure receptors that feed into my ticklishness are part and parcel of my body’s erogenous zones. The kids thought I was trying to break free, which I was. I was also on the verge of having a whopping great orgasm, and I did not want the minors to realize why I was reacting as I was. Babs and Bob realized what was happening and saved me before I went over the edge, but just barely.

“That’s enough kids, let Joanie breathe.” I was panting irregularly, flushed and my mind was saturated with endorphins. I was high as a kite, and it was legal. “Out, everyone, so I can help Joanie calm down,” Babs insisted. They left, and she closed both doors. “Are you okay, Hon? Bob tickled me like that a few times when we wanted to spice up our marriage; you know silk scarves, tying one to the bed and the use of feathers or fur to tantalize?”

“Babs I feel like a … I feel dirty somehow.”

“How were they to know? Do you need to, you know? The pulse setting on the shower is most … pleasing.”

“Babs, you dirty little … can you keep them busy for say half an hour and make sure whatever you’re doing is loud. Bless you.”

I gave her a sweet sister—to-sister kiss on the lips, and that nearly got me going again.

“Make that an hour.”

Like I said, I have very responsive skin.

* * * *

Forty-five minutes later I was clean, in fresh clothes and feeling absolutely fantastic. Babs was right, that shower head was bliss; I almost forgot I was here to visit. ~~I need to remember what brand and model this shower head is … I’m in LOVE.~~ So, I admit it, I would have used the whole hour, but I ran out of hot water.

I found them in the media room watching the DVD Jay had sent of the Waikiki concert.

Eric turned to me and spoke carefully, like he had given his words a great deal of thought. “Joanie, I’m sorry we treated you like that. We tickled you far longer than was funny or enjoyable for you. Mom said you were in distress at the end. We are very sorry; we took the tickling too far. We only meant to have fun, not to hurt you, right Mel?”

“Like Eric said.” Mel walked over to me and gave me a big hug.

“I forgive you; you meant no harm … and it wasn’t all that unpleasant, far from it. Just don’t do it again for a while, okay?” I rolled my eyes and grinned. The two of them looked extremely embarrassed. I filed this away for future reference, for after Eric and I are legal ... Whoopee!

* * * *

The rest of the evening we spent catching up on each other’s lives and just shooting the breeze. I was tempted to give Dr. Sara a call and berate her for not telling me she was carrying a girl but decided to wait. It was heavenly spending a quiet evening with close family. Yes, I said family. I went to bed happy, and I slept the best I had in ages. My dreams were memorable and extremely private, so there!

* * * *

Richard Thorn, Erin Flynn and Alexis Eden are the creations of Julie_O

Around Midnight ,Wayne Zachery and Jennifer Stevens are the creations of Bob Arnold

I am the creation of my parents, or so THEY claimed

To be continued
Would *I* lie to you?

Timeout 4 Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction. Chapter 12

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Sequel or Series Episode

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction
Chapter 12

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)." Here’s another chapter in part four of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic/one-size-fits-all epic. It’s not that bad; I do have an overall story arc in mind, honest. I’m much better than when I started this, though my grammar and spelling remain flawed; ask Itinerant if he is still… In our previous chapter, Itinerant said, ‘(Great. Now I'm getting 'cheep' shots … Doo-dah! Doo-dah!)’ Tisk tisk tisk, how *Camp*-town can you be? (Depends on how much horsing around I do. (-dah))

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,Chapter 12

It IS chapter 12, really. I *KNOW* chapter 11 had like TWO parts, I think, but this IS chapter 12. No foolln'

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

(Part one of Chapter 12 to be honest. Probably four, maybe five parts to this chapter in total)

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

Sunday June 03, 2007

I woke to the sensation of something brushing across my face.

“Huh, wah? Flufppb?” You try talking with an ostrich feather twitching in your mouth. “What the … Who did that … Mel?!”

“Joanie, it’s 7 o’clock. Get up. We eat in ten minutes.”

“Okay. Jeese, that feather tastes awful.” I pretended to swat her for being a tease. Mel laughed as she ran out of my room.

I dressed quickly, brushed my hair, and hustled to the kitchen. I saw a buffet set out before me: juice, coffee, milk, eggs — several styles -- bacon, ham, sausage links, toast, waffles, bagels, jam, jelly, cream cheeses, and cereal. I don’t remember it all; I’ve seen resort breakfast buffets with less variety.

“Babs, why didn’t someone get me up earlier? I would have helped; I can
cook.”

“You think I did this all by myself, Joanie?"

"No! Yes! I mean this must have took a lot of work, and with you in …" The moment I spoke, I knew I shouldn't say it, but it blurted out anyway. " … your condition. Oh crap! I didn't mean … Babs, it's just this is too much; I'm no one spec …. I'll shut up now, *'k*?" If I'd said anymore, I could have put both feet and my crew cab in my mouth. ~~~ Dumb... dumb... dodo, brainless human being …~~ My mind chose that moment to remember an old Bill Cosby routine, and boy/girl did I fit it to a tee. FYI, when dope-slapping yourself make sure you miss. It hurts!

Babs laughed. "I'll admit I did the eggs, but I sat on a stool, as I worked. Mel did the toast and helped move things to the table. Bob did the waffles and sausage, and Eric did the bacon and ham. We wanted to give you a proper welcome home. We all love you so very much. Doing this for you was a joy not a burden.

“And it wasn't all that much work for me, honest; and you deserve it, dear. I like to do things for my friends and you, dear Joanie, are more than a friend. When we spoke a while back about us being sisters, I meant it.”

“It’s wonderful that you're doing this for me, Sis, but it doesn’t seem right, what with you being pregnant. I know that sounds old fashioned and maybe chauvinistic, but …”

“Ah, the remnants of the man is talking, Sis. I’m no invalid, just because I'm pregnant; I take things easier, but I can still do a lot.”

“Now I’ve insulted you. I’m sorry.” I fought back tears; I felt very stupid.

“It’s sweet you want to protect me, but I’m fine, honest. Tell you what, if you promise to take my children to a park or someplace fun, you’re off the hook. Moms hanging with their teenage children are a drag; pregnant moms, doubly so, triply so in my case.”

“Mom! It’s kewl hanging with you,” Mel protested.

Eric was right behind. “Like Mel said,” Eric echoed his sister.

“Sweet, kiddos, but don’t lie to your mom. I understand teens hanging with mom is uncool. Plus I tire easily now. I don't have the energy to keep up. Babs turned to me. “So is it a deal, Joanie? You'd be doing us all a big favor.”

“I’m not keeping them from church, am I?”

“It’s entirely up to Eric and Mel; Bob and I don’t force our beliefs on them.”

“You have a deal, but if you cook for me again, I’ll be very angry, *huff, huff*, very angry indeed!” Then we both got the giggles. I do a wicked Marvin the Martian. You know, his Roman Legionnaire's get up with the tennis shoes might just work for me. Hum, maybe if I substitute, trade his tennis shoes for some Roman sandals with the rawhide things laced criss-cross fashion up to the knees, with maybe a touch of heel, say no more than four or five inches … sort of Ben Hur meets Betty Page.

~~Ghods ! I AM shoe obsessed !~~

* * * *

Breakfast went pretty smooth;y after this, though I found, make that we found, ourselves *serving* Babs her's until she told us. "Cut it out, I'm not an invalid! Can't I eat in peace?" She tried to sound mad but it was clear she wasn't. We let her be after that. After eating we put out plates, cups and flat wear in the sink. Yeah, a dull story but important. How else would they get clean? Oh, we rinsed them and put them in the diswasher too. Mel had to show me how.

What! Who said that? I AM not stupid! We never had a diswasher at home so I never learned. Did I say dis washer? OH MY GHOD! I really am a blonde! And sorry about all the exclamation marks -- ! -- but Wallyword had a sale.

* * * *

With breakfast over, my two co-conspirators and I met in Mel's room to plan our day.

“What do you want to do…?” Eric got this leering grin on his face.

“Okay, I *know* what you want to do, but remember not until you’re eighteen, Eric?” I giggled, and he laughed.

“Just joking, Joanie.”

"I know you were, Eric. You were, weren't you?" That got a laugh from my friends. "So what do you two want to do today? You're the experts on this *town*, what's fun? Whatever you two want to do, I'm game … That means it's okay"”

Mel looked at me like she was about to say "I know what *game* means, Blondie." but she quickly smiled instead. “I have to be at Lisa’s by 4 o’clock for the chat session, but a day at the beach would be nice.”

“What my sister said could be fun,” Eric agreed.

Part of me could imagine just how much fun that could be, and I gave her a stern mental reprimand … and a mental high five. Healthy young bodies -- a certain young man's in particular -- in wet, clinging swimsuits … parts of me were drooling. When I got this thought about skinny-dipping …. Whoa momma!

“Get your suits, and make sure they fit; you're both growing like weeds, after all. Make sure you grab some big towels, sunglasses and sunscreen for us all, and we’re off.”

* * * *

Eric and Mel suggested this one park in Des Moines. It had a decent beach. There were nicer ones in the area, but the water was known to warm up faster than most other beaches in the area as it was on a reservoir on one of the rivers. I wore a sundress over my suit for modesty … and to tease a certain young man. Plain tennis shoes, a ball cap and a sports watch completed my outfit.

I mentioned the *sports watch*, as I said we were going to the beach which implies swimming, duh. If you are going to wear a watch while swimming any sane person would wear a sports watch since most sports watches are waterproof. Yeah, I know most people wouldn't wear a watch at all when swimming but Mel did need to get to Lisa's for the chat session. Does this make sense to you now? I brought this to your attention to prove I'm not completely blonde. I mean Geeze! A girl makes a few tiny mistakes and suddenly they think she's a ditz. I am so NOT one, a ditz that is . I am ALL girl I'll have you know.

Where was I? I was describing our trip to the beach. We brought along water bottles to keep hydrated but planned to eat out if hungry. I followed their directions, and we were there in less than 20 minutes. I parked and turned to speak.

“Make sure to use lots of sun block and reapply it often, particularly between 10 and 2 o’ clock. I’m a regen; you are not, and sunburn hurts.”

“Yes, Mommy,” they said. I ignored this attempt at baiting me. I am a mature woman after all.

I locked up any valuables they had in the truck; I had a special pocket in the bikini brief of my swimsuit to keep my truck key safe. It was a very small pocket, as it was a very small suit. It was that or wear the key on a cord around my neck dangling between my … ~~Eric would love that … Joanie, eighteen, remember eighteen.~~

“Eric, Mel, in an emergency, the key on me will get you in the truck to use my cell phone, but it won’t start the motor unless you know the security code.”

“And where is that key?”.

I smiled and moved closer. “It’s in my bikini bottom, Eric. ‘Wanna see?” I whispered that last bit in his ear, and he turned beet red. I said I ignored it, I never said I FORGAVE them for the *Yes, Mommy* crack.

“I’m just teasing you two. Come here please; I have something to give you both.”

I handed them each a key on a long colorful boot-lace to wear around their neck or waist. Each key was on a brightly colored, floating key-chain -- the ones they sell to boaters and fishermen -- just in case. "I think I can trust you two with keys to my truck. But no joyriding, I memorized the mileage reading," They chuckled.

We got to the water and laid out our towels on the sand to claim a spot. "I think it's time for some sunscreen. Mel, I’ll get your back with lotion. You’d better do Eric’s and mine; the two of us might get too enthused.”

She took off her cover-up and exposed a tasteful young woman’s bikini; it was nothing too wild or conservative. Some of the girls and guys on the beach checked her out from a distance -- checking-out the competition I assumed. My impression was she was *classed* as a future babe with an honorable mention in the overall competition -- though with a warning label of *serious jail-bait, hands off*. I thought she looked great.

“Mel, where did you get the bikini? I’m envious.”

“Mom took me shopping, I picked it out with her approval. She didn’t want me to get something too skimpy. What did she say? ‘No postage stamp thongs!’ But, Mom agreed, I needed something fashionable like my girlfriends wear. She's pretty kewl about stuff like that.”

“Your mom was right about no Brazilian-style bikini. I think what you have on is classic, tasteful and sweetly sexy. What do you think, Eric?”

“That if she wasn’t my sister, and I didn’t already have a girl, I’d ask her out … if she was a little older.”

I snickered, “I can see you’re a politician’s son, Eric.”

Mel coated her front, arms and legs in sunscreen, as I coated her back. She helped Eric, and I was glad I wasn’t doing his back -- or any other part of him for that matter. Helping his sister was embarrassing enough. ~~I swear every time I see him he looks that much more handsome, not that Mel isn’t blooming nicely.~~ If I’d tried slathering lotion on Eric, or visa versa, I just knew where our hands were going to wander off to. That kind of temptation we did not need. I filed *that* idea away for future reference. ~~Me, Eric and lots of slippery lotion … might want to substitute olive oil or cocoa butter for the sunscreen in *that* scenario, sunscreen tastes awful. Stings the eyes too … Ooooh, chocolate sauce … strawberries … whipped cream … maple syrup! ~~

“My turn,” I said and removed my sundress right on the beach. Mel giggled, and Eric’s jaw dropped clean off. We had to take him to the emergency room and have it glued back on -- Ta-dum! Sorry about that. I had my suit on under the dress, duh! I can safely say my outfit impressed him.

“Joanie, that is … I mean … Wow!”

“This little old thing?" *Little* being the operative word. "Carrie picked it out for me, last July. It’s sooo out of fashion, soooo last year. What do *you* think, Eric? This, this is ugly, I think I’ll take it off right now and throw it away. I’d rather swim naked than wear something so unattractive.” It was that pink thong-style bikini. You know the one that barely covers anything and does it so well too. I moved my hands behind my back and pretended like I was untying it. ~~I’m a mean little kid, teasing him like that. In my defense, this girl's entitled to some fun, even if it's only my imagination that can enjoy it. Meanwhile the *real me* is the unlucky one who has to be celibate … okay, faithful … Damn, even my inner voice mocks me~~

Eric swallowed hard and choked out, “I … I … I need to use the bathroom. Excuse me.”

He ran off, and we girls giggled at his plight. I, we knew why he ran off, and it wasn't because he was upset or angry; it was because of … Okay I’d made him all hot and horny in a completely inappropriate time and place. If I was still a man, I would have been embarrassed to be seen in public *like* that. I noticed other men on the beach *adjusting* their suits, wrapping towels around their waists and so forth in response to my attire. I witnessed women giving me looks that would burn through armor plate. I was definitely NOT a welcome sight in the eyes of most of the women near me. And for those of you who think my swimsuit was scandalous, there were several other girls with equally skimpy suits or worse. Some of the Speedos the guys wore were damn near G-stings; it made for pleasant *scenery* from my viewpoint. Just because I'm not intending to *buy* anything doesn't mean I can't window-shop. It's not like I was in the changing room trying it on for siz …. HEY that's an idea! Whoa! Simmer down girl.

Some minutes later, Eric returned, looking none the worse for the experience. He was most apologetic. “Sorry I ran off, ladies. So what’s the plan then?"

“Mel, let’s walk around for a while until the lotion dries, then we can swim.”

“Watch our stuff, would you, Eric, please? We’ll take turns, okay?” I said and we started walking. We didn't even give him a chance to reply. Stinkers ain't we?

”I’m not being hard on your brother by wearing this, am I?” Hands up, everyone who thought that bit was dirty.

“It’s a little mean, but only because you both know he’s too young. I’m sure he enjoyed the show you put on.”

“So did I. Let’s strut our stuff, girl.” I put a little extra something into my walk. If my hip sway got any greater I would have fallen down. I glanced back, poor Eric was staring at us -- okay, me. I mouthed 'Forgive me?' then smiled, He looked a lot happier. ~~He must really love me to put up with this. I'd better do something nice for him.~~

* * * *

As we strolled the beach Mel helped finish off coating me with lotion; touching it up here and there. We'd done a good job of applying it earlier but you always miss something. Technically, as a regen, I didn’t need it, but I wanted to set a good example. I made sure she was well protected as well. With her light complexion sunscreen is a must. We walked around for a good twenty minutes or more, checking out the beach and nearby park.

“Joanie, um … about your bikini. That’s one of those postage-stamp suits Mom wouldn’t let me buy, not that I’d be comfortable in public with that little on. It looks good on you, though.”

“It’s not that tiny, there’s at least a book of stamps in this, if you include the straps.” I wasn’t lying, with a normal stamp at roughly one square inch, there was at least ten stamps worth of material covering me … barely. So a book is actually twenty stamps; I'm allowed a little artistic license. And come to think of it, 'less IS more' was never more true than with regards to a good looking woman in a bikini. Am I really that much of a show-off? Don't answer.

The park was slowly filling up, as it was a great day, so we took an occasional glance back at Eric and our stuff. We walked to the far end of the beach and slowly walked back. On the return leg, we were photographed a few times, but nothing too intrusive. The women were less hostile towards me, as I’d made no *play* for their men, but they gave the guys some interesting looks for staring at us -- mostly me, but us.

Mel is pretty, for a woman in her early bloom, and I’m not saying that just because we are friends. I have this feeling, a premonition, she will be a beauty in a few years and remain so for a long time, but then her mom is attractive, even as a pregnant woman in her mid thirties. I know that is not that old, but her dad, Senator Joe, is in terrific shape for sixty plus. If you want to see what a person will look like as they age, look at their parents; really, it works. Factor in Mel's father, Bob, who I think is a major hunk, and odds are that both Mel and Eric will be good-looking adults and stay that way for a long time.

When I could no longer feel any wetness from the sunscreen, I gave Mel the okay to swim, but only if we did it as pairs or if someone watched.

“I see your brother is waiting patiently for us. Have fun, Mel, but always as pairs in the water to be safe. If you do swim, grab me or Eric as your buddy. No swimming alone, okay? You want to go swim with your brother first? We were kinda rude to him earlier."

“Joanie, I like my brother, but I’d rather swim with you first.”

I walked up to Eric and pouted.

“Sorry, Eric. Mel and I are swimming first, so could you watch our stuff, pretty please? I know I've been rude and ignored you, but I plead being a blonde and doing it to please Mel. Don’t worry, you’ll get your … chance.” I fluttered my eyes at him and pouted.

"Oh … all right," He sounded a little disappointed but okay with it.

I smiled then walked away with that extra sway in my hips. Eric shook his head but was grinning. I may tease him, but he knows how I feel about him -- smart kid. How can he be so young yet so grown-up? I feel positively juvenile in his presence. HEY! You didn't need to agree with me so fast *dear* readers.

We waded out into the water; it was a little on the cool side, but much better than when I’d gone swimming during early April in Lake Wisconsin. I surprised Mel by swimming around her, doing surface dives and the like. I never once lost my tiny bikini top or bottom. It did have a rubbery lining that helped it to grip to my skin, so it’s *perch* wasn't as precarious as it appeared. There was a diving/sunning raft 30 yards out, and I just had to try it.

“Are you up to swimming out to the raft, Mel?”

“Sure, Joanie; I'm taking Junior Lifesaving class this summer, with the Red Cross.“

“You're really good then, Mel. Let’s swim side-by-side to be safe, though, 'k'? Buddy system and all that.”

~~When did I get so preachy? Ghods, I'm turning into my mother!~~

We swam, and though I was faster and had to hold back, she wasn’t bad. Heck, I'm an exemplar, so she was doing great, considering. We got there, and this trio of older girls wouldn’t let her on. A pair of lifeguards sat in a rowboat moored at the outer limit of the marked swimming area watching carefully.

“My friend and I want to dive off the raft; could you clear one of the ladders?” Mel asked and very politely too.

“Go away; this raft is reserved for mature girls, not a little kid like you,” said a girl who appeared to be 15 years old and 30 pounds overweight. Her feet dangled in the water, as she sat in the ladder. Though overweight, she was not unattractive; she looked fit, like a beginning weightlifter. She could do Mel serious harm, if she got aggressive. Another of the troublesome trio, a tall, gangly girl, sat tying up the second ladder, and the third, apparently oldest and best-looking girl sunned herself on the raft

“This is park property for everyone to use; it’s not right,” Mel said in protest. This was like my incident with the Omegas, but without Whateley.

“Go away, before we get rough.”

I’d had enough. “Miss, that is a decidedly antisocial and unhealthy attitude you have. It’s not like you ladies couldn’t share the raft with others. Why not do the right thing and avoid unnecessary complications? There is lots of room, after all.” I admit it was a tad pompous, okay a lot pompous, but she pissed me off !

“Why not butt out and save yourself a pounding?” the somewhat chubby girl replied.

“I’m only in town for a couple weeks to visit dear friends, and this is how you treat guests to your fine state?”

“You talk the line, but can you walk the line?” Chubby’s fellow, or is that sister, ladder holder said -- the gangly girl.

"I thought it was ‘Walk the walk,’ and ‘Talk the talk.’” Illiterate! “Hon, that is the sorriest excuse for ghetto-speak I have heard in years. What are you anyway, mostly German and Norwegian in ancestry? Quit trying to pretend you’re *gangsta*; it doesn’t wash. You? African-American? With your pale skin, button nose and dirty blonde hair? Give me a break!”

“Doesn’t matter; what matters is we were here first, Blondie.” The ghetto wanna-be said.

“Them’s fightin’ words! I’m not a blonde, I’m a strawberry blonde, there’s a big difference,” I drawled then giggled. “Mel, should I do the you-know-what on them?” I could see she was getting tired, what with the poor grip she had on the side of the raft.

“The you-know-what, Joanie?”

“A Prairie Du Chien special?” I replied and giggled.

“Oh, like you did for me on Labor Day? Yes, please! This I have to watch.”

“You’re gonna to do a…?” Chubby was silenced as I time stopped everyone on the raft and swam around to Mel. I unfroze her, and we climbed onto the raft from the side; I boosted her up-and-on, and then she helped by pulling me up. We could just reach across the raft and keep touching each other’s hand while getting close behind each of the *ladder* girls.

“Mel, don’t push. Don’t even touch the girl, just say hello.” Mel nodded and I unfroze everyone.

“Prairie Du …whatthehellwasthat?! Where did you …?”

“Hello,” Mel and I said, simultaneously, from right behind the girls, who each immediately panicked and fell in the water. Contestant number three decided discretion was the better part of valor and dove off, saying, “Um, sorry.”

Chubby was clearly the leader, as I had thought. She swam towards the boat at the outer swim markers and complained. “Those girls shoved us into the water. They are troublemakers and should be kicked out of here.”

“What can I do?” A male lifeguard replied.

“You’re a lifeguard! Kick them out and call the cops!”

“I don’t think you would want me to do that. The girls never touched you, and your group was hogging the raft. They asked to share with you, so there is nothing I can do.”

“We were there first, and they pushed.”

“I was watching, too, and the young ladies did nothing wrong.” The woman life guard raised her head and looked at the raft.

“Hi, Mel! I take it this is the young lady you were telling us about in Advanced Swim class all this winter.”

“Yeah, isn’t Joanie great? This is just like how she saved my life, Liz.”

“What the hell?” Ms. Chubby interjected.

“That’s not nice language, Miss. Please, remember this is a public place.”

“So this is your VIP student?” the male lifeguard asked Liz.

“Delighted to meet you, Mel, and you too, Ms. Brown I assume? That’s a neat *trick* you have there. If I hadn’t seen the video of your rescue of Mel last Labor Day I would never have believed it. Please enjoy your stay. Excuse us, but we need to return to duty,” the male lifeguard said.

“Ms. Brown? Who the fuck is she?”

I dove off the raft, almost losing my top, and swam up to Ms. Foul Mouth. “Hi, we weren’t properly introduced. My name is Joan Brown, I’m a student and teacher at a school for mutants out east. I sing professionally, but you can call me Joanie. The charming young lady you gave a hard time to is my good friend, Melissa Johnson; her daddy is the Governor of this State. Let’s start over and let bygones-be-bygones, if that is okay with you and your friends?”

“I … Crap, you really are her. You’re just making fun of us. Why would a rich bitch like you be interested in some girls from a trailer park?”

I let rich and that other word slide for the moment. “Because five teenage girls can have so much more fun than two, and Mel’s brother needs teasing. He’s good looking for fourteen. You’ll have a great time. Want to hang with us?”

“Leave us alone!”

“I’m sorry that’s how you feel. I'm not making fun of you. I bet, if you dropped the hostile act, we could have a lot of fun together. I'm a girl, just like you."

"G-g-go ….!"

"Sorry you feel that way, but the offer still stands. B’bye!”

I swam back to the raft. I was in a good mood and preferred to make friends, not enemies. I do admit to imagining my time-stopping them and stripping off their swimsuits. I’m not totally without a mean streak, and they were mean to Mel. Should anyone actually hurt her, I shudder to think what I might do.

* * * *

Mel and I took turns diving, until I realized we’d been ignoring her dear brother.

“Eric must think we forgot him. Let’s head in, Mel.”

We got to shore and didn’t see him or our towels.

“I can’t see my brother anywhere.”

“I think our stuff was closer to that group of girls over by that big rock, Mel.”

“I think I see him, Joanie.”

He was in the middle of a group of four girls who were either teasing him or coming on shamelessly. I shushed Mel and chose to listen, as we closed in on them.

“So … dump your sister and her friend. If *I* was on the beach, and four hot young women came up to me, I’d spend the day with them.” She spoke in a come-on voice, low and sexy, trying to seduce him.

I hated this girl at once.

“For one, it’s wrong to cut out without even the courtesy of telling them. And for another, my sister’s friend is our ride home.” He spoke matter-of-factly, while looking the girl in the eyes and not her chest -- and to be honest, she had a nice chest. Hey, I used to be a guy from "America's Dairy Land." Deal with it. My Eric's body language suggested he was uncomfortable but was trying to be polite,

From the angle we were approaching, we could see them, but they, Eric and the four girls, could not see us, thus his answers were completely honest. Hey! I trust him, but a girl needs to be reassured every once and a while, and I'm worth it … or will be.

Ghods, did I just write that? Um, where were we? Right …

~~Go, Eric!~~ Let's say I was more than *a little* pleased with how Eric was handling these slu … whor … skan … *forward young women". ~~See, that was easy, Joanie. You didn't once call those f***ing bitches a bad name.~~

“We have a car. Shelly here got her license this April. My parents are out of town for the week. Angie here scored a bottle of her parent’s Jack Daniels, and I have some other fun *stuff*. Four eager babes with their own car, place, drugs and alcohol -- it’s a boy's fantasy. Where do you live?”

I really hated this girl.

“Uh, Terrace Hill.” He sounded very uncomfortable but stayed polite. They were placing him in an awkward situation. Part of me wanted to intervene but most of me wanted to see how this played out. Yes, "I've" got issues. So sue me!

“I knew it, girls; this is the Governor’s son -- Eric, isn’t it? You’re better looking in person than in your photographs, and you were good looking in those. I bet you’re a virgin; all that press scrutiny. We can help *fix* that. Wanna party with some sexy babes, handsome?”

I really, really hated this girl. I was *this* shy of … I took a deep breath then looked at my friend. Mel appeared conflicted, amused at her brother's embarrassment but angry as well. She did not like these girls, period. My opinion of the girls was far lower; my inner bitch was seething. I put my hand on her shoulder and shook my head at her. She nodded back. We waited.

Eric visibly straightened, then spoke in a steady, deliberate tone. “I’m flattered, but no. And it’s not because I’m the Governor’s son. I’m too young to drink, and I’m far too young to be having sex -- not that it isn’t tempting. I’m not even going to comment on the offer of drugs, other than that’s your choice, not mine, ladies. I'm here with my sister and her best friend. I’m responsible for them both, and her friend is my friend too. It wouldn’t be right to run out on them. My sister looks up to me, and her friend …I … I don’t ever want to disappoint either of them, ever.” He smiled, as he finished, still looking them in the eyes.

~~Words like that will get you a big reward someday, Lover.~~ I could hardly contain myself. I was torn between pounding the four bit**'s faces and screwing Eric senseless. Anger and lust are a volatile mix.

Mel's reaction was more subdued, but I could see she was pleased with her brother.

“Last chance, guy. Where are you going to find such good looking girls who are interested in having a good time with you? Why moon over some girl who won’t put out when you can have real women. I can see part of you wants it.”

Eric would have to be a corpse not to have some reaction to four girls in wet swimsuits. I had to admit they were attractive, particularly the one doing the talking. She had to be a cheerleader; she had that bouncy, perky, self-confident -- almost arrogant -- attitude and the looks to go with it. I really, really, really hated this girl.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. It wouldn’t be right. I know this sounds corny, but she is a wonderful girl, and I’m trying to prove I’m worthy of her … friendship.” The way he said ‘friendship’ translated as ‘love’ to my ears. I melted inside.

~~Hon, you just proved it. Damn, if you were only eighteen.~~

Any thoughts I had of beating the crap out of that blatant hussy was overwhelmed by my, um, *admiration* for Eric's actions. It was a good thing my swimsuit was still wet from swimming; I was THAT aroused. I would have jumped his bones there and then if not for my pesky conscience, damn it !

“Think of what you’re turning down!”

“I think he’ll do just fine with us, won’t he, Mel?” Timing is everything, and I wasn’t going to waste this gift.

“And you are…? Crap!”

“You’re the second person to tell me that today. I might have sand on my feet, but I am quite clean otherwise, I assure you.” Eric stared at me, a smile growing on his face. Mel giggled. I think her brother’s stock doubled in her mind today. It had tripled in mine.

“Have the ladies here been giving you a *hard* time, Eric? Sorry, that was naughty. Please forgive me? Mel and I were having too much fun, and I forgot. Mel, your brother deserves something for being so nice.”

I turned and whispered to her. She kissed her brother, and I gave him a hug. Hey, we were in public. The four girls stared at us looking confused.

“You didn’t know, so I’ll forgive you this time. I’m rather fond of Eric and Mel, and I don’t like seeing them hurt. Eric is also seriously underage; he’s fourteen -- you know, jail-bait? So back off.”

“You act like he’s your boyfriend?!”

“He’s a boy, and he’s my friend, as is his sister, so in that sense they are my boy … friend and my girl … friend.” Can I lie or can I lie? I gave both Mel and Eric a quick, one-armed hug. “I’ll give you ladies this, you have good taste in men. Eric is an exceptional young man; it’s a privilege to be his friend. I expect he will be a even more remarkable adult. It's a pity; if you cleaned up your acts, you'd have a chance at someone like him. You all certainly have the looks for it. You just need the *insides* to match. Looks fade eventually, but character shines on. Excuse us, ladies. We need to go.”

Yeah, I know I was dancing with the devil there, all but shouting "Eric is my lover!". Sometimes you just have to … Yeah, I'm an idiot, a love struck one at that.

“Eric! Heel!” Eric moved next to me and held stock still. He looked at me, and I almost broke up as did he. "Come." He walked by my side to the car. It was very hard not to laugh; he had read me so well. Mel giggled which did not help our control at all. ~~Oooh, and he’s house-trained!~~

See how mature I've become? How confident I am as a woman? I defused the situation calmly and rationally, not a hint of jealousy … And if I every catch those skanky bitches hitting on him again, I'll … Note to self: better edit that bit out, later.

* * * *

It was early afternoon, and I felt badly that Eric never got to swim. I wanted to make it up to him. So did Mel; she whispered as much in my ear. Now we all know the saying: 'The quickest way to a man’s heart is though his stomach' … Alright, alright! *Stimulating* a different part of a male’s anatomy gets his attention faster, but I’m talking about his brain. What did you think I was thinking about? Okay, that WOULD work, but remember he’s well under eighteen, and Joanie is no fool. Food it would have to be -- that and a good private cuddle later on. At this stage of the game, that is as racy as our relationship dare get.

We packed up and loaded our gear back in my crew cab. Mel spread out in the back, and Eric stretched out his long sexy legs in the front passenger seat. Did I say sexy legs? Damn it, he has sexy legs; not like I, as a woman, have sexy legs. I mean sexy for a guy; sexy like I am attracted to them. Let me explain. I doubt he’ll ever have one of those muscle-bound, body-builder physiques, and am I glad he won’t. If he is like his dad, he will be tall and athletic, but more like a runner with a firm butt and strong sexy legs. Damn, there are those legs again -- weird. A trim, fit torso, handsome face and eyes that make me want to be his and only his. I want to worship him; I want to drink his … Oooookay, girl, this is getting a tad graphic and years ahead of reality. Calm down … where was I? … He has these sexy legs … Aaaaaah!

I was driving out of the parking lot. “Eric, I’m sorry I forgot, and you never got to swim. That was very selfish of me.” I pouted and acted ever so sorry. I meant it too, mostly. Maybe I AM an actress?

“It’s okay. I had a good time watching the pretty women in sexy swimsuits having fun.”

“Who were they, the damned bitches? I’ll scratch their eyes out!” I shouted.

“I meant you and Mel. There were lots of attractive girls, I admit, but I’m responsible for my pretty sister’s safety -- and you are very pretty, Mel. And no one was anywhere near as hot as you, Joanie.” He was most apologetic. If I had been him I might have gotten some payback. I might have pointed back to one of those skanks … um forward girls, and said she was hot. Or could have pointed at some petite girl with short black hair and A cups, saying how busty blondes were so common. Eric was too much a gentleman for that.

I, however, snickered and quickly pulled off the road as that progressed to a full-out laugh, no way I could drive. “Eric, if you saw the look on your face.” The poor young man looked confused and hurt.

"You mean this was all a joke? That everything we've ever done is just some game for you? The big famous star finds some Iowa hick to make fun of? Someone to use and abuse then dump. I thought you liked me, even loved me, I love you!" He was red faced and crying,

Mel was shocked, I … I was …

~~Oh SHIT! ~~

"I was just having some fun, NO I mean it was all in fun … Crap, I mean …. Oh hell I love you damn it Eric I was just being silly I never meant to hurt …

"What's so freakn' funny all of a sudden?

Eric was laughing uncontrollably. Mel looked at him and she started in.

"I've been had? This was all a-a-a …?" *I* broke up.

"G-g-gotcha!"

Sometime later we'd calmed down to where we could look at each other and not break up.

"I get the message, ease up on the teasing."

"Don't stop being you, I love you as you are but sometimes …"

" …I go too far. Hear you loud and clear. Forgive me?"

He nodded and grinned. "I promise, Eric. I'll back off anytime it starts to bother you. I'll tell you this and it's the Ghod's honest truth. I’m so sorry I couldn’t tell those girls we are a couple. It kills me to have to lie about you. I’d give anything to have told them ‘Back off bitches, this man is MINE!’.” I growled the last bit and Mel laughed.

He looked me in the eyes. “It’s okay; I understand, what with me being so young and everything, we, and particularly you, have to be careful. I know you love me, and that’s enough.” He looked a little disappointed despite putting on a brave face. I was proud he was taking it so maturely. I knew he was hurting; I was hurting too.

“Here, let Doctor Joan cure what’s ailing you.” We were on a quiet road, and inside my truck, so I took a chance.

“Mel, keep a lookout.”

I reached over, pulled him to me, and kissed him square on the lips, hard. After thirty seconds or so, I figured I’d melted his brain to the constancy of maple syrup. The silly grin on his face, when I broke away, told me I’d succeeded.

Problem was *I* didn't want to stop … If his brain was maple syrup, mine was marshmallow cream. I kissed him again savoring him, drinking in his every smell, taste, texture. My heart started racing, I felt flushed, my nipples … I ached for him, I burned, I … NOW, I wanted him NOW. My legs moved apart, I felt the hot wetness between. I let go of him so I could rip off my …

~~WHAT AM I DOING?~~

"Forgive me I almost … I'm sorry, Eric. The trip is a bad idea. If I can't last half a day in your presence, how will I …"

"Joanie, I've seen Mom and Dad kiss longer than that. You both stopped, right?

"Huh, Mel?"

"You're new to being a girl, you probably aren't used to the feelings. You're overreacting. I mean you liked kissing Eric -- liked it a lot; so did he -- but you stopped."

"We did, didn't we, Eric. Were you uncomfortable? Was I coming on too strong?"

"It was fun, lots of fun, but I never felt uncomfortable. We could have done that for hours!"

"Now you're being silly. Eric. How would we eat?"

"I think you are right, Mel. I was just being overemotional. But you do know to tell us when Eric and I get out of line?"

"Sure, but you weren't … much."

"YOU!"

* * * *

It was well past noon. “Let’s go get something to eat. Since I spent so much time with Mel at the beach, why don’t you pick the place, Eric. Your favorite pizza, burger, whatever place; simple or fancy, I don’t care.” And I didn’t -- care that is. Not after that kiss; it cheered me up no end. Cheered me, then confused me, scared me, but in the end cheered me.

* * * *

Eric directed us to a local fast-food place; one of those so common years ago and all but killed off by the mega chains today. It reminded me of Trudy’s, a West Allis favorite of my parents and of mine back when I was a little boy. They even had lots of neon lights and uniformed carhops on roller-skates -- roller-blades now, actually -- just like Trudy’s had back in the sixties.

“They have good burgers, so-so fries, excellent pizza, and the greatest Chicago-style hot dogs. They’re so big, one is a meal even for Dad. Mom gets them on occasion and takes the leftovers home for later. Don’t feel bad if you don’t finish; sometimes I can’t.”

I hesitated. A good *dog* would hit the spot, but the way I ate that last one in the courthouse.… “Okay, Eric, I’ll try your favorite.”

~~I can do this; I just have to use a little restraint. It’s not like I have some oral fixation regarding a certain male appendage. I am a sensual woman, but I am not a cheap slut.~~

Who said, "She lies to herself a lot, doesn't she?" I'm waiting!

That's it, funny boy, bring it on!

I'm a what?! I am not a slut! Sometimes the urges are so strong but I don't … I would never cheat on … I mean, I'm monogamous.

Oh hell! You try being permanently 17, and see if you aren’t all hot and bothered 24/7/365 -- 366 in a leap-year.)

A girl-next-door type rolled up to my truck. “And what would you like to order?” She glanced at me, smiled, then looked down at her order pad.

They still used the little green paper waitress pads here, for authenticity. They could have used wireless PDAs and transmitted directly back to the kitchen, but where’s the fun in that? This way the patrons got to see athletic young women, and a few buff guys, skating back and forth in their tight fitting uniforms placing and delivering the orders. Oh my, yes!

“This is my first time here, but my friend Eric says you have great Chicago-style dogs. Three Chicago Dogs with the works, I think, and root beers or Cokes?”

“I’d get the root beer. They have the old-fashioned kind in those heavy frosted glass mugs.”

“You too, Mel?”

“Yes, Joanie.”

“Okay, that’s three Chicago’s with the works and three large root beers in the glass mugs.”

“That sounds fine.”

“That will be,” she added things quickly on a pad, “Fifteen fifty-six including tax.”

“Here’s twenty,” I said, as I handed a ten and a five to her. She looked at me, I mean REALLY looked at me, and her face went pale. I was afraid she’d faint, but she caught herself in time. “Y-y-yes, Ma’am, I mean, Joanie. I’ll b-bring your change with your order.” She rolled away awkwardly, almost stumbling a couple times.

“She seems to have recognized you.” Mel said nonchalantly. There was a series of LOUD screeches coming from the order windows and her fellow carhops. They all rolled over towards my truck to get a better look. They gave her excited pats on the back and returned to work.

She soon rolled up to my window. “Sorry, Ms. Joanie, they didn’t believe me. Gotta go, your order should be done soon.”

“No biggie,” I called back to her. For the eagle eyed among you., Yes I DID give her only fifteen dollars despite telling her I gave her twenty. Strange, I seem to have that effect on people. You don't think blond is contagious, do you?

BTW, I gave her an additional twenty when she brought the food so I didn't shortchange her, not for long anyway. And after dealing with me she EARNED that tip.

* * * *

To be continued and soon. No really. Would I lie?

John in Wauwatosa

P.S. DON'T answer that!

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction Chapter 12 pt 2

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

undefined

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

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

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

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, chapter 12 pt 3

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Sequel or Series Episode

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, chapter 12 part 3

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, 2005-201208.

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, chapter 12

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

Chapter 12, part 3 of ?

Sitting Pretty, V a c a t i o n

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

Monday June 04, 2007

* * * *

We drove for a mile or so, following Crystal in her small SUV, and got to a shopping district that reminded me of State Street in Madison, Wisconsin.

We entered the store, and a thirty-ish woman with several prominent tattoos and piercings welcomed us. She had a biker-chick look to her but appeared well groomed. “Crystal, what are you doing...? Oh! Mrs. Johnson, what a pleasure to have you in my establishment. I recognize you from the news and People Magazine. We don’t have a lot of maternity fashions, but I’m sure we can find something in a large size and tailor it for you; we do that on-site.

“I’m forgetting my manners. I’m Nicole and your friend here is … You look just like that singer Joanie, Ms...?

“Joan Brown, but you can call me Joanie.” The shop owner managed to not quite do an impression of a goldfish, but it was a near thing … And if anyone says she was floundering, I'm trout of here.

“Nicole, I was hoping Billie could get some extra commission today. She needs the money for ... you know, and she’s a good worker.”

“I understand, Crystal.” Nicole, the biker chick, pressed an intercom button.

“Billie, I need you up front, please.”

“I’m on my way, Nicole.”

A woman of average height and slight build walked out from the back room. Since I knew she was in transition, I noticed several signs she was not genetically a woman, but they were subtle. She would never be pretty, she didn’t have that kind of face, but she would be a handsome woman. I felt sad that she had to suffer to become what her mind long knew she was; I think I’ve become more sensitive to people’s feelings since my mutation or maybe it’s the hormones. Okay, that was a bad male chauvinist joke, but the male part of my mind needs an occasional bit of fun.

“Crys, it’s so nice to see you.” Her voice was not bad, a bit low but feminine. I began to suspect she started her transitioning very young.

“Billie, this is Babs Johnson, the wife of our governor, and her friend Joanie Brown. You may have heard of her.” She laughed and so did her *sister*. “They are looking for something special to suit their figures. They asked specifically for you.”

“I'll leave you ladies to Billie’s expertise. If you need anything, I’ll be up front.” Nicole excused herself. Crystal said her goodbyes soon after.

“I’ll need your measurements and some idea of what you are looking for: day wear, fancy dress, evening wear, something to impress your sweetie?”

Babs exploded in giggles. “I think my current condition proves my sweetie is happy, and if my friend here gets any sexier, men will explode.”

“Never mind her; everyone in that family is insane, that’s why I fit in so well.” Babs and I giggled like idiots.

“This will be a looong day.”

“Nah, Babs and I are easy to serve. Now bark like a dog and lick our boots, peon.”

Babs took one look at me, and we broke up again.

* * * *

It took a lot of looking and trying on things before she found it. Okay *it* was several outfits, but when Babs saw them, her reaction told me I’d hit pay dirt. Confused? I am too. What I think I meant to say was Billie found these three outfits, these ... these ... Let's say Babs was very enthused when Billie brought them out. I figured if Babs thought they suited me who was I to argue?

Still confused? Well let me describe them. Outfit number one was all black, Capri pants, a sleeveless knit top and some classic white deck shoes. Technically not ALL black but you know, very Audrey Hepburn. I modeled them for my *sister,* anxious for her response. There were several floor length mirrors so I could see for myself, but it was Babs approval I craved. I got it in spades. She had this look on her face, this look of joy that her *sister* had found this perfect outfit. But it was tinged with a look of longing and envy that she could never hope to look as good as me. I have disagreed with her many times over this, but still...

“Joanie, that is so fifties, but it is you. I can see you and Fred Astaire in a bookstore in Paris.”

“Me? Audrey Hepburn? The woman about whom a director said: ‘Put a padded bra on her‘? To which the wardrobe person replied, ‘She’s already wearing two!’? You must be crazy, look at these!’” I hefted my breasts.

“So you’re Audrey Hepburn with really big boobs!”

“Babs! … Women who live in glass houses.…”

I pointed at her pregnancy-swollen chest.

“These are needed to feed twins. I think they are coming along nicely, don’t you?.”

“So, like which of your *twins* are coming along nicely?” I pointed at her belly and chest and acted ‘totally blonde.’ We had the sillies today and could not shake them. The sillies. silly. The other *things* shook very well I must say.

* * * *

Outfit number two was a horridly impractical, red-sequined, LBD ensemble, rather like the sparkling dress Marilyn Monroe wore for President Kennedy’s birthday -- though I think hers was white or maybe gold? To be honest, with her it wasn't the dress you remembered. Number two would be a bitch to keep clean and in repair, but it was breathtaking. It had spaghetti straps and a dangerously deep plunging neckline. It was not quite J-Lo’s green Versace number from the 42nd Grammys,

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grammy_Awards_of_2000)

but it was a close second in my mind. With my figure, it was scandalous; scratch that, it was tempting fate. One *wardrobe malfunction* and I'd end civilization as we know it. Matching shoes and a purse completed it, and everything fit me -- almost.

“The shoes are fine and the purse, well that fits anyone but Babs. What do you think? It’s a little tight on top and loose in the waist. It fits nice on my butt and hips, but it ends dangerously far above my knees.”

“Try it without a bra, it was made to be worn that way. The spaghetti straps are a clue.”

“Sorry, Billie. I’m not completely used to women’s fashion,” I said a little snappishly.

“I’ve insulted you, Ms Brown. I forgot you were a man, less than a year ago. I apologize.”

“No offense taken, and I should have spoken more carefully. I was rude to you, and I hate celebrities who are snobs.”

I changed back into it braless, and it fit better. By better I meant much more comfortably in a physical sense. As to my personal feelings ... the jury was still out.

“If I take it in here … here … and here … and let it out a bit here and here,” Billie said as she pinned the dress to mark it for adjustments. “I think it could work. And it’s not that high above the knees; I can let out the hem and gain another inch easily. I’d suggest red panties, though, just in case.”

“I’m not sure. I'm sticking out all over the place. Not literally, but still. I admit it looks sexy on me but ... I mean all that cleavage and the high slit on the side. It's more a stripper costume than a ball gown.”

“Joanie,” Babs motioned to me to come closer. “It's a classic. You have the figure for it and it is not indecent, just a bit ... playful? Wear it for Eric’s senior high school prom. I’ll store it for you. You will be the belle of the ball,” she whispered to me. I blushed.

“If I wear *that*, it will look like I’m begging to get laid!” I whispered back

“Eric will be eighteen and free to do as he chooses. How do you think I got Bob? Though we *did it* in college -- my dorm room in fact,” Babs whispered back, giggling as she finished.

“Billie, I have GOT to have this outfit.”

* * * *

My last outfit was all-leather cowgirl. Sort of a Dale Evans meets Joan Jett look. Your basic ’When good cowgirls go bad’ look.

“Oh my, Joanie, I’m not sure about that one. You’re either a ranch hand or a member of a biker gang -- the tough one of the gang.”

“I’ll take it!”

“What?”

“Babs, I look like an innocent school girl much of the time." She raised an eyebrow. "Okay, a not so innocent school girl, but you know what I mean. I look so young. A little *walk on the wild side* can’t hurt. ~~Plus Eric will love it … on me, duh!~~ Then I imagined how he'd react taking it off me ... "I HAVE to have this one, Babs; it's a matter of life and death. A petit-mort." I whispered that last bit to her, then I rolled the whites of my eyes at her and she laughed.

"My friend will take this outfit too. Who am I to deny her? Any thoughts on accessories, Billie?"

Billie smiled at us, not only were we fun customers, or was it funny customers, but we were buying a lot of stuff. You know, lovely, loony and loaded. Her smile got even wider, as she had an 'Eureka!' moment.

“I forgot. I have a pair of tooled, high-heeled, cowgirl boots that match.”

“B-boots? Y-you have boots?” I trembled with anticipation.

“Um, yeah.”

“Billie, Joanie has this weakness. She has never met a pair of sexy boots she doesn’t like … or buy.”

“That is not true ... Can I try them on, PLEASE?” I whined.

“Sure. We can stretch them a size, possibly two, if need be. They are real leather,” Billie kept cool and professional.

I tried them, and they fit perfectly -- not too loose or tight anyplace. “Ghod, they have a four inch heel and engraved steel toecaps … Oooooh!”

“Joanie, stop drooling.”

“Babs, I am not! Well, maybe a little bit. ~~But not where you can see,~~ Can I wear this outfit out of here?”

Babs and I bought, okay she bought for both of us, nearly a thousand dollars in clothes and accessories. I offered to pay but she insisted, "Can't I treat my sister?" I couldn't argue with that. She got several nice outfits, including one that would only fit her if she got back to her pre-pregnancy weight and level of fitness.

“This will never fit me, not after twins.”

“Babs, you’ll get your figure back. I’ll help, if need be. Think of how hot you’ll look in this; Bob will love it.” It was a classic evening gown, not quite an LBD but close. In my mind, I pictured it on Babs’ shorter, more voluptuous figure. It would be eye-popping, show stopping. It shouted ‘I am woman, hear me roar!’ ... she’d look attractive. “Babs, you deserve this dress. Um … just a mo …”

“Billie, do you have one in my size too?”

She found me one. I was really getting to like this young woman.

“Babs, see, I found you an incentive to get back in shape, we can be twins.”

“Twin call girls, Joanie. We could star in a remake of Pretty Woman.”

“For your and Bob’s next wedding anniversary?”

“You little … You know I can’t resist that. Joanie, let’s save yours for special occasions, like your honeymoon.”

“Billie, we’ll take both of these as well. Do you have any matching shoes in stock?”

I left Billie a healthy tip when Babs wasn’t looking. She was in the bathroom; the twins had made their presence known to her bladder.

“Here, these were cluttering up my wallet.” I handed Billie several Benjamin Franklins -- four to be honest.

“Joanie, this is wrong! Even if I wasn’t getting commission, this is a forty percent tip!”

“You still have to alter the gowns and dresses for Babs and me.” She’d gotten a couple nice plus sized summer dresses that, with a little tailoring, would look good on her during and after her pregancy. “Those are nice dresses Babs got. I want you to adjust them as she progresses and cut them down to size after the births. If it bothers you, consider part of your tip as payment for the future alterations.”

“It’s *still* a big tip.”

“Billie, it’s a gift to a soon to be whole girl; don’t make me beg. I want to help, as does your roommate.”

* * * *
We walked out of the boutique looking sharp. Babs looked every bit the glowing and sexy mother-to-be, I looked cowgirl-licious … Yippee-ti-yi-yea, ride 'em cowboy! ~~Ride 'em hard and put him away wet. ... WHERE did THAT come from? ... He's only fourteen - he's only fourteen - he's only fourteen ... ~~

“Babs, know any western wear or saddle shops? I’m thinking this outfit needs a whip, lasso and spurs … for the bedroom.”

Poor Babs laughed so hard, she nearly lost it. “Sorry, I got over enthused.”

We got in my truck, and Babs directed me back to the restaurant in the mini-mall where the hair salon was located. Babs was sweet and didn’t say a thing against my choice of outfit. Her only comment was, “I wish I could pull off a look like that.”

“You will, Hon, if you want to. Just imagine the two of us knocking the socks off everybody at some stuffy political fund raiser.”

“Joanie, the two of us dressed like that would cause a stampede.” Babs got this silly grin. “We have got to see if they have one in my size; imagine us at a charity ball.”

“... or the Democratic Presidential Convention?”

“... the Presidential Inauguration.”

“... the Vatican.”

“Oh yeah! Blazing Saddles! I like your way of thinking, Babs.”

We entered the family-style Greek restaurant and waited to be seated. A college-age woman walked up to us. I suspected she was a daughter of the owner, as she had classic Greek features.

“I’m Helen; I’ll be your waitress today. Would you prefer a booth or a table?” Helen’s face lit up the moment she saw us, particularly Babs. I was suspicious that Babs had pulled a fast one on me.

“A table for Joanie and me, please; no way could I get in to a booth with my belly -- I’m carrying twins.”

“Congratulations Ms. Johnson, I recognized your … face from the media, and Ms Brown, this is an unexpected honor.” Babs laughed.

“Helen, keep buttering us up like this and you’ll soon be on my *A* list. I’m curious, Helen, like in Helen of Troy?” I asked.

“No, after a great grandmother, My Mom jokes we should move to upstate New York, so I really would be Helen of Troy.”

“Sounds like you have a fun mom.”

“Yeah, Dad says he married her because she made him laugh.”

Moments later an attractive woman of around forty walked past us. She carried several dinners on a large tray and looked like an older version of our waitress. “I heard that, Helen Alexis.”

“I meant Dad married her because Mom wasn’t just a pretty face; she had a brain.” Helen said quickly and smiled.

“'Had' a brain? So I don’t have a brain anymore is it, daughter?”

“MOM!” Helen whined, and the older woman laughed, breaking into a broad grin.

Helen seated us and handed out menus then left to welcome a new customer.

The older woman served her tables then stopped by ours. ”Hi, Ms Brown, I’m Phoebe, Helen’s mother. Ms Johnson, Babs, is a long time patron of ours.”

“So Helen was joking when she said where she knew Babs from?”

“That’s my fault. Helen inherited my sense of humor. We’ve both known Babs for years. I was at her wedding.”

“You’re friends?”

“Phoebe and I were waitresses together when I was in college. She was my Matron of Honor, and Helen was the flower girl.”

“My father said Babs was the best waitress we ever had, then Bob had to come and take her from us.”

Helen returned a short while later with ice water and a basket of fresh-baked bread.

“Mom, what have you been telling Ms. Brown about us?”

“Only the truth, dear; Oh, and your father married me because I was pregnant with you, not because I made him laugh. We had a traditional white shotgun wedding.”

“Mom, you’re embarrassing me!”

“I’ll leave you to my daughter’s tender mercies. Babs. Whatever dessert you and Ms Brown want is on the house.”

“Free dessert? Please call me Joanie; you’ve earned it. Um, you do have chocolate … Ummmmmm chocolate!”

“You’re a loony. I see why Babs is your friend.” Phoebe walked off.

“Are you ready to order?”

“Sure,” I said, and Babs nodded. “What do you recommend?” I asked.

“If you want something light, yet satisfying, we do a great Gyro salad. It’s like a gyro, but the pita bread is cut up into small pieces and toasted like croutons. With the extra veggies and the smaller pita, it's half the calories of a classic gyro and very tasty. I eat them a lot.”

I’d noticed how trim and healthy this young woman was. “I’m convinced, Helen. If I want more, I can always order more. One gyro salad for me and an ice tea, lemon with no sugar, please.”

Babs ordered the same plus an appetizer of various Greek cheeses and olives. “My doctor wants me to get more calcium. Cheese is a good source and is much more tasty than the vitamin and mineral supplements my pediatrician has me taking. And yes , I'm eating lots of leafy greens and taking folic acid pills as well. Plus the salad uses a pasteurized milk cheese, not raw. They can't afford to give customers food poisoning. Happier now, Miss Worry-Wart?”

"Much!" I grinned, and we both exploded in giggles.

Minutes later, our orders arrived. The patrons left us to eat in peace, though a couple of kids pointed me out to their parents. Oh, I almost forgot, we got a gyro and ice tea to-go for our *tail*. We finished, paid up and drove back to Terrace Hill. Our *tail* was very happy. I was in heaven; Helen had brought me this slice of Devil’s Food cake and … oooooh! It was so good it was an orgasmic experience.

* * * *

After a very satisfying lunch, we returned to Terrace Hill. I made sure Babs was settled in, and I took off to pick up my friends. I pulled up outside the middle school around three, got out, and stood next to my truck. At promptly five after three, bells rang and kids came running out the doors seconds after. It looked like a jailbreak.

"I know the feeling, kids,” I said to no one but myself.

They were in a hurry to get home or to their friends, for the most part, until a few spotted me. In moments, I was swamped by shouting, excited kids wondering why I was here.

"Whoa! One at a time!”

"What'cha doing here, Joanie?”

"She’s my ride, that’s what,” Eric called out.

That reply worried me. Our romance needed to stay a secret, so I quickly added, "I’m branching out from music to where the real money is: babysitting and taxi service. You'd be amazed what a soccer mom will pay.” The kids laughed their heads off; poor Eric blushed from embarrassment.

I led him to my truck, signed a bunch of autographs for excited kids, and we drove off.

* * * *
.
When we were safely out of sight, I pulled over and parked. I apologized. "I hated having to make fun of you back there, but I was afraid they would find out we are a couple.” I leaned over and gave him a hug "No matter what I have to say or do in public never forget, I *AM* your girl.” I looked around and kissed him sweetly as we were alone.

"Never forget *I* am *yours*.” He looked at me with those eyes of his, so sweet, so adoring, so serious, so ... so ...

"So, you’re a girl?!”

You think *I'm* gonna' pass on a straight-line like that?

We both laughed, then he kissed me -- rather passionately, I might add. It was unexpected and romantic; I cried.

I wiped my tears and started driving again. I wanted him so bad, I ached. I prayed I’d packed one of my *toys* ... and lots of batteries, those long-lived lithium ones preferably. A woman has her needs. Come on, be fair!

* * * *

I looked at my watch; we’d arrived at Mel’s school a little later than I’d like, 3:28, but they’d only just let out minutes before.

"Do you see your sister?”

"I’m not sure. There are so many kids, but I think I see Mel. She's the tall girl over by the basketball hoops.”

"Wait here.” I got out and ran over to her.

"Sorry we’re late, Mel,” I said as she saw me.

"It’s okay, I just got here. Where’s Eric?”

"He’s riding shotgun in my truck, Mel. You got everything?”

A hand tugged on my belt.

"Excuse me. I don’t mean to be rude, but are you Joanie?”

I turned and saw nothing, until I looked down. A fragile-looking girl in a wheelchair was looking up at me. There were some serious looking crutches on the back of the chair and metal braces on her legs. She looked terribly thin and weak. Makeup covered, but did not completely conceal, nasty scars on her face, arms and legs. I struggled not to wince at the sight. ~~Poor kid.~~

"Yes, I’m Joanie.”

"I’m Megan; I like your singing.”

"Thanks, Megan.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Mel rescued me.

"Megan was a grade ahead of me. She used to be play soccer and tennis; she was good, too. She was in a car crash last year and was hurt bad. She’s in my grade now ’cause she missed so much school. I don't know her very well, but she's a nice girl from what I've heard,” she whispered.

"It’s okay to tell Joanie, Mel. I’m trying real hard to get better, but I’m so weak, it hurts when I try to do much of anything, and my Mom ... she…” The girl started crying.

A man came up to us with a sad expression on his face. "What’s wrong? Did somebody tease you again? Did you hurt yourself, Princess?”

"Megan was talking to us, sir. She recognized me. We were chatting, and she mentioned her mom. Then, she started crying. Sorry, the name's Joanie. I’m a friend of Mel’s, um, Melissa here. And I sing professionally That's probably how Megan knows who I am”

"I thought you were *that* Joanie; Megan has a poster of you. She uses it to motivate herself. You’re an inspiration to her.”

"Me?”

"You went through so much last year: your mutating into a woman, saving people, the kidnapping and other things.”

"What’s so inspirational about that? I suppose if you look at it that way it could be, but for me it was pure luck on my part; I’m no one special.”

"I’m expressing it badly. It’s how you’ve handled everything: the change, saving lives, the sudden fame. You have taken it all so well.”

"Huh?”

"I can’t imagine many people in your situation would have succeeded to the extent you have. I’d expect you to be a basket case emotionally, or a prima-donna with a swelled ego, but you are neither. I can't recall reading or seeing anything bad about you in the legitimate press; in fact it's usually the opposite, saving Ms. Johnson here for example. Your simply being here for her proves you are remarkably normal, and, um, nice? How many so-called celebrities would voluntarily come to Iowa?” He smiled and laughed softly.

I smiled, then got serious. ”I had no choice in the matter; half the time I’m reacting to events. Very little of my life is my own, but then who am I to complain? For the most part, I have it pretty good, and I have made some great friends as a result of my change.” I gave Mel a hug. "Will Megan be okay?”

"I think so. She misses her Mom as do I. She’s a tough girl and will pull though. I’m proud of her."

He looked at his daughter. "Are you ready to go to therapy?”

Megan sniffled a bit. "I’ll be alright, Dad.”

She turned her chair back to face me. "Sorry I cried before, Joanie. I didn’t mean to. It wasn't your fault.”

"I understand all too well, Megan. I cry when I think about my mom, and she’s been gone almost two years. I was 47, when she died. Mom was just shy of 79, so it wasn't like she didn't have a long life; so why does it hurt so? I miss her bad sometimes.” I got to thinking of my mom, and the waterworks started.

"What’s wrong, Joanie?” Megan asked. She grabbed my hand with her better one and squeezed mine to comfort me.

"I ... I was thinking of M-mom!” I dissolved into tears.

She gripped me with both her hands. I felt Megan pulling herself up, using me as her support. She wrapped both her arms around me and gave me a big hug.

"It will be okay, Joanie; you’ll feel better. I bet she’s up in Heaven looking down on us, smiling with my mom.”

As soon as Megan mentioned her mom, she began sobbing and held on all the tighter. We must have looked a sight: two girls, blubbering away, her head pressed against my chest. We held each other for a while, then she must have seen her dad was crying too. She let go of me and walked the few feet to him.

"Don't cry. It will be alright, Daddy, you’ll see,” she said as she hugged him.

He stared at her, amazed. Her face showed an equally shocked expression. "You walked!”

"I walked! No crutches, no walker, no stupid parallel bars. I walked, Daddy!”

He lifted her off the ground and spun her around. "I’ve waited so long for this. It means you’re getting better.” He lowered her back to the ground. They stood there smiling. She grimaced, and he looked concerned.

"I forgot myself. Does it hurt?”

"A little, but I think it’s because I was stuck in bed and this damn chair so long."

"Megan, don't swear! You want down, honey?"

"Yeah, my legs are getting tired; can you brace my chair as I sit down, Dad?”

"It would be my pleasure, Megan,” I offered. I braced her wheelchair from behind, as her dad gently guided her into the seat. She smiled at her dad and me, as she sat down.

"It will take some time, but I promise you’ll see me running again, Daddy.”

She spun her chair and looked up into my eyes.

"Thank you so much!”

"What for?”

"Helping me to walk again.”

"But I did nothing; you did it all.”

"Yes, you did. When you started crying for your mother, I forgot that I couldn’t walk, and I got up to comfort you. I was close to walking in therapy, but it hurt so much, I was afraid to try. I’m not afraid anymore. I know it will take lots of work, and some pain, but I know I can do it. And that is so kewl! You're like an angel or something.”

"Okay, if you want to think that. I'll be your *guardian angel,* if it helps to motivate you, I mean ... I don't know what I am saying, but I am happy for you. You write me, ya'hear? I want to know how you are doing, If you don't, I'll sic Mel on you."

That got a laugh out of Megan, and her face lit up. I noticed Eric walk up to us; I guess he was worried for me. Seeing him standing next to Megan made me feel so good.

~~She has such a pretty laugh! And with that smile on her face, she could get any boy she wants with those ... NOOOOO!~~

"If you ever pull your feminine wiles on Eric, I'll ..." I whispered in a less than friendly tone.

~~Damn. I'm a jealous woman ... CRAP, I just outed us!~~

"I'm so sorry.I don't know where that came from, that was very rude, forgive me?" I whispered in apology.

Megan laughed and whispered back, "I may not be an adult, but even I can see he is yours. The way he looks at you ... I hope someone will love me like that. Don't worry, I'll never tell; girl's honor!"

Mel whispered something in my ear, something about the desirability of pinky swearing. Apparently Megan and I were not as discreet as we assumed, or so Mel warned me. I followed her suggestion; Who was I to ignore her sage council? Plus Mel was the expert on adolescent girls here... Okay I ACT adolescent, but it's not the same.

I knelt by Megan's wheelchair. "Will you Pinky swear on that, Megan? Then you can never break your word to me or something terrible will happen, like you'll chip a nail or break out with zits on Prom night.

"My advisor on all things teen and girly, Ms Mel here, insists that we do. *I* trust you but then I'm still kinda new at all this girl stuff. So I must defer to an expert."

She laughed, but we did pinky swear. To be fair I gave my *sacred oath* too.

"I, Joanie, pinky swear to never reveal any secrets you tell me and to be your friend as long as you want. You pinky swear to be my friend and never ever tell anybody about me and you know who." I whispered the last bit as I subtly pointed towards Eric. "Pinky swear?" Seeing the scars on her up-close made me cringe though Megan didn't see me, I think. ~~ I wonder if Gin and her sorceress friends could do something for her ?~~

I had Mel witness our *oaths*. She also pinky swore with Megan. Hey, I'm taking no chances with Eric!

We exchanged e-mail addresses, so we could keep in touch, and left before the crowd around us grew too big. Eric helped us get though the crowd and into my truck. It was just in time too, as a TV news van pulled into the school parking lot moments after we drove off.

* * * *

The rest of the day I was subjected to adolescent hero worship, as Mel had to tell her parents, the staff of Terrace Hill, and all her friends about the *miracle* I’d performed. Apparently they'd been reading some fantastic story, by a Welshauthor, about a young woman who raised dormice while bicycling, caring for a hoard of kids and performing miracles or something like that.

I couldn't follow a word they said. I got the impression they saw similarities between me and the story's heroine. I did get a lot of hugs, which were nice, out of it. Eric, who had watched most of the triggering event, my *healing the lame or the Miracle of Megan*, from the relative safety of my truck, was unsympathetic to my *plight* and delighted in watching me squirm at his sister’s antics.

"Eric! Rescue me, please!”

"No. This is too much fun.”

"Maybe I should get me a different boyfriend.”

"Sis, stop teasing my girl! Joanie, dear, do you want to shoot some hoops?”

"Wow! You got my hint," I said sarcastically, or tried to, but the giggles got me. Poor Eric just shook his head and smiled. If I hadn't fallen for him before, I did then. That he can put up with this ditzy psycho dame is beyond me, Oh, right, I'm built like a brick shi* house -- gold bricks at that. As the T-shirt says *These get me off the hook*. They don't call them *boobs* for nothing. And I should know. My sister sent me a dozen T-shirts in assorted colors with that printed on them. Do you think all those decades of blonde jokes finally got to her? ... Nah!

We played basketball until it was time to go to bed. It was the perfect end to a perfect day. I worked all my sexual frustration out with that hard exercise and felt much better after.

I have to confess, I snuck into his room while he showered and *borrowed* his sweaty T-shirt. I folded it up, took a deep long sniff and placed it under my pillow. I had the most wonderful dreams that night, and no, I’m not telling you about them!

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Tuesday was a repeat of Monday. After breakfast, I got my friends to school then spent much of the morning bumming around with Babs. We caught up on the latest gossip ... GOTCHA! Like I was interested in gossip. But we did catch up on what we’d each been doing since we’d last talked. She showed me the latest sonogram movies of the twins, and we oohed and ahhed over them.

"Babs, I must confess I feel jealous of you.”

"Of me?”

"Yes, you have this hunk of a husband, two great kids, many fine friends and a belly full of joys to come. I so want to be pregnant, I ache.”

"Damn, I have to go to the bathroom again.” She had to use it at least every fifteen to twenty minutes, and I could see it annoyed her. "I’ll trade you,” she called out from the bathroom.

"How about I give you a nice long massage while you bitch and moan about the horrors of pregnancy?”

"Deal!”

* * * *

At noon, I left for that TV station to meet with the aide who had participated in my fan club chat, Ms. baby6blue. The management made one last pitch for their anchor to do the interview, but I insisted.

"Your intern did all the work and should reap the benefits. I don’t mind the anchor participating, or my doing a few promo spots with them, but that’s the limit. You knew my conditions coming into this and agreed. Adults keep their promises. or so I’ve been told.”

They were surprised I spoke that way. "You’re not what we expected, Joanie.”

"I may look like teenage airhead to some, but that is a mis-perception. I’m not being a bitch; I simply want the person who did the work to reap the benefits, as I said a moment ago. I’ll gladly help promote your anchor and the station, so long as the new kid here gets the break of a lifetime. Deal?”

They agreed, and we started filming after reviewing a list of possible questions and topics. The intern was exceptionally well prepared, and the anchor was not just a pretty face herself. To be honest she was quite attractive as many news anchors are, but there was a brain behind the tinted contacts, hand-tailored suit and three-hundred-dollar coiffure. I’ll not go into details, as the interview has been rebroadcast many times. I like to think I did well; Mel and Eric seemed to think so, as did Babs, and they should know.

* * * *

There was a significant crowd of students waiting around Mel and Eric at their respective schools when I picked them up, but no TV crews, thankfully. An enterprising young woman at Eric’s school asked me a few questions.

"I’m Madison, and I’m on the school paper. Can I ask a couple questions?”

"If it won’t take too long. My friends must be getting hungry, assuming the school lunch didn’t kill their desire for food ... ever again.” I faked gagging, and most of the kids laughed.

"Why are you in Iowa? Are you just visiting the Johnsons?”

"That's a big part of it. It’s pure joy for me being with them, I feel like family, when I'm with them. They are so kind and loving. That I am a mutant has no affect on how they perceive me. I'm a dear, close friend, period. I'm no fool; my saving Melissa is the reason we met and that they accepted me at first, but it's gone way beyond that. The Johnsons are plain and simply good people.

"Sorry, kinda' wandered off topic there."

"That's alright. It's clear you love and respect the Johnsons, so that is pertinent to the story."

"My, we don't talk half posh, do we?" I said in a overblown upper class British accent.

"You're silly." The girl behind the *serious reporter* mask broke though, laughing.,

"Well duh! I'm a loony." We both laughed then I continued. "I'm also here to get away from school, um, my school, schooling ... Whatever! Summer vacation, that's the word -- okay, phrase. I’m at a school that specializes in training mutants, which is something I need, and I teach there too. Being with my friends back in the Midwest is helping me clear my head, get some perspective, and relax before my trip to Wales.”

"Wales as in the United Kingdom?”

"Exactly! You must be good at geography, Madison.”

"I’m okay at it, but I did my research. You’re reported as heading to Wales to appear on TV.”

"Close. I’m there for a TV series. I can’t say which one, but it’s a show I watch here. I expect it will be hard work but fun. Uh-oh! I see a TV truck. I’d better go, or you’ll lose your exclusive.”

"You’re right! Our advisor will be so amazed.”

"Feel free to e-mail me. Maybe I’ll send you some photos from the TV show you can put in the school paper, or maybe the Des Moines Register under your byline? Ask Eric, here; he has my contact info."

"I'll have it for you tomorrow, Madison, if that's okay with you?"

"Oh yes! Thank you Eric." Madison was beaming.

"Let's go. Your sister awaits.”

We left the lot just as the TV people got there. I waved and laughed, as I drove past. Ghod! I love teasing them, the blood sucking vampires, um guardians of the truth. And if I have offended any actual vampires, I apologize. I should have said '... the blood-sucking politicians.'

* * * *

To be continued very soon.

Only another 107 pages to go not counting the abbreviated header to each part.

Then starts chapter 13.

John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 pt 4

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

part 4 of 6 or more

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 pt 4 of?

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, Chapter 12, part 4

That makes this Timeout 4 Chapter 12.4 if you count in software releases.

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone 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

* * * *

That evening, I phoned my BET producer telling him where I was, and that I thought I was familiar with the arrangements he’d sent.

"Ready when you are, Joanie.”

"Anytime this week, preferably, Al.”

"I have a gap between concerts and other duties. I could have the band and equipment out in Iowa and set up by late this Wednesday.”

"That’s fast.”

"I AM the best, Baby,” he said in an overly masculine tone

"You’d better be, Mister,” I cooed back.

"Women worship me. I do play the world’s sexist instrument, the accordion.”

I started laughing and could not stop.

"It is sexy, all that squeezing in and out turns women on.”

"Then you live in fear a bagpiper will steal your woman.”

Maybe that explains my dream about a crazed Scotsman battling the Loch Ness Accordion.

* * * *

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

I got up early to run and was met by Eric as I tried to sneak out of the fourth floor family quarters.

"What are you doing up so early?”

"I rigged a sensor to my computer to set off an alarm when you got out of bed I wanted time alone with you.” He smiled and my spirit soared.

"Eric, we can’t, not that I don’t want to.”

"I wanted to talk and work out with you.”

"What? I am NOT that kind of a girl.” I acted shocked and hurt.

"I meant I want to exercise with you, go on your morning run, I didn’t mean s-sex.”

"You look so *hot,* when you blush, Eric.” I giggled and bounced a bit, inducing some eye-catching jiggles in my anatomy. I was not playing nice at all. I knew what it was like to be a boy at his age, not quite a man but no longer a child and at the mercy of your hormones.

"I ... I ...” The poor boy was at a loss for words. Other parts of his body knew exactly what they wanted. I must admit, I took a long look at his *predicament.*

~~Ghods, that is so …That has got to hurt and it’s all because of me? How sweet.~~ I’m lovesick and irrational, when it comes to Eric, you can tell. I was flattered and tempted, so very tempted. I'm a bad girl, I am, or at least I hope to be.

"Let’s go for a run and work off all this, um, tension. Sorry to tease you, Eric, I promise I will make it up to you once you’re ... legal. I’ll be ever so grateful.”

I licked my lips ... and took a really deep breath. I was merciless in my provocation. Every male statue within a 300-mile radius must have been sporting a raging… you know. His control impressed the hell out of me, and at that age I know how hard that is -- pun intended. It's not that he didn't, um rise to the occasion --- not that *I* was looking -- but that he remained a total gentleman in spite of his physical desires.

I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "If you can stand up to all that teasing, I know we’ll make it. And don’t think you don’t affect me just as hard ... I mean much! See what I mean? I can hardly think straight in your presence." I nearly pulled of my top to expose my swollen nipples, hell I was moments from ripping off all our clothes, Only knowing what it would do to us, the harm I would cause him, kept me in check. Fortunately my moods are as mercurial as the breeze and my playful side won out.. "Now lead on ... Lover.” ~~This teasing game is fun.~~

We trotted downstairs, quietly, and told the State Patrol we were going out for a run. After a few loops around the grounds I got bored, Eric was too.

"Eric, you know the neighborhood; let’s go for a tour.”

We ran out past the guard shack. "We’re going out for a morning run, no more than thirty minutes, bye!” I smiled and waved, but we did not stop. They immediately radioed what we were doing. We’d gone a couple blocks when a State Patrol unmarked car caught up with us.

"Cheese it, the cops!” I said in a great James Cagney, if Cagney was female and had a voice that made Lauren Bacall sound like a nun.

"This way, Joanie! They’ll never catch us!” He turned up a public staircase on a hillside.

The officer was not pleased, when she caught up. She'd had to drive several blocks to get to the top with us out of her sight much of the time. She was plain-spoken in her displeasure with us.

"Are you two crazy? If anything happens to you, your parents would kill me, Eric.”

"Sorry, officer, we were having fun and forgot.”

"And you should know better, Ms. Brown; you’re an adult.” 'Or so I was told,' was implied in her tone. She was not a happy camper and justifiably so,

"Sorry, I promise to be a good little girl.” I pouted, curtsied and blew a raspberry. I was in a really good mood and skipped for a while. Eric laughed and we ran back to Terrace Hill, staying well in sight of the officer who gave me the strangest looks whenever I looked her way. To be honest, I didn't so much run as bounce.

The State Patrol supervisor gave us a tongue lashing when we got back, sort of, as we had an ace in the hole. "But we told the desk officer that we were going out for a run. We even told the gatehouse.”

"Um, yes, you did do that, but a security detail can’t be put together without some notice. Luckily, it was quiet, and there was an officer to spare.”

"I admit we didn’t give you much time, but Eric was safe with me. I am in training for security and police work. I’m technically an Army National Guard MP specializing in mutants. I promise we’ll give you at least five or more minutes notice in future so you can say 'yea or nay' depending.”

I felt bad; I realized I'd put us at risk. The people behind the X-amine-like mutant transformations knew of my intervention. Someday, they might try for vengeance. I was tougher than most suspected, but would Eric survive an attack on me? Would any innocent passers-by? I owed someone a personal apology.

"And Officer Borges,” she was the officer in the car we’d given a hard time, "I’m sorry I was trouble for you and flippant with you. I put Eric and your lives at risk because of my thoughtlessness. You were a very good sport about it. Forgive me?”

"Me too; I’ve been a politician’s kid long enough to know the drill, sorry.” Eric offered his hand, and she shook it.

I offered my hand to her. She pulled me into an enthusiastic hug that ended with her whispering, "Call me Maridza, and I *like* girls.” She squeezed my butt playfully, broke the hug and laughed.

I forgot to add Maridza was in her mid to upper twenties, tops, no sign of an engagement or wedding ring, fiercely fit -- an obvious body builder -- and a looker. As a man I was a sucker for caramel-skinned Hispanic women ... or exotic Eurasians, sexy African Americans, delicate featured Japanese ... oh hell, attractive young woman of any ethnicity, even pale leggy Nordic blondes with prominent breasts got John’s attention -- especially that last one ... except for all the others. If it was female, young and attractive, John was interested, but so is Joan. Officer Maridza Borges was a most attractive woman. Did I add she was tall with these oh so kissable lips? Then again, when you think of it, would you put an unattractive officer on the Governor’s security detail?

~~Is she getting back for my teasing her earlier or ...? Maybe I should put her in touch with Big Red?~~ The thought of those two *together* was ... was ... it had my motor racing.

* * * *

We finished apologizing for our *escape attempt*, showered and got dressed. I silently thanked the people of Iowa for that wonderful pulse spray in my shower. Well, not all THAT silently; I'd made a little noise, It wasn't like my ears were ringing afterwards, not for long, anyways. I exited the shower relaxed and clean -- okay, VERY relaxed and clean.

I dried off and dressed myself in a nice conservative summer skirt and blouse. Oh yeah, like *I* would dress like that. The message recorded in my cell phone had a lot to do with my choice of clothing. My producer for the BET inspired recording was in town and ready for me, so with luck we would get a good start on the album today. I hoped -- no, make that *had* -- to finish within the week. The following week I had dedicated to my friends, Eric and Mel in particular, and after that I would be in Wales for several weeks. It had to be done now to be ready before the mid-July BET summer concert, if my little *prank* was to work as intended. I walked to the fourth floor kitchen. The family was all seated and eating.

"’Morning! What’s for breakfast? Sorry I’m late; you can blame that addictive shower of yours. It felt so good after our run. I’m ashamed I got Eric in trouble with security; I should have known better ... why are you all staring? ”

"You plan on wearing that today?”

"This little old thing, Babs? I’m thinking of wearing it to church. What, no laugh? I’m off to a local studio to record for an album so I need to get into character. You don’t think this is too conservative for Joanie?” It was one of my leather outfits and very comfortable on a hot day; in other words there wasn’t a lot of fabric or leather in it. It wasn’t a thong bikini, but it wasn’t far off. To be fair, a lot of female joggers wear as little or less.

"That could never be called conservative. Maybe on a Las Vegas showgirl in a topless revue, but normally, no,” Babs said.

Bob swallowed wrong and started coughing. Eric and Mel laughed, while Babs sat there absolutely calm. That broke me up, and Babs cracked a smile.

"Y-you little ... I don’t know what, it is but you are one, Babs.”

* * * *

I drove my friends to school. This time the press was ready, but so were we. Eric had me drop him off a block or so from school, out of sight of the press. Mel and I drove on. At the high school, they’d staked out an area by the main loading area, but I'd been informed there were several lesser used entrances to the school and grounds. I had this inside *source*, a young woman ... hint hint.

"Joanie, don’t turn where you normally do. Go two more blocks then turn left and drop me off on the back side. I can enter by the school office and save a lot of trouble.”

"Smart girl! Where did you learn to be so sneaky?”

"Mom and Dad. Sometimes, they need to avoid the press too. Pity, I’d bet they’d love that outfit of yours; my brother did.”

* * * *

It was a modest drive in my immodest clothes to the small recording studio. It was near the same state university system campus where I attended the broadcast of A Prairie Home Companion back on Easter weekend. I got lost for a while, as Des Moines is not that familiar to me. I found the place, eventually. I parked, grabbed my *ax* and walked on in.

"I’m here to practice and record an album. Has Al made it in, um, Brandy?”

She stared at me,

"Your name-tag. I'm Joanie. I sorry, I probably should be wearing one too." I offered her my hand. She remained a statute. "So is Al here?"

"H-h-e’s w-waiting for you. I’ll ...” she stuttered and pressed an intercom.

"S-she’s here.”

Moments later, my producer for the BET project walked up.

"It’s an honor to meet you, Ms Brown. You don’t know what a pleasure this is for me to work with a living legend.” I saw his eyes when he shook my hand; the man was in awe of me, I’ve seen the look before. I intimidated him. Let's face it, I'm as intimidating as soggy corn flakes from a threat perspective. Your first thought on seeing me is not going to be 'Danger!' unless you have a morbid fear of breasts. This put me off my guard.

"Huh?” I was real articulate.

How can I describe him? Hair, I noticed his hair. He has a lot of it, it’s long, curly and ... he has hair. Al is close to my chronological age, fit, trim and ... normal. And he has all this hair.

~~The guy does mostly parodies of songs or song styles for a living; he plays the accordion for-crying-out-loud, and he’s ... normal? Compared to him I’m the freak, the mutant .... ~~ I broke into a laugh.

He soon was laughing too. "W-w-what’s so f-funny?”

"I just realized that you’re the *normal one* here.”

"I’ll have you know, I’m considered quite mainstream.”

"A rock-and-roll accordion player that does song parodies is mainstream?” I snickered, "Compared to me, I guess you are. I was a middle aged man less than a year ago, and now I’m this Barbie doll look-alike, a chart topping singer and next month’s Playboy Centerfold.”

"I know, why do you think I took the job, Ba-by?” The look and tone he gave me was pure lust, until he started laughing. "Had you going for a moment, didn’t I? I know your record producer, and I respect him; plus to work with a top talent and pull off a stunt of epic proportions....”

"A top talent, where?” I whipped my head back and forth.

"I knew I’d like working with you, Joanie. I can call you Joanie?”

"Well, duh! Nearly everybody calls me Joanie.”

"Joanie?”

"Yes?”

"Would you sign my copy of Playboy?”

"Aaaaaah!!”

<~~I have got to find a way to handle *that*. Maybe a can of mace? Or Nerf Balls soaked in Crazy Glue?... Nair in his hair gel?~~

We moved into the actual recording studios and got to work.

* * * *

I’d diligently practiced the arrangements he’d sent me and was confident we could record after only a few days rehearsal. Most of the band was there, except for two people.

"Two of the session musicians had problems with a connecting flight and are delayed, but we can practice without them for now.”

He introduced me, and I noticed several were nervous. This required decisive action. ~~This is a job for Super ... Nah that’s under copyright ... This is a job for a blonde! Needs work, but it will do for now.~~

"Okay, I’m ready ... Um like what am I here for, yah know?” I asked real sing-song, yet sexy, with just the right touch of bimbo. I'm frighteningly good at it ... DAMN ! I knew I should have had brought some bubble-gum!

"To record an album?” one of the musicians asked tentatively.

"Like, whatever. Oooooh, love your nails!”

We all relaxed after we stopped laughing.

* * * *

The day flew by; Al's augmented band was professional and well prepared. We broke several times to rest and listen to what we’d recorded. I got a strange compliment during one such break.

"Joanie, I’ve been in the business most of my life” -- Al was fast approaching middle-age though he didn't look it -- "but I can’t ever remember meeting an artist like you.”

"Mutants are something like one in a couple hundred thousand people, so I’m not surprised you’ve not worked with one before.”

"No, Joanie, I mean you are a chameleon. It’s amazing!”

"I blend into the background? You think I look like a lizard?" I faked indignation .. breathy, sexy indignation. Then I wet my lips with my tongue... slowly. I have my image to uphold.

"No, I mean you sound different on different tunes. It’s as if you are different people. And it’s not like a forced accent or ... How can I put it ... You become as one with the music.”

"But honorable Master, I don’t feel any different; I just do it." I do a terrible David Carradine / Kung-Fu accent, but he smiled anyway. "That bad, huh?" He nodded. "I suppose I sound different on different styles of music, but that’s because the music needs to be sung that way; it’s nothing conscious. I remember how previous artists interpreted it, and I try to do justice to the versions I like.”

"Most of the time that’s a good thing, but promise me you’ll never do a William Shatner tribute.”

"So Tiny Tim is okay by you, Al?”

"Now there was an artist!”

"You’re a loony! I love it!" And I gave him a hug. Well, I gave everybody a hug. I was in a good mood.

* * * *

We worked though most of the proposed tunes, plus a couple more I suggested at the last moment. By midafternoon, we were pleased with the results. We broke for a break and an early dinner.

"I have to run some errands. I'll be back before the break is over, Scout's honor!"

"You were a Girl Scout?" the drummer asked.

"No, a Boy Scout; don't you know my background""

"Must have been one damned happy scout troop!"."

"I was a boy then, you pervert!" I got some hard stares. I continued.

"Well duh! It's a well known fact all rock drummers are like, totally perverts. It says so on that Wiki/Googly thingy. Would they lie? Ghods!" I left for my truck. They were still laughing, as the door closed behind me.

I have no idea why people don't take me seriously.

* * * *

My first errand was to pick up Eric and Mel from school. This time I couldn’t dodge the press, they were waiting and ready for me. I pulled up in the loading zone at the middle school and opened the windows.

"Joanie. What are you in town for?”

"Joanie, where are you. staying?”

"Is it true about you and Eric Johnson?”

"What?” I exclaimed. This was a very dangerous question.

As I wondered what to say, Eric walked up and got in despite the microphones and cameras. "What are you doing, trying to scare off my ride?”

"Are you and Joanie seeing each other?”

"We have eyes, of course we can *see* each other." He made big quote marks with his arms and even the reporter laughed.

"I’m only fourteen; I’m too young for a girlfriend. Heck, I’m too busy trying to stay awake in algebra; my teacher is really boorring. Please don't tell him that, okay?” Some of press laughed. "I’m glad Joanie’s our friend, she’s so bright and funny. The whole family loves her. As to her and me, when I’m older who knows? Maybe, if I’m very lucky and some Hollywood star hasn't snapped her up? You all really thought she was my girlfriend? Me? Wow! I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Me and Joanie? Wow! In my dreams maybe. Excuse me, but my sister’s waiting for us; we’re her ride home, sorry. Oh, vote for my dad and grandpa next election. They're really good guys."”

The press backed off, and we drove away. His handling of the press made me imagine him as a future President of the United States with this really sexy, tall, mutant wife ... and their seventeen kids. GOTCHA !

~~ Seventeen? -- shudder -- ~~

* * * *

There was a lesser press presence at her school. As Mel met us at that same door closest to the school offices, we slipped away unnoticed.

"The rest of the week, maybe a State Patrol cruiser should pick you up. I don’t like the idea of the press hounding you, and it seems unsafe. There were so many today, I worried.”

"Having the press around may make things safer. Who would be fool enough to try something with all those cameras around?”

"There is truth in that, Eric, unless they want to be caught for political reasons like some terrorists/martyrs, take your pick. Remember Jack Ruby.”

"Jack who?" Eric asked then laughed. "The man who shot Lee Harvey Oswald while the Dallas police were parading him before the camera. I think he owned a restaurant. Mom and Dad insist we know history."

"Well, I'm impressed," and I was."Still, it didn't do me much good to have the press around when I was kidnapped last Halloween. Crowds are a both boon and a risk I'm afraid. I'm not sure it's safe to be around me in public."

Eric wasn't put off in the least by my statement. "Joanie, could you visit my school? We’re done with exams after tomorrow morning, so it’s mostly doing fun stuff the rest of the week. We take a class field trip on Friday and have a graduation early in the evening, around seven.”

"We're done the same day too, but our graduation is more of a picnic on the school grounds that afternoon. Could you come, Joanie? Pleeeeease?"

"I have to finish recording that album, Eric. Mel, but we made good progress today, and we’re working on it tonight until late. I can't promise but I’ll try ... for both of you.”

* * * *

I took them home, freshened up and apologized that I’d be gone that evening rehearsing and recording.

Babs wasn’t the least upset. "Joanie, you have to earn a living too, even if it is a grossly excessive living, Mzzz Money Bags.”

"Thank you for yooor support.”

"We’ll leave a light on.”

"Ghods, quoting Tom Bodett, the sage of Homer Alaska. We’ve both watched too much radio and listened to too much television, Babs. It's turned our minds to Jell-o,” I said, walking away.

"But there's always room for Jell-o."

"Aaaaaaaah! No more, please, have pity!" It took a good half an hour before I didn't start giggling at the slightest thing.

* * * *

To paraphrase Napoleon, a band travels on its stomach. They, Napoleon's army that is, didn't actually march on their stomachs. Besides being slow, it's very hard on the uniforms, and this was in the days before washer-dryer combos. And for prewash? Leaving it in a stream overnight. Like, they didn't even have fabric softener, eeegads!

I'm practicing my blonde; pretty good, eh? I sound like a Canadian!? That's it! We're not going anywhere until the joker fesses up. Come on, I'm waiting. I can wait all day...

As I was saying. With that in mind, I purchased munchies on the way to the studio. I picked up an assortment of subs from a sandwich shop, along with cups, napkins and a cardboard box full of cold, two-liter soda bottles. I got a nice discount, too, from the manager ... the twenty-ish, male manager -- Greg, I think his name was. I’ve his phone number, somewhere. He had these deep blue eyes and a great ass. Hey, I didn’t deliberately unbutton my top! Who do you think I am? Okay, I did, but not that much; it wasn’t like my nipples were showing ... for the most part.

I got couple bags of ice and some several cheap Styrofoam coolers at a supermarket. I’d also picked up some cold beer, wine and a little hard stuff, but that was necessary for my *cunning plan.* I hid that in some additional throw-away foam coolers under my truck bed under cover. I soon arrived at the studio.

"Guys, ladies” -- there were a few females among the bunch -- "could you help unload my truck? I brought food and drink for everybody, as I figured this could go late tonight. If it isn’t enough, I’ll order in pizza or Chinese.”

I opened the crew cab doors, and they quickly had the munchies inside. "That’s everything, unless there is something in the truck bed.”

"There is, but that’s for later.”

"A surprise? I like surprises,” a young backup singer called out. I hoped they were all 21 or older. We set the food up on tables outside the recording room. We moved to the actual studio and settled in.

We were about to play, when I noticed two people I didn’t recognize from earlier. ~~Those must be the musicians with the flight problems.~~ They couldn’t see me, as we had switched into smaller recording booths to isolate us for mixing and overdubbing purposes. Through our headsets, we could hear the mixed *product* and adjust our performances as needed. At times Al or the mixer techs had us performing separately, particularly me, whenever they wanted a cleaner sample of my singing or to act as one of my own backup singers. I am proud to say they did NOT use Autotune on me. I DID overdub myself but that was it.
By eight-something o’clock, we’d run through all of the tunes and had done a couple of test recordings. We took a food break and listened to the tests... the rehearsals, ...um, tests. Whatever!. I was still in my booth, as they need a few more bits from me. Al and the studio techs running the mixing boards looked pleased by break’s end. They played back a possible finished mix of several songs. I went to get a sub and soda; the new guys still hadn’t seen me.

"Gang, that was great. The test recordings are good enough to use for the release tracks. With luck we can wrap this up soon. I know you all are enjoying working together, but she has a tight schedule so the sooner we finish....”

"Al, who are we recording with? You never did tell me, but we know you, and when you asked, we jumped on the first flight out here.”

"Same here, Al; I didn’t bother to ask who it was. Knowing that you were producing, it had to be interesting.”

"Who do you think it is then?” Al was having some fun.

"The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place her. She's damned good, whoever she is. Reminds me some of Pink or Christina Aguilera, though she’s more of a Beyonce with a touch of Aretha Franklin at her peak. I’m stumped.”

"Who was that gal on American Idol a while back, the young mother? She’s a lot like her, but more so.” The other man said in turn.

"So you’re saying she’s, um, ethnic?” Al asked.

"Has to be. The phrasing, the style, and the tone scream it. Plus I overheard one of the staff saying she’s invited to perform on the BET summer special, and that’s why she’s doing this album.”

"Are you sure?”

"As sure as I can be.”

"Me too, she’s just gotta be a sista’.”

"Are you sure? I thought I was more the Nordic Barbie doll type.” I couldn’t resist.

"You!?”

"Damn, I thought I recognized the voice but I never ...”

"Was I any good? I’m kinda new to the business.”

They stared at me slack jawed.

I grinned in triumph. If I could fool industry insiders, I could pull this off.

"The BET invitation was a computer goof, but I figured, why not. I mean, there are gonna be some great artists on the show I‘d love to meet; what talents! And I vehemently support equal opportunity. I’m not doing this to make fun of BET or anybody whose skin differs from me. I may be a strawberry-blonde Barbie doll, but I’m also mutant; can you imagine how many people would discriminate against me, if they could?”

After some embarrassing moments, we settled down and got ready to return to work. It was time I played my trump card.

"Everybody -- and I mean everybody, performers or not -- I brought some more *refreshing* refreshments. Nothing illegal, sorry. Plus, Bongs R Us was closed.” That got some laughs, as musicians have a rep for being drug users. I sniffed a couple of the musicians in an obvious manner. "This group seems clean to me." That got a bigger laugh. "I have beer and wine chilling and will gladly party with you all when, that’s the key, when we finish the recordings to Al and my satisfaction. Um, you’re all 21 or older, right?”

I bounced and did a few of my better dance moves to give the guys and gals a few gratuitous jiggles in all my better places. Hey, it worked on the sub sandwich manager. Most of the guys smiled or looked at me with hunger in their eyes. Two of the women licked their lips, when I looked their way.

"Oh my, I hope I haven’t gone too far?” I pouted guiltily, then giggled. Poor Al looked ready to burst from laughter but kept his cool.

"And I don’t want anyone to feel left out. If you think something could be done better, speak up. Don't let me intimidate you; just think of me as a fellow musician. I’ve been at this music business less than a year, I can benefit from your experience. Heck, I've only been a girl a little longer. I want this session to be fun and memorable. I want you all to be able to say long after, ‘I did my best on Joanie ... ‘s album. Okay?” I teased them blatantly, but I wanted to get this over fast -- not that I didn’t enjoy it. I enjoyed my time with the Johnsons more and wanted all I could get.

* * * *

They worked their hearts out, after my pep talk. It was a grind; we didn’t finish until well after midnight. The party after is a blur. We drank, danced and in general made fools of ourselves, as we listened to the completed tracks. They would need some post-production work, but Al assured me he had everything he needed to finish the album and then some.

Everyone wanted to talk with me, hug me, kiss me, have photos taken with me, and they got *friendlier,* after they’d all had a few. We danced together and took increasingly candid pictures. They’d worked hard so I didn’t begrudge them a little fun. Eventually things wound down, and the sober ones drove the less sober ones to their hotel.

I left the studios a *souvenir* and drove back to Terrace Hill in a happy, bouncy mood. We’d finished much sooner than I’d hoped. The music sounded great and would only sound better after post-production. And my bra was hanging in the studio as a good-luck talisman. I did say we got a little wild at the party. Somebody suggested a game of poker, and this bass player was about to win with a full house.

"Read-'em and weep guys, um, and Joanie. Can anybody beat a full house?”

"I can!”

"With what?” he looked surprised.

"A pair.” I took off my bra. I won. They never looked at my cards. I kept my top on the whole time, I’ll have you know. They looked disappointed.

* * * *

The officers on duty at Terrace Hill got an eyeful when I returned as I jiggled and wobbled my way to bed. ~~Regen or not I really do need a bra. Oh those stairs!~~

Thursday June 07, 2007

I woke to the smell of hot bacon and waffles, literally. Mel held a plate under my nose, as Eric stood by with a large coffee. "We heard that you got in real late, THIS morning,” Mel said in an accusatory tone. Then she giggled, "And we figured you’d need help getting up. As my brother here didn’t trust himself to restrict it to just tickling and shaking you to wake you, we decided on using your breakfast instead.”

They fed me breakfast like I was a patient recuperating from an operation on my hands. I didn’t strictly need the coffee, as drugs are burnt up quickly by my mutant metabolism, and I can get by on little sleep, being a regen. Still the smell and taste of it perked me up, and I appreciated their kind and silly gesture. I finished and got out of bed.

"I’ll take a shower and be dressed in ten minutes or less; time me.” I said walking to the shower as I stripped off my clothes. Behind me I heard…

"Eric, stop it! You’re coming with me.”

I looked back over my shoulder and saw Mel dragging a reluctant Eric out of my room. Apparently, he’d been watching as I stripped… He only saw me from behind, and I was fully covered -- from behind anyway. ~~ I am such a tease!~~

* * * *

I brought my guitar and amp along, as I planned to honor Mel’s request that I visit her school. The commute to Eric’s school was easy, but once we got there I was concerned. The press was getting smarter and surrounded Eric’s school; apparently, I was still big news. We brazened it out and several of Eric’s friends, including that boy Pinky had kissed back on Easter, helped run interference. I made a mental note to ask Eric about him for Pinky. It would do her good to have a boy to talk with other than at Whateley. We drove on to Mel’s school, after running the press gauntlet out of Eric’s.

* * * *

I parked in a visitor’s space at Mel’s school and followed her in. She escorted me to the office then hurried off to class. I walked up to the receptionist/ office worker. She was busy typing something into a PC.

”Could you help me? I’m a friend of Melissa Johnson, one of your students, and she invited me to visit her school. I was hoping I could sit in and observe her classes, or maybe assist a teacher? I’m a part-time teacher in New Hampshire, mostly history and gym. People say I’m a fair musician and singer.”

"One moment, I’m busy wi…” She looked up for a moment while speaking and her voice trailed off. ~~You don’t suppose she recognized me?~~

An intercom buzzed. "Jessica? Where’s the new lunch program budget proposal? I need it for the board meeting tonight.”

She didn’t answer.

"Jessica?”

"Jessica, are you there?”

I heard a door open and someone walking fast in hard-soled shoes on the institutional terrazzo floor. I turned to look.

"Jessica, are you okaaaaay ...”

--- Crash --

The man walked into a desk and toppled over it, proof positive whatever *it* was, I had *It* today. Jessica snapped out of it and rushed to his side.

"Frank, are you okay? Speak to me!”

I got the feeling they were close friends; very close friends, if you know what I mean. Her hugging him, which changed to kissing him when he opened his eyes, seemed proof of that. They made a lovely couple. ~~Why did I think that? Because you’re all hot and bothered for Eric-snookums.~~ My internal voice was being a snot-nosed bitch.

After some embarrassing moments -- I told them, privately, I was happy they were in love, and I wouldn’t tell anyone -- I was given a visitor’s pass and the Principal escorted me to Mel’s classroom.

* * * *

They were covering American history, just for fun, as the semester was all but over. The teacher gave them suggestions of places to visit or books to read to be better prepared for next fall.

"Ms Phillips, Ms Brown will be sitting in on your class for a while today. She’s a part-time teacher and student at a prestigious private school out east. Feel free to take advantage of the opportunity.”

"Sure.”

She turned to see me and almost lost her cool -- almost. "Wel-welcome to my classroom, Ms Brown. I was suggesting to the class ways they could make any summer trips both fun and educational. Maybe you could start off; are you doing anything ... special this summer?”

"I’m on summer break at the moment. The school I’m at has a different schedule from most. I have to be back by the beginning of July for the one month summer session. As my dear friend Mel here has likely told you time and time and time again....” The class laughed, and Mel blushed. "I am new at being a girl which is why I am a student as well as teacher. No, that's not quite right. I'm a student because I am a mutant and need specialized instruction due to powers I acquired, Being a girl is just a complication, a very pleasant one. As for doing something special, besides spending time with Mel and her family, I’m spending the last two weeks of June in Wales, in Great Britain. I’m doing a television show for BBC Wales, honest.”

"What show?”

"Is it famous?”

"Can we see it?” various kids asked.

"It’s a top rated show in England, and it’s fairly popular here, too, but I’m not allowed to talk about it yet. I promise, I’ll let Mel know right before the official announcement, so you’ll have a jump on everyone else; is that fair?”

"Are you planning to visit any historic sites in Wales?”

"That’s a good question, Ms Philips. There is a chance my great-great-grandfather was from Wales, though he may have come from Yorkshire ... or someplace else in England. He’s the one immigrant ancestor my father hasn’t tracked down yet, but record keeping of births, deaths, marriages and residents back in the 1800’s was haphazard at best. At a minimum, I hope to do some research on him, and I want to see Caernarfon castle. It’s where they invest the Prince of Wales.”

"Invest?”

"That’s when they officially give a royal their title, and they swear allegiance to the Crown and such.”

"Exactly, Ms Phillips. So what are you kids doing this summer? We traveled a lot by car each summer, when I was your age, so I might have some suggestions.”

Some were going to camp; some were staying in town and taking enrichment courses: swimming, auto shop, computers and the like. And a few were road tripping, yeah!

To be fair to the rest of her school, I visited several other classes and hung around the cafeteria during lunch to greet any who were interested. I spent a pleasant hour there softly playing my guitar and talking with students and staff. The principal had made an announcement, so the kids were well behaved. Mel hung with me as long as her classes allowed, grinning her head off and basking in the attention.

I left before classes were over to avoid problems with the press endangering the kids.

* * * *

I arrived at the middle school well before they let out for the day. I parked several blocks away to avoid the press. If they were going to play games with the safety of the students in their zeal to get a *scoop*, it was only fair I play games too. I wore a baseball cap and tucked my hair inside my blouse. In my blouse, skort and boots I looked like someone’s older sister ... if their older sister was a Playboy Centerfold. I walked past the reporters without any problems; they were busy readying their cameras, practicing their intros, touching up their make-up and expensive hair-dos. The female reporters were almost as bad. They were expecting me in my crew cab; a tall girl on foot elicited no interest. I walked to the school office and asked to speak with the principal.

"I was told you wish to speak with me?” She looked at me, the gears in her head spinning.

"Let's save time. I’m Joanie, the part time singer and full time mutant. I’m visiting the Johnsons -- the Governor and his family. I’m Eric’s ride home, and I was worried about the press. They are getting increasingly aggressive, and I fear for the safety of the other students and staff. I also wish to offer my services for your school tomorrow. I could attend some classes, give a speech, meet and greet any who are interested -- whatever you think best. I want to thank the people of Iowa for accepting me so openly.”

We moved into her office, where we agreed to a visit tomorrow. In the interest of the student’s safety, she sent a secretary to fetch Eric.

"Ms Brown…”

"Joanie.”

"Yes, Joanie, may I ask about your relationship to Eric? I remember you from the school dance, and you seemed to fit in surprisingly well.”

"In what way do you mean that?” Alarm bells went off in my head. ~~Ah-OOOOO-GA!~~

"I know your official *history*, that you were in your forties and a man before your mutation. How is it you seemed to fit in so easily as a young woman?”

”I don’t know for sure. Much of it is due to my new body, I guess. I'm a female of seventeen, medically, and therefore my brain is female and seventeen despite all those years of male memories. The night of the dance was a chance to experience life as if I had been born female, and I liked it. Everyone I met treated me so nicely, and the Johnsons were like my favorite aunt and uncle or best friend's parents. I assure you that any relationship I have with Eric is platonic, one of friendship and an abiding respect for him and his family." So I lied, sue me!

The school let Eric out early, but then classes were all but over for the semester. We snuck out a door near their loading dock and got to my truck unnoticed. I felt like a spy who’d just sneaked over the border. I called Mel’s school; they let her out a seldom used side door, and we avoided any problems.

During supper we, the whole family that is, discussed matters, and I reluctantly agreed to let a State Patrol car take them to school the rest of my visit.

Later, I checked in with Whateley and asked my friends to research international laws regarding familiars and sorceresses. I was sure the magic department had familiarity -- get it familiarity? -- with any relevant laws or international treaties. I had no intention of taking Miki with me, but I wanted to be scrupulously fair with her and not let any lingering male attitudes about the *delicacy* of pregnant women to cloud my decision. 'Any creature that has lived as long as her, and defeated as many of the possessed as her, is not delicate.' I keep telling myself that, then I picture the pregnant cutie in my mind and get all protective.

* * * *

To be continued soon.

John in Wauwtosa

Please continue to comment. It is valued and has the virtue of shutting me up for a while.

-- GRIN --

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 pt 5

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

Part five of an 8 part chapter

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 5

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, Chapter 12, part 5 of 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone 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

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

* * * *

Friday June 08, 2007

I helped my friends get ready for school, then dressed in what I figured was appropriate for a school visit; I put on this form-fitting, cropped polo shirt and these skin-tight low rise jean cutoffs, more like Daisy Dukes but with all that excess fabric cut away. They revealed my cute, sexy tummy, firm creamy thighs and slender waist. ~~Oh-oh, I need a bikini wax.~~

Ha! Gotcha again. As much as I'd like to walk around half naked for Eric, or naked for that matter -- hey, if you've got it flaunt it -- I wore a fashionable and attractive tailored woman’s suit, summer weight. It projected an air of respectability and class, yet showed off my curves in a way something far skimpier might not -- the power of imagination and all that. Think of that old movie cliché’ with the mousy secretary who when she takes of her glasses and lets down her hair is suddenly a major hottie. I did this one better by skipping the glasses and hair bun. What's scary is I LIKE showing off; I LIKE looking hot; shy is NOT in Joanie's vocabulary. I gave Bob a kiss on the cheek, Babs a gentle hug and drove off.

I arrived a half hour after Eric's school started; by then, the press had left. I went to the school office and was escorted around the building by the principal. I visited a band class -- they were pretty good for middle schoolers; the orchestra on the other hand ... Oh the PAIN! -- and dropped in on a couple history classes as well. I set up in the cafeteria shortly before the lunch periods began.

The principal made a PA announcement. "Some of you may already know we have a visitor here today. She has agreed to meet with anyone who wishes. She is willing and eager to sign autographs and take photos together. I remind you to be on your best behavior and show her what fine young people you are. Remember this is a closed campus, so no phoning your friends or the press. You must stick to your set class schedules but are welcome, during your lunch and any study or free periods, to come down to the cafeteria and meet with her. Joanie brought her guitar and amp and will sing a few songs as well. Did I forget to mention Ms Brown's name? Now behave!”

I heard kids shrieking -- that or a freight train locking it's brakes. It's been claimed that the Saturn V moon rocket and a nuclear explosion are the two loudest man made sounds. They never heard teenage girls.

I had a great time. Most of the kids and staff liked me; if anyone didn’t, they hid it well. There had to be a few seriously anti-mutant types given the size of the school, but then I had saved the daughter of their popular state governor, so I guess that tempered any ill feelings. I was surprised by how many girls wanted their pictures taken with me; guys I could understand, they're walking/talking bags of testosterone, but girls? It hit me eventually. It was not just one cause but a combination of causes: hero worship -- I was a girl after all, despite my past -- fandom, and a kind of preemptive strike; if they had their picture taken first, they felt more in control, when any boys they were interested in had their turn with me. Or maybe it was the *wingman* and the *wounded duck* theory dating. Any of the boys whose overtures I turned down would have crushed egos and raging libidos, a target-rich environment for any enterprising girl, i.e. my self-appointed pseudo wing-women.

The lunch periods were busy for me, talking with the kids, signing autographs and singing. Much of what they said was just polite chatter or even inane, but several asked intelligent questions. The best was: "It must be great to be young, good looking and famous, but if you could choose to be who you are now, but without the fame, versus as your life is now, would you do so?"

”I must admit being famous is often a nuisance, but the price for not having become famous would have been the lives of several wonderful people. I have gained far more from being *outed* as a mutant than it has cost me in lost privacy and such. And I have met others because of the fame; several are special to me, Eric. that was a good question and not just because you are a friend."

~~Friend. Right. The kind of friend that has you so hot and bothered you'd *do him* here and now if you could; admit it. Eighteen, wait for it, girl. If he has you creaming your panties now, imagine what he will be like as an adult.~~

I'd made a mistake mentioning Eric, as I could see the gears turning in their heads. I could imagine them reasoning, 'girl is friends with boy and family, goes to dance with boy, visits from way across the country several times in a few months. Now girl visits boy in his school, despite being so rich and beautiful she could have any man she wants. ...'

I needed to squash any speculation about Eric and me and fast. "To be honest, girls, Eric is kinda hunky, don't you think?” Several girls snickered, more blushed. Apparently, I wasn't the only girl who noticed his charms. "But then your principal is quite the stud muffin, if you like old men like your grandfathers." I swear, the class laughed so hard, I think a couple wet themselves. Yeah, I know Eric's principal is a gal, and it's Mel's that is a man. It simply reinforces my image of being a blonde and not the brightest banana in the chandelier. Misdirection; it works every time.

I managed to escort Mel and Eric home without any serious complications, though my first act upon returning to Terrace Hill was to take a very long, very cold shower. It helped some. I still nearly jumped Eric during dinner, I was so ... pick your favorite word or phrase, I was all of them.

" *Sister*. do you want me to distract everyone while you, um, get some, er, relief for your *urges*?" Babs whispered to me after dinner. I turned beet-red and rushed off to my guest room. She knew how to push my buttons, just as my biological sister did. I loved her for it and planned on getting revenge at a date of my choosing. Muwah-ha-ha-ha!

While Babs called an impromptu family *meeting,* I had a meeting of my own with a couple of my favorite adult *toys* ... ooh, yeah baby!

* * * *

I showered, washed my hair and changed all my clothes; I even put on some perfume, something I didn't always do -- anything to hide the evidence of my carnal activities. I found Mel, and we talked about a sleepover. She called her friends, one after the other, and proposed a sleepover for Friday after Eric's graduation. Unfortunately, many had holiday plans in place and several were leaving town the day after classes ended. We could have some time together Friday afternoon -- her last day was a half day -- but with Eric graduating middle school that didn't leave much free time. We agreed to keep in touch, and maybe later in summer an opportunity would arise. I was disappointed, but this meant more time with Eric, so I wasn't too put out.

Friday June 09, 2007

I got up extra early in preparation for the mini-vacation I was taking Mel and Eric on, starting Saturday. I did my run, showered and dressed. I did a quick check on my emails. I was right on Miki; British customs would have been a nightmare for her. Even familiars had to go through months of quarantine, like dogs, cats, cattle or any other imported animal. The Sabers sent their regards. They were having fun with the *old bag* gone, -- they'd been boning up on their 60/70's slang in self-defense -- and that I would be pleased with their progress as a band when I returned.

Operations informed me that the farmhouse and barn conversion were ahead of schedule, and both would be ready for occupancy, before I returned from England, um Wales.

Suzy emailed from a WiFi hotspot in Steven's Point, the nearest sizable city to my uncle's lake cabin. She'd had a great time reuniting with her family. Later, they planned to go to my cousin's lake cottage near Tomahawk to spend time with her cousins who were anxious to hear all about her famous mutant friend. My cousin, a.k.a. her uncle -- this is confusing even to me -- the service station *mogul* -- snicker -- sent a brief email thanking me for being so kind to his niece, and that I was much more pleasing to the eye than I used to be. Oh, there was something about if I wanted to play touch football, like we used to do at our Thanksgiving family get-togethers, he was all for it .. so long as we didn't tell his wife. Here I thought his dad, my uncle, was the kidder in the family.

I had a private e-mail from Pinky. I won't divulge the contents, but it made me cry; she loved me so much. That her birth mother could turn her back on ... I had to stop thinking about it before I got mad.

* * * *

Both Eric and Mel had short days, this last day of school. Mel's graduation from grade school would be informal, but family were welcome to attend. Eric’s more formal graduation ceremony would start at seven o’clock, so I had ample time to pack for the mini-vacation and ready myself for the ceremony. Babs helped me pack for the kids; we'd let them veto our choices and make their own later that day ... right. No, really; she, I, we, trusted them to make intelligent choices; we simply made them in their place.

"Sis, I know mother knows best and all that, but Mel's a pretty girl and these clothes are so ... dull shall I say?"

Babs gave me a dirty look then broke out laughing. "Duh! I want to see how she reacts. If I know my daughter she'll voice her opinion politely, but firmly, and pack a few items she wants along. I don't mind her dressing her age, so long as it's respectable."

"So not a slutty wannabe prostitute like me?"

"I wouldn't call you a wannabe."

"But I wanna sooo bad!"

It was some minutes before either of us could speak without breaking up with the giggles.

"Joanie, when you talk like that, I wonder if you are bad influence on my children, but then I talk that way too. God, we're both sluts!"

"And loving it!" A Maxwell Smartism is so satisfying.

* * * *

Mel's graduation was low-key. A brief ceremony in the school gym then a picnic out on the grounds. The school had a buffet lunch laid out that a local caterer had donated; their daughter was in Mel's grade. There was plenty to eat for students and guests. Babs was recognized at once. She was active in the PTA, among other organizations; then there were the little facts of her being a US Senator's daughter and the current governor's wife. We became the center of attention, once lunch was over.

"Ms Johnson, you're looking radiant. When are you due?" seemed the flavor-of-the-day among the parents and well wishers.

"Mid-August, but with twins I'm told an early delivery is common. I'm doing well and looking forward to it as is the whole family."

"It will be fun to have a baby brother and sister; I already have an older brother and sister."

That raised a few eyebrows. "But there's only you and your brother Eric?"

Mel giggled, "There's my big sister Joanie; well, she's not really my sister, but I wish she was." Then she gave me a hug.

I tried not to cry, but a few tears leaked out.

Most of the kids were friendly, often to the point of hero worship, but then Mel was well liked and I had ... you know the rest.

I was particularly pleased to see Megan and her dad again. She showed off for their friends by taking more than a few steps from her wheelchair to one of the cafeteria tables they'd set up for the graduation picnic. She had crunches just in case but didn't use them. The squeals of joy and surprise from her friends was electric. They so mobbed her we couldn't speak but I saw her mouth 'Thank You Joanie' and I almost lost it.

I did note a couple parents who seemed upset I was there, but if it was due to anti-mutant bias or fears for their child's safety, given my track record of attracting trouble, I don't know.

* * * *

Eric's graduation was more elaborate -- a ceremony in the school auditorium. It reminded me of when I graduated junior high. They had a salutatorian and valedictorian and all that -- thankfully none of those silly robes and mortar-board hats we wore at my high school graduation. Yuck! Though with a gown like that, opened up the front , shortened to mid thigh and pulled-in the waist I could ... Never mind, plus wearing that commando would be begging to get laid ... I'll file that away for future reference.

Eric introduced several of his classmates to us, that's Mel, Babs and Governor Bob. We had several teachers stop by and comment on how Eric was one of their favorite students and complimenting him on how he'd improved of late. I was surprised, I thought Eric had always been good in school. His parents looked confused too.

"I said that badly; what I meant was Eric has always been a good student, it's just he's become even more so of late.

"Eric, if you keep this up, I expect you will graduate on top of your class in high school and even college.. I don't know what has gotten into you, but keep it up; your hard work made this last semester a joy to teach."

We all knew what had gotten into Eric, and I couldn't be happier. Okay, I could be, but that had to wait for Eric to turn eighteen.

* * * *

Saturday June 09, 2007

We woke early Saturday morning -- well, Mel did. She got me up at 5 o’clock with an ice cube down my back. I have to admit it was effective.

"Aaaaiieee! Who did that?”

I heard someone try to stifle a giggle, most unsuccessfully too.

"You said to get you up at five if you weren’t up already. Eric is making sandwiches, and I have our bags by the door ready to load.”

"That’s great, Mel. I’ll shower quickly, dress and meet you in the kitchen.”

Fifteen minutes later I was in the private kitchen in Terrace Hill, fairly awake and oh, so happy. ~~ Eric is looking better every time. Behave yourself this time, Joanie, and the next few years will fly by. Then you can ...~~ I was having a delicious daydream complete with a generous helping of ... ~~Ooooh, Eric, is that all for me?~~ ... never you mind. I was having a great time. Unfortunately my imagination was having an even better one and delighted in, ah ... Thus my alibi for the following Freudian slip,

"Joanie, do you want anything more?”

"Another helping of you, lover.”

"Huh? Joanie, are you awake?”

"Whoa! Sorry, Eric, I was daydreaming.”

"About you, brother,” Mel said and giggled.

"I don’t mind. If you’re too tired, we can wait until you’re rested.”

"I’m fine, Eric; just seeing you triggered all sorts of delightful dreams. Good morning, Babs! I hope we didn’t wake you?”

"No, the twins did; all that weight pressing on my bladder. Thanks for taking my children on a vacation. I hated to think of them cooped up here all summer while Mommy waddled around.”

"Mom, it’s fine. We have lots of friends, and I want to be with you when my baby brother and sister enter the world. It will be kewl.”

"Wait until you’re a mother, my child; giving birth hurts like hell. Sorry, kids. It’s worth it; look how you two turned out.”

"I’m happy and surprised you let me travel with Eric and no escort. I mean, after Easter I ...”

"You do have Mel with you; that should cool your ardor. Plus, you both know how incendiary your feelings are, so you’re better prepared to control them. I think the two room idea will work. You and Mel in one, Eric in the other. You said some of your MSG pals would help if I recall." Bab's looked me square in the eyes. "I trust you, Joanie, and it’s a good test. If you can survive this trip, the demon is tamed. You all know the consequences of failure, so I’m confident.”

"I promise not to violate that trust. I don’t want to lose your friendship or Eric’s.”

"Have a nice time. Bring back lots of photos and stories”

"I will, Mom, and don’t worry, I’ll make sure they behave.”

"I’ll be good. I don’t want to lose Joanie, Mom. You call us if anything happens. We each have a cell, so no excuses.”

"Joanie, thanks for getting phones for my kids.”

"It made good sense, and we can use them like walkie-talkies in crowds if we get separated. Take care, lovely lady.”

"I look like a fat cow, but I’ll accept your compliment.”

She gave us all hugs and kisses. I was amazed Eric didn’t object, but then she was letting him time spend time with me. We loaded and drove off.

Oh, yeah, nearly forgot. You all, dear d/j//whatever readers, are wondering 'Why no escort, no guards, no State Patrol officer playing babysitter to us?' Because one no one knew our itinerary, not even me, except for part of day one, and that was a well kept secret. This was a follow-your-nose vacation. Second, they were with ME, with my semi-phenomenal cosmic ... my mutant gifts plus police training, riding in an armored, uber fast vehicle. I knew a bunch of supers level mutants -- members of MSG -- intimately. I mean that in the *biblical* sense, in Wisconsin, our destination. Anyone trying to harm Mel or Eric would get more than a can of whop-ass dumped on them, they'd get the whole cannery. And that's not including what *I* would do to the bastar ... fool(s). Armageddon would be the least of their worries if someone dared to harm my friends. Not that I'm the least bit vindictive ... much.

* * * *

"Where are we going?”

"I plan to take you to some of my favorite places in Wisconsin and Iowa. If either of you want to do something, let me know.”

"I’d like to go to a theme park.”

"Mel, there’s Great America just south of the Wisconsin state line and all sort of stuff in the Wisconsin Dells, particularly water parks. You'd enjoy both. ”

"I vote for the Dells and a water park.”

"You would, too, brother. You want to see Joanie in a wet, clinging swimsuit.”

"Oh yeah, but it'd be fun to see her in a swimsuit too.”

~~O...M...G! He loves me ... Don't cry, Joanie, don't cry ...~~

"Okay, we’ll work that in, but today is special. I need you both to be on your best behavior, and be careful what you say. We're going to see a professional baseball game with some people I know. The problem is they don’t know me as Joanie; they knew me as John, and it’s not safe to let them know that.”

"Joanie, that makes no sense.”

"Eric, let me try again. A group of employees from the bank I worked at, and some of their friends, are going to see the Brewers play. So is my sister and her husband. I want you to meet my family, and this is a good opportunity.

"Sis got us tickets. She told them some out of town friends were visiting, and she needed three more tickets. It’s safe to talk about Joanie, how we met and are all friends, but don’t tell them we are boyfriend and girlfriend. And never ever tell them who I used to be. We are acquaintances only, not formerly brother and sister, now sister and sister. She is simply a nice lady who helped me at the bank after my transformation; end of story . Got it?”

"So telling your sister that we are lovers is a no-no?”

"Eric! That isn’t true ... yet. If you can joke about it, you understand. It’s fine to tell my sister you are attracted to me, but be honest and discreet. If the wrong person overhears, our relationship is down the toilet ... permanently.

"This is a long drive, nearly seven hours. If you need a bathroom break or want to stop for a quick look at something let me know. We don’t need to be at the meeting place until two-thirty.”

* * * *

We made excellent time with our early start. My huge pickup was surprisingly quiet -- the armor and electric motors, probably -- so it was easy to speak. They caught me up on the news of Iowa, not that I was totally out of the loop. Eric and I had maintained our Friday evening calls, so I was familiar with much that had happened. I tried to be a good girl and listen -- a strength my mother had. Though I am not her, I’m a much better listener than John was.

"Joanie, what do I call your sister?” Eric asked me.

"By her first name, when we are clearly alone; she’ll like that. In public, you'll have to ask, like you were meeting a stranger, and then she’ll tell you. She's a bright lady and in some ways smarter than I am, though in some ways she’s not as smart as me. That didn't come out too clear, did it?"

"Like you said, Joanie."

"Me too," Mel added.

"Thanks a lot, gang!" I snarled or tried to. It's hard to sound angry when you are laughing. "I should have said my sister had things she was better at than the old me, and the old me had things he was better at. Even with my mutant makeover, I consider her my equal mentally, if not physically, okay? I hope you’ll get along. I want you to know my family. If we are going to be together, you need to make an informed decision, Eric.

"Does anyone want a soda? There are some in the cooler in the rear console.” Ah, the advantages of being blonde. You can change the subject without warning, and nobody suspects a thing.

We pulled off the main highway, once, onto a side road to stretch our legs and to grab a soda ... and to kiss. Okay, I’m trying to be a good girl, but after several hours in the same vehicle it got to me being that close to Eric, and I HAD to; so did he. I think it might be pheromones, or maybe we just have the hots for each other. I was a guy for nearly fifty years, and I know he was in distress -- a great deal of distress from the size of the bulge in his trousers. It was no more than a kiss but ... WOW!

"That will have to hold us for a while, *lover*”

"No problem,” he said with a very silly grin on his face. Mel gave us a disapproving pout then giggled. She’s tickled that her brother and I are a couple and does everything she can to see we stay that way AND celibate -- curse her black heart.

We drove in relative quiet, my friends, -- my future husband and sister-in-law I hoped -- soaking up the scenery. We got near to the Mississippi River and I noticed Mel acting odd. She was getting more tense and nervous by the second.

"What’s wrong, Mel?”

"We’re not going near that tourism information place in Prairie Du Chein, are we?” There was fear in her voice.

"We’re crossing way downstream from there, so don’t worry. Your brother and I will make sure nothing bad happens. There is a tourism building on the Wisconsin side, but it’s off the main highway, so there are no vehicles driving by at 40 to 50 miles an hour. I don’t think you are weak for being afraid, hon. I’d be scared, too, after what happened last year.”

I heard Mel take a sharp, deep breath. "Joanie, take us into the tourism place. I need to get over this, and a potty break would be nice.”

"You’re very brave.”

"And I drank too much soda; I need to go to the bathroom, bad!”

* * * *

I was proud of Mel; though the building was different, it was similar enough it had to trigger memories of that awful day. We did our business, then Mel and I did each other’s makeup.

"Joanie, your lipstick is smudged. I wonder how that happened?” We broke into giggles.

"You little minx!”

She touched up mine, and I put some on her. It’s amazing what a little lip-gloss and a touch of eyeliner will do to dress up a woman. And don’t give me that 'she’s too young for makeup’ nonsense. Many of her classmates I’d seen just days before wore some makeup and had pierced ears, some with multiple piercings, and a couple bolder gals showed off bellybutton rings whenever their blouses rode up. Mel was positively conservative by comparison, given she appeared to me one of the more ... developed girls in her class. Did I just say that? I meant, okay, Mel is *well-built* for a girl her age. It’s not like she’s built like me, who is, but she’s going to be a hottie -- a tall hottie -- I can tell.

Mel noted the resemblance. She looked at us in the mirror and smiled. ”We look like sisters, but then someday we will be.” That had me smiling too.

We caught up with Eric, and I let them browse through the brochures in case something caught their fancy. They did want a tour of a cheese factory, and the army DUWK rides at the Dells interested Eric.

"Make sure to grab a state road map so you can mark the route we follow,” I suggested.

The attendant noticed us and asked if we needed any help. I was blocked from her view by an info kiosk in the center of the room, so she must have been talking to Eric or Mel. "Morning, Miss. Is there anything I can help you find? Any particular activity you are most interested in?"

"My best friend is taking us to visit her favorite places in the state. She used to live here, so she’s pretty familiar with Wisconsin. I need a state map though."

"There are some new attractions. You look like a young lady who follows the music scene; I know I did at your age. Ever hear of Joanie?’

"She’s my absolute favorite!” Mel practically screamed.

"She's mine too,” Eric added. His tone suggested it wasn’t just my singing that interested him.

"Well, you would, brother. She’s very pretty.”

"I wouldn’t disagree with that too strenuously,” I called out, still obscured.

"They are putting up a monument and a safety fence at a sister tourism facility in Prairie Du Chein. It’s in memory of her bravery in saving that young lady’s life, Melissa Johnson. The ground breaking ceremony is this Wednesday, at noon, if you want to see it.”

"It is? I might want to see it; I was there when it happened.”

That statement surprised me, but then lots of things Mel did surprised me. If it helped to calm any remaining fears she had from that day, I was game.

"Actually, Ms. Johnson prefers to be called Mel, don’t you Mel,” I called out again from my concealment. This was fun.

"You know *that*, Joanie. I told you last Labor Day in Prairie Du Chein,” Mel answered.

The slightly quavering tone in the attendant’s voice told all. "And your name, Miss, is?”

"I’m Melissa Johnson from Iowa and this is my brother Eric. And this is my best friend ever, Joanie,” she said proudly, as I walked into view.

"I’m surprised about the monument to me and Melissa. No one told me about it, but then I can be hard to get a hold of. I’ll see if we can make it to the ceremony, okay Ma’am? I can be reached through the Wisconsin Mutant and Paranormals facility in Madison. Ma’am, say something? Ma’am?” ~~Ghods, this is so much fun !~~

* * * *

After making sure the woman was okay, we walked to my truck and drove on toward Milwaukee.

"Do you really want to go there, I mean the tourism facility in Prairie Du Chein?”

"Mom and Dad told me to face my fears, and they won’t control me. I need to do this for myself.”

"Okay, we’ll go sometime during this trip, Mel -- even to the ceremony, if you like. You’re braver than I am, girl.”

* * * *

We made good time the rest of the way. I stopped by my dad’s home first, parking out front. He was out, but I had my old keys. I showed them 'round the house, and I wrote a note for dad. I helped Mel and Eric do a little light cleaning, as a favor to Dad. Our two old cats were sleeping on my sister’s old bed. I changed their litter-boxes and gave them fresh water. I sat down on the floor of the hallway and called to them.

"You probably don’t remember me, but I was John; I’m Joanie now. Want a scritch-scratch?”

They looked at me for a while, then the girl walked up and sniffed me. She looked confused then she sniffed again. She got very interested in me. After a minute or more of this, she hopped on my lap and curled up purring like she had found a lost friend. Her brother came over, sniffed me a little then flopped down on my legs. He purred like a chainsaw.

"You know who I am? I missed you so.” I rubbed and scratched their ears. They purred, licked me and generally acted goofy.

"Joanie, where are you?’

"I’m upstairs, Mel; come softly so as not to scare the cats.” I quickly wiped away my tears, before they saw them.

I spent several minutes introducing them to her and next to Eric, who wondered where we were. We were about to go when my Dad drove up in his Sable. He got out of the car and opened the trunk; he’d been grocery shopping.

"We’ll help, Dad.” I whispered that last word to him. He was surprised to see me but was smiling. We quickly had him unloaded and the cold and frozen stuff put away. In minutes, all the cans were downstairs, the boxes in the cabinets and only the meat needed re-wrapping for the freezer.

"Dad, this is Melissa, or Mel, and her brother Eric. I’m taking them on vacation this week, because their mom is very pregnant with twins, and she can’t travel.”

"You are the young lady my daughter saved last Labor Day. I remember you from the photos, though you have grown a lot since then. And you young man, what are your intentions towards my daughter? Can you support her and a family? ... Are you two using protection?”

"Daddy!” Dad laughed in response to my scream. Eric’s face looked like blanched cauliflower.

"Hon, the look on your face was priceless. I’m getting old, and you are my last unmarried daughter. When will I get an opportunity to say that to a young man again? Aaaah! I knew I forgot something, I should have been cleaning a shotgun as I asked that,” Dad said then laughed.

"Mr. Brown, I know I’m too young now, but I respect Joanie and I love her. I will wait if she will. My grandfather, the Senator, told me I’d be a fool to ever hurt her. I promise that when I’m old enough, I’ll be the best possible man you could ever want for a son-in-law.”

"Shake on it?”

"I’ll give you my solemn oath.”

"A hand shake will do. You seem an honorable young man.”

I looked at the time. "We have to go, Dad. We’re meeting Sis to go a Brewer’s game with her and her personal love-slave.”

"Can’t you call Tony by his name?”

"Sure, but where is the fun in that? ... Dad, how come you have the cats?”

"Tony and your sister are having their condo remodeled, so I’m cat sitting. I didn’t realize how much I missed the fur balls. Since your sister got married, and you moved out after your ... The house is too quiet.”

"Dad, you could move in with me. I’m nearly finished building a big house inside the shell of a barn. I have a guest house, though that may get rented out. I have 53 acres; I’ll build you a house if you prefer. It’s not like I can’t afford it.”

"I’ll think about it, but all my friends live here and my clubs.”

"Think about it; I worry about you.”

We said our goodbyes and drove off. Fortunately no one really noticed us leaving. Most fortunately, Dad did not notice my tears. He'd've had a hard time noticing mine though his own.

* * * *

We stopped at a supermarket and bought a couple large coolers, lots of ice, soda and bottled water. I got several pounds of various potato and pasta salads from the deli and iced those down too. Mel made a great suggestion, and we got plastic utensils, paper plates, napkins and trash bags just in case. We bought some cheap but serviceable folding chairs for tailgating.

We, well, *I*, got looks from fellow shoppers, but I think my presence was such a shock it held them back. Though there was this one school girl -- roughly Mel’s age -- shopping with her mom. I assumed it was her mom; they looked so alike. The girl kept looking at me and at this teen/music magazine. She did this a lot in the short time we were in the checkout. Apparently I was in it along with some list of up-and-coming teen stars, Mel told me later. I should have figured she had a copy in the shrine, um, her Joanie collection. The girl must have been intimidated by me, so she walked up to Mel, instead.

"Miss, I don’t mean to be rude, but is your friend, Joanie, the singer?”

"Sure is! She’s my very best friend. Do you want to meet her?”

"I can?”

"Joanie, want to say 'Hi' to a fan?”

"Why not? She asked politely.”

After my ears stopped ringing from the girl's excited shrieks, I signed her magazine -- I paid for it to save the clerk some grief. I was in a really good mood that morning, so I felt I should.

"Where do you go to school, Tameka?” She'd introduced herself after some coaching by me. I guess I intimidated her.

"I graduated from Jefferson Grade School and start at Longfellow Middle School this fall, Joanie.”

"Tameka, I went to Roosevelt, and later Longfellow, but it was a junior high then in the early 1970’s.

"You went to the school I’m going to?”

"And East High School.”

"My friends are gonna DIE when I tell them. Wait a minute, please!.”

She got out her cell phone. "Mom gave this to me for my safety; it has a built-in camera.

"Mom, can you take my picture with Joanie?”

We left a few minutes later before the crowd grew too big. Tameka was grinning and thanking her mom ecstatically, as we walked out the door.

* * * *

We got to the big-box retailer's parking lot where our directions for the tailgate and ballgame said to meet. I’m not saying which retailer, but their logo looks like a bull’s-eye, in red and white. It was an easy target Okay, who groaned? It wasn't that bad, was it?As I was about to say before I was ... interrupted, I recognized a few of the bank employees standing by their vehicles, as I had worked with them, or more correctly, John had. My sister drove up moments after us, so I shut off the truck and we got out.

I rushed over and gave her a big hug, lifting her into the air and spinning around. My former coworkers stared in utter disbelief. I set her down, and she handed me our game tickets.

"Did I spill something on myself or forget to cut off a price tag from my clothes?” I asked.

"If you haven’t guessed, this is Joanie, and her two younger friends are Eric and Melissa Johnson from Iowa. Joanie is a customer of ours. I met her last year after her transformation; she need help with her finances, what with her radically altered identity. We talked a bit, and we become friends. I invited her, and she asked if her two young friends from Iowa could come as well. Any questions?” Is my sister smart or what? And she's a natural blonde too!

"I heard rumors we had a big name celebrity as a depositor, but I never made the connection,” said a lovely twenty-something operations manager. I’d kind of fancied her when I was man, but she was happily married. Her ancestors had to be from Norway or Sweden, from her appearance. She has this oh-so creamy complexion with subtle freckles in the most delightful places. Two such places protruded tantalizingly from under her blouse. Did I say John fancied her? Joanie was spellbound. Thankfully or regrettably, take your pick, her handsome, well-muscled, Hispanic husband was with her, which spoiled THAT fantasy. Her smile still got to me despite the damper of her hubby. And those eyes of hers! ~~Damn but she's hot!~~ This hottie young mother was one of the event organizers. ~~You can organize me any time, Blondie.~~ I looked at Eric and felt unworthy. I pulled myself together and spoke.

"Oh, if you are wondering why the Johnsons are with me, I’m taking them on vacation for a week to give their parents a break. We met last fall and hit it off.” I giggled and so did Mel; Eric just looked at me and smiled. I felt even more guilty, yet oddly happy ... you know. My emotions and a yo-yo have too much in common.

"Joanie is my best friend ever. I trust her with my life," Mel giggled.

"M-mel, cut that out." I could barely speak; the apprentice had bested her mistress. I was impressed. She also snapped me out of my funk.

"My Mom is due to have twins in August. She and Joanie are like sisters now, so here we are,” Mel explained.

"I feel so stupid. I was told by our company president to keep an eye on this important new customer’s accounts. I never connected the name Joan Brown to Joanie. That makes you two the Governor of Iowa’s kids.” They nodded politely.

This gal ran our electronic banking department and was a major babe with a sexy wild streak. I, that is John, fancied her big time, but the age difference was too much -- or so I’d thought. Additionally, when I was working there, she was happily married. I should have said she was married, but unhappily, because it lasted four months, and she was single now and looking fine. She'd lost a few pounds, got seriously in shape, and generally was more upbeat and confident. That 13 year old boy in my mind wanted in her pants, like yesterday. ~~Just my luck, she’s single again, and I’m a woman. I wonder if she’s into girls. Oooh , a three-way with Blondie!~~ Did I mention she was the other organizer of this outing? In my defense, my libido was still a bit revved from kissing Eric earlier and was getting even for us not ... you know. I’m not a slave to it, but sometimes it tries to be my mistress ... and I LOVE IT.

I made her look ordinary by comparison; what a disappointment. I mean, she is a great looking young woman; she reminds me of Maureen O’Hara in her prime. That I made *her* look plain was a bitter blow to the tiny remnant of my male ego. He was having so much fun, until I thought that. My female ego enjoyed this immensely. It's one thing for people to tell you you're a knock out; it's another thing all together to realize you are better looking than someone YOU believe to be a hottie. I mean I fantasized more than a few times about this sexy woman. There was a down side to this *revelation*. Any woman near Eric triggered predatory emotions deep in my psyche. Little Miss Goody-two-shoes Joanie has a jealous streak, no doubt about it.

Where was I ? Right. A couple of the guys and one of the girls, the sexy e-banking specialist, marveled at my truck. Meanwhile I worked to push my jealous streak back in its adamantium steel cage. Hey, I'm super-powered evil mutant; I'm entitled to that level of bitchiness.

The rest of the gang arrived, and we took off for Miller Park. The line into the tailgate area was long, as the team was winning for the first time in ages. There was hope this year they might make the playoffs. The last time, the ONLY time we'd been in the World Series, Matlock was a new show. It was so long ago, it would be a dozen years before Miley Cyrus was born. We paid, parked where directed, and set up our stuff. I used my truck’s now-opened tailgate as a table.

We soon had the charcoal and propane grills going, and the food cooking. The group was a little unsure as to how to treat me, but I put them at ease.

"I’m just another Midwestern kid. I lived most of my life -- until this last year -- about five miles away; a little less as the crow flies. Other than Mel and Eric being underage, treat us like anybody else here, okay? Oh, and I am a touchy-feely kind of girl, so you don’t have to treat me like fine china,” I added then stood up, grabbed Tony and kissed him.” ~~I see why Sis likes Tony; not bad. Um, tight buns, guy~~ My sister looked ready to kill. So I kissed her, too, then dragged the two of them together. "Okay, now that you each have the general idea, try it together and keep practicing.” They practiced and practiced diligently. If we had been in private, I think they would have done *it* there and then.

After that, the group opened up to me and told me about themselves and such. Someone had burned several discs, but the boom box wouldn't play them. It must have been an older model.

"My truck’s sound system could play them.”

"Or she could play for you.”

"What?” someone asked.

"Joanie has her guitar and an amplifier along with her. The truck has lots of power outlets. I've heard her in person, and she's really good.

"Want to do it, Joanie?” Eric asked.

"I will if you want me to, Eric.” ~~Nothing in the rules says I can’t flirt with him, within reason. And if he keeps talking about me that way I'll be beyond reasoning with. Fourteen. He's ONLY fourteen ... crap, crap, crap!~~

I had this inspiration, insight, call it what you will, ~~Maybe that's why I'm so successful as a singer. I have all this pent up lus ... desire and music is a safe outlet -- that and running. A round-trip to Key West ought to do it,~~

Eric's suggestion was a good one. I had numerous songs recorded on a hard drive built into the amplifier. And why not? It made for a great practice tool. The guitar was wireless as was the pair of microphones that came with the amplifier. The electronics for what amounted to a mini-portable recording studio, and the simple receiver for the guitar and microphone signals, easily fit in the amplifier. I could play and amplify just the guitar and my voice or play along with a previously recorded piece. I even had wireless effects pedals.

I plugged into my truck and fired up the amplifier, at a moderate volume -- have to be neighborly, after all. Soon, I was happily in the groove, playing some of my favorites much to the delight of Mel and Eric. My sister looked at me and was crying; her husband comforted her. Fortunately, the others didn’t notice it, they were too busy enjoying my impromptu concert. I stopped so we could eat, to applause from a considerable crowd of fellow tailgaters. A few asked for autographs, but for the most part they behaved themselves. My sister whispered in my ear, "I started crying when I realized Mom never will hear you. You are great, Sis.” I broke down sobbing in her arms.

"What's the matter, Joanie, are you okay?" the youngest woman present asked.

"I ... I ... She told me that her late mother would have loved my singing, and it made me think of mine. Ghod, I miss her!"

My sister did her best to comfort me, given the limitations concealing our real relationship imposed on us. Several of the ladies escorted me to the nearest women's room, where they helped me clean up the mess I'd made of myself. They were all so kind it, made me all the more guilty I couldn't tell them who I'd been. This was one of the worst aspects of my new life, hiding who I was from so many I once knew.

They walked me back to our vehicles where a relieved brother and sister from Iowa were waiting. "I wanted to come with you, but they said no, I should keep an eye on your stuff, and that they'd make sure you were alright. I'm so sorry. I should have done something!" Mel was quite distressed. Eric's frustration at not being able to publicly console me was evident.

"It's okay, Mel. The gals were right. It's a big crowd. They know the layout here; you don't. It was safer for you this way. I know you wanted to, dear. That's all that matters and thanks." I gave her a warm hug, and she cheered-up. "Give your brother a hug for me." I whispered. The smile on his face after was almost as good as hug ... almost.

* * * *

A security utility cart came up minutes later. "Are you Ms. Joan Brown, better known as Joanie the singer?”

"Yes.”

"Come with us please?”

"I’m responsible for Mel and Eric here. I can’t just leave them. Have I done something wrong, officer?”

The officers looked confused. They called into their radios for instructions. "You’ve done nothing wrong. We’re instructed to bring you to the Team offices. Your two young friends are welcome.”

"What about our seats and our tailgating friends?”

"This shouldn’t take long, and we’ll escort you to your seats when necessary. Bring your guitar and amp please.”

I gave my sister a set of spare keys to my truck so she could lock it, if I didn’t get back in time.

* * * *

We were driven to the ball park and led to a VIP elevator, one of those you need a key for. Security guarded my instrument. We got to the executive level and were escorted inside.

"Ms. Brown this is an unexpected pleasure. Given the controversy with Summerfest, I am surprised you are in town. If you're wondering why you are up here, one of the security cameras in the parking lot caught your impromptu concert, and we sent the officers to check it out....”

I recognized the man, the former majority owner, and current Commissioner of Baseball.

"I’m from the area and was visiting an old friend. I was invited to the tailgate, because I have accounts at the bank, and I am friends with one of the tellers.”

"Would you like to perform for us tonight?’

"No. I’m here to watch game with two of my best friends in the world. I do love performing, but this is their vacation *you* are interrupting, and it bothers me. I’m sorry to seem cross, but I feel like you’ve imposed on them. This is their vacation as much as it is mine. If it was just me, it would be different.”

"Mister, what do you want Joanie to do?” Mel asked, the little politician-in-training that she is.

"There is the Star Spangled Banner, and we often have a celebrity first pitch.”

"Joanie wouldn’t miss any of the game, would she, and would we have help finding our seats?”

"You could sit in the owner’s box.”

"It's a generous offer, but I think Joanie would want to sit with her friends from the bank. Cutting out on them would be rude,” Mel added.

~~ You are the daughter of a politician, Mel. That was a slick move and nicely done too.~~ If it had been up to me I would have castrated the man for spoiling my day -- either that or fucked him to death. The close proximity of Eric had me so wound up. having the object of my desires at my fingertips, yet unable to act on those desires, had me very high strung. I think I know how a drug addict feels. Eric was my drug, and I so needed a *fix.* I forced myself to remain calm.

"Eric, what do you think? This is your and your sister's vacation after all.”

"I think you should sing. You’ll sit with us after, right, Joanie?”

"I’ll do it so long as someone will let the tailgaters know we’ll meet them in our seats.”

"We can do that. Anything else?”

"We’re missing out on a tailgate.”

"We can get you a variety of our best concessions food.”

"That will do. My friends here are teenagers, and you know how they eat."

"We'll make sure they are well taken care of, Joanie"

"I’d like to practice a bit, both the song and the pitching? I know singing in a stadium is very different than in a theater, for instance. Plus I throw like a girl!”

Mel giggled; Eric tried not to laugh but failed miserably.

"That can be arranged,” the Commissioner added, then made a few phone calls.

* * * *

Eric and Mel were offered a choice to tag along with me or go on a VIP tour of the place, then be escorted to their seats shortly before game time. They chose the tour; hey, it was with the Commissioner.

One of the pitching coaches took me to the bullpen and showed me how to throw. They didn’t expect anything hard and fast. I doubt they expected me to get it to the plate on one hop. A catcher got in position. I noticed they had a radar setup and readout for training purposes. There were several video cameras as well. But then baseball is big business these days. Anything that gave the team an edge was a potential money maker.

"It's a lot further to the plate in the pros than most realize," the catcher said as he handed me the ball. "Think you're up to it?"

"I’ll give it a try.”

I threw a simple, overhand fastball, but not all out. I wanted accuracy and to shock them. Okay, I wanted to show off, satisfied? After a few tries I was getting it to the catcher with ease.

"How fast was that?”

They smiled at me thinking probably 'Let’s humor the pretty gal'; that and 'Look at the rack on her.'

"Try again. We have the radar on."

"How was that?” I saw the readout; 70mph, a nice speed ... for a change-up. A fastball it was not.

"You're not bad, Ms Brown. Try a few more.”

I was getting used to it, so I started throwing harder. That and their humoring me had rubbed me a little raw.

"That was excellent! 85 miles an hour.” He sounded impressed.

"Can I do a couple more?”

I threw one hard. They looked at the readout, then me, then at the readout again.

"Was that any good?”

"We’re not sure the radar was working right. Try one again, as hard as you feel comfortable with.”

I threw as hard as I could. -- THWACK -- The catcher's mitt emitted an audible *pop*. He shook his hand afterwards; I think it stung a bit. Part of me wanted to shout "Hard enough for you?" I could see their shocked expressions, as they looked at the readout.

"Well, how did I do?”

"Have you ever considered pro ball, Joanie?” the pitching coach asked.

"Huh?”

"That last pitch was 116 miles an hour and in the strike zone.” He was dead serious.

"But I’m a mutant and a girl; there must be rules about it.” Their change in attitude had me off balance.

"I’m not telling anyone; you’re not telling anyone, are you?” the coach asked the catcher who shook his head and grinned. I gave them hugs for being sweet and only staring at my breasts for a little while. So they weren't perfect gentlemen, but who cares? Plus the catcher had a really tight ass. Probably from all that ... crouching. Hands up everyone who thought I'd say something like "ball handling"?

* * * *

As the game was about to start, the PA came on. "Welcome to Miller Park. Tonight, we have a former local girl who in less than one year has make a big name for herself. Please join with Joanie in singing our national anthem.”

I walked out onto the field to solid applause; when they flashed my name and image on the fiber optic screens, the applause became much louder. There were a few boos, but that’s to be expected, with my being a mutant and their being ass-holes -- I mean misinformed individuals. They had equipped me with a pair of radio ear buds and a wireless mic, so the echo from the sound system wouldn’t confuse me.

"In the key of G everybody. Please sing with me. Don't be shy!"

I sang, ignoring the reflected sound and that of the forty-thousand plus fans in the stands singing in forty-thousand different keys. I concentrated on the music in my ear buds. I stopped to the sounds of ”Play ball!” and deafening cheers. It was a warm day, and I was dressed with a lot of skin showing, but I think they were applauding my performance. I do have a nice figure, but at that distance you can’t see much *detail*. We skipped doing the first pitch, but they kept it in mind for another time. I was escorted to my friends in the bleachers, to the astonishment of people we passed. A few extra police hung around to discourage people crowding us. I noticed they were all female.

"Where did you get the caps and team jackets?” Eric and Mel each had a Brewers cap and were holding team warm-up jackets -- real ones, not the cheap printed Tyvek shells.

"The equipment manager got us these,” Mel said grinning. I noticed all the tailgaters had caps.

"They gave us caps and coupons for free beverages, in apology for disturbing us,” my sister explained.

"All I had time for was a plate of waffle fries with nacho cheese sauce and a Coke. I feel deprived,” I giggled ... "Where is my guitar?”

I was getting worried. Oh, I knew they’d return it but when? ~~ Sit back and watch the game. Worry about that later. It’s not like you can’t replace it, except for all those unreleased music tracks on the ... ~~ Now I was worried.

* * * *

The game went well. We won, though our best pitcher went out with yet another injury. A hang nail or was it rising damp... something serious. An officer returned my guitar and amp to me and apologized for not doing so earlier, She got a hug and a kiss; she was cute. Most of the bank gang were going to a sports tavern after the game, so we said our goodbyes and headed off for our motel -- well to find one. I mean, how hard is it to find a motel at nine-thirty at night on a Saturday? We ended up at my dad's. He was glad for the company and was leaving early the next morning for my uncle's cabin up north, so it was no big deal, We promised to lock up for him, and that was that. I slept in my old bed dreaming of when I was a little girl and this yucky boy Eric kept teasing me, until I suddenly got older and I started teasing him. I have weird dreams. You want to hear about the one with Sigmund Freud holding this huge banana? Or am I remembering an old comedy skit?

* * * *

To be contiued soon.

Chapter 12 should be complete in three more posts.

Please comment. It's the only way I'll learn.

-- GRIN --

John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Ch 12 pt 6 of 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 6 of 8

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, 2005-201208.

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, part 6 of 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone 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

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

Sunday June 10, 2007

Dad left quietly in the pre-dawn. I never woke, though I think he kissed me goodbye. Let's see, it was wet, warm, possibly furry, but it didn't purr, so it wasn't one of the cats waking me to be fed. It was Dad. Dad left a note saying we could have all the eggs and stuff we wanted, and not to worry; he'd eaten before he left. Mel and Eric expressed interest in attending church. Their parents had exposed them to many faiths, not trying to force them one way or another. Plus it was good politics.

"My Boy Scout troop was the same when we went on weekend camp-outs. I’m not a terribly religious person, but I don’t deny there is something out there. My last year tells me something beyond the world I knew must exist, so sure, I’ll take you.”

They decided the nearest church was fine so we went to the early service at ... I won’t name them, but they are a small yet important branch within the greater Lutheran church. I used to be friends with kids who went there; some were my neighbors, in fact.

I explained to an usher my friends and I were visiting and wanted to attend. We were welcomed and took seats towards the rear, so as not to be too obvious, but far enough to the front to see and hear well. The service was fairly standard; I recognized a couple of the hymns though the hymnals made that easy. I noted the nods and smiles from many of the worshipers, when they heard my singing. Everything went well, until the minister got into his sermon; the subject was temptation and sin; a classic, right? The problem was mutants featured prominently among the latest sins of man, in the pastor’s view. I was increasingly uncomfortable.

Mel kept her cool but was upset. She held my hand and whispered in my ear, "If you want to leave, I understand. This must hurt.”

"It’s okay so long as it’s only words,” I whispered back. I noticed Eric’s hand touching my other hand as if to say "I won’t let them hurt you.” This not being able to express our attraction openly was hard on both of us. I gave his hand an appreciative squeeze back.

The service ended, and we waited for the crowd to thin. I suspected a few recognized me, but they said nothing. But think of it from their perspective, what were the odds of my being in their church? We got up to go, and I thanked several people.

"I was impressed by your singing. You could be a professional with that voice and good looks.” I struggled not to react. "Are you from the area? We are always looking for new members.”

"I used to live in town but moved to New England last year. I’m visiting friends and family with my best friends Eric and Melissa. They wanted to attend services, so here we are.”

" It’s nice that you came. I must compliment you on how well behaved you all were; many teenagers are not.”

Mel giggled. "I’m not a teenager, yet, though my brother is. As to my friend, I’m not sure what age she is sometimes. She is a high school teacher, really, and my best friend ever.”

The pastor asked what we thought of the sermon. I found it hard to comment.

"Ah ... I understand the concept of Man and sin but some of it I ... I have a hard time with labeling people; surely life is more complex than that.”

"I’ll answer that if I can; what do you mean by labeling people?”

I couldn’t speak.

"She thinks it’s not fair to lump people together under a label and assume they are all good or all bad.”

"Like my sister says, grouping or stereotyping isn’t fair. I was taught everyone is their own person, with free will and all that. It is how you act in life that determines if you are good or bad and not whether you are a certain race or faith.”

"Yeah, that’s it, brother. How can anyone say all mutants are sinners? I’ve met several, and they were normal, decent people.”

"Ah, so it's the bit about mutants that confuses you? I assure you mutants are, like many sinners, skilled at deception, at lying, but a godly person can see through the deception.”

"So if I were to tell you I am a mutant…” I said trying not to knee him one in the happy sacks. Not that *I* would ever....

"You a mutant? Hardly! I can’t imagine you as one of those.” At that, Eric laughed, and Mel got furious.

"A mutant saved my life. I’d be dead if not for her. Joanie, let's go, I don’t like it here.”

"I was there. My sister would have died, if not for a mutant.

"Let’s go,” Eric said, barely concealing his displeasure at the man.

"We’d best be going. My friends have strong opinions, but then they are from a family of politicians. Thanks for your hospitality, but like my friends, I have to differ with you on the mutant issue. There are some bad mutants, even some evil ones, but no more so than in the general population. There are also many decent mutants, and *I* know this for a fact.” I leaned in close. "I teach at a school for mutants. Some of my closest friends are mutants," 'but ... then, so am I.' I completed in my mind.
We walked away, and I thought I heard some insults aimed at us. I ignored it, until someone muttered "mutant lovers”. I could take an insult, but they’d insulted my friends.

"Oh, what the heck.” I ran back, did my time stop, and left the man standing in public with his pants over his head. Okay, it was his suit coat but 'in my heart' it was his pants. Now if he had said anything to insult my friends ...

* * * *

"Remind me never to get you angry,” Eric said as Mel laughed. We did take a round-about way back to Dad's house, just in case.

* * * *

I wanted to take my friends bike riding on some of the state rails-to-trails routes. These are former railway and inter-urban lines that were abandoned but saved as recreational corridors. My 20-year-old mountain bike needed a tune-up and new tires but otherwise was fine; the frame size would fit my female body well. The kids needed bikes, though; something modern. Eric helped load my bike in the truck, and we drove out to Brookfield, where my former neighbor worked. They opened Sunday mornings during the summer, so I was confident we’d be ready to ride by later that day.

We walked in the shop; several obvious regulars were at the parts counter eying the latest accessories, pedals or whatever. Computer geeks, gaming geeks, bicycle geeks, same deal.

"Can I help you, ma’am?” a very tall muscular man in his early fifties asked. It was my former neighbor.

"I need my Cannondale tuned up. I’ve not ridden it in several years, so if it needs new brake pads, tires, tubes, whatever, do it. I’ll trust you to know what is needed. Oh, and a battery for the odometer, a new emergency repair kit and pump, and I want to buy a good bike for each of my dear friends.”

"Your bike, ma’am?” he asked.

"Eric has it.

"Eric, over here.” I waved, and Eric wheeled it over.

He looked at the bike. He looked hard at it, then he looked at me.

”Do you know John? ... I recognize his old mountain bike. The custom speedometer sensor mount is unmistakable. He made the mount, and I remember him showing me. How is he? I haven't seen him in some time.”

"I got it from him after his illness. You’d never recognize him, he’s changed so much.” Then I whispered, "But you haven’t, except maybe an extra gray hair or two. You're everything he says you were,” and I kissed him. "Not bad at all. I don’t know why some woman hasn’t snapped you up. You’re built like a Nordic god ... and everywhere too,” I said as I glanced downward. "If you want, maybe someday we can go out dancing, show the local babes what they are missing?”

"I-I-have a girlfriend.”

"About time, congrats! You tell her, for me, she’s made a good choice. Sorry to kid you like that, but John said you were a good sport. So how about fixing up Eric and Mel with some decent bikes? Something similar to mine but modern, not this antique ... the bike I mean.”

I had him totally flustered, but he recovered, and in little over an hour we had bikes selected and adjusted to fit. He needed to mount the lights, speedometers and other accessories I wanted. Bringing my old bike up to spec would take the most work, but then I was fond of the *old* Cannondale.

"When will they be ready?”

"I can have them ready tomorrow.”

"Can you do it before you close today? I’ll pay extra for rush service, if it helps.”

"There are only the two of us here.”

"I’ll give you a bunch of autographed photos you can use to promote the shop. You can honestly claim I am a *satisfied* customer." I licked my lips, slowly. "I’ve got my digital camera along; I’ll pose for photos with you in the shop. I bet the drugstore on the other end of the mall can make huge blowups in an hour or so, my treat? Pretty please?” I was acting totally shameless: doe eyes, fluttering lashes, voice dripping with lust. It was so much fun, too. Poor Eric and Mel could hardly contain themselves.

"I'll have them done by two PM; you have my word, ma'am."

He got to work on our bikes immediately, while his coworker called in one of their off-duty mechanics to help out. Eric snapped our pictures. I took them to the drugstore; it was part of a nationwide drugstore chain with 'Wal' as part of the name ... NOT ending in 'mart'. They downloaded the photos I wanted and said the posters would be ready in just over an hour.

Back at the bike shop, we tried on helmets, riding gloves and the like. We added them to the total, along with several day bags to carry tools, water-bottles/holders, a first-aid kit and such. I got a set of saddlebags for each bike to carry our spare clothes, cyclist's raincoats, lunches and the like, plus the needed racks to mount them on. Overkill, I know, but it pays to be prepared. They assured me those would be ready, as well, in the time available. I noticed two extra workers come in, and three were now working nonstop prepping our bikes. After this we left for lunch. I had to sign a few dozen autographs for the modest crowd that had gathered, but it was a joy.

* * * *

We drove the few miles east to Mayfair Mall where we window-shopped and got some lunch. Mel got a hot bathing suit at a women's shop, and I bought these sexy ankle boots. I already had a hot bathing suit; any hotter and I'd start a fire. The crowd let us be for the most part, though there was this incident when I bent over to tie a loose boot lace. Just because I had changed into these cute running shorts Mel had spotted and a matching Daisy Duke top was no reason to act like they were struck blind. Fortunately, no one was seriously injured in the pile-up. Thank Ghod I didn't do that by the escalator.

We drove back to the bike shop around one o'clock. Fifteen minutes later, they had finished. By two, we were on our way. I gave them a big tip and several wet kisses for their hard work. They even helped mount a carrier rack in my truck bed and secured the bikes for us.

* * * *

We made a quick call to reserve a motel suite for the night then stopped at my sister's. Dad would not have minded, but two nights in a row might have outed him as my dad and all the danger that would entail. My sister's condo was far too small to impose.

"I wish we had more time to talk, but at the ball park, we had to be careful.”

"And I had all these embarrassing stories about you to tell your friends, particularly to Eric. You know, I have copies of your baby pictures.”

"Sis, that’s not fair!”

"No, it isn’t. Tell me, tell me, please?” whined Mel.

"Do you want to have to call your dad to come and pick you up, Mel? Eric, I’m glad to see you stayed quiet.”

"I was in trouble either way, so I figured I’d better shut up. If it comes down to it, Mel, I’d have to side with Joanie, sorry.”

"He is besotted with you, isn’t he,” my sister replied.

"You have extraordinarily good taste and a strong sense of self preservation ... right, Eric?”

"Oh! Joanie, you are my world! I worship the ground you walk on. ...”

"That will do for now, slave. You may lick my boots later ... and *other things* if you are very good." I couldn’t help myself and giggled. Eric fixed that by hugging me until I calmed down. How he behaves himself after all my teasing amazes me.

We spent a couple hours talking back and forth. It was like old times but even better.

"I missed you so, Joanie, and I am enjoying this immensely, but we’re scheduled to man pledge phones down at MATC in a hour.”

"Channels 10 and 36 studios?” She nodded yes. "I’ll ... I mean we’ll come. I know Mel and Eric are too young to work the phones, but seeing the studio will be fun, and they know how to behave. They’ve been on TV often, what with their dad’s and grandfather’s campaigns.”

"My brother and I are used to press conferences and all. We know not to talk when we shouldn’t or run around when ... I know I messed up on *that* one last Labor Day, but you know what I mean.”

"It would freak the PBS people, Hon,” Tony said.

"Get dressed in something nice, but casual -- NORMAL casual, not YOUR kind of casual, Miss July -- and come along. I just know I’ll regret this, but I can’t resist my husband and his puppy dog eyes.”

* * * *

It took under fifteen minutes to get to the downtown studios. They are located in a sprawling Milwaukee Area Technical College campus -- they have several -- near the heart of everything, the County Court House, City of Milwaukee Safety Building, the Bradley Center and the Wisconsin Center convention complex. I let my sister drive my baby as there was major freeway construction, um reconstruction, okay let's be honest, destruction ongoing near the campus, and the usual route to the studios was blocked. My New Hampshire plates surprised the woman at the entrance to the secure parking, but my sister told her why we were there, and we parked.

"Follow me closely; this building is confusing if you turn wrong.” The Johnsons kept close to my heels.

We walked to the elevators and rode to the top floor where the TV studios were located.

My sister spotted the volunteers’ coordinator.

"I brought an extra hand along for the phones. She did have to bring her traveling companions with her. They are too young for the phones but are used to being on TV and willing to help or just watch quietly.”

"And they are?”

"Hi, I’m Eric Johnson and this is my sister Melissa, or Mel as she prefers to be called.”

"Our dad is the Governor of Iowa. We’re here on vacation with our dearest friend. We promise to stay out of the way and not get in any trouble. We're used to being around television cameras.”

"Thank you, Mel. I recognize you and your brother from the media. Maybe we can arrange a tour of the studio later, if you’d like.”

"I’d like that and so would my brother ... I’m sorry; I forgot to introduce my friend, I mean OUR dearest friend.” Mel giggled.

"That’s okay, Mel, it’s been a long day; I’ll introduce myself. Hi! I’m Joan, but everyone calls me Joanie. I’ve been a pledge phone operator before, so I’m looking forward to this ... You can roll up your tongue, and press your eyeballs back in their sockets, if you like. You look like you’ve seen some big celebrity. Is there a place where my friends can watch where they won’t be in the way?”

Mel and Eric were snickering. My sister and her husband struggled valiantly not to laugh.

"I ... I’ll l-let the f-floor director know.”

The now glassy-eyed volunteer coordinator walked off, more like stumbled off as she almost tripped on a camera cable. My old sci-fi club members crowded around me.

"What are you doing here, Joanie?”

"Answering pledge phones, duh, and for the free food. You?”

"Joanie, that was mean,” Mel said.

"Well, it's true! And I’m here to say 'Hi' again to my Doctor Who friends. Still geeky as ever? Hands up everyone who owes a "sonic screwdriver".” I laughed, and they knew I was kidding. FYI, they ALL owned at least one. My sister has two if you must know.

We chatted a little then were called into the studio as a pledge break was due shortly. For those who don’t know, public broadcasting gets almost no government aid in the US anymore and relies on memberships and corporate donations for the vast bulk of its operating expenses. I've been to too many of these pledge drives, haven't I?

"Who of you have done this before?” All of us raised our hands, and the coordinator smiled.

"Good. The first break is around a cooking show and the premiums are ...” She described the premiums offered to encourage the listeners to pledge at certain levels. "After this break, our next is at 6:43 and is the first of three during NOVA.”

I struggled not to giggle. The on-air talent took their marks, and we were on. I did note both looking in my direction, just before we went live.

"Wasn’t that great? We bring these programs to you, our viewers, because of your pledges of support....” the typical spiel if you watch PBS with any regularity. The talent was a host of a locally-produced outdoors/sporting show and was aided by one of the show’s on-air correspondents. They switched back and forth, describing the need for donations and the benefits of joining the local PBS volunteers association.

"This evening we have something you can only see on Public Television. Commercial television simply doesn’t do the kind of in-depth documentaries you can see on public television. We are privileged to preview this fall's big NOVA landmark special on mutants ...”

I admit my life seems to be this string of incredible coincidences, but this happened. I’m not joking. I broke into a smile and fought to stop from laughing, not easy with this body and the giggly over-the-top teenage emotions I am saddled ... I mean blessed with.

The on-air talent described the benefits of being a member of The Friends of Public Television and so on, doing their best to guilt you into pledging. The break was nearly over when....

"We are particularly privileged to present this NOVA preview to you, as it is hosted and narrated by a former Milwaukee-area native, now prominent mutant, Joanie. This show is a must see. Please enjoy tonight’s programming, and please consider pledging at one of the thank you gift levels.”

We went off air and the *talent* discussed with the floor director what to do for a later break. One of the video crew asked, "Do any of you want to watch this? We can feed the sound down here to the monitors. Word is this NOVA is exceptionally good.”

"Not me! I can’t stand to watch her. Frankly, her acting sucks, and she’s an airhead. She'd need a personality transplant just to tell her apart from a manikin.”

Mel and Eric who had been perfect angels up to now started laughing uncontrollably. My poor sister and brother-in-law looked apoplectic, and the sci-fi club people near me -- Joanie that is -- weren’t much better off.

One of the *talent* overheard and had to see what was going on.

"Could you please keep it down? We’re trying t .. to ... You’re her!?”

"Last time I looked, I was me. I’m Joan, but you can call me Joanie. Sorry I got so loud, but I do have a hard time watching myself. I am glad I narrated the NOVA. From what I’ve learned in the last year, it’s accurate and balanced, unlike a certain other network that uses that catchphrase.

"I’m so rude; Eric, Mel? This handsome young man is Eric Johnson and the lovely heart-breaker, standing next to him, is his sister Melissa or Mel. We met last Labor Day.”

* * * *

The next pledge break *I* was *talent*, rigged with a mic and everything. We’d worked out a *deal* during the intervening time. The PBS station manager was pleased and then some.

"Hi, I’m Joan; many of you know me as Joanie. I’m a long time viewer of public television and a sometimes volunteer phone operator like the good gals and guys behind me. I looked a little different, back then.” I was amazed my sister and brother-in-law didn’t have seizures.

"I had the great pleasure of narrating the NOVA miniseries on mutants. They seemed to think I was recognizable as one.” I giggled; I do it at the strangest times, too. "Whatever your personal beliefs towards mutants, from positive to negative, I urge you to watch this NOVA miniseries. It is remarkably informative, given the limited time they have. And if you are a young man, you get to see and hear me a lot; so even if you can’t stand documentaries, it will be a treat.” That had Eric, off in the wings, blushing, and Mel struggling not to laugh.

"This public station needs your help. Government funding is essentially non-existent. They can’t use advertising dollars like commercial TV. We get no funds from the cable or satellite systems so don't think your subscription helps to support us, as it doesn't. As generous as the corporate and foundation donations are, would you want that to be their sole source of funds? PBS thrives as an independent voice because of you, the donating viewers, who insist on their impartiality in serving the public interest.

"I have a special incentive to encourage your pledge.' I remembered this idea from the radio side of public broadcasting. "Any pledge made and paid to this station during this year's June pledge drive, and I am including those already pledged, will be matched, by me, dollar-for-dollar until they reach their funding goal. Any pledges beyond that I will match three dollars to every one dollar pledged and paid. The sales of my music have gone very well, and I can afford this gesture. Please be generous, and make me regret this rash act.” I giggled.

"I'll turn the mic over to the Station Manager, and he will tell you how to pledge.”

The phones, which had been all but dead, all rang. There were a lot of crank calls and anti-mutant protesters, but the bulk were legitimate. The response was amazing. We extended the break an extra ten minutes to handle them all, and I took as many calls as I could. A number of people called in to up their previous pledges, when they learned of the matching grant. We were so busy, the station let Eric handle a line and Mel was a runner, picking up complete pledge forms as soon as they were done. They had a great time.

Half an hour later, the pledge coordinator had a tally for the break. She looked exhausted but happy. "This is one for the record books...." I cringed. I made arrangements for them to contact me via email, when the pledge drive was over and the pledges verified. I ended up writing a very big check. Me and my big sexy mouth!

* * * *

Monday June 11, 2007

Monday, we took a early ride to get used to our bikes. Everything went well. They'd done an excellent prep job on the bikes, so we were ready for our big ride on Tuesday. It was still morning, so I took them on a quick sightseeing tour of town. We stopped at UW-Milwaukee, and I led them on a walking tour of the main campus. Lots had changed since I’d last been there but much was familiar. The early summer session was on -- the twelve week, late May through mid August session, not the shorter, eight week main summer session -- so the campus was relatively quiet. BTW if you understood what I just wrote, please explain it to me. Thanks.

We bought a few souvenirs in the Student Union Book Store -- T-shirts and mugs mostly. I sorely wanted to buy some of the more, um adult items like the classic bikini bottoms -- AKA panties --with the smirking UWM Panther mascot on it, but that would have been tempting fate what with how I feel about you know who.

They have this small, but well equipped, athletic wear/sporting goods store in the same building, where we got additional padded cycling shorts and windbreakers/rain jackets to supplement what we’d purchased at the bicycle shop. Money IS money. You don't need to be a student or an alumni to make a purchase.

We stopped at one of the Student Union's outdoor food booths, as the weather was nice, and got a light early lunch. I’d gotten a few looks as we walked around, but on a college campus, I was a pretty girl in a sea of pretty young woman, albeit I was one of the taller ones and ... alright I’m drop-dead gorgeous. I admit it, does that make you feel better? As we ate, I got a lot of looks, and the sharks started circling.

"Morning, good looking! Are you a new student? I don’t remember seeing you before, and I’d remember a woman like you.”

He was tall, athletic and confident; a bit too confident for my taste. I stood up and found I was nearly as tall as him, so I was not intimidated.

"I’m flattered; though let’s face it, that is a terrible chat-up line.”

He seemed pleased, until I dropped the bomb on him. "I’d consider going out with you, if it weren’t for a few things. I already have someone I’m seeing exclusively. It would cut him to his soul, if I cheated on him, and I’d hurt even worse. I’m not a student here, I’m visiting from the East coast and don’t want any complications. And to be a bit rude, there is no way you could keep up with me.”

"My, are you full of yourself.” He lost his cool.

"Just stating the facts. I’m a mutant, an exemplar and a regen, technically. You’d die from exhaustion, before I was even sore down there.”

"You’re joking.”

"She’s not. I played a friendly game of one on one basketball with her, and she wore me out. I’m one of the best athletes in my school. She could have mopped the floor with me, if she wanted to, and she’s a family friend.”

A student who’d run my purchase in the bookstore walked by, on break I assumed. "Move on; you're not in her league. Not even close." He left, tail between his legs.

She walked to our table. "Ms Brown, um ... can I have your autograph? I recognized you at once, and I assume this lovely young woman is the one you rescued last Labor Day.

"You will be very beautiful by the time you are my age. You're already a head turner; Melissa, is it?”

Mel blushed.

"I'm a journalism major, so I follow the news.

"And you must be her brother, um, Eric?”

She came closer and whispered in Eric’s ear. "I noticed how you look at Joanie, and though she hides it well, how she looks at you. You are a very lucky man to have gained her favor; don’t you ever make her regret that.”

"N-n-no, ma’am,” he whispered back.

I didn't mean to listen in, but I'm glad I did. I resolved to be more discreet in the future, or our future, Eric's and mine, was a bleak one.

The rest of our lunch went well, except for the occasional collision between students who were paying attention to me and not where they were walking. We left and drove a couple miles south, so I could do some banking. You're all going, "Huh?" aren't you? Hang in there, it will make sense in a minute.

* * * *

We parked, and the three of us entered the early sixties building. The lobby was quiet at the moment, with only a couple customers at the teller windows.

"You two wait over in the customer lounge, while I take care of this. I shouldn’t be long.”

I walked up to the first window and was greeted by a blond woman who nearly bit her tongue in surprise.

"Good afternoon, and how can I ... Oh my god!” That got the attention of her coworkers. They couldn’t see me from where they were, what with the high counter dividers and the bulletproof glass, but their customers noticed. They began ignoring what they had come in to do to watch me instead.

I broke the silence. "I got this bonus check from one of my employers. I don’t need the money anytime soon, so I’d like to open a CD. I saw your rate board and was thinking an 18 month sounded decent.”

"F-f-or how much?” Her sudden stuttering -- she NEVER stutters -- got more attention drawn my way.

"Sorry, here’s the check and my ID; I'm sure you’ll need that. I used to work in a bank myself. Make the CD out for the full amount. I'm in the system, so you shouldn't need my Social.”

She looked at the check and almost fainted. This was pure Heaven.

"A-a-ah, s-s-sure; let me get an ac-c-ccount packet, and I'll g-get you taken care of.”

Her supervisor came over and talked to her softly. The average person would not have overheard their conversation, but then I'm not average.

"What’s the matter? You’re never like this.”

"I-it’s who the CD is for, and who much, how much.”

"A celebrity, I take it?”

"Yeah, and I am certain it’s her. We’ve met before.”

"How much?”

"Yeah."

She handed her the check, the supervisor looked at it, saw my ID and the amount of the check and did this great dry spit take. I got really good service for some reason. And the branch manager took us to lunch, on her. Strange that. The fact that the poor rattled teller was my sister had absolutely nothing to do with the fun I had in the least. Like *I* would tease my baby sister!

* * * *

There was one last thing I need to do today. I stopped at a west side florist and bought three bunches each of a dozen long-stemmed red roses. We drove to my father's, parked, and I went in the house.

"Dad.”

"Joanie! I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Hearing dad call me Joanie almost had me in tears.

"Grab your keys and wallet. I have something I want to do for you, and I need you along. I think you’ll approve.”

Once we were in my truck, I drove to Brookfield and Wisconsin Memorial Park, Dad following in his sedan. He tried to keep a brave face on, but I could see the tears rising when we parked near a familiar evergreen hedge and red maple. I’d bought some florist’s foam and took out a water bottle from my built-in cooler. I handed Dad one of the bunches of roses.

"Dad, these are for Mom. I have stuff to make sure they stay in place and fresh for a while. Mel, Eric, help him, please?”

My two friends helped Dad to the grave site; his arthritis had flared up. It had to be weird to look at your own grave just waiting for you to be buried and the year screwed onto the bronze marker. Eric worked the vase free from its storage well and set it upright. Mel helped him put the flowers in it, using lots of foam to wedge them in place, followed by a good watering. We added a few tablespoons of that hygroscopic gel florists sell to retain water. We did the same, in turn, with my older sister’s grave and my maternal grandparents. I had a hard time not bawling at the gravesides, I missed them so. I bucked it up for my Dad. The florist had thrown in a couple spares as it was a nice sale, and those went on my stillborn cousins’ plot, as they had no formal marker.

"Dad, one last task. Tell me again how you and Mom met.”

I saw Dad tear up, so I knew this might take awhile.

"Mel, Eric, I’m not sure how long this will be. You can wait in the truck or walk around the grounds here. As cemeteries go, this one has a lot of wildlife. It was laid out to be as much a park as a cemetery.” I didn't want him to see me cry.

"We’ll stay with you. I'd like to hear about your mom. Death is part of life, after all,” Mel said.

"You are mature for your age, aren’t you, Mel,” my dad said, shocking me.

"Thank you, Mr. Brown; that was most kind.”

"Mel, that was sweet,” I said, giving her a hug.

Dad looked surprised for a moment then smiled. "I still marvel at how much like your mother you are. You sound like her; it's uncanny. You move and act like she used to. Don’t ever lose that, Joan.”

"I hope not, Dad.”

* * * *

Dad left first; it was chancy enough our being around him as it was. I knew what the consequences could be, if my male past was revealed -- for my family, that is. I suspected the press knew I was in town and had their eyes out for me. I offered to pay for a hedge of roses to be perpetually maintained near her grave, if the cemetery allowed it, but he said no, that my very presence was enough. I made a note to plant some roses at the farm to remember her, perhaps a semi-wild or old fashioned climbing-type to slowly weave it's way along a fence line. She would have liked that.

"Promise to remember us, when we are gone; that is all I ask. Your mother would have been so proud of you.” He hugged me then made his way painfully back to his car -- the years were catching up with him fast.

We tidied up the graves for a bit, and I got melancholy. My friends noticed it too and got down next to me and hugged me.

"I wish you could have met my mom."

I started to cry, and they both wrapped their arms around me. I felt this odd sensation; I'd not felt it since those tests with Sergi. I opened my eyes and the place had changed. The trees were much smaller and most of the buildings were gone. There were cultivated fields in several directions, where there should have been houses and businesses.

"Joanie, what happened?"

I knew but was embarrassed to say. "I, um, we are ... I mean ... I time traveled us back to June in 1941."

I saw three young women and two middle-aged folks, likely their parents. The youngest, the others looked five or ten years older, was leaning against a tree posing for her dad for a photo. She turned this way and that trying to get the perfect pose. She wore a smart looking skirt and top and two-tone shoes like a bobby-soxer might. She had this happy, confident look on her face, like she was eager for whatever the future would bring. She couldn't have been more than fifteen but had the figure of a college gal. I mean this girl was stacked, not that she was Rubensesque, far from it. I guessed her to be about 5 ft 5 and 100 pounds dripping wet if that. I mean she was hot even by our *Barbie Doll,* 21st-century standards.

I saw her face for a moment, as she turned. I don't think she noticed me, but I noticed her ... how could I not? She was holding the very pose from the color touched-up photo that was a feature in my grandparents' home. I did the only thing my overwhelmed mind could think of: I walked, holding my friends' hands tight, for a short distance until we were out of sight, then I fainted.

I woke in the present, my two friends clutching on to me like I was a life ring, and they were adrift at sea. We were back in the present.

"What was that?"

"The girl .. by the tree..." I gasped.

"The one in the blue skirt? She was pretty; she reminded me of you a little, Joanie."

"She should! That teenager was my mom!"

"Could you be wrong?"

"Eric, that photo Grandpa was taking was in their living room for years, then we had it in our home. Then there was that early forties, four-door Mercury parked nearby. That was their car; I rode in it as a little kid. Grandpa was so proud of it, he kept it almost twenty-five years."

"No wonder you were crying, seeing your mom again."

"I wish I could have introduced you to her, but who would have believed I was her future son/daughter? Ghod! I'm such a worthless freak!"

Eric turned my head and looked me in the eyes. "I'll tell you this, Joanie, as pretty as your mom was, she has nothing on you." He kept looking at me, determination and love in his face. I caught a glimpse of the man he would become and ... Ghods! I wanted him, but I loved him too much to ruin it. I composed myself and smiled.

"Words like that will get you in a lot of trouble."

"How?"

"Fending me off! En Garde!" I gave a quick look around, kissed him, then tickled him until he cried uncle. Mel wisely stayed out of it, giggling all the while. I couldn't stay melancholy, with those two around.

* * * *

After calling to make sure Dad was home safe, we drove to Madison and our motel rooms for the night. Our bikes were secure in my truck bed. We stopped at the University of Wisconsin Medical Center to pay a courtesy call to Dr Sara. With my passes and face, we were soon inside the high security *mutant wing*. A number of the staff called out to me and smiled as they remembered me from my initial convalescence after my burnout. I got to the main nurses’ station for Sara’s department and was greeted by a young woman working reception. She looked at me, and her face lit with joy.

"Joanie, it’s so good to see you again!”

"I apologize, but I don’t remember you.” This shocked me, for reasons you will soon understand.

"I’m not surprised; I’ve changed considerably since we last met. Take a look, and tell me what you think.” She positively radiated enthusiasm, and her sultry voice was a perfect complement.

She got out from behind the counter, walked towards us and turned slowly so we could see her. I saw an utterly enchanting young woman of mixed ancestry. Picture Tia Carrere at eighteen, twenty tops -- the Hawaiian actress/model -- blended in equal parts with Nicole Kidman, J-Lo and Jeri Ryan of Seven-of-Nine/Star Trek fame. The woman had Tia’s dark, lustrous hair, caramel skin, athleticism and mixed Asian features tempered with Ms. Kidman’s height, slender limbs and angelic face. Add to that a booty J-Lo would die for and a chest that compared favorably to Jeri’s and with mine.

This woman was stacked, but tastefully so -- you get the idea. She moved with hypnotic grace, and her age defied my guessing. There was not a wrinkle or sag on her that I noticed, and with puppies like hers, you’d expect some. Then again I defy gravity too, so who am I to judge? That suggested she was in her mid-to-upper teens, but she was far too *fleshed-out* to be a teen, but so am I. With no obvious traces of puppy fat and her abundant adult curves, she had to be, say, at least 25. Her confident manner and movement suggested someone maybe late-20s to 30-something. She was almost too perfect, but it worked; whoa, momma! This was one hot babe.

~~It’s like a much older woman has been placed in a brand new custom-built body ... No!? But it’s the only answer that makes sense.~~

"Donna, is that you?”

"There’s no fooling you is there, Joanie? Yes it’s me. I think the breasts are a bit over-the-top, but Gin and her thaumatologist friends insist this body is designed for them, and they will defy time and gravity, or so they claim. I admit they do defy men not to stare at them; it’s embarrassing at times. I mean just look at them.”

And I did. "Smokin’, Donna. You sure aren’t a member of the itty-bitty-titty club with those on your chest. I’m jealous! Woof!

"I have a hard time not staring at them myself.” She gave them a gentle lift, and we both started laughing.

"Welcome to my world, Donna. Honestly, you may be a *big* girl now, but they are in proportion to your figure given your height and all. What are you, five foot ten, eleven?” We both laughed.

"I’m just over six feet tall; nearly as tall as you, Stretch.”

"Okay, your figure is a bit extreme, granted, but I mean, this only makes up for a fraction of what you lost. Sorry, I didn't mean to." She smiled back so i knew I was forgiven my blonde moment. "I knew from Gin that they could help you, but ... Wow! I never expected this, you’re so HOT! Are you seeing anyone? I think I’m in l-l-l-love.” That broke us up again.

"They told me that this combination of my ancestry gives me the healthiest possible set of my own genes, yet I’m still me, essentially. I can’t say one way or another, but I do know this body is far more athletic than my old one, and I was a gymnast and cheerleader. I didn’t think a woman this tall or *built* could move like I can. This body is amazing; I can’t thank you and your friends enough for what you did for me.”

"Now I feel silly, but keep heaping on the praise; I love it.”

Donna laughed this glorious, sexy laugh. It was a joy to hear.

This was not the battered, sad, young widow lying in that hospital bed a few short months ago. Damn, but she was a resilient soul. I wondered if I'd have the courage to come back from all she'd experienced. I smiled back. " Have you told Tom or Tina yet?”

"I told them I would be undergoing the treatments, but I wanted to be fully recovered before we saw or talked each other again. We have kept in touch with email in the mean time.”

She was well satisfied with the outcome, I could tell. That new lower register voice of hers was charming and oh-so sexy sounding. ~~Come to think of it, I sound a lot like that ... Gin!~~

"They haven't noticed the changes in your voice? I mean, you had a pleasant voice before but now, hubba hubba, woof, zowie!" that got a laugh out everybody. Okay, yet another blonde moment. In my defense the new Donna was devastatingly distracting.

"Joanie dear, my children have not spoken to me or seen me since the treatments began." She smiled and it wasn't a 'You stupid blonde!' kind of smile. This was a smile of love and gratitude. "I told them I would not be as I was, that your friends would change me in significant ways. They know I could no longer look as I did for our safety. I just wanted them to hold off until they could see the whole picture, as it were. I’m visiting Whateley during the summer session, and I will have a long talk with Tom and Tina. The experts here say they can transform my children to what they would have been like if I was this way when they were conceived. They have offered to optimize my husband’s contributions to their genes just as they optimized mine. I’m assured their age can remain as it is or regressed to as little as to age seven, without any loss of their memories or skills. I love them as they are, but they will be even better, if they agree. It’s their choice. I had to do this for me. I couldn't go on as I was. I'm so sorry.”

"Don't blame yourself, Donna. Under similar circumstances I hope I would have your courage to embrace change. And it's not completely selfish. This way you help protect your kids, as no one can connect the new you to them.

"From my observations I can tell you Tom will not want to be much younger, unless a certain Mzzz Suzy gets the same treatment. The two of them are very close, Donna. I’m half afraid they’ll come to me one day and say she’s pregnant, but they are too responsible for that -- just. We're blood relatives and believe me I *know* what she's going through ... oh GHOD do I." I said and giggled nervously.

"Tom emails me often, now that I’m getting better; so does Tina. I think we’ll work something out. I want them as my children again, to hold and cherish, but they are nearly adults so I have to start letting go. If I have to play *big sister* to them so be it. Being a mom is not easy, Joanie, but it’s worth it. I wish their dad had survived, that’s all.” She began to cry, and we hugged each other.

She noticed Eric and Mel standing off to the side. They hadn’t wanted to interfere with our reunion. I could see they wanted to join in but didn’t know how.

"I’m sorry I didn’t say hello; please join us. I’m Donna, Tom and Tina’s mom. I know I look too young, but I am their mom, really. You must be Eric and Mel; my children have talked often about you. You’re going to be a beauty in a few years, Mel; I can see it.” Mel blushed. "And you young man, if you ever hurt my friend Joanie, I’ll make your life a living hell, understand?” He nodded. "Now give me a hug, so I can see what all the fuss is about.”

Eric gave her a tentative hug. Donna hugged him back, and he hugged her more firmly. After a few moments she gave him a tender kiss on the cheek.

"I see why you like him. Eric, do you want to dump this generic blond for a more exotic model?’ She cooed then laughed. Poor Eric blushed. "You’re safe from me, Eric; I like my men a bit older and unattached. You don’t have any single male cousins say twenty to thirty-five years of age? Your dad have a younger single brother ... hum?" She laughed then continued.

"I’m not kidding, Joanie, not totally. Eric is impressive for a teen; the man will be magnificent. I’m not ready to jump in the dating pool yet, but I will someday and Eric here has the potential to be a fine catch in a few years.” She looked at my Eric more than a little bit wistfully. I noticed the not so subtle signs of physical arousal in her but chose not to say anything. I wondered if he resembled her late husband in some way. I'd never met him. I only knew him from a few photographs their Tom and Susy showed me. Her subconscious but obvious reaction to Eric got my own body going. We might both be responsible adults in our minds, but our bodies had their own agenda.

"Hands off, Donna, this one is mine.” There was more hostility in my tone than I'd like to admit. What I did next worried me more. Anger, desire, and a frightening dose of jealousy fueled it. I gave Eric a hug and kiss, rather more intense than I intended... okay a LOT more intense. Ghod it was glorious! If it hadn't been for Mel rolling her eyes at us hormone-crazed creatures...

"Oh, pu-lease!”

We broke it up, reluctantly. "Mel, I can guarantee you in a very few years you will be as sex obsessed as we are. You’re going to drive your parents and the boys crazy.” I half-panted.

"No way! I’m a responsible person, I’ll never let my emotions rule me ... Oooh!... who is that walking over there?” She pointed down a corridor at a retreating figure. Her gaze was locked on him in a way I recognized, but then he has a nice ass... Scratch that, a great ass.

"That was Badger Boy, one of the MSG mutant supers. He’s been helping with my physical therapy. He’s very fit and rather sweet.”

"Um, how old is he?”

"He’s in college, and, yes, he’s single. At least he was when I lived here. He still unattached, Donna?"

"Absolutely, he's just a good friend. I have no designs on him."

"Mel, want me to set up a date?” I asked.

"Noooo, Joanie, I just, well...” She turned beet-red, but I could see all the signs in her; I knew them too well in myself.

"Scrap that, Donna. I’d say puberty has arrived early and in full force. The saints preserve us!” I broke into giggles and gave Mel a sisterly hug. "He is kinda cute for an older boy, isn’t he, Mel,” I whispered. "Don’t be embarrassed to notice a hot boy, but take your time to finish growing up. You are so very young. Hell, *I'm* too young for this.” Mel smiled back.

"Badger Boy!” I shouted out. "Please come here.”

He spun and ran down the long hall to us.

"Yes, Joanie? Great to see you by the way. Who are your guests?”

"These are Eric and Mel Johnson of Iowa, my good friends.”

"I should have known."

"Hi, I'm Badger Boy. Got to stick to my super secret code name you know." Then he laughed.

He shook Eric’s hand and turned to Mel.

"Welcome to Madison, Mel. Is that short for Mellisa?"

Mel looked at her feet nervously. I broke the impasse.

"Mel thinks you’re hot. She’s a state governor’s oldest daughter and a US Senator’s only granddaughter. She's young, beautiful, politically contected and loaded wink, wink.”

He grabbed her hand and knelt. He kissed the back of it and asked, "Will you marry me?”

"Joanie! That is not funny!” Mel shouted, but it was more like a stifled laugh. Then she gave Badger Boy a big hug and kissed him on the cheek lightly, many times; butterfly kisses, I think they are called. She giggled and backed away like she was dancing.

Ghods, she’s discovered boys. Babs will kill me.~~

"Ask me again a few years and I might say yes. Um ... can I write you?”

"Joanie?” Badger Boy looked near panic. Pre-teens lusting for his body was not something he was comfortable with.

"I’ll have to ask her mom; she’s not quite eleven. Let me call her.” I started dialing on my cell. They both looked panicked, so I stopped.

"Mel, Badger boy is a decent man, but he is an adult. It might not be seen as proper, your corresponding with an adult ... Yes, I know that I sound like a hypocrite. I mean with your brother and me, but remember we are both women and have the most to lose in a relationship, however platonic it starts out.”

"But Joanie, I just want to write him. A male pen-pal would give me another perspective. And it’s safe; it’s not like we’re dating. I just want to understand what boys think, and he is cute for an older boy.”

Damn, she was using logic on me.

"I was afraid this might happen. Mel, you don’t understand. It’s not that I don’t trust you. Badger Boy is an honorable young man, so I’m not worried, but remember you can get pregnant now; so can I. Society tries to protect girls and to a lesser extent boys from becoming parents when they are not ready.

"I have a hard time with my relationship to Eric, and I’m much older, mentally. I know not to have relations with him, until he is an adult -- when we will both be adults -- but it’s so hard not to give in to my feelings. You don’t have the experience to have that extra control. You might be fine with it or you might be a mother at thirteen. I trust you, Mel, but do you trust yourself when the stakes are so high? It only takes one slip up, one sperm to make you a mom. I came dangerously close to that a while back, and you know it.”

"I understand, Joanie, but it isn’t fair; I don’t know why, but it isn’t.”

I hugged her for a while, as Eric and Badger Boy spoke with Donna. "Mel, life is seldom fair; I mean I meet a wonderful girl who will blossom into an outstanding woman, and I’m a woman. I have to settle for your scruffy older brother -- boy cooties, yuck!” She giggled a little which made me feel better. The innocent little girl was back, for now.

* * * *

To be continued soon.

John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Ch 12 pt 7 of 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

Did I pick the right catagories?

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 7 of 8

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, chapter 12, part 7 ot 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone 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

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

****

Tuesday June 12, 2007

We arrived in Elroy nice and early: 6:30 in the morning. We'd left Madison before dawn. Depending on how tired Eric and Mel got, we would take advantage of the shuttle service available to cyclists, or we would do a round-trip, though that would be nearly 70 miles, if we went to the I-90 trail bridge and back. I thought of leaving them at a safe place and riding back to get the truck, what with my, a-hum incredible endurance. Okay, I heal really fast and it takes a lot to wear me out, like DUH! If as anybody else with me I might have considered it. But I dismissed it just as fast as plain-out stupid. Unless I wanted to get them kidnapped or worse. I may be a strawberry blonde but I ain't stupid!

Morning rides were best, as it can get hot and humid this time of year. Eric helped unload the bikes, while Mel got our helmets, water bottles and such together.

"Test your lights; you’ll need them in the tunnels, particularly number three -- it’s almost a mile long. On a hot day, they are a cool, shady treat.”

"If it is that cool and dark, maybe we should huddle together to keep warm, Joanie?”

"In your dreams, Eric.” ~~Oooh, that would be fun. You know, once we were far enough in the tunnel, if we positioned ourselves just right we could ... That would be sooo ... Oh my, I ... It would be awkward but fun.~~

I pulled my mind out of the gutter it was writhing seductively in and returned to the real world. "Remember to keep in a reasonably low gear, you want to spin not grind. Ideally ninety revolutions of the cranks per minute, but in the seventies ain’t bad. It’s much easier on the knees that way, and it makes it easier to shift for hills and stuff. The old roadbed is well-packed crushed stone, so it almost as easy to ride on as asphalt. It can be soft in places so keep an eye out. Depending on how busy the trail is, we may have to walk the tunnels; the water dripping down from the ceilings cuts ruts in the path. You may want to walk anyway, as there’s interesting stuff to see.”

"Yes, Mom!”

"What?”

"Uh, you didn’t hear that, Joanie,” Mel giggled.

I checked their bikes to make sure the tires were at their rated pressure, the brakes worked and the lights, well, Iit up, duh!. I insisted they wear their helmets and padded gloves; I was in serious mommy mode ... Though I did take a rather long time making certain Eric’s helmet was on snug, his t-shirt tucked in comfortably in his sleek riding shorts and that his seat height was just right. I spent a lot of time on that seat. I have come to the conclusion I’m an ass woman; you know, like how some guys are breast men or leg men? If Mel hadn’t been there to remind us, I would have never left that parking lot. Ghods, I was hot for him.

We loaded our bags on the bikes and rode off. "This is an old railway so most of the trail is off-road. Do be careful around the road crossings and driveways, okay?”

"Yes, Mommy,” they called out, causing me to almost crash my bike in my laughter.

"Am I that bad?”

"Yes, Mommy.”

"Aaaaah! You know that would make Eric a Daddy.”

"Joanie!”

* * * *

"Joanie, look over here!” Mel called out excitedly. "Are those what I think they are? Wild turkeys?”

"Yeah, exactly, Mel. Jeese, there must be well over twenty ... I count thirty-three of them.”

"I’ve seen some back home, but never so many. They’re so big.”

"Iowa, particularly eastern Iowa, is good habitat for them, but this Wisconsin coulee country is like turkey heaven, Eric.”

"Coulee country?"

"It means there are a lot of steep-sided valleys, Eric, like the Grand Coulee Dam in Washington State. We learned about it in geography. Spelled differently, it's also insulting slang for a Chinese immigrant in the US."

"I know what coulee means, Mel. I just didn't know this area was called that."

~~Ah, sibling rivalry. At least theirs is friendly.~~

We saw our share of squirrels, rabbits, woodchucks, cows, sheep, horses and all sorts of bird life, in addition to fellow cyclists. Most smiled; many said hello to us as they passed. A number of them slammed on their brakes and raced up after us to get my autograph. All in all, we had a good time. The hand-dug railroad tunnels impressed my companions, so we walked them, as each was different as to its lining and the water seeping or even pouring in. At the entrance to tunnel number two, a DNR warden stopped us to check for our trail permits. The depot/trail HQ at Kendall wasn’t open when we passed it, and the permit drop-box way to pay was out of forms when we started. They let you buy from the warden, so it was no big deal. If you refuse, it can be a big fine. The revenue goes to trail maintenance and expansion, so I didn’t mind paying.

"I’d like three annual permits, non-resident I’m afraid.”

"Welcome to Wisconsin, is this your first visit?”

"I was a life-long resident, until December of last year. I live in New Hampshire, now. Hi, I’m Joan Brown. My friends here, Eric and Melissa Johnson, are from Iowa.” I handed her the money, and we started to fill out the forms.

"You look awfully familiar. Have you been on TV?” The Warden was puzzled. Mel’s reaction was to burst into a fit of giggles.

"Joanie’s been on TV.” Then she giggled again.

"Not as much as your family, little miss *governor’s daughter*,” I replied. The warden looked confused at what to say, until I took pity on her and showed her my ID.

The next ten minutes or so were interesting, but we got our permits after we all signed autographs for her and had a picture taken together with the help of a passing cyclist. Apparently a *good friend* of the officer was a local politician, and she wanted to blow his mind by giving him the autographs of the children of a governor and possible presidential candidate. I got the impression they were VERY good friends and living together.

We ate a snack then rode on. We passed the ruins of the abandoned town of Summit, the high point on the old line. Thank Ghod it wasn't Climax. We soon approached tunnel number three, the big one.

"No! I won't, Mommy. I’m scared,” a girl of approximately six shouted, almost sobbing. She hung onto her girl’s 20-inch bicycle with a death grip. The child was shaking with fear. I saw the bloody scrape on her leg and I almost lost it. The sight stirred something in me. I had to help this girl; I knew I just HAD to.

We rode up to her and her harried looking mom, who had a toddler in a bike trailer. The girl’s bike looked odd; her front wheel had a severe warp. That bike would be difficult to ride, I knew. I’d had my share of tumbles over the years.

"Can we help you, ma’am?” I asked softly.

The young mother turned and spoke, as a look of confusion grew on her face. "My daughter fell and scraped her leg. I don’t have anything to put on it, and I’m sure it hurts. Now she’s afraid to go through the big tunnel, and my husband is waiting for us on the other side in Sparta. I’d call him to come and pick us up back at that last road we crossed, but my cell is dead. You look familiar; have we met?” She sounded frazzled.

"Here, use my cell. I used to fix my own bikes, and I’m afraid your daughter’s bike will be almost impossible to ride as it is. I’m Joan, and no, we haven’t met. I’m in training for my EMT certificate; may I try to clean and bandage your daughter’s cuts? I’ve got a first aid kit along.”

"If you would, please? I agree her bike needs repair. I’ll call my husband to meet us as close to the other end of the tunnel as he can. It's shorter that way.

"Crystal, Joan here is going to look at your cuts and make them feel better; be brave for Momma. You know you will have to walk through the tunnel; your bike is broken, and that’s the shorter way.”

"I'll try, Momma.”

"Eric, would you please move the bikes off to the side, so we don’t block the trail. Mel, could you help steady Crystal, while I clean her up?

"Crystal, Mel -- that’s short for Melissa -- is my very best friend. That's her brother, Eric, holding our bikes. Hang on to Mel tight, because the alcohol in these wipes will sting a lot, but it helps kill the germs.”

"I’ll try, Joan.”

I opened a wipe and gently daubed the wound, turning the pad often to expose a clean surface. It got the wounds pretty clean, but I could see Crystal crying. I used as many wipes as I thought did any good, then I looked through the first-aid kit and found what I wanted. "This is an antibiotic ointment with lidocane anesthetic. Crystal isn’t allergic to anything is she, Ma’am?”

"A mild one to eggs, when she was little, but she’s fine now. Peanuts, whatever, are no problem, thank the Lord.”

"This will help kill more germs and minimize any scarring of your pretty legs, Crystal. I’m jealous how pretty they are, I feel all ugly by comparison.” My comment made Crystal giggle a little. "I’m going to lightly bandage your leg in protective gauze and put an elastic bandage over it keep it in place. Let me know if anything I do hurts, okay?” The girl nodded her understanding.

"I’m not doctor, or even a nurse, so you should take Crystal to the hospital or doctor for a tetanus booster and to have the cuts professionally treated,” I told the mother.

I turned to look at her daughter. "I think you’ll be okay, Crystal. How does your leg feel?”

Crystal tried walking; she was stiff, but okay as I saw it.

"It hurts a little, but it’s better. Thank you, Joan.”

"You’re welcome. If you like, my friends and I can accompany your mom and your baby…?”

"My sister, Rachel.”

"... your sister Rachel through the tunnel. All the lights together will make it easy.” I smiled at her.

"Momma, is it okay if Joan and her friends come with us?”

*Momma* looked relieved. "They are all welcome, Crys.”

"Crys?” I asked.

"Yeah, Crystal’s kinda long sometimes so they call me Crys. Do you have a nickname?”

"All my friends call me Joanie. Hi, I’m Joanie Brown, like the singer, and you are…?”

"Crystal Hoffmeister; call me Crys,” the girl responded smiling.

* * * *

A few people who passed by us snapped my picture -- thank goodness the bicycle shorts kept my butt cheeks from hanging out as I squatted and worked on Crys’s leg. Crys and her mom were too upset and busy to notice. I let it slide. The important thing was to help this girl and her family.

Once Crys was patched up, I took a good look at her bike. I had a spoke wrench along and thought I might try truing her wheel. Then I noticed a broken spoke. "Crystal, hon, I would try and fix your wheel, but I don’t have any spare spokes your size. Don’t worry, a little work and your bike will be good as new. I’m going to make a few temporary adjustments to make your bike easier to move until then, okay?

"Eric, would you bring me my repair kit please?” There WAS a little girl and her mom present so I was being extra polite.

I turned her bike over and let out most of the air from the damaged wheel. I alternately loosened and tightened spokes enough to reduce the warp in the rim. Crystal and her mom watched me in absolute fascination. I explained what I was doing as I went along.

"This is a temporary fix, but at least it will roll without the tire rubbing the fork. Eric, would you help pump her tire up, as I pack up my tools? Crystal, if I had the time, I’d have removed your tire and done a proper job, but that will have to wait. I had to let out most of the air, or I might have torn a hole in your inner tube. Is your leg feeling any better?”

"It hurts, but not as much. Thanks for trying to fix my bike.”

"You're welcome.” Her smile did something to me. It felt right, whatever it was.

* * * *

We packed up and entered the tunnel. Eric took the back to watch for anything we might drop, while Mel walked up front with Crystal and I. Her mom, with Rachel in-tow, took the middle position in our *parade*. We traveled slow to let our eyes adjust to the dark.

"Joanie,” the mother called out after we had gone maybe a few hundred yards into the tunnel, "I’m sorry I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Helen Hoffmeister, but my friends call me Rosie because I like roses.”

"Oh Ghod, Rosie was my mom’s nickname. If you take off the H, your name sounds like my mom’s first name. Some coincidence huh?”

" Mom, can I ask Joanie what she does?”

"Joanie?”

"Sure, ladies, ask away.” That got another giggle from Crystal. "I look a lot younger than I am so don't let it fool you. I’m a teacher at a private prep school in New England, and I go there as a student, too.”

"You said you were in training to be an EMT?” Helen asked.

"The EMT certificate is because I’m a part-time campus security officer. I’m doing the security duty in part to learn to defend myself and my friends. You see, I look like I do because almost a year ago I found out I am a mutant. I’m in school to learn how to handle that as well.”

"Joanie? ... Crys! This is Joanie the singer, aren’t you?”

"Afraid so, Rosie. Is that a problem my being a mutant and all?”

"Not with me, I’m not sure about my husband, but I’ll make sure he behaves.”

"You’re a mutant? Do you have any kewl powers?” Crys asked.

"You bet she does! She saved my sister by running into traffic on a busy highway and freezing time until she got her to safety. I was there! And she is the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I’d say that’s special, too.”

"Eric!”

"It’s okay if your brother thinks I’m attractive.”

"Sorry, Rosie, the young man has a bad case of puppy love and incredibly good taste as I see it.”

* * * *

It took thirty minutes to do the 7/8ths of a mile long tunnel. That was mostly due to letting our eyes adjust to the dark and avoiding some of the ruts caused by water dripping down from above.. We made silly noises and listened to the echoes. I even sang a little for the fun of it. We stopped a few times to look at interesting things Crys spotted in the tunnel. She was a most inquisitive child. It got foggier, as we approached the downhill -- Sparta -- end, as it was turning into a humid, hot day. We exited, turned off our lights as the fog thinned, and prepared to continue riding.

"This is wild, Joanie; the tunnel is making its own fog.”

"Look in the ditches, Mel, Crys; sometimes there are tadpoles swimming in the tunnel-runoff fed pools." The girls walked over to look.

"Rosie, do you want us to wait, or are you okay?”

"Let me check. Can I borrow your phone, Joanie?”

I lent her my phone, and she dialed. "... You are, Hon? ... Yeah, I think I see our van in the distance. Thanks ... I love you too.” She handed back the phone. "We’ll be fine and thanks, Joanie, all of you. You didn’t have to help.”

"But we did. I wouldn’t have felt right seeing Crys and you like that. You take care now, we have to ...” I heard a thumpa-thumpa-thumpa sound that was rapidly getting closer and louder. "Oh, lovely.”

"What’s wrong?” Helen asked.

"I think the press somehow found out I was here, unless your husband called for a med-evac helicopter. We probably have some citizen with a camera cell phone, and too much time on their hands, to thank for it. I don’t worry so much for me, but they could cause you and your family trouble. Maybe we can ride ahead to distract them? I have a few tricks up my sleeve that will cause them to miss us.” ~~If we ride the next few miles in the past, say a day ago, they will never see us. The *side effect* should be tolerable as the duration and time traveled would be modest. It had better be *modest* in Eric’s presence. Ooh, he looks hot in those tight shorts. This could be bad.~~

"Why should you need to do that? You were helping a mother and her children, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

"Wow, a TV helicopter for us? This is so kewl, Mom!” Crys was obviously excited at the prospect of her fifteen minutes of fame. I was already into multiple overtimes with no end in sight.

"If you don’t mind, Rosie? I worry they might pester you or frighten your baby.”

* * * *

Once we got close to the trailside parking lot, I could hear the helicopter land. A reporter ran over to the trail, and a cameraman was soon standing nearby to film us. The cameraman was okay, but the reporter was a pest, deliberately blocking our passage on the trail and grabbing my cycle to stop me. I was pissed but reminded myself there were children present.

"Other than trying to cause an accident and scare innocent children, why are you here?" I asked with more than a hint of sarcasm. All right, it didn't sound all THAT sarcastic. It's not my fault whatever I say sounds sexy.

Mel, Crys and Rosie suppressed giggles. Her husband looked upset, and Eric moved to position himself to protect me from the reporter, if he got any more aggressive. Eric suddenly looked a lot more mature and desirable in my eyes, if he wasn’t already. ~~Years shy of his eighteenth birthday, and he is ready to protect my honor. That is so gallant. I’ll remember this, my handsome champion.~~ Sometimes, I am so sentimental you’d think I’d want to puke, but I love it. You noticed I did not wax rhapsodic about his handsome face, well-toned sweaty body, tight ass and ... Okay I thought about it a little bit, but mostly I was impressed at his defense of me.

"Is it true you treated this young child with drugs, despite not being a licensed doctor or nurse?”

Eric did something that surprised and delighted me though at first it terrified me. "Our dear friend Joanie here helped clean a crying girl’s scraped knee, and you act like it’s a crime?” He was calm and matter-of-fact, but I sensed the anger underneath the façade.

~~Ghod, no! You’ll out us, and it will be over for us.~~

"What would you call it when an untrained person performs a medical procedure, young man?” The basta ... the reporter was baiting Eric -- BIG mistake. For one, that got me furious, for another I was increasingly pissed-off at this jerk and thinking of things to do with his microphone and where to shove it ... up. For another, Eric proved to be a pro at spin control -- I shouldn't have been surprised; Hey! he’d practically been weaned on politics.

"An act of kindness by a woman who is in training for her EMT certification, I must add. This was routine first-aid, sir. They taught us this much and more in the Boy Scouts.”

~~You were a Boy Scout, Eric? I never knew ... My Ghod, I’m in love with a man in uniform! Next stop, I’m the *sweetheart* of the Fifth Fleet.~~

"Joanie asked for the mother’s permission, before cleaning the scrapes. She even asked the girl’s mother if her daughter had any allergies *prior* to applying a common antibiotic ointment found in any well-made first-aid kit. Joanie suggested to the mother that they should take her girl to the doctor or a hospital to have the wounds professionally treated and to update her tetanus vaccinations. The whole group of us walked through the railroad tunnel together to keep the brave girl from getting scared in the dark. My parents keep telling me how important it is to get the facts straight before you speak. You need to remember that, sir, or you won’t last long as a reporter.”

"You seem unusually confident in what you say. What makes you qualified to judge the quality of my reporting skills?”

"That I’ve followed politics and the press from as far back as I can remember. Oh, and my Grandfather is the senior US Senator and my Dad is the governor of the great state of Iowa.”

~~Oh, yeah, he’s a politicians son.~~

"The Senator will not be happy at all at with the way your TV station’s reporters treat children. As Chair of the Senate Telecommunications Committee, he is sensitive to such matters.”

~~Set, match and game to Eric.~~

The cameraman said something to the reporter -- who was in the process of turning a nice pale shade of green. It went well with his tie. They returned to the ‘copter and took off.

"You could have offered to fly Crys and her mom to the nearest hospital, jerk!” I yelled at the retreating chopper. I would have used stronger language but there were children present.

Rosie’s husband walked up to us. "Are you okay Crys? It must have hurt a lot when you fell, huh?”

"A little, Daddy, but it’s much better since Joanie fixed it. She even fixed my bike so it would roll easy. See Daddy?”

He turned to me. "This is not easy for me … I have a problem with mutants; it’s just the way I am. I guess you could call me a bit of a racist, when it comes to that. For whatever reason, I think there is something wrong about mutants; I’m sorry. But I can’t be angry at you for helping my child. You are okay in my book, and I’d like to shake your hand, if I may? Agree to disagree and all that?”

"Sure, and I understand you being uncomfortable with mutants. It took me a while to get used to it, and I’m on the inside of one,” I said and giggled. He smiled back.

We shook hands then he turned to Eric. "Young man, that was remarkable what you did in standing up for your friend. You may be young, but you are a man in my book.” They shook hands, and Eric glowed.

Before we rode off, Mel gave the mother the web address of my fan club; she carried fan club business cards, really! "For when Crystal is old enough. My friends and I run the site with help from our parents and Warner Records, so it’s kid safe.”

I took a permanent felt-tip permanent marker I carried for just such a purpose and autographed the underside of Crys’s bicycle seat where it wouldn’t get rubbed off easily. She was grinning, when we rode off. I felt odd afterwards, like something was missing. Something the size of a child.

* * * *

We rode on in relative calm towards Sparta. I figured to get us a motel room, and we could ride back the next day or we could use the shuttle service; we weren’t certain yet. We had done well over thirty miles as it was, and I didn't want to wear them out. This was supposed to be fun after all.

We got into town alright, stopping first at a fast-food place. Yeah, I know it’s not healthy, but we had burned a lot of calories riding, so it was okay.

"After a hard ride, there is nothing like the smell of a burger and fries; it smells like ... victory.”

"What?”

"Don’t tell me you haven’t seen Apocalypse Now?”

"Apocalypse huh?”

"Never mind. It’s been over twenty-five years, since its premiere. To be honest, I’ve never seen the whole film. Have you had enough to eat? Should we stay in town or get a ride back to my truck?”

"I’m full, and I don’t care either way. I'll leave it up to you and my sister.”

"I’ve had plenty. It might be nice to take it easy and get a room here. I liked the tunnels, and I wouldn’t mind riding through them again.”

"Okay, Mel; we get a motel here and ride back tomorrow. If it’s two beds Mel and I share, Eric. Sorry.”

Mel snorted, then blew into a full blown giggle fit. Eric wasn't much better.

Then *I* got it.

"I... I ...I meant Mel and I would share a bed, not share you, Eric. I may have a ... um, healthy ...imagination but that is too kinky even for me." Fortunately no one overheard my, um confession... I hope!

The patrons of the burger place were good for the most part, but we were in cycling clothes. You know, stretchy, body hugging fabrics, and lots of bare skin to keep cool. We were getting *the look* from passers-by. I had my share, of course, but as it was hot out and summer, quite a few teens were out and about as scantily clad, some more so -- or is that less so?

I used the women’s room to freshen up, and when I came out I noticed some boys checking out Mel and quite a few gals ogling Eric. A pair of young hotties walked up to him, and I felt a stab of jealousy. Not that *I* wanted to kill them -- maybe just maim them a little.

"Hi, I couldn’t help but notice you. I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a visitor, or do you live here? I’m Katie; I’m a sophomore this fall at Sparta High.”

"I’m Amy, her friend, and I think you’re hot. Do you want to come swimming with us? We’re going to this huge community pool with water-slides and everything. It will be a blast.”

"Thanks for the invitation, but I’m not here by myself.”

"You can bring your little sister, if you want. There’ll be a lot of kids her age there, too.” They’d noticed Mel and the resemblance between them.

I walked up from behind. "Eric, um, who are your two lady friends, hum?”

The girls turned, saw me, and got real quiet.

"They were inviting me to come swimming ... Mel too.”

"And I’m not invited?”

"Y-you’re with them? But y-you’re her!”

"Somebody has to be me, don’t they? Oh great, now *I’m* confused. A dip in a pool should be fun.” Remember I am allowed to be a ditz, it says so in the Constitution.

* * * *

We did go with Katie and Amy to the city pool and had a great time. It was just the thing on a hot day. The girls missed out on getting too fresh with Eric, but they got the pick of some decent boys from my *catch and release* flirting. I had to be fair. Plus, they turned out to be pretty decent young ladies, so why not make them happy?. And I did get to show off for Eric. Just because we can’t be intimate doesn’t mean we can’t tease each other. Apparently, I am one of those girls who loves to flaunt it, at least for my man.

"Joanie, stop it. If you tease Eric anymore, it will kill him,” Mel whispered in my ear, as I took an especially deep breath for Eric’s benefit. As I wasn’t diving, I had that tiny pink bikini almost on, and Eric was in pain; at least, one part of him had to be. He was suffering a severe inflammation of the groin. I know, because I couldn’t help but see it. I mean it was ...

~~Oh … my … GHOD!~~.

I was, I mean I used to be a I guy, and I know how it feels to be *that* aroused ... and there was so much that was aroused. I had him in agony, and I felt so naughty and possessive. ~~I did *that* to him? ... YES! YES! YES!~~ In retrospect his hard ... um, Eric’s pe ... He wasn’t exactly hung like a porn star, let's be honest, and even they lie about their *endowments* bigtime, pun intended, but to me, it was gigan ... I think the problem is with the enforced celibacy, our and particularly MY imagination are running wild. For a boy his age, he was ahead of the curve, shall we say; that was in comparison with the other young men at the community pool. Including the lifeguards, and the few adults present, he was well within the normal range for a man -- a fully-grown adult man. He was going to be a tall man, like his father, so proportionally he might end up on the upper end of the *normal distribution* for ... um ... you know.

At the age of fourteen and a few months, Eric had some growing to do, and I sure hoped so. After seeing his dad in that sweaty, body hugging running suit last November, that cold November, I had every hope he would grow some more. It was a statistical likelihood after all. And they say statistics aren’t useful outside of the professions. WHAT? Who made the crack about "world's oldest profession"? For Ghod's sake, I am NOT a lawyer!

It scares me; um ... not the obsession with Eric’s ... um ... you know. What scares me is I have a nasty jealous streak in me. Quite a few girls were attracted to Eric, and when anyone of them paid him too much attention, I started seeing red. I felt so petty afterwards, yet the feeling of possessiveness, almost anger, flared up again and again. I need to recognize and control that, or I might hurt someone. I have to keep in mind that Eric is a man, and men are hardwired to respond to women that appear young, healthy and receptive to breeding, just as women are hardwired to respond to healthy males. If not, the human species would die out. I take solace in that Eric’s *response* is triggered by me and for my benefit. He may be hardwired to respond to healthy young women -- and thank Ghod for it -- but the owner/operator of that hardwired *hardware* is only interested in me. Whenever he got too much attention from other girls, he’d look around for me, and when he’d spot me his face lit up. I don’t have to tell you, dear d/j/w, what that did to me.

To be fair, it wasn’t just Eric who was getting *checked out*. We girls were turning heads that afternoon. A lot of others at the pool noticed our quartet, the two incoming high school girls, Mel and I. We all wore scanty swimsuits. We’re teens; it’s practically regulation for teen girls to wear these *postage-stamp* outfits. We all were eminently lickable.

* * * *

After a nice long swim/sunbathing secession, we showered and dressed. Katie and Amy waited for us to finish, then spoke as we walked out of the women’s locker-room together. Can I help it my hair takes a while to dry?

"Joanie, Mel, my parents are bar-b-queuing tonight as part of our annual block party; would you like to come? Eric is invited, of course,” Katie asked.

"You’d love it. My family will be there too. Our moms were friends in school, and we live near each other. It’s a kind of a potluck meal, so there will be lots to eat,” Amy added.

"Mel, what do you think?”

"I’d like to, but we’d better ask Eric, and what about rooms for the night and your truck back in Elroy?”

"We have this pop-up camper. I bet Mom and Dad would let us use it for a sleepover, and Eric could have my room.”

"Or we could all sleepover in my house, Amy. My older brother moved out for college, so we have tons of room.”

"Yeah, Katie’s house is ginormous!” ~~~Good lord, a Wisconsin Valley Girl.~~ Well, a La Cross River Valley Girl to be precise.

"I’d hate to impose. If someone could direct us to the nearest decent motel?”

"Mom and Dad would have a fit if we didn’t offer you a room. Dad or Mom could drive you back to Elroy tomorrow to get your truck. We’ve got a big van so we could carry all your bicycles.

"Dad’s a firefighter/EMT, and he has nothing but admiration for the cold water rescue you did this spring, Joanie. Mom’s a music teacher, and she’s a fan of yours, honest.”

"Mom’s a fan ... but not you, Katie?”

"Your music is awful old fashioned, you know.”

"Liar! Don’t listen to her! Katie has all your recordings and plays them constantly.”

"She does?”

"So what? Your music may be old fashioned, but it’s good. And Amy, here, has her walls covered in your posters. She had to take down most of her boy band posters to do it.”

"I say we do it, Mel, Joanie.” Eric must have walked up to us partway into our conversation.

* * * *

We walked our bikes the mile or so to the neighborhood block party. Things were just getting set to begin. Some neighbors had staged tables and stuff near the street, but it was still open to traffic for the moment.

"Mom!” Amy called out to a forty-something woman who strongly resembled the slender, blonde teen.

"Amy, Katie, about time you got back. The block party starts in less than an hour, and I need your ... help?” She’d spotted *us*.

"Mom, can I invite some new friends to the party? This Eric Johnson and his sister Melissa or Mel; their dad’s the governor of Iowa ... and this is Joanie, the girl on the posters in my room.”

"If we’re imposing, I understand, ma’am, but Katie and Amy were insistent. We have our bicycles and could quick run for anything you might still need. I’d like to contribute my help or whatever else you think you need. I could always go to the nearest deli and get a variety of potato salads or cheeses or something.”

"Mom taught us both to cook, so we could help you,” Mel offered and Eric nodded.

Amy’s mom looked at us, shell-shocked.

"Liz? Ah there you are. I need your help setting up ... the ... ah....” This second woman was also in her forties. She was a little plump, but in a sexy way, but then Katie had more than her share of curves for a girl her age.

Liz came out of it. "Amy and Katie made some new friends today, and yes, Karen, she really is Joanie the singer.”

Introductions were made all around. We decided it would be best if I did not go shopping, for fear of turning the block party into a media circus. The moms assured us they had plenty on hand and would not run out of food or beverages. They cheerfully accepted our help though. Eric helped Katie’s dad move the picnic tables out into the street and to set up the grills, while Mel and I helped the ladies with final prep for the food. For safety, all the cold items were packed in ice inside of coolers from which they would be served. On a hot day, this was a wise precaution. Everything was set out on a line of tables, cafeteria style. The meat was all precooked or marinated and kept on ice in appropriate containers until needed. The only raw stuff were some thick steaks also kept well iced and separate from anything else. These people knew their stuff when it came to eating outdoors. We started hauling things out to the street, and the grills soon were filling the air with wonderful smells.

Katie’s mom had a wicked sense of humor. She found some old peel and stick name-tags and made us some. "Here we go, Eric Johnson, Melissa (Mel) Johnson, and Yes, I’m really that Joanie. There, that should cover things nicely.”

I started to place it onto my chest. "Um. this is much too small to cover *these*, Karen."

Katie rolled her eyes, and Amy stifled a giggle. The moms laughed so hard their faces turned red.

The burgers, steaks, chicken and sausages cooked quickly -- hey, proper prep is everything, when it comes to grilling -- and we got in line to eat. The neighbors had noticed something was up, and once they spotted me, I got bombarded with questions.

"Why are you here?”

"I love your music.”

"I didn’t realize how tall you are.”

"You really need to try my rhubarb bread, Joanie. It's my mother’s recipe.”

"Be careful; these buffalo wings are very spicy, but good. The blue cheese dressing is bottled dressing, but I added real blue cheese in it to juice it up.”

And more things along these lines. Most people were friendly, though one family looked unsure about me, and one old couple looked upset. ~~Can’t please everyone, I guess.~~ Once we had our food, they left us to eat in peace.

* * * *

We’d finished eating for the most part and were stuffed. "You were right, Liz, Karen, there was plenty of food on hand. I wish I could have done more to help out. You’ve all been so nice, except for a few, but then some people can’t deal with mutants. At least they weren't vocal about it. One couple simply didn't act very friendly, and another family stayed apart from us, that's all.”

"Oh, you must mean the old couple, the Thompson’s, from the end of the block. They're just distrustful of strangers, it’s not you," Karen added for my benefit, no doubt. "Odd, I was expecting her daughter’s family would show up. They said they were coming.

"The family that seems aloof; that would be the Hendersons, and they belong to a conservative church that ... well, they think mutants are being punished by God for some past sin,” Liz explained softly.

"This is no punishment; it’s a blessing. If I was still my old self, I would never have been in Prairie Du Chein, and this lovely young woman would be dead or crippled.”

Mel smiled at the compliment, but she looked increasingly upset that anyone would dislike me. I tried to distract her.

"Do you have any entertainment?”

"There’s a volleyball net set up on the north end of the block. Want to play?” Katie asked.

"Sure,” I replied for us.

Katie and Amy walked off and collected some players. It was an informal game, and we didn’t play real aggressively, as this was on someone’s lawn, and we had all eaten a ton. We had a lot of fun, though. I forget what the score was at the time, but I noticed a car being let into the block and parking a house away. Oh, I forgot to add, we had a lot of boys and younger men watching us, by the end ... I wonder why? Jiggle-wiggle, bouncy-bouncy, ba-doinggggg! All right, my *girls * don't do that exactly, not the sound effects, but I'm sure they were *entertaining*, A sports bra can only do so much, and to be honest it didn't stand a chance against me and *mine.* Eric, I might add, played quite well and kept his eyes on the ball and not my *assets*, at least not all of the time.

I was surprised in both a good way and a bit disappointed people didn't bug me for autographs. Liz and Karen, our two new friend's mom's apparently had put the word out that "WE" were to be treated as family "or else". I learned this quite after the fact and swear I *WILL* make it up to them someday. Damn, we met some fine people that day.

* * * *

"Ah, they made it. I was worried.” Karen said. She and Liz had pulled up lawn chairs to watch the game. "I’d better see if they need any help.”

A few minutes later Karen returned, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face. "That was the Hoffmeisters; they were at the hospital getting a tetanus booster for their daughter, Crystal. She took a spill on her bike.”

"Crystal Hoffmeister?” I mumbled.

"Yes, a sweet girl. She was very excited. Something about this tall pretty lady fixing her cut and her bike then helping walk her through a big scary tunnel on the Elroy-Sparta Trail. Any idea who that might have been, Joanie ... hum?”

"Oh no!”

* * * *

The block party went well past sunset, almost 9 PM this time of year. Only after the sky was completely dark, broken only by the stars, did we begin packing up. Why the party went on so late was due, in large part, to a certain six year old girl. Crystal had to tell *everybody*. She dragged me around like I was her dolly -- her very tall dolly. ~~Oh joy, I'm her real, live Barbie doll.~~

"I had an accident, and Joanie helped me, and she’s real nice. She fixed my bike so I could get home, wanna see it? Joanie fixed my owie, too. The doctor said she’d did a good job.” Crystal had to show her bike to everyone along with her *owie*; she was especially proud of my autograph.

The grumpy old couple treated me and my friends like family, after that. They insisted on thanking us for helping their grandchild. Liz and Karen were right, the grandparents were just cautious around strangers. Crystal’s mom, Helen, was their daughter -- their only daughter. Their only daughter was equally as excited as her child, only she spent her time telling all the adults and her parents what a fine young woman I was, how helpful all three of us had been, and ... you can guess the rest. Her husband wasn't much better..; worse, um, better.

Even the aloof family came over and ... "Um, Ma’am, some in our faith say that mutants are that way because they are being punished by God. I just wanted to say, maybe we have it wrong. Someone as nice as you can’t be a sinner. Your mother should talk to you about how you dress, though; some of your costumes are almost indecent. I know who you are, Joanie Brown. However actions speak louder than words, and what you did for Crystal was an act of true Christian charity.”

"I don't think my taste in clothes is that wild. I'll admit, if my mom was alive, she'd suggest I tone it down a little. Well more than a little but then I am a performer, so a bit of flash is expected. As to Christian charity, I did what I felt I had to do. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. I don't ascribe my actions to any divine intervention. To be honest I don't think of myself as anyone special. We were there. Crystal and her mom needed help; we could help -- end of story."

"We'll pray for you."

"You don't need to, but thanks."

* * * *

During the party, I got a call from Babs. Hey! I HAVE caller ID. I excused myself and answered it.

"Joanie? Babs here. Could you do me a great big favor and meet me at the Wisconsin State tourism center in Prairie Du Chien, tomorrow? Pretty please with sugar on top."

I swear I heard her batting her eyelashes at me over the phone; she had *that* kind of tone to her voice.

"Now I know why I don't like cell phones -- no privacy."

"It’s real important you be there, Joanie. I wouldn't have called if it wasn't." Babs sounded hurt.

"I was being silly, Babs, you know I would never ..." Then I heard her laughing.

”Gotcha! It would be a favor to me, if you came to the ceremony. They are dedicating a safety fence and a marker to your rescue of Mel. I want you and my kids in their Sunday best, please?”

"Not topless in a g-string?"

"Um .... no."

"Okay, conservative dress. This works out well, Babs. We were thinking of heading there anyway; Mel wants to confront her fears.”

"Tell her I’m proud. You must arrive no later than eleven in the morning; it’s very important, as the ceremony is set to start right after that. I promised you would be there, if I had to drag you by your heels. Bob and I will be there, as will Dad and Sara.”

"We’ll be there. I’m not that keen on a ceremony honoring me, but for Mel’s sake, and since it did inspire them to put up a safety fence, okay. I'd never want to have anyone see what I saw that day. I'm so glad it turned out as it did.”

"Snap out of it; you're getting maudlin, Joanie." Babs chided me, laughed, then spoke again.

"Put Eric on, Sis.”

"You got it.”

Eric and his mom talked for a while, then Mel spoke with her mom. Mel hung up and returned my cell to me.

"Mom wants us to look real nice; Sunday best nice.” She hugged me.

"What's that for?"

"For telling Mom about me and the tourism center. Mom was so thrilled I wanted to ... Thanks!:" She hugged me again.

* * * *

Where was I before I got sidetracked? Oh, yeah. The block party was winding down. We helped clean-up and move the tables back, despite some weak protests by our hosts. They were tired, too, and welcomed our help. Katie's mom insisted we sleepover, much to Katie's and Amy's delight.

Thank Ghod Crystal was a good girl and minded her parents. As it was, it took a lot of convincing to get her to agree staying over for a sleepover with us was not practical. Not that a large part of me didn't agree with Crystal. I hope my children are a sweet as her.

Crap, if our -- Eric and Moi' -- budding relationship survives all the craziness of my life I'm likely to be a mother of twenty by our 25th wedding anniversary... and pregnant. I am THAT potty over children.

Even my late mother wasn't that fond of kids ... or was she? She did go through three miscarriages and had my younger sister and me after giving birth to a severely disabled child, my late sister Ann. In early life she consumed huge amounts of Mom's time with the special care she needed. Her doctors said she'd be lucky to make it to her teens. She was fifty when she died, smiling until her last hour of life, that's how well my parents cared for her. Shit, I'm crying! I miss you so Annie Rose!

The burden on Mom physically and emotionally must have been tremendous but it didn't show. I always felt loved, and she always was there for me. Crap, now I'm crying. How I must have disappointed her but she never...

Ghod, emotions like a yoyo with a short attention span. Maybe I really am a blonde, huh? Sorry, I got sidetracked again. We didn't need the camper that night , as there was sufficient room in the house. Eric got the hide-a-bed couch in their den, while Mel and I shared a guest room. Our sleep-over was brief, as the girls were all exhausted from the long day. I fell asleep alone on one of the two twin beds but woke to find Mel had crawled in with me. I hope I have a daughter just like her.

* * * *

To be contued and the chapter completed in part 8 and soon.

John in Wauwatosa

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, ch 12 pt 8 of 8

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Audience Rating:

Mature Subjects (pg15)

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Fanfiction

Character Age:

Teenage or High School

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

TG Elements:

Other Keywords:

Permission:

Fan-Fiction, poster's responsibility

Timeout 4, Reel to Real: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction, Chapter 12 part 8 of 8

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, chapter 12, part 8 of 8

By John from Wauwatosa
Pronouns protected by Itinerant
Homonymphone 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

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

Wednesday June 13, 2007

Wednesday morning, we said our farewells, and Katie's dad drove us and our bikes to Elroy. Prairie Du Chien is about an hour's drive from Elroy, farther still from Sparta. Katie's dad saved us the better part of a forty mile bike ride though; as it was, this was as much as I dared impose on their hospitality. We could have ridden our bikes back on the trail, but that would have taken at least three hours with a favorable wind and left us sweaty and smelly. His kindness saved us nearly two and a half hours and sore butts. I suppose could have ridden off alone at dawn, recovered my truck and driven back. But would have taken a lot of time even given my physical abilities and would have left my charges without my protection for hours. THAT was a non-starter. I trusted these people but Mel and Eric were my friends and MY responsibility.

We unloaded our bikes and stuff and said goodbye. I offered to pay for his gas, but he said it was his duty and pleasure to help. Eric shook Katie's dad's hand, Mel gave him a hug and I ... let's say I kissed him and leave it at that. Eric tried to look angry but failed miserably. He knew me too well. Minutes later, we were loaded up and on our way.

* * * *

The drive to Prairie Du Chien was a quiet one, as we were worn out from the day before. We stopped a couple times to stretch our legs and snap a few photos. We soon were at the tourism center, where we were directed to park by a friendly State Patrol officer. We were escorted to the coordinator of the event who explained what would happen and our roles in all of it.

The ceremony for *my* heroism was gratifyingly brief. I had to pose for photos, but many were with Mel and her family, which I enjoyed. It wasn't like I was a novice when it came to being photographed, so I went with the flow. I hadn't noticed Sara and Joe slip away, while the photographers snapped away.

"Here, you’ll need this,” Carrie said and handed me a bouquet of flowers.

"Carrie, what are …Red, Gin, Dairy Maid, Glacier Girl…” I noticed all the MSG regulars were there: the guys in suits, the gals in dresses. "What the hell is going on? I can understand Gin, Red and Carrie, as we were all here when it happened but the rest of you? And for that matter who's minding the fort back in Madison?” Glacier Girl was the heaviest hitter of all the Wisconsin mutants, not to mention the hottest, excepting me... maybe. I mean this girl WAS America's Dairyland.

-- Giggle --

Don’t worry, the Chicago Mutant Society -- yeah, I know the name sucks -- are filling in for us. None of us wanted to miss Sara's wedding.”

"Wedding?!” Carrie just smiled.

"We moved it up so you could attend. You think we'd get married without the person behind it being there? Now close your gaping maw and get with it.” Sara replied as she walked up in an antique lace gown altered to a very daring fit. *I* wanted to marry this goddess.

Her daughter Carrie was equally impressed at how well her mom *cleaned-up*. "Mom, you look ...”

"Good enough to eat. I agree, Carrie, dear."

"Dump Joe, and marry me, Sara. Think of the fun! We can both be the younger woman or is that the other woman?” Well Carrie and Sara started it, and I have a reputation to uphold.

"Joanie!” Carrie scolded while an Amazon glared at me, menacingly.

"Sorry, Red.”

‘You’re forgiven, now give me a kiss.”

"What about Eric?” I pouted,

"I’ll make an exception; he can join in.”

Poor Eric blushed, while Mel snickered. I gave Red a solid, lip-locking scorcher and repeated the same with all the MSG women. I felt more than one naughty hand grab my tush as we embraced; I rather enjoyed it.

"That was fun! Now, everybody be nice to my Iowa friends, and hands off Eric, he’s taken.”

The effect of that declaration was Eric getting kissed mercilessly by some of the hottest babes I had ever met, except for the two Playboy models — three, counting Ms. Carson and, well, me. Okay, make that a qualified four. Eric walked away a very happy young man, emphasis on MAN... WOOF!

The gals treated Mel like an equal and asked her what she thought of their outfits, boys and the like. It did her confidence wonders.

"Mel, Joanie follow me. We need to get you made up,” Carrie said, and we were dragged off by the girls to have our faces painted, flowers pinned in our hair and get generally spruced up. In minutes, we were ready. Mel looked far older, like a girl at her sweet sixteen party, and I looked pretty good too. There was something that bothered me, though. I couldn't quite remember what.

"But I wanted to get you a wedding gift!” I finally remembered. Hey, I'm not entirely blonde!

"You got us the best gift of all, you got us together.” Sara said softly, giving my hand a squeeze. "I'd give you a kiss, but we'd ruin our makeup."

"And you saved my granddaughter; what better gift is there than life?” Joe said as he hugged me from behind.

* * * *

The wedding was mostly traditional, but brief. The parts some considered sexist were removed, but the power of the words remained undiminished. The minister barely got past 'I pronounce you ...' when she flung back her veil. Joe and Sara kissed -- a long, deep, passionate orgasm of a kiss. It got my juices flowing, it was so hot. Mel was grinning; Eric was blushing and looking my way furtively. ~~He's fantasizing what it will be like when we ... Oh lovely, my *headlights* just popped... Thank ghod I slipped in a panty liner today, could have been much worse. Eric seems in a similar fix, my poor boy ... oh my, my poor man, man oh man!~~

"This is not the time or place for *that* you, you, Bohemians! There are impressionable children here." That got some laughs.

"You're only complaining because it's not you that's being kissed," Carrie whispered.

"Damn straight, Skippy."

I settled down and reflected on my feelings.

~~Why does Eric have to look so *finger-lickin’* good?* I swear somebody upstairs is doing this to me deliberately, making me all hot and bothered for a piece of forbidden fruit. It's probably Karmic retribution for having not fathered any children. Seems I’m expected to make up for it as a mother. At this rate I’ll be a mother in ... nine months, ten minutes -- five if I can get Eric's pants off fast enough.... ~~ Senator Joe woke me out of my daydreams.

"Everybody, gather 'round, we have an announcement. Most of you know my Sara and I are expecting a girl. What you don’t know is her name. Carrie, Babs, your new sister will be Caroline Joanna or Carrie-Jo for short.”

"For me and Joanie?” Carrie asked. Sara nodded. I blushed.

"Joe, before we forget, her twin will be Barbara Rose."

--Thwump ! --

"I'd never seen that many people faint in my life, Sara." I moved to help Carrie back to her feet. ~~Hey I'm made of sterner stuff! If Sara wants to name her child for me, so be it... For me? ...~~ Something was bothering me though, .. it was right on the tip of my mind.

"Rose is to honor your mother, Joanie."

-- Thump! --
That was it.

* * * *

Joe and Sara had an informal reception at a nearby family restaurant. The grass and mud stains on my dress were hardly noticeable. You'd think they'd be much worse after leaving that ass print in the lawn.

"I've never seen anyone drop like that."

"Hush, Babs."

"I mean you collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut."

"Babs!"

"You made this high-pitched 'Eeep!' and 'foom!' down you went. I almost wet myself, it was soooo funny. Wanna see the vid we uploaded to the web? "

"Aaaaaaaaaah!"

* * * *

The reception dinner was a great success, as I got to catch up with my Madison friends. We kept it informal, though we did have a couple of the obligatory toasts.

"A toast.” We all raised our glasses. "Here’s to my Dad ... my Mom,” Sara blushed at Babs' kindness, "and my little sisters to be. May they always have a roof over their heads, food on the table and love in their hearts.” It was a William’s family tradition at weddings, some variant on an old Irish toast, and Joe fought back tears on hearing it.

Before you go all ballistic at minors and a pregnant woman imbibing -- um, drinking alcoholic beverages --, you can’t get very drunk on ginger ale poured over ice. The restaurant was very accommodating and pushed back a few tables so we might dance. Joe and Sara were all over each other, as they danced.

"Dad, Mom, get a room!” Babs exclaimed and giggled. This coming from a very pregnant woman who moments before was inspecting her husband’s tonsils with her tongue. That *I* restrained myself and did not shout out "Too late!" proves I have matured and no longer have a teenager’s flippant approach to life.

... No, honest, I do. What? I am not an emotion driven child, and you take that back! I am NOT an oversexed blonde bimbo ... BITCH! ... Oh crap, you made me cry; now I've ruined my makeup.

Oh, right. Us kids danced a little ... make that a lot. Mel had fun dancing with my MSG friends, and so did I. Eric was a gentleman and danced with all of us, but he danced the slow ones with me. Well I did let each of my *closest* MSG gals each have one slow dance with him. I wanted to show him off. By the end of the reception, several hours later, I was well fed, happy and desperate to inspect Eric’s tonsils and other more interesting parts of his body. I imagined him ... well I ... he ... ~~Oooh that was sooo dirty, Eric. Let's do it again ... ~~

Fortunately, Joe and Sara had a cure for that.

"Water-park!”

"Humma?” ~~I was having this delicious daydream, and Senator Geezer has to spoil it. What was it we were doing? Ah yes! Strip Twister, Oooh!~~

"We’re taking everyone to a water-park. It will be fun, and Sara is not so far along she can't enjoy it. My dear daughter can float in one of the quieter pools and rest her aching legs....”

That sold it. The thought of temporarily ignoring all the extra weight of the twins had Babs excited. The thought of certain people in skimpy, wet, clinging bathing suits had Eric and me excited. Mel was -- what else -- excited. We piled into Joe’s limo, several MSG vehicles including Carrie's PT Cruiser, and my crew cab, and were off to the Dells; that’s Wisconsin Dells for you non—Midwesterners.

* * * *

We checked into a large upscale motel for the night -- the Senator’s treat -- then drove to a nearby water park. The kids and my MSG pals took to the slides and wave pools with a vengeance; Babs and the rest found a quieter area to float and relax.

"Sure you don’t want to do at least one, Babs, Sara, ... guys?”

"You young-’uns have fun while us old geezers relax, ah-yup!” I'd forgot Dr. Sara was empathic/telepathic. ~~~If she *heard* that then she knows ... Oh my Ghod!~~

Dr. Sara pulled me aside. "Go have fun, Joanie. And don't worry so much, your *thoughts* are quite normal -- practically plain vanilla. You should listen in on some of my fantasies about Joe. You are positively straight-laced by comparison. As to your past *relations* with Carrie and the other gals of MSG ...You were all legal adults; what you did with each other was no one's business but yours." She finished with a hug so warm I almost cried.

Did I ever tell you dear d/j/whatever I love Sara like she was my mother?

Red, Carrie and the rest of MSG split their time between Sara, Babs and me. Babs and her soon-to-be-borns were a powerful attraction. I must admit moments of envy over Bab’s increasingly ungainly state. Sara also fielded a lot of questions about her current pregnancy. As we all were women in or entering our best childbearing years, the pull of their pregnancies was strong.

* * * *
With my energetic pals from MSG, Mel and Eric and loads of happy tourists mixing with the water slides and other attractions, the excitement was contagious. If you’ve seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure and the scene with Napoleon at the water park, you have a good idea. I was leaping into the tubes, screaming my head off and having a great time. We attracted quite a crowd, too; let's face it, we looked hot, and the guys were no slouches either. Mel had her share of admirers as well. As for me, I was having a blast. My inner everybodies were all flying high with Ms Teenage Blonde taking front and center.

I launched myself, feet first, into the tallest and fastest of the tubes. I shot out the end and crashed into the pool with a great splash. The water felt great, I was invigorated, giggling with mirth and jiggling all over the place.

~~Jiggling?~~

I turned and parts of me, two spectacularly matching parts of me, lagged behind for a moment then surged ahead. They wobbled to a stop. I looked down.

~~Oh, oh!~~

"Joanie, when did you lose your ... t-top?” Eric stuttered the obvious despite the shit-eating grin on his face and his eyes glued to ...

"Eric!” I covered up with my arms, a futile gesture with my *girls*. If anything, it brought more attention to my plight.

His eyes locked on mine. "I’m sorry, but you're so beautiful.” He was embarrassed, his eyes broke from mine then he looked away; I was afraid I'd hurt his feelings. Without warning Eric lunged at me, half knocking me over. I never expected him to do this.

"Eric!” I was shocked, a little angry, and so hot for him I fantasized him ripping of our suits and doing it here and now. Part of me was disappointed we hadn't, um ... you know. My body was more than willing; it knew what it wanted. My mind overruled my instinct -- damned spoilsport.

"I spotted something behind you. I think you may want this." He put my bikini top into my hands. I moved my arms behind me to slip my top back on. Meanwhile parts of my bare flesh were touching parts of his bare flesh that were not supposed to touch until he was eighteen. My mind was screaming *NO!* My body was screaming *NOW!* Talk about your mixed emotions!

I quickly slipped it on and tied it as best I could.

"Thank you, kind sir,” I backed away and curtsied like in a film about the time of chivalry.

"Mel?”

"Yes?”

"Can you tie this better?”

"Sure, but I think Eric preferred it ... looser?”

"Mel!”

They came *that* close to kicking us out for excessive splashing and horseplay. And I did not pull his trunks off; get your minds out of the gutters, folks ... they were on too tight, damn it!

* * * *

Unfortunately, the fun had to end. The Senator had a message for me when we gpt back to the motel.. "My friend Judge Juday called. Pamela's lawyers want a meeting. We need to be in Boston, Saturday morning, to meet with her mother."

"Is this good news? Does she want to reconcile with Pinky or at least try?"

"I don't know, but the judge said they wanted to get this over. Whatever her mother's intentions, at least the uncertainty will be over." He saw the expression on my face and smiled. "You care for Pinky that much?"

"Like she was my sister or even my own child. If her mom is using this to hurt her, I don't know if I can restrain myself!"

"You'll behave. You're a good person, if a bit high maintenance."

"High maintenance!?"

"Hon, your spending on footwear could finance a small country."

"Botswana?"

"Japan."

When we stopped laughing, I found I was in his arms, soaking his suit with happy tears.

"Better now?"

"Some, but telling Pinky this won't be fun."

"Sara is doing that, as we speak; I figured it would be hard for you. Don't worry, I asked Ms Carson to have Pinky's friends and her aunt standing by in case she reacts badly. They won't let her be alone until we get there.

"I'll tell you this, whatever the outcome, you have made a difference with her. If we had never met before, if all that you have done for my family had not happened, I would respect you for what you have done for Miss Conner as a friend, and I don't mean helping catch her abusers. You have turned a wounded soul into a fine young woman. That by itself is admirable. And here's a heads-up, you are invited to be present when my Sara gives birth. She wants to tell you herself, but I wanted to make it known I approve. With you, Carrie, and Babs at her side, I know she will feel safe."

"You're not going to be there?"

"I will be, even if the Senate is in session. I have my jet, so it's not a problem."

"With four of us, not counting Sara and the medical people, the delivery room will be crowded."

"Yeah."

"You dirty old man! I can see you're smiling, thinking about all those hot babes brushing up against you," I smiled, then broke-up.

* * * *

I asked my friends what they wanted to do, as we only had Thursday and part of Friday left.

"Surprise me."

"Anything you want, Joanie, will be great."

Mel and Eric knew me too well.

"All right then, a quick trip up north to a couple of my favorite places. Get to sleep early and be packed; I want to go at dawn, if possible, and that's around five in the morning now."

* * * *

Thursday June 14, 2007

They were up and dressed before I was, and they had our bags packed and ready to go when they woke me, subtly -- as subtle as a Mack Truck. One moment, I'm happily dreaming, and the next my covers are gone, the lights are all on and ..."Aieeeee!"

Where they got the crushed ice from I haven't a clue. The motel ice machines produced these hollow cylinders. I was furious and impressed.

I was showered and dressed in fifteen minutes, which, with my hair, is almost recklessly fast, but then they both helped. That Eric could have seen me naked and did not take advantage of it -- he was a total gentleman throughout. Let's say my already considerable respect for him skyrocketed that morning. He helped towel me dry and not once did he try anything untoward, bless him. My appreciation of Mel 's maturity, organizational skills, and sense of style took a huge jump as well. I looked damned good, if I may say so myself, and it was all their doing. Her outfit even coordinated with mine. We looked like sisters, which someday her brother might make true. Regrettably, that would require him marrying me, and all that disgusting making out and sex stuff, but I was willing to make the sacrifices. We checked out and were on the road before five AM. I later learned Mel organized the whole *wake-up* routine, which impressed me even more. Still haven't figured out the crushed ice, how did she do it? Now that I think back on it, I don't recall Eric in the room when I first woke... The little minx did it all on her own?

* * * *

We shot up Wisconsin 11 to Roche a Cree State Park and climbed the 303, 306, 305? There were a hell of a lot of steps, up the CCC staircase to the top of the butte. We spent some time enjoying the view, taking pictures and acting silly.

"This would be a great place for you to get married; it's so pretty."

"Yeah, but the bouquet toss could be lethal." We had to hold Mel up, she laughed so hard.

* * * *

We zigzagged via state and county highways to near Ponitowski and that tiny park off of Meridian Road.

"Why did we stop here?"

"Joanie's showing us where she was born, duh!"

The lights came on in Eric's head. Hey, he's bright; it's just his sister is a walking Joanie encyclopedia. You know those dead tree things they had before Wiki and Google?

"This is where I first felt the effects of my mutation; you could call this a homecoming. What happened here led eventually to my being in Prairie Du Chien, and you know the rest. My past ended here. It's time to move on, don't you think?"

We had a brief snack, took some pictures and drove away -- quite anticlimactic. Someday, I might come back and do the time travel thing, discreetly disguised of course. Something special happened here to change me, but what? Maybe I'll never know.

We drove west to Cornell, named for the same man who endowed the famous university, and stopped to see the giant pulpwood stacker, now long retired from use.

"Joanie, do you have something on your mind?"

"What do you mean, Mel?"

"You're staring at that huge crane thing; it looks a little like a giant's ..."

"Ghods!"

"Joanie, what's wro ... Oh!"

"Well *I* think it's romantic. Now kiss each other, and get it out of your systems."

How we'll ever last until he's eighteen, I haven't a clue.

* * * *

We stopped at the visitor's center for the Eau Claire segment of the Ice-Age National Reserve -- a joint National Parks/Wisconsin DNR project -- that features various rare or important remnants of the most recent ice-age. We checked out the displays, saw the film and took a short hike to stretch our legs and rest our butts. Plus, if you are physically exhausted, you don't feel like sex. I needed to be exhausted, bad.

We turned west and south, with Des Moines and Terrace Hill our destination. We crossed at Alma, after a quick look at the Mississippi River from atop the 400 foot bluffs. I'd liked to have hiked down and back from the river town; they have this great footpath, but we didn't have the time. We found a motel near the former Amana Colony in northeast Iowa then spent the early evening wandering the shops in Amana. We ate a family-style meal at the old Inn near the Woolen Mill.

Now that money was no longer a concern, I went a bit wild and bought a lot of stuff, but then Babs could use it: loads of baby blankets and comforters and ... Hell, I got us all these kewl Tilly Hat's, and there was this leather shop where ... The VISA people were going to have a heart attack, when they saw my charges.

That night we had trouble sleeping, as our time together was coming to an end.

* * * *

Friday June 15, 2007

I woke, Friday morning, sandwiched between Eric and Mel and feeling Grrreat! And they were on top of the blankets that I was under, I'll have you know. This was wholesome family snuggling not a letter to the editor of Hus.... never mind.

We got to Terrace Hill early in the morning. I dropped my friends off, and with their help sneaked all the presents for Babs and her not quite yet born babies into the mansion. I said my goodbyes to the family then hustled to meet the Senator's plane. He'd arranged for my truck to be shipped back to Whateley, as I'd not have the time to drive it back now or to get it shipped on my own. I stopped at the local Ford dealer who was handling the arrangements. Their courtesy van took me, and my considerable luggage, to the airport. I have got to learn not to buy so much clothing.

* * * *

I flew with Joe and Sara to Berlin, NH, on his executive jet. This saved me booking my own, and I owed Pinky this. A little FYI is in order. Joe, his Federal Judge friend, Judge Juday, and the lawyers they hired, had negotiated with Mrs. Conner and her husband, but the results were not what we’d hoped. The dad continued to have no interest in his child; Pinky’s mom remained steadfastly convinced mutants were evil and that her child was a liar when she claimed she’d been abused by her doctor.

Most of the flight was spent in silence. I was imagining possible outcomes of the meeting. Most were bittersweet, at best. I found myself bursting into tears. This was not a happy trip, after all, though the presence of my two friends helped. I remember Sara hugging me and ... I ended up sitting next to Sara, my head resting on her shoulder the rest of the way. Joe was kind, and let us alone after asking if he could help; another point in his favor in my book. Here they were, newlyweds, and I was keeping them apart. I owe them so.

I’d long concluded it was time to bring this mess to a close. Pinky’s healthy development into adulthood needed the issue of her parents resolved. I feared continued conflict might re-kindle her antisocial behavior. I could not let the sweet woman who’d emerged be once again overwhelmed by her personal demons. I called ahead and asked Pinky to meet us at the farm. She brought a day bag with a few essentials. We drove back to Berlin and flew on to Boston with Joe and Sara.

Once in the air, Joe briefed us. ”Joanie, Ms. Conner,”

"Pinky, please.”

"Pinky it is then, dear lady. I hate to be blunt but you deserve the truth. My friends and I have tried many times, and in many ways, to convince your mother to relent, but she is adamant in her beliefs. I do not believe she means you harm, but she is clearly not disposed to act in your best interests. I feel a one-on-one meeting with our friends and advisors in attendance is your best opportunity for a breakthrough, some compromise. Otherwise it may be years, or never, before your mother realizes her folly. I have to be honest, I don’t think your mom will come around. I’m so sorry.”

Pinky cried, and the Senator and Sara took turns comforting her, as did I.

* * * *

We arrived in Boston in under an hour. We were picked up at the airport by Judge Juday and a local family court judge who would act as more as an arbiter than a judge -- a well-dressed fifty-something woman. She looked fit, professional, and to be honest, attractive. I'll admit it, I have *the hots* for damn near anything that moves but this one was one fine looking older woman, really.

"Pinky, Joanie, my dear Sara, meet Judge Barbara Benton.”

"Joanie, may I call you that? The Senator says you prefer to be called Joanie. A little about myself: I'm a lawyer; I still have my soul, and we share the same birthday, December 18th, though in my case it’s 1952, not 1957.”

"Ah, so you’re a fellow Sagittarian. Having your birthday a week before Christmas sucked as a kid, I’ll bet.”

She nodded. I noticed how youthful she was for 54.

~~Barbara sure has aged well. She must have been a looker in her day. She’s no Barbie doll, she can’t be much over five feet tall, but still ... Not Barbie doll, Barbie Benton! OMG!~~

I started to snicker; my *mind* was being its usual naughty self. "S-s-sorry, you weren’t nicknamed Barbie in school were you, Ms Benton?” I made bunny ears with my hands and arms.

"Yes, I was ... Ah, the former Playmate and girlfriend of Huge Hefner. I got teased about that a few times, but then it was fun to call for a date at a dorm or frat house announcing myself as Barbie Benton, here to see Joe Shmo.”

"It's a good thing your name wasn't Marilyn Monroe. Sorry!"

She smiled.

"I have a juvenile sense of humor, and it gets me in trouble. Being nervous doesn't help but it's no excuse. Please, forgive me. I know you are here to ensure Pinky’s interests are protected, and I thank you for that. Just I am very nervous.”

"Nothing to forgive, Joanie. The Senator and Judge Juday have told me what you did to catch Ms Conner’s assailants -- most impressive.”

"They told you *everything*?" I laughed nervously. "I don’t like it when people are preyed upon, and Pinky surely did not deserve what happened to her. I always was this way, but since my mutation, it has intensified to almost a compulsion. I had to do something to help her; my conscience would not accept anything less. I was right, too; Pinky is worth the effort.”

Pinky gave me a hug. "I couldn’t believe she’d do this for me, after how I’d acted, but I’ve learned Joanie is that way to everyone -- well, almost everyone. She wants to like people and for them to like her. I wish my mom was like that, but ... even when I was little, she was never real close to anyone. I still love her, even if she doesn’t love me.”

We were advised how to act during the hearing, and what to expect. Judge Benton had met previously with Pinky’s mom, and both sides agreed to abide by her decision in this informal meeting. We soon were at her old home; Pinky was both excited to be home and apprehensive. We were met by the rest of Pinky's legal team and a court reporter. We walked to the door and rang the bell.

"Judge Benton, ladies, gentlemen welcome.” A man, obviously a lawyer, said as he let us in.

I looked around. The house was well kept and clean, but lacking in warm touches. I noticed shadows on the wall where paintings or photos used to hang but had been removed some time back. The few items on display appeared religious in nature. There was nothing secular, or of her family, visible.

"What’s with the shadows on the wall? Something’s been changed here,” I whispered to Pinky.

"Those were family photos, and my school photos from before my ... Mine came down, after I mutated. I see Dad’s are down, too, but then they separated, didn’t they? The religious stuff is new, for the most part.”

"Hang in there, Hon. Maybe your mom will see the light. Her turning to faith to seek forgiveness may be a good sign.” I whispered.

Judge Benton sat at the dining room table. Our group sat on one side of the dining room/living room, her mom’s people on the other. Mrs. Conners entered the room. I could see much of Pinky in her mom’s features, but this woman was unhappy, almost grim in her expression.

Judge Benton began. "This meeting is to determine the legal status of Ms Pamela *Pinky* Conner. Both parties have stipulated to the court they will abide by its rulings and to the informal nature of today’s proceedings. For the record, the court reporter will make a transcript of this hearing. Don’t think of this as a formal hearing so much as an informal gathering to decide how best to meet the needs of the minor, Pamela Connors. Please feel free to speak your mind, but let us have some decorum, okay?”

Each side presented its case for why they had Pinky’s best interest at heart. They presented a signed, notarized deposition from the wayward father, in which he relinquished any claims to Pamela’s guardianship. Pinky knew it was inevitable, but I noticed her cry, nevertheless. Part of her wanted a happy family, and her father's document was another nail in that coffin. Her mom’s lawyers major argument was she needed a structured life and discipline, as her mutation had led to "unstable behavior.”

"You call being drugged and raped by your own doctor ‘unstable behavior’ on my part?” Pinky was furious and barely restrained herself at the implied accusation.

"Ms Conner, you will have your turn to speak. Please, do not interrupt,” the judge admonished her.

Her mom’s lawyers and advisors looked happy. "We propose Ms. Pamela’s current guardian’s rights be terminated, as she has stipulated, and that she be returned to the joint custody of her natural mother and of the The Unified Church of the One True Faith. With their resources, Ms Pamela will be cured and restored to a productive life.”

~~Cured, of what? Being a mutant?~~

"I have reports of her class work, deportment, and the recommendation of her school psychologist. They indicate she is doing well under the supervision of her current guardian. The court has the reports from her former school both pre- and post-mutation for comparison. In fact, she is doing far better than at any time since her mutation, and in some aspects better than at any time in her life. Why change the status quo?” the judge asked.

"Though we commend Ms Brown for her care of Pamela...,”

~~Yeah, like *I* believe that line, Mister Shyster.~~

"... we fear she is unfortunately biased when it comes to mutants and lacks the necessary detachment to act in Pamela’s best interest. We attribute her apparent improvement to the sheltered environment she is in. In the long run, we believe this will hurt her, as she will not have worked through her difficulties relating to normal people and has simply ignored it. We believe strongly in preserving the natural family, whenever practical. Ms Brown’s custody of Pamela deprives her of contact with her mother, her blood.”

I wanted to respond but held my tongue, letting our legal people earn their keep.

"Your honor, respected council is intimating that because Ms Brown is a mutant woman that somehow disqualifies her from understanding the needs of a mutant girl. We argue precisely the opposite. Ms Brown’s decades of life experience prior to her mutation, combined with her intimate knowledge of the stresses of becoming a mutant, make her perfectly suited to guide Ms Conner to a healthy adulthood. Her having once been a man gives her insight of the male aspects of Miss Conner alternating female/dual sex existence few could match. That she has the facilities of America’s, and arguably the world’s, finest educational and research institute for mutants to assist her makes the case for her continued guardianship of Ms Conner all the more compelling.

"As to denying her contact with family, her aunt -- her mother’s sister -- is a respected senior administrator at the school."

~~Not a lie per se. Ms Hartford IS respected... as to liked ...well.~~

"They have an ongoing, close relationship, with the guardian's full blessing. Her aunt is also a mutant and understands the hardships it can place on a teenage girl, That the mother and her sister are estranged is unfortunate, but that does not preclude the aunt from helping her niece. We have a notarized deposition from the aunt, Ms Amelia Hartford, for the court's consideration.”

~~The barracuda of administration likes her niece! What else can I say?~~

It went on like this for some time, each side making its case and refuting the other. I was asked questions by both sides and the court. I was as honest and calm as I could be. Essentially, I said I loved her like a sister but had no problems acting as her mother when necessary. I emphasized I only wanted the best for her, be that her returning to her biological mom, remaining in my custody, or something else.

Finally Pinky took *the stand.*

"Ms Conner, in your own words tell us what *you* want, not what you think the court or others expect you to say. You are in a difficult situation, and any choice will have consequences. Take your time.”

"I miss my mother, and what we used to have when I was little, but then Mom and I were never real close. I think her sister -- my aunt -- mutating upset her and made her withdraw from others. Still, Mom was, and is, a good person and a good mother ... I want to live with her ...”

"We move Ms Connor be give into the custody of ...”

"You had your turn, several in fact. Please let the young woman have hers. Just because I said to treat this as an informal gathering does not diminish the fact this is a legal hearing both parties agreed to. I am willing to grant considerably leeway, but don't push it.

"Continue, Ms Conner, I take it you have not finished. Take as long as you need, dear,” the judge interrupted.

"What I was saying is that I Iove my mother and would like to live with her, but I can’t see that happening, not as things are now. Everything I heard today convinces me she believes being a mutant is a disease, or unholy in some way, and that they cannot be trusted. How can I live with someone who automatically discounts anything I say?

"Mom, tell the truth, don't sugar coat it to spare my feelings. Do you believe I lied, when I said my doctor drugged and raped me?”

"The man was framed; that evidence was pieced together and made up. I believe you think he assaulted you, but that is the disease of your mutation talking, not my lovely Pinky. My friends tell me they have treatments to make you whole again; I only want what’s best.”’

"That is all I need to know. Judge, I wish to remain under the care of Joanie until I am of legal age. Mom, I’m sorry, but it won’t work out.”

"Fine, if that’s all the respect you have for your family. Go live with your mutant *friends*, for all I care. My daughter died the day she turned into that thing.”

My dear friend cried. It took some time to console her. It took longer for my emotions to settle down, but I managed to hide it. I had to be strong for her.

We broke up, not long after that. Her lawyers tried to mitigate the damage of the mother's outburst, but it was too little, too late. The judge ordered a full audit of all family and individual assets, to see if there were any legacies or other assets belonging to Pinky still under her parents' control. Her parents were ordered to put a certain percentage of their gross annual incomes, along with a percentage of their assets, into a trust for Pinky’s future educational needs, to be administered by a court-appointed trustee. Though he'd given up his parental rights, Daddy-dearest was not going to weasel out of his financial responsibilities, nor her mother.

Before we left, Pinky was given the opportunity to recover any personal belongings or things of sentimental value to her. She took surprisingly little. Understandable as I think back on it. She had grown considerably since last living at home, not counting her female to male and female alternating cycle. Seeing the bulk of her childhood reduced to the contents of a couple suitcases was unsettling to me. Her mother did let her take some family photos saying she didn't want them.

* * * *
The drive back to the airport was somber interrupted by an odd conversation.

"Pinky," Judge Benton began, "I must compliment you on how you handled yourself under difficult circumstances. Everything your teachers and friends said about you was true: you are a mature and intelligent young woman.

”Thank you, Barbie." We were all on a first name basis, by now. Judge Benton had reminded me and Pinky many times to drop the formality. I was pleased the judge thought enough of her feelings to let Pinky interact with her as an adult. "But this is not what you wanted to talk about, was it? Speak freely, I trust everyone here." Pinky reciprocated Judge Benton's kindness by acting as mature as she possibly could. It was impressive but then she is very bright. I suspect her IQ is significantly higher than mine, and I'm no knuckle-dragger myself. I walk erect AND chew bubble-gum at the same time, honest!

'You're practically a genius ... for a blonde,' I *heard* some of you thinking, dear readers. Very funny. P.S.: I *know* where you live.

"I'm a children's court judge, Pinky; that's, in part, why I was called in on your behalf. I must warn you there is a slight, but real, possibility your birth mother could regain custody, if her lawyers can find a sympathetic judge. I won't go into all the details, but technically they could make a case that this was not a *proper proceeding*. In the end we would win, I have no doubt. They agreed in the presence of witnesses, and at most we bent the rules but didn't break them. Still, there is a small risk. But there is a solution if you are willing. This concerns you as well, Joanie, so listen closely."

"What must we do?"

"To the point, Pinky, as expected,"

"I'll do anything I can, just ask." I added.

"This plan asks a lot from both of you. To prevent your mother regaining custody, we need to make your legal status unassailable. You are too young to be emancipated -- that is, given the legal status of an adult — but you can change the status of your guardianship, if you and Joanie are willing?"

"Absolutely! Whatever it takes."

"Me too. I could never go back to my mom, as she is now; I'll do whatever you recommend."

"One last question then, Pinky: How do you think of Joanie? What is she to you?" Judge Barbie asked.

"She is my best friend -- more like my sister, maybe even like a twin sister? She is the person I most aspire to emulate." She grinned. "I was practicing my English grammar; sorry, Judge Benton."

~~Why so formal, Pinky?~~

"Go on, Pinky."

"I trust her with my life and would do anything to help her. She's more of a mother to me than Mom ever was, even before I mutated."

"And you, Joanie?"

"Pinky is the closest friend I have. That's not to say I'm not equally as close with your two grandchildren, Joe, or with Babs, but I see Pinky every day. I worry about her when I don't see her when I expect to. I cheer when she does well, and I hurt when she hurts. When she smiles, my heart lights up. When her mom denounced her today, it was like a knife to my gut seeing her pain."

"Do you think Joanie's sexy? Do you dream of her? Do the two of you ever.... "

"What? She's my best friend! I could never hurt her ... You think Joanie is having sex with me? That's sick! She would never do that. Sure, I think she's sexy; you'd have to be blind not to see it. But Joanie, the person, is prettier still. She would never betray a trust. Plus she's totally dedicated to this hunky boy, she'd ... She just wouldn't."

"Are you happy now? You made Pinky cry. *Respectfully*, what the hell was that about?! I don't care if you are a judge, that was plain out wrong!"

"I told you so," Senator Joe spoke up.

"I apologize for my rude questions, but I had to be sure. In court, sometimes, it's this bad or worse, but still that doesn't excuse my behavior. Forgiven?"

"Yes ... This was a test?

"Told you Pinky is smart cookie." The Senator sounded like a proud grandparent.

"Pinky, what if you could chose your mom? If you could choose who ..."

"Joanie! Please, please, please?"

Pinky was bouncing all over the place or would have been if not for the seatbelt. *I* remained dignified and calm.

"You want me to adopt ...? Where do I sign? When? Oh my ghod, Daddy's gonna have a stroke, when I tell him I'm an unwed mother ... of a teenager at that. Sorry, I'm sooooo sorry. Did I just slap your face, Joe?" he nodded but smiled. "Crap! Did I kick someone, I'm ..." A certain woman pointed at herself. "'Sooorry!, Judg ... um Barbie." I felt like an idiot. Thank Ghod Pinky's interruption saved me.

"You'll have me?" Pinky looked like a little kid wondering if Santa had come.

"Was there ever any doubt?" I never imagined a hundred pounds of girl could move that fast or squeeze that hard.

~~I'll never be cruel to a toothpaste tube again.~~

"Pinky, I can't breathe!" Mind you I doubt if anyone heard me as our ears were ringing from Pinky's shrieks of joy. I remained cool and collected and bawled like baby, I was so happy.

* * * *

We spent the next hour signing and witnessing legal paper after legal paper. We arrived at the airport and said our farewells to the two judges. Doctor Sara would rejoin us for the flight back to Berlin and Whateley. She'd rested at a nearby hotel, while we'd met with Ms. Connors and her lawyers.

"I can't thank you enough, Barbie, for what you did for us. I may not be her birth mom, but I will be the best mom I can for Pinky."

"That you will be, Joanie."

"You said your being a children's court judge was part of why you were asked to help. What's the rest? You must be good at what you do to be called in on this."

"You'll have to ask my husband about that."

"I refuse to answer on the grounds my wife will kill me." Judge Juday replied.

"Whaaa?"

"I kept my maiden name when we married, Joanie" The two judges then engaged in some highly *unprofessional conduct*; oh my yes!

"I'm tempted to ask what happens when you go into chambers, but I don't want to spend ten to twenty in Leavenworth ... Did *I* say that out loud? Sorry, blonde moment but then I'm entitled." I giggled and blushed. They were a very tactile couple and at their age too.

"You were right, Joe. Dinner's on me, next get together."

"Were you two gambling?" Doctor Sara asked, walking in on our conversation.

"Not with Joanie; that was a sure thing."

"You say the kindest things, Joe -- I think."

* * * *

To Be continued

in chapter 13

John in Wauwatosa

Timeout First Christmas

Author:

John in Wauwatosa

Publication:

Serial Chapter

Genre:

Science Fiction

Character Age:

Mature / Thirty+

TG Universes & Series:

Whateley Academy by Maggie Finson, et al

TG Themes:

Accidental

Permission:

December 2006 Holiday Story Contest Entry

Synopsis:

Another BigCloset TopShelf story.

This covers my heroine Joanie’s first Christmas as a woman -- her first ever away from her birth family. She learns valuable lessions in the week before Christmas and returns the favor. All while struggling to make sense of being young, female and a mutant. I made this story as “stand alone” as I could to aid those not familiar with my Whateley Academy Fan Fic

Story:

Timeout, First Christmas: A Whateley Academy Fan fiction

(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117)."

This is my first entry in Erin’s holiday 2006 story contest at BC. This story covers my heroine Joanie’s first Christmas season as a woman -- her first ever separated from her birth family. This fits in around page nine of Timeout 2, Chapter 6 in my epic TG mutant superheroine saga and excuse to recycle old jokes. Your constructive criticism and advice does wonders. 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, 2005-2006.

I have tried to make this story as much “stand alone” as I could to aid those not familiar with my Whateley Academy Fan Fic.

Adult content advisory: this chapter may contain situations and topics unsuitable for children. It’s usually mild stuff, but you were warned.

Timeout, First Christmas

By John from Wauwatosa
Rhetorical refinement by Itinerant
Additional verbiage verisimilitude by Janet Nolan

Chapter 1, A Question of Balance

Whateley Academy Dunwich, December 20, 2006-January 01, 2007

December 20, 2006, 11PM Poe Hall

Today has not gone well. Let’s be honest -- today sucked. Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not ladylike, but then I’ve only been one for less than six months. Give me a break! Two days ago I turned 49 on national TV -- well, technically 49. Oh, I was born 49 years ago, but that was John, the old me. Joan, the new me, is either seventeen or from a practical standpoint six months.

I’d always been at home on my birthday; this was the first time I was not, and it hurt. I was occupied at the time -- the appearance on TV -- so I paid it no heed, but it caught up with a vengeance today. No sunshine cake with powdered sugar made by my mom; no funny money-filled birthday card from my grandma and grandpa. Though they were dead one, thirteen and eleven years respectively, I missed them terribly. Not even a call from my uncle on the north side of town -- he’s alive but doesn’t/can’t know what happened to me. Two aunts, a sister and mom all lost in under a year. Oh great, here come the waterworks, thinking of mom sets me off without fail.

“It’s not fair!” I sobbed.

~~Damn, now I’m crying,~~

* * * *

Where was I? After my mutation from a middle-aged man to this fire-cracker of a seventeen year old -- complete with cool mutant powers; I can manipulate time and I’m a regenerator -- my life was turned on its head and then some. I had this marvelous ‘second chance’ everyone kept telling me, but I hadn’t a clue what do with myself. The big problem for me was the necessity to separate myself from my old friends and family; my powers made me too tempting a target for unethical medical researchers, kidnappers or worse.

In Madison, I was too busy and frankly too involved to be lonely -- Carrie, Red, Gin and Dari, my lady friends from the Madison Supers Group, saw to that. Sadly, that situation was not what I wanted. I enjoyed it immensely; for a while my *personal* life was a men’s magazine fantasy story. I was in lesbian heaven, to be blunt, but it was lacking something. I wasn’t sure what I wanted then, but from observing my friends and colleagues I know now what I wanted -- it’s what I want now -- a family.

~~I remember our family when I was little, and I see that same joy in the Williams family. I’m so grateful I could save Mel’s life; she’ll be a remarkable woman in time. That I became friends with her family is pure gravy. I hope someday I’m as happy as they are. I’d love to have a daughter like Mel, a son like Eric and a husband like Bob. I remember Bob in that sweaty body-hugging running suit he wore in November. To paraphrase Young Frankenstein, Woof!~~

For now, Whateley Academy is the place for me; a place to *find* myself -- that is cliché but true. I’m not sure specifically what I want other than this vague concept of *family*.

~~You tell yourself that one until you believe it, girrrl. You’re the one who cajoled Eric into inviting you to a school dance this coming February. Like you’re so pure in your interest in men, or in Eric. You *know* exactly what you want and it’s attached to a man right between his ....~~

Ah-hum, as I was saying, I find myself eyeing both the boys and girls my physical *age* -- upper teens or early twenties. Jeese, get your heads out of the gutter, folks. I’m not a sex hungry pervert, despite what my *libido* intimates.

~~Hear THAT libido? I *have* control. Just because I fantasize about doing *it* simultaneously with the entire Mormon Tabernacle Choir does nor mean I don’t have control.~~

Dear readers of my diary/journal/whatever, when I got this whole sexy-young-optimized-version-of--my-female-genes-and-BIT mutant makeover back in July I apparently opted for the *giant-family-sized libido at no extra charge* option. You know -- your basic nubile nympho package. You may all roll your tongues back in your mouths now, readers. Honestly, I’m not aroused all the time, but I guarantee I will not die with my legs together.

~~I just said that?~~

Sorry, but it’s fun pulling your chains, readers. It was circumstance and my 48 plus years as a man that made women my first choice as romantic partners, post-mutation. I have no regrets and would love to have another tumble with my girlfriends, but the lure of family is too strong -- men are looking better to me by the day.

I’m so proud; I leave myself a setup, yet refrain from making a tasteless joke about the Tabernacle having one of the biggest and finest organs … Maybe I’d better explain why today plain-out sucked.

~~Keep that up kiddo and there won’t be enough bars of soap in the world to wash your filthy mouth out with.~~

* * * *

I spent most of the day with Whateley Security being fitted for uniforms and equipment -- everything from batons to body armor. I can take or leave shopping; I’m not a die hard in-and-out stereotypical guy shopper or the supposed shop-till-you-drop woman. I can and do enjoy shopping, and can see the excitement some people get from it, but the meticulous fitting, adjusting, re-fitting and ‘this is how you properly care for and store your yada-yada-yada Mark Seven, Auxiliary Officer-trainee Joan’ was too much.

There were a few funny moments. My figure in body armor was something out of a sci-fi space epic -- Barbarella eat your heart out -- but the tedium wore me down. I felt vaguely unhappy at first, and got less enthused as the day went on. I had a checkout on the gun range midday. Turns out I’m a decent shot, but then exemplars often excel at athletics. They found a problem though.

“Joanie, were you a pacifist as a man?” the range instructor asked.

We had gone through the whole, ‘Call me Joanie, everyone else does,’ shtick earlier.

“No. I wasn’t. I don’t like fighting, but I could see where it might be justified,” I replied, slightly annoyed.

I have to be careful about my body language and tone of voice. Coming off annoyed given my looks and voice is easily confused with “I want what’s in your pants, stallion.” Between that and being 17 -- in both appearance and physiology -- I have my share of frustration. That is, the 49 year-old man in me does, my female ‘inner child’ thinks this is all a blast -- girls just want to have fun and all that.

“I’m a moderate-level empath and I sensed your momentary revulsion at shooting at the silhouettes and particularly the holographic movies of real people. You did what you had to; you shot the perps who were threats, but you hesitated. It’s enough to make me worry you might choke at the real thing or delay long enough to get somebody hurt,” he replied.

“But isn’t that what training is for, to learn when and when not to shoot? I’d think you’d want to err towards shooting late rather than shooting too soon and killing innocents,” I countered testily.

“It’s my duty to evaluate all recruits and periodically re-evaluate existing officers to see how they will react in a crisis. You appear to operate on instinct when a crisis hits, Joanie. The way you acted to save the girl on Labor Day is proof. You ran into traffic without a moment’s hesitation, and I studied all the available video and stills once I knew I was assigned to evaluate you. I also studied the CCTV and sensor logs of your encounter with the Omegas here at Whateley. Your action in both cases was commendable, yet troubling given your reactions on the shooting range,” the instructor explained.

“Troubling how?” I asked.

“You are fearless in action, yet violence is so against your nature that you suffer an almost immediate attack of PTSD afterward or so it appears,” he said.

“I used my time-stop in both cases; it fatigues me. And the two situations were stressful,” I countered.

“But why do you get sick? Does the adrenalin rush and fatigue account for it or not? Your reaction to firearms worries me. You shot well. As an exemplar I’d expect no less. Emotionally you exhibited significant revulsion in holding a firearm, despite your admiration for the workmanship in their manufacture and your satisfaction in your marksmanship.”

“I hear lots of police and soldiers get sick after traumatic events, why is it odd that I do? Plus I’ve rarely handled firearms in my life, and they do deserve respect as lethal weapons, particularly the handguns. I mean, handguns are only good for target shooting and killing people. My Ghod, am I that antigun?” I exclaimed.

“I believe you’re more anti-death than anti-gun, Joanie, but we can work with that. Some of our best officers are that way. Our own Sam Everheart was a military sniper; one of the best. She killed many in her time in service, and some with her bare hands. Officer Everheart has killed, and will kill, without hesitation when required. She is serious in her dedication to duty, but she is not a killer at heart. She abhors death. My worry is you might fail to take the lethal shot when it is necessary. Your instinct to help at any cost is at war with your revulsion at death -- see the dilemma?” he explained.

“What do we do?”

“I may have a compromise. While we work on adjusting your instincts, I think you should carry Tazers instead of a projectile weapon. Tazers are not 100 percent non-lethal, but they are certainly less injurious than a nine-millimeter semi automatic, a pump shotgun, or a fifty caliber rifle with rocket-assisted armor piercing shells. With a minimal amount of training, you’ll have an effective weapon you’ll be less hesitant to use when necessary. We will work hard to train you in unarmed combat and how to safely restrain a suspect. The British police got away without the use of firearms by much of their force for years. There is no reason you can’t be equally effective, particularly with your mutant powers and the special Tazer loads we’re helping develop for controlling supers. We even took energizers and bricks into account,” the range instructor explained.

We made arrangements to meet the next morning to try shooting some Tazer loads on the test range. He’d been professional with me, yet I felt … I wasn’t sure what I felt other than dissatisfied in some way.

* * * *

I tried calling my father several times during the day, but all I got was his answering machine. I tried my sister, but her husband, Tony, answered.

“She’s in the hospital as ….”

“Hospital! What’s wrong Tony? Tell me! Oh Ghod, don’t let it be pneumonia again or ….” I screamed into the phone, and sobbed. I was losing control fast.

“Joanie, calm down, she’s fine; it’s a precaution. Your sister developed an upper respiratory infection, and after that previous one that became double-pneumonia, they took no chances. Your dad is with her now; I’ll see her later. Yes, I *still* don’t have a driver’s license.”

~~So that’s why Dad didn’t answer.~~

“Do you have her number so I can call? I’d feel so much better if I could talk with her, and I think it would cheer her up.”

“If the strain proves to be easily treatable, she gets out tomorrow. They are waiting on the results. They want her to rest, so they turned off her phone. I’ll let her know you called,” Tony said.

“You do that; I feel so helpless,” I sighed.

~~This is fuckin’ great. The last three times one of us was admitted to the hospital, two never recovered. My older sister died in the damned place.~~

“You okay, Joanie? You don’t sound too good.”

“Hospitals scare me after Mom and big sis. I guess it’s that and the holiday blues. I’m lonely and feeling sorry for myself; it’s nothing serious, Tony. I’m homesick and I miss all of you. When she’s healthy, take my sister someplace nice like a weekend at a classy hotel. Hell, take her to Hawaii, she loved it. I’ll pay,” I said.

“I can pay!”

“I owe you both. Consider it your joint Christmas present and to make up for the cheap wedding present I gave you two. I owe my baby sister something better than that waffle-maker, and you make her happy so I owe you, Tony. I’d better go. Give her my love, Tony,” I said and hung up, my face wet with silent tears.

~~Ghod, not her too. Please, let my sister be well.~~

* * * *

I had a late lunch/early supper and was in a royal funk. It was quiet on campus with so many students on vacation. There were enough who couldn’t, wouldn’t, or shouldn’t travel home for the holidays that our cafeteria, the Crystal Hall, was partially filled, but nothing like normal. My emotional state was to the point I didn’t care about anything. I was in a strange mood even by my own standards. I started to sing at random -- anything that came to mind -- then I remembered it.

“I don’t love the mountains
And I don’t love the sea
And I don’t love Jesus
He never done a thing for me
I ain’t pretty like my sister
Or smart like my dad
Or good like my momma

It’s Money That I Love
It’s Money That I Love”

As I belted out the 1979 Randy Newman tune, a couple of the students in the Crystal Hall began playing along. Several must have been fans of this style of music, as a boy sat down at an old upright piano on the side of the room and began banging out the piano lead. Another quickly plugged in a practice amp and played electric guitar. Still others tapped out the rhythm on the tables. I climbed atop my table and sang my pain and frustrations out.

“They say that money
Can’t buy love in this world
But it’ll get you a half-pound of cocaine
And a sixteen-year-old girl
And a great big long limousine
On a hot September night
Now that may not be love
But it is alright

One. two
It’s Money That I Love
Wanna kiss you
Three. four
It’s Money That I Love”

I was oblivious to everyone and everything while my aching, confused heart latched onto the cynicism and biting social commentary of Newman’s satirical gem.

“Used to worry about the poor
But I don’t worry anymore
Used to worry about the black man
Now I don’t worry abut the black man
I used to worry about the starving children of India
You know what I say now about the starving children of India?

I say. Oh mama”

It’s Money That I Love
It’s Money That I Love
It’s Money That I Love”

* * * *

I calmed down and heard a fair crowd of kids applauding me. I smiled, embarrassed -- I think I blushed -- and climbed down from the table to the great relief of the watching food service employees.

~~Thank Ghod I wore jeans and not a skirt … skin-tight figure flattering show-everything fashion-jeans … Thank Ghod I wore underwear.~~

“Joanie, that was, like wow! You ever think of starting a band at Whateley?” asked a lithe-looking young girl who had been drumming along on the tables -- the drum-sticks in her hands were a dead give-a-way.

“You think others here would like to play old-fogie music?” I asked back smiling, buoyed by her enthusiasm.

“If it’s stuff like that one, you bet! I’d join in a second if you were serious about it. The competition to get into bands is fierce at Whateley, what with so many kids with mutant powers that enhance their musical talent. We could use another band, and it would be fun. So many want to play the hard-edged stuff or the latest *coming trend*. To lay back and *groove* on some oldies would be way cool. That’s cool with a ‘C’, Joanie, I do know my ancient history,” said the girl then she snickered happily.

"I’ll think about it, but with break on until after New Years it doesn’t make any sense to start organizing one until the next term starts,” I replied. “What was your name, Miss?”

“I’m Lonnie; I’m a freshman in sorcery. Cauldrons, wands, spell books, all the wickedly cool old stuff. Know someone you want to put a curse on? They’re on sale this week at K-Mart -- in the bed, bath, and bewitchments department,” she said and smiled.

I looked at her and it dawned on me.

“That was so bad!” I said wincing.

~~I’m so glad she didn’t add it was a bell, book and blue-light special.~~

“Don’t look at me like that, Joanie, sorceresses are allowed bad jokes same as everyone else. Maybe I’ll see you in class this spring; I hear you’re a teacher,” she said.

“I’m also a student as I’ve been a teenage mutant ninja turtle for less than six months,” I said.

“Teenage mutant ninja turtle?” Lonnie questioned in her confusion. “Oh, you’re a tease; you mean those cartoons, comic books and movies,” she finished and laughed. “If you do start a band, remember me. I’m a good drummer and I saw what you did to those Omega creeps. The Omegas gave me a hard time once, they claimed I’d insulted them — I don’t know what I did to them, if anything. I think they were looking to make an example of someone and I was handy. The creeps roughed me up, ruined a class assignment I’d worked for days on, and tore my clothes, but there were no witnesses. I owe you, and you stopped them without hurting anyone. That impressed me even more. Mom always said it’s actions that count, not words. You helped a lot of kids, more than you know. And you made a friend -- thanks, friend,” she said, hugged me and walked off.

* * * *
I tried several more times to call home that evening, but dad never picked up and it was getting late. I fell into an uneasy sleep.

~~ What will tomorrow be like? What will my future be …~~

-- Zzzzz … --

* * * *

The Farm, Dunwich NH, December 18, 2016

Dear d/j/w. I have not made many entries recently in this, the chronicle of my life since my mutation. Today seems as good a day as any other to remedy the oversight. I admit that I have been extraordinarily busy these last few years with my duties -- correction, my delightful duties at Whateley Academy. They take considerable time on my part, but I regret not a minute …

-- Zzzzz … --

Today I turned 59. It amazes me still, though years older than my beloved, I remain by all physical measures 17; I haven’t aged a second since my mutation completed. My soul-mate has gone to Berlin airport to pick up my two best friends …

-- Zzzzz … --

His sister, my dear friend is in her fourth year at Georgetown and is considered by many the most eligible bachelorette in America. That her daddy just won a second term has a lot to do with it, but then she is stunningly beautiful. She flew in with my daughter, who is returning from a field trip to Egypt arranged through a friend and colleague …

-- Zzzzz … --

My daughter is everything I could hope for in a child save for one thing, and I love her all the more for that. I have a graduation present for my young “doctor” if she wants it -- the Meridian Chair. I hope she takes it, as I will soon be too busy for the research and oversight it demands.

I’d worried that our joint announcement in 2012 that she was my legally adopted …

-- Zzzzz … --

I admit I have an ulterior motive in offering her the Meridian Chair; my due date is in May and caring for twin girls ….

-- Zzzzz … --

-- Zzz … --

-- Uh? … --

“Aaaaaaaaah!”

* * * *

December 21, 2006, 4:25AM

I woke up in a cold sweat, screaming this morning -- not my preferred way to start the day.

~~Where the hell did that dream come from?~~

I admit I have a growing desire to start a family -- what with this second chance and all -- but a daughter who’s a doctoral candidate a mere ten years from now? Adopted, so the dream said, though dreams are not always logical. As to hubby and his sister, that’s easy. I was thinking about doing something to thank the Johnson family for how kind they’ve been to me. My goofy subconscious must have made Eric my husband and Mel my best friend. The husband bit must be because I have this dance I’m attending with him in February. Mel being my ‘best friend’ makes sense; I do love the bouncing beautiful blonde bundle of boisterousness.

~~Note to self: forced alliteration SUCKS. Do not, repeat, do not do it, Joanie.~~

The relative ages of my *husband*, his sister, and I, and their dad being President -- the ‘second term’ seems to imply he’s the President -- is a dead-give-away they must be the Johnsons. It all follows logically: their dad is Iowa’s governor and their grandfather a long-time US Senator. The press is speculating the Governor may run for president. My mind simply filled in the gaps. As to Mel being a famous beauty: I like her, and based on her current looks and her parents’ appearance, it’s not much of a long-shot.

As to my being pregnant with twins … It’s so obvious, Mom lost a set of twins between the births of my younger sister and me. I’m fulfilling her lost hope.

~~Ooh, this dream interpretation stuff is a snap, I wonder if there is any money in it?~~

My good mood soon evaporated, however.

* * * *

Tina caught up with me at the Crystal Hall for breakfast.

“What’s wrong, sweet-stuff? You look down,” she said.

‘I don’t know. I didn’t sleep well. Maybe after finally getting to Whateley I don’t have any immediate goals? Is this the anticlimax?” I asked, drearily.

“You’re away from your old friends and family for the holiday. That could be it,” she offered.

“I’ve always been home or with my family this time of year,” I said, then yawned.

“Come to our house for Christmas Day. Chris and I have a ham and a duck ready to roast and lots of other things. Please come, we’d love to have you.”

“Tina, I’d love that too, but remember the mental feedback loop?” I said, and licked my lips provocatively.

“Joanie, I meant … okay, I meant *that* too but I was inviting you to dinner with my sister and me. Can you cook?” she asked.

“I’m an Eagle Scout -- be prepared and all that -- I can cook, sort of,” I said and smiled.

“If you can we’d appreciate the help, and we can get to know each other better but in a safe way,” Tina said.

We’d toyed with a romantic relationship when I first arrived at Whateley, that proved *interesting * to put it mildly. Regrettably the Anderson twins’ empathic/telepathic powers and my own passive yet powerful mental powers made such a relationship dangerous. In the height of passion it was possible for us to interlock our emotions, and the positive feedback generated could have damaged our minds. We decided to become friends, and I am grateful for that emotional support.

“When are you planning on eating? At what time do you have to start the duck and ham? I can bake mouth-watering buns and bread the same morning -- not that marshmallow and cardboard stuff from the store,” I replied. “That’s if you can give me the oven for a couple hours.”

“Chris and I were figuring on eating around one or two o'clock. We have one regular oven and a smaller countertop convection oven. The ham and duck could fit in the big one together with care or one-at-a-time in the countertop unit. I think it’s about three or four hours for the ham, two or so for the duck. Why?”

“If I can come early -- like six or seven in the morning -- I can make buns, and maybe something special if I can get mom’s old recipe from Sis,” I offered and grinned.

“The rapturous expression on your face says this is a favorite,” Tina said.

“Let me do this and I’m your slave, Mistress. I’ll bring everything I need except for the oven,” I made an overly grand bow and prostrated myself at her feet — I was right out of some bad Arabian Nights film.

“Oh, choices? Great food and a willing sex-kitten vs. nothing -- tough choice, you’re on,” Tina said.

I sprang-up, threw my arms around her, and French-kissed her despite the risk. Then I sat down like nothing had happened.

“Wow! That for letting you cook for us? Honey, we’ll let you spackle our walls, if you’ll have sex with us,” Tina offered panting and flushed. I was hamming it up, this was such fun.

“If you’ll let me muck about in your septic-tank leach-field, I’ll have your babies,” I said huskily.

I made this feline stretch of my entire body by placing my feet against the edge of the table and pushing back — very sensual -- and promptly fell as my chair’s back legs slipped when I rocked it back too far. Poor Tina laughed so hard she felt embarrassed afterward. I simply felt embarrassed, and deliriously happy again.

~~What’s with the yoyo mood swings? It’s not like I’m … Doh! I’m two days from my period.~~ Somehow I found *that* realization to be hilarious, don’t ask me why. I think the vivacious teenage girl I am was sick of the grumpy old man I was acting like — you go girl!

* * * *

After my much needed cheering-up at the hands of the delectable Ms. Tina Anderson, I checked in with Security for my Tazer practice. I found it was delayed for a few days as we were unacceptably low on both the practice rounds and real ones for the Tazers as an after-effect of the assault on campus this last Halloween. Somehow, in the mad shuffle to recover from the disaster of Halloween, replenishing the Tazer ammo had been forgotten. Given the horrors of that day, forgetting to order Tazer loads was an understandable error. My own experiences that October evening in Madison were little better, but that is another story.

* * * *

I gave my sister a call on her cell and was relieved to hear her voice.

“Good morning, Joh … Joanie,” she corrected herself. “Isn’t caller ID fun? Who else would ‘ID blocked, Dunwich NH' be?”

“It’s a good morning if you’re at home and getting better. You gave me a scare, Sis,” I said.

“Tony told me you were crying. I’m sorry you were frightened, but I’m a tough girl. I’m not checking out anytime soon,” she said.

“Don’t you dare, not after mom and big sis ... Do you have mom’s old cookbooks? I need the turkey with giblets stuffing recipe; I’m cooking for some friends for Christmas.”

“The Old Settlement Cookbook? Dad has that but I can get it. You want me to scan the recipe and email it to you, Sis?” she asked.

“Would you? I know the ingredients but not the measures,” I said.

“And preparing it will remind you of home. I knew you back when you were my brother, and I know you now, girl,” she said, and laughed with a touch of a wheeze, but no cough.

~~Thank Ghod!~~

“You get well! I want my children to know their aunt,” I said for no reason I knew of.

“Aunt? What have you been doing, and who is he, Joanie?”

“I mean I want you to live a long life. I have to find a man before I can think of having children; I’m an old-fashioned girl at heart. I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you thought. I’m not some blonde slut, I’m a 17 year-old strawberry blonde with a healthy sex … I guess I am a slut at heart,” I said and giggled.

“Joanie, you’re a healthy seventeen-year-old girl who used to be a man. Of course you’re a slut. Take care, *baby* sister,” she said, laughing as she hung up before I could get her back.

* * * *

With my time being entirely open due to lack of ammo, I wonder if this can get an honorable mention under weird diary entries?~~ I decided to shop for what I’d need to bake my contributions to the Anderson’s Christmas feast. It was a pleasant December day. Everyone I could mooch a ride from was busy, so I decided to take my ancient Harley since the roads were clear except for some minor drifting snow.

I’d changed into some warm clothes — insulated stirrup pants, ski socks, a synthetic flannel shirt, and a wool sweater. I then stepped into a winter cycle-suit — an insulated jumpsuit is an apt description. A pair of insulated cold-weather riding boots ensured my feet were toasty. More of my favorite Steve Zink’s, these were equipped with military grade micro vacuum-bead insulation. The ankle supports, traction-patterned sole, various scuff-guards and a modest two-inch block heel made them practical and stylish.

Wind-proof heavily insulated riding gloves with draw-string gauntlets and a full-face helmet with a *skirt* that sealed to the riding suit with Velcro kept the wind of my skin. I made sure to carry my tool kit and a cold-weather emergency kit just in case. I grabbed my fully-charged cell phone and rode-off after informing Security of my destination.

* * * *

Berlin and Gorham had the best selection of shops but I decided to give Dunwich a try as it was closer. Dunwich was a bust except for a great jewelry maker’s shop, where I got a pair of matching gold and platinum locket necklaces, the kind you can keep photos in.

“Melissa will love this,” I said to the jeweler, a forty-ish lady.

I had her engrave one, ‘To my bestest friend, Mel. Love Joanie.’

“That’s a strange word, ‘bestest’,” she asked.

“It’s for an eleven year old girl, a dear friend of mine, and she speaks that way when she’s excited,” I explained.

“An inside joke or secret between you two?” I nodded my affirmation to both.

“The second one I want kept plain so that Mel -- with help from her mom -- can have it engraved for me as my keepsake of her,” I explained.

“This is a generous present to give to a young woman, Miss ...?”

“Brown, Joan Brown, I’m a new schoolteacher up the road.”

“At Whateley?” I nodded.

She looked at me and the light bulb over her head flashed into blinding incandescence.

“It’s for the girl rescued from the highway last Labor Day in Wisconsin. You’re that Joanie, the singer and brave mutant. I saw that rescue; I cried for you both. She’ll love this from you, Joanie, it’s the perfect gift. I have some classy silk-lined boxes intended for wedding-ring sets -- diamond bracelets and the like. If I can find a couple, I’ll throw them in for free. A gift like this deserves a proper box,” she said beaming at me.

“You don’t have to.”

“For a cute girl like her and a heroine like you, I insist,” she said.

“Okay, but only because it’s for Mel; I don’t expect favors for myself,” I added.

“Joanie, I have a pair of earrings that should match your necklace. They are expensive, I’m afraid, as they are handmade and the stones are of the highest quality. I guarantee it; take them to any reputable gemologist. Want to see?” she got a case out of a vault.

“Okay, if they ... Oh Ghod, those are …!”

“Some of my best work: each is 24 carat gold alloyed with platinum down to 22 carats for durability, a full two-carat natural emerald in the classic cut for emeralds surrounded by a dozen half-carat flawless diamonds. The pair was designed for an actress attending the Academy Awards, and then she changed her mind. With your copper eyes and that reddish-blonde hair, the emeralds are perfect,” she said, and smiled.

She let me try them on; they were dazzling. I stared at the exquisite woman’s face in the mirror.

~~Academy Awards, my ass, *this* woman is dressed for her coronation. I’m beautiful, mom! Ghod, I wish you could see me.~~

My elation must have been obvious.

I told you they would suit you. Your man will be impressed how well they compliment your beauty,” she said.

“But I don’t have …

~~I’ll be irresistible. I have to buy these.~~

“How much?”

She whispered the price almost apologetically.

“I could buy a house for … Um, you take Visa?”

* * * *

~~Well, I’m a girl for sure now, if there was any question. Buying jewelry as expensive as my parent’s house proves it. But I had to; it looks so good on me. I’ll save it for a special occasion like my prom or my wedding.

~~I’m starting a hope chest and thinking of my wedding? Hear ye, hear ye, the John is dead, long live the Joan!~~

* * * *

I ate lunch, and used the ladies room as a precaution -- have you tried taking a piddle on the side of the road as a man let alone a woman and with snow?

I rode toward Berlin at a moderate pace; the occasional small drifts were not a hazard at this speed. I rounded a blind-curve to see debris scattered across the road -- trash must have fallen off the back of a truck. I couldn’t stop but I could slow down enough that maybe …

-- Bang! …Thwup, thwup, thwup …--

I blew my rear tire. I got the bike to a wobbly but safe stop -- I was very lucky. Vintage cycles have tires with inner-tubes. The tires are prone to dismount from the rim when deflated -- very dangerous if it happens at speed.

I looked at the bike carefully after I wrestled it to the side of the road.

~~I’ll have to slip out the tube and find the leak, patch it, and slip it back into place. Then I’ll have to pump it back up while making sure to avoid pinching the tube and making sure that the tire bead mounts properly. That will be a bitch in the cold but I’ll be on my way in a hour or … A side-wall cut?~~

“Shit, shit, shit!”

I was not a happy camper. Sidewall cuts are not repairable. If I’d managed to patch and pump it up without it blowing-out on the spot, the weakened tire would fail catastrophically in use. My GPS confirmed I was five miles from Berlin. I was stranded on a snow swept road with little traffic and no signs of nearby human habitation. Whateley was much farther the other way. I tried my cell phone, and found I was in a dead-spot in the foothills of the White Mountains.

That’s what I get for being cheap and not getting a satellite phone.~~

There were no farmhouses near by -- at least any that looked occupied — thus no hope of shelter to wait for a ride in.

“Looks like I’ll have to hoof it to Berlin. At least my boots are water resistant and my clothes are warm. I hate to leave the bike, but the tire is half off already; I’d be dragging it soon,” I said to the wind.

I was a good person and dragged the offending junk into the ditch -- an old metal bed spring assembly from a roll-a-way bed was much of it.

“Good, now no one else will hit that junk and be stranded or have an accident,” I said, my speech a mantra against the near wilderness of the place.

I locked the cycle to a strong wooden gate post at the entrance to a farm field -- the best I could manage -- dismounted my GPS navigation unit and placed it in my panniers along with my tool kit after writing a message on the gas tank with my lipstick. A kiss-proof coral, if you must to know.

“Walking to Berlin, 2PM, 12-21-06, Joan. Please call Whateley Academy,” I wrote. An arrow drawn on top showed the way I intended to travel.

I hated leaving my bike to the tender mercies of passersby but I needed to reach somewhere I could get help. I’d walked for half an hour, and covered over a mile according to my GPS. I‘d taken it out to check my progress after I tried to call on my cell again

~~A solid mile is not bad given the falling snow and my heavy bags. The lack of a signal is disconcerting — an inconvenience to me, potently life-threatening to the average person. I’ll have to let the cell people know of my *displeasure* --nationwide coverage my ass!~~

~~Being an exemplar helps. I’d never have managed all this even as a guy.~~

I heard a truck driving up the road, its winter tires making a considerable sound on the pavement. I got to the edge of the road, took off my helmet and waved for assistance. The up-market SUV slowed, then continued on its way.

“You mother …!”

For those with delicate sensibilities, I decline to record my observations on the SUV driver’s moral rectitude, intelligence, sexual preference, appearance, relative size of their private parts and other aspects of their soon to be shortened life, should *I* get my hands around their neck. Then I heard the same sound coming the other way but slower. The SUV -- a Range Rover -- pulled to a stop across the way from me, the driver’s window opened and the driver said,

“Do you need any assistance Ms. …”

“Ms. ...”

“Brown?”

“Hartford?” we said over each other.

She helped me place my panniers in the back and we drove back to get the cycle. Fifteen minutes later we were passing where she’d stopped to help me.

“You should get an all-wheel drive SUV, or a pickup truck, if you intend to drive in winter, Ms. Brown. I understand your attachment to your grandfather’s motorcycle, but it is not practical winter transport. I’d take you to Whateley, but I have a plane to catch at Berlin. They have a tire dealer and a motorcycle dealer plus lodging. You should be fine,” she said with little hint of smugness despite the golden opportunity to lecture me. Ms. Hartford had a well-earned reputation for treating the poor unfortunate students who had dealings with her as, well, little kids.

“That was brave of you, a woman driving alone, to come back and stop for me, Ms. Hartford,” I said.

“If I hadn’t recognized you I would have told you to stay put, as I was calling the Sheriff’s office on your behalf. I know women are at risk traveling alone, but you appeared to be in real distress. Winter can be deadly here, Ms. Brown; don’t underestimate its danger,” she replied.

“I owe you. This is a great kindness,” I said.

“You would have done the same or more. It’s your nature,” she said and was quiet the rest of the way.

We were nearing the cycle dealer when she said, “You can do me a favor, Ms. Brown. Do your best to be role-model to the students. You look like them and are famous. Show them discipline and maturity; show them that school is a serious business. So many think it’s a game, but Whateley is here to teach them to survive. The real world is seldom kind to mutants. We die far younger than we should. I’ve seen it happen too many times,”’ she said and looked bitter.

”I don’t know about appearing serous or acting mature, not with this body but I promise you I will do my best for Whateley and her students, my seventeen year old body not withstanding,” I replied and smiled.

* * * *

In Berlin we unloaded my cycle, panniers, and helmet with help from the cycle dealership we’d found, and she drove off. A mechanic helped me bring it all inside the repair shop.

“Thank you. Do you have a tire and tube for my cycle? It’s an old model,” I asked.

The mechanic, a man in his late twenties, eyed my bike with an appreciative eye that bordered on envy.

“That’s a fine old machine you have there Ms. …”

His reaction, as I opened the top of my riding suit to keep from overheating, was predictable. I could smell the surging testosterone over the grease, oil, paint and rubber smells of the repair shop. From the music in the background, the dealership sound system was tuned to a country station. He surprised me by remaining professional though parts of him had other ideas.

“That’s a World War One vintage Harley, Miss?” he asked as he tried to hide his rising … enthusiasm.

“Brown, Joan Brown,” ~~Agent 007… I have seen too many old films. ~~ “Can you fix my 1915 Harley racing bike?” I asked, trying not to embarrass him more.

“I’ll have to check the conversion table after ‘reading’ your tires and taking some measurements. The new tires use a different labeling system,” he said then he inspected the cycle closely. “What’s a young woman like yourself doing out on a vintage machine in this weather? Why are you in Berlin, Joan, if I may ask?”

~~Is he feeling me out as a possible date?~~

“I’m shopping for Christmas. I’m a newly hired school teacher,”

“You’re a school teacher? You look so young. Do you teach in town?”

“No, at Whateley Academy,” I replied.

“The mutant school? I don’t mean to sound insulting, but won’t that be difficult?” asked and looking wide-eyed.

“In what way?”

“A beautiful young slip of a girl, I fear for your safety -- what are you, 19 or 20 tops? Some of the students are supers, and a few are violent, even ultra-violent class. Don’t get me wrong, most are normal kids except for their powers. I get some business from the Academy. A good customer is one of a pair of twin mutants, a Ms. Anderson,” he said.

“Chris, I know her and Tina well. Chris tuned my cycle as a birthday present a few days ago. Lovely women, both of them,” I added.

“You be careful, Joan. What do you teach?” he asked.

“I’m a substitute. I’ll teach almost anything, concentrating on history and vocal music. Any idea how long this will take, I have shopping to do?” I asked.

“I should know in 30 minutes if we stock the tube and tires here, or if we need to special order them. I recommend replacing them with a matched set, as mismatched tires affect a cycle's handling. We have coffee and bakery in the dealership lounge; wait there if you like.”

I used the women’s room to change out of my winter riding suit and settled into an overstuffed chair in the lounge to rest. I sipped my coffee and listened to the radio.

“To help you keep going on a snowy December day, here’s an energy-packed remake of the Roy Orbison oldie Ooby Dooby as sung by the irresistible Joanie.”

~~This is bound to happen on occasion, hearing myself on the radio. It’s a quiet day, no worries,~~ I thought.

I didn’t mean to, but I couldn’t help myself. I got caught up in the music and sang along -- damned catchy tune. I closed my eyes and bathed in the sound of the radio and my live voice. The music stopped and I heard …

~~Applause?~~

I opened my eyes to my stunned mechanic, a bouncing high-school-age office worker, and an ecstatic dealership owner.

“I didn’t know we had a celebrity in the dealership,” the owner said.

“You do? Where?” I replied, and giggled.

~~I do that so often -- the giggling. Why?~~

“I thought I recognized you, Ms. Brown, but you have such a common name I wasn’t sure until you sang. You should see her Harley, Boss, it’s a real beauty, as are you, Joanie,“ said the mechanic.

~~Young, reasonably attractive, good with his hands and a charmer, he’s a maybe -- date-material wise -- but not today.~~

* * * *

I autographed some things for them and posed with my cycle for their “wall of satisfied customers” I think they called it. As we did that a small crowd gathered outside the floor to ceiling windows of the building. I waved to them and signed more autographs. This is a nice aspect of being famous, the kidnapping and inability to be with old friends and family is the flipside.

“Bad news, Joanie; we don’t have the parts nor does the tire store in town. I located a full set of matched tires and tubes. I ordered it but they likely won’t arrive until tomorrow. The supplier assures me they are not out-of-date stock. They will try to same-day ship them as favor, but we’ll see,” he explained.

“I’ll need to call my employer then get a room for the night,” I said.

“There are two nice hotel/motels in town, or one of us could put you up,” the dealer offered.

“A motel is fine by me. Excuse me for a moment, please.”

I called Whateley Security on my cell.

“Joanie here. I’m stuck …”

“... in Berlin with a flat tire. Ms. Hartford called us before she boarded her flight. You’re not scheduled for anything other than a couple training sessions in self-defense tomorrow. We can reschedule, so don’t worry. Joanie; you really should drive a truck,” the dispatcher replied.

“But it was a flat tire!”

~~Some people do not appreciate motorcycles.~~

* * * *

The young office gal, Julie Anne Stevens, called and reserved me a nice motel room. She also recommended several restaurants and pubs I might like.

“The Box-T has great steak dinners and a beautiful antique bar. They have the best country music in town. Some nights it’s a DJ, on occasion karaoke, but tonight is a local country band and they are great. You’ll have a wonderful time, and I can make my friends jealous that I know you,” she added.

“But would we get any time to eat? I might attract too much of the wrong kind of attention,” I said.

“Folks here know how important tourism is for the economy. It’s the slow season as well -- past fall and hunting, too soon for winter sports. We’ll be fine, Joanie, please?”

"Okay, but not too long; I have to ride back to Whateley tomorrow. Julie, how old are you? If they serve liquor, how will you get in, you look, heck I look underage. No way are you 21.”

“I’m 17 but they never card me. I’ll stay out of trouble and drink Sprite with a slice of lime hung on the rim. It looks like a drink but is only soda. Satisfied?”

“Okay. Let’s set a time to meet there,” I replied.

“Seven for dinner, nine for the music and dancing,” Julie Anne said.

* * * *

I checked into my room, and changed into some water-proof soft-sided winter boots in place of the cycle boots. With a modest one-and-one-half inch heel, and a patterned sole, they provided good traction in the snow. My insulated stirrup pants, tailored flannel men’s-style shirt and wool sweater I’d worn under the riding suit were warm and stylish — not that you could see them then. With the suit off, I looked pretty good. A highly compressible synth-down jacket, part of my cold-weather emergency kit, and a blaze orange knit hat and Ultra-therm insulated leather gloves, also blaze orange, completed the ensemble.

~~There goes my preppy look,~~

So what if blaze orange is geeky; it’s so much more visible in the woods or traffic. Fashion conscious I may be these days, but I’m no fool when it comes to safety.

I tore through the quirkier shops in town looking for additional gifts. I found a curio store with delicate figurines for sale. I purchased a pair of hand-made glass cats and had them specially packed so I could ship them to my sister.

“We could do the shipping for you at cost,” they offered.

“I’m too famous and fear for my sister’s safety if her address gets out. I have a way to ship it that it can’t be traced back to me or you,” I said. The shop keeper was relieved I was not upset with them, but was simply being careful.

I found a leather goods store. I got my dad an oversized key-case as he has lots of keys and needed a new one. Then I saw this handsome man’s wallet with built in holders for photos. I bought it for Eric and had it personalized by laser burning the message, “To Eric, the first man I kissed. Love, Joanie.”

Why I did this I haven’t a clue. I must be teasing him, I suppose, but he is a nice boy. If he brags to his schoolmates that we’ve kissed, what’s the harm? I agreed to the dance both to ease myself into dating men and to boost Eric’s popularity with his schoolmates. If I’d received a gift like this from a pretty older girl at his age, I’d have been in heaven.

~~He’ll go crazy when he opens this gift, particularly after I put a few signed photos in it. I have got to take one of myself in that pink thong-bikini for him! ... I AM a tease. On second though, that’s too risqué. I’ll take a glamour shot, something sweet and not available to the public. That would be more believable too, something more like a real girlfriend would send him. The kids at his school will be sooo jealous. I’m gonna have such fun with him at the dance.~~

* * * *

I finished gift shopping and stashed them in my motel room, then went and got everything I needed to bake and roast for the Christmas dinner -- including a turkey. I got the store to keep all my purchases in their walk-in refrigerator overnight so nothing would spoil. They were glad to do it as Whateley was a customer. Talk about luck!

I didn’t have anything suitable for evening wear, so I went to a local women’s clothing store and got a few essentials. I cleaned up and dressed at the motel then walked the short distance to the Box-T.

* * * *

“I’m sorry miss, but I must check your ID. We are strict on not serving alcohol to underage drinkers,” the man at the entrance said politely.

“Sure, here’s my DL. I’m here to meet a young woman from the cycle dealership, Julie Anne Stevens. Am I at the right place? She said she never gets carded here,” I asked, perplexed.

“We don’t check her IDs because she’s my daughter, I own the place and my staff is under strict orders to never let her near alcohol. Welcome, Ms. Brown,” he said, smiling as he looked at my drivers license and me. “Julie called saying she’d met a special person and to treat her well. Greta, come here at once, please.”

A thirty-ish, immaculately made-up waitress hurried to us. She gave me a long look then looked at her boss for instructions.

“Greta, this is Joanie; she will be dining with Julie Anne tonight. See to it that they get one of our best tables. And before you ask, she is *that*Joanie,” he added. ”May I take you hat and coat?”

I took off my jacket, hat and gloves and gave them to him. I thought I heard a whistle from somewhere in the nearby kitchen. I smiled; I knew I’d chosen the right outfit.

My waitress led me to a well placed table, near to but not too near the stage.
Our table was central to everything and handy to where the dance floor would be yet away from doorways and other annoyances.

"Did you want anything to drink? We have an excellent bar,” she asked.

"Since Julie can’t drink, that wouldn’t be fair to her. I’ll have one of those lime or lemon slices with a well iced soda. Squirt if you have it, or Sprite. And a small regular coffee, black; it’s been a long day,” I finished.

“Why are you in Berlin, if I may ask?”

“I was coming to shop, and my motorcycle blew a tire five miles out of town. A colleague at the school I’m employed at drove me to the local dealership, and here I am until they can get me tires,” I said.

“You're at Whateley!” she exclaimed, softly. “There are rumors in town that the academy hired a top name artist but how could they afford you?”

“I’m also a student. I’ve been like this,” I motioned along my body, ”less than six months, and I need to find my place in life as a woman and mutant. Where better?” I replied.

* * * *

“Sorry I’m late Joanie, but your tires came by special courier and …”

Julie stared at me and this big grin lit up her face. I smiled back.

“You had *that* in your cycle panniers?” she said taking in my ensemble. I stood up.

“Oh, these old grease-rags?” I giggled, and Julie laughed in spite of herself.

Have you seen the film Maid in Manhattan, and the strapless gown Jennifer Lopez wore at the charity ball? This was similar but with a shorter skirt. With the emerald and diamond earrings sparkling, and the locket dangling above my cleavage, it was an elegant and totally impractical outfit.

I’d decided tonight was a special occasion — I decided I would embrace the blessings I had, and let go of my past. I looked like an heiress debutant or the princess in a modern fairytale. I made it more a teen’s outfit with the soft-sided boots of mine. Open-toed heels in the snow were out-of-the-question.

“I feel underdressed. Why so dressed up?“ Julie asked -- not that her outfit was trash by any standard.

“That’s a lovely western cow-girl outfit, Julie. I just felt like taking the woman in me out for a spin. I’ve been in a sour mood the last few days, and I thought it was time to stop the pity train,” I said.

“There is no way anyone could ever see you as anything other than a woman, Joanie, particularly in that getup. Thanks for coming. Over by the left side of the stage, that’s a couple of my friends. Wave to them,” she asked. I waved, their eyes glazed over and Julie Anne giggled in triumph.

* * * *

We had a delightful meal. The food was excellent, and I was pleased with the service, but then it looked to me that all the tables got fine service. Dinner service was winding down, and the area in front of the stage was being cleared for dancing, when a forty-ish woman walked up to us. She was dressed as one of the chefs and looked a lot like Julie.

“You’re her mom, aren’t you? A great dinner and excellent service, thank you,“ I said.

“Julie, your father said you were dining with a VIP, but I never imagined it would be you, Ms. Brown. Having a performer of your caliber is an honor,” she said.

“I’m a flash-in-the-pan at best,” I said, embarrassed.

“If so, then why this?”

The sound system was still playing that country station and I heard the tail-end of one of my recordings.

“That was Joanie with the number one song on the country and pop charts, the Roy Orbison classic, ‘Crying’, recorded shortly before her voluntary hiatus from performing to become a teacher somewhere in New England. We hope she consents to record again soon.”

The patrons made the connection between the radio and I and gave me a standing ovation. I smiled, waved and looked for a bolt-hole to hide in.

“Flash-in-the-pan? Sure honey,” she said, calming me. “I’m happy you enjoyed the meal, Joanie. Please stay; we have a great local band tonight. They play some of the songs you have recorded,” she said and excused herself.

* * * *

The band set up and played a short set as the crowd digested their meals and gradually began to dance. I was asked several times if I wanted to dance, and turned down several attractive men because Julie would have not have had a dance partner. Then the guys got smart, and teamed up so we each had a partner, so we agreed. I had a fun time dancing, not that I knew how but it felt good to move to the music. After a couple dances we excused ourselves to ’freshen-up’.

“I have to leave you for a while; I sing with the band on occasion.” She gave me a look.

“Okay, I’ll stay and listen, happy?”

She squealed with delight and rushed to the stage.

“Our favorite local songbird, Julie, will sing a couple for y’all,” the lead guitarist announced in mock good-ol’-boy.

Julie sang the A.P. Carter classic, 'Gold Watch and Chain' and a spirited version of the Shania Twain hit, 'Man, I Feel Like A Woman'. She was a competent and entertaining performer, and I applauded her honestly, giving her a big hug when she left the stage. The band then invited members of the audience to sing.

“That’s how we met; I sang at one of these nights and they liked me. I can’t tour with them, but I may when I get older,” she said.

“You have a good voice and great stage presence, Julie. Music is a tough business though. Treat it as a gift should you succeed, but don’t count on it for a living. I don’t rely on it,” I cautioned.

They asked who else wanted to go, and Julie volunteered me.

“My friend hasn’t sung. I bet she’s pretty good,” Julie said and snickered.

“I’ll get you my pretty,“ I said, and faked a wicked witch cackle.

The guitarist/MC decided to stick to his usual ‘script’ and have some fun with this.

“Your name, and where you are from, please, Ms.?” the crowds exploded in laughs.

“Joan Brown, I moved here recently from Madison, Wisconsin to take a student teaching post."

“Ever sing in public before?” he could barely keep from snickering.

“Only three times: I doubt if I can make a career of it,” I said and the crowd roared. “The last time was at this big party on Halloween, but some gate crashers ruined it. I do admit I got some big-time exposure from it at the end,” I said and they laughed at my description of the kidnapping from my record premier and my rescue au-natural.

“What do you want to sing, Joan?”

“I like the song Crying. I understand Roy Orbison used it to close many of his concerts,” I said, and smiled.

“We’ll give a try,” he said.

“Do or do not. There is no try,” I said as a tall and decidedly non-green Yoda.

The song was different without the full orchestration, but its power remained undiminished. If anything, the vocal was all the more powerful stripped of the gingerbread of a studio recording. Sometimes less is more. We finished to heartwarming applause and I left for my seat.

“The gal has the number one song in America, and she doesn’t think she can make a career of it,” the MC said as I sat down.

* * * *

I signed autographs and returned to my motel for the night after thanking Julie. I was wound up from the singing, so I went for a late-night swim in the motel pool. I was the only one there so I took a chance and skinny-dipped, something I never did before. Due to my, um, interesting hydrodynamics this sympathetic vibration, for want of a more specific term, developed as I swam. It was particularly intense when I’d push off from a turn.

~~That’s curious, I feel ... I *know* what I feel but why?~~

After a few laps I had to stop, not due to fatigue but to keep from … It felt *that* good, I could have done it for hours.

~~It’s good I learned this now. This is definitely a do-at-your-own-risk activity. Whoa! If ever did this in front of a man … Let’s see, turned on and naked; can you say barefoot and pregnant?~~

I got back to my room undetected -- and mildly disappointed, I must admit -- showered and went to sleep. My last thoughts were of my dear friends in Iowa, Wisconsin, and Whateley.

* * * *

December 22, 2006, Berlin NH

I woke to the sounds of snow blowers and a plow rumbling past. I dressed quickly and peered out at a winter wonderland dreamscape -- a motorcyclist’s nightmare. I got breakfast at the restaurant next to the motel; they had a cooperative arrangement. I then picked my way carefully to the cycle dealer.

“Your cycle is ready to go, I even managed to road test it, but no way can you ride in that. I wouldn’t chance it even with a side car attached, not until they plow all the roads which could be a few days,” my mechanic, Isaac, stated.

“I do need to get back. I have duties at my school. Is there anyway it can be done safely? If it’s too risky, I’ll wait,” I explained.

“It’s a slow day; they might send me home early, unless we get snowmobiles in for repairs. We service them, too. It’s early, I have an all-wheel-drive pickup; I could take you to Whateley. Let me ask my boss,” Isaac said.

* * * *

An hour later we were driving at a slow but steady pace out of town, his tire chains making the tires resonate like strange drums. We’d stopped at my motel to get my stuff and pay up, and at the store to get my bags from the walk-in refrigerator. At fifteen to twenty mph max, the drive would take three times or longer compared with dry weather but we‘d get there soon enough. We talked as we drove. It was more he talked and I listened.

I learned Isaac’s wife had died soon after their second child, a boy, died weeks after birth. His daughter Leeann and he were alone and the daughter was having problems.

“Her mom committed suicide -- post partum depression the doctors called it. She seemed okay until our son died, then in days she fell apart. Leeann tried to tell me her mom was sick. Since she wasn’t in school yet, she saw Mom all the time and noticed her giving up on life. I thought it was stress and the lingering effects of a difficult birth, but my wife was hiding her pain from us until it was too late.

“Leeann calls herself Lee, now. She isn’t in trouble, but she’s too serious for a first grader. The child in her is dead, and she tries to suppress all emotion. I’m worried she won’t snap out of it, and she’ll end up a bitter and lonely person. She won’t let anyone hug her or kiss her; she says weak people do that, and she won’t be weak. I wish I could help her, but I’ve exhausted most of my health insurance benefits on our dead son. Leeann won’t cooperate with a counselor, so what can I do?” he asked. “Sorry to lay this on you, but sometimes I have to talk about it or go mad.”

We got to Whateley safely, and I said I’d ask our doctors for ideas he might try. He thanked me; we unloaded my cycle, panniers and new purchases. Then he said goodbye and drove slowly back towards Berlin.

* * * *

I checked in with Security, parked my cycle in the Operations fleet facility and managed to get my Christmas food supplies stored safely in the small auxiliary kitchen in Poe Hall.

Once all the perishables were in safe storage, I began to bake cookies, buns, and seasonal breads including tasty and not the least bit rock-hard eggnog bread -- a kind of fruitcake or sweetbread. Some was for the Christmas feast with the Andersons but most I gave to various people and departments. It felt better to be busy, plus others would share in the enjoyment.

My impromptu gift giving -- delivering my fresh-baked goodies -- gave me an excuse to visit medical where I got some advice on how to help Leeann, short of kidnapping her and forcing her into a mental health facility. Hey, the docs got three-dozen cookies and eggnog bread out of me in exchange. Believe me, they were well paid. Next, I headed on to Administration. I was surprised to see Ms. Hartford back; her trip certainly was a brief one.

* * * *

“Ms. Hartford, I baked these in thanks for your being my angel on the road to Berlin,” I said as I set a large paper bag filled with breads, buns and goodies on her desk. “I don’t know what you like, Ms Hartford, so if you don’t like something or can’t eat it all, feel free to share it as you see fit.”

“Um, thank you?’ she said, unprepared for my kindness.

“Is Ms. Carson in,” I asked, she remained confused. “I’ll knock,” I said.

* * * *

“Yes, Joanie, what may I do for you?” Ms. Carson asked.

“This is for you. Thanks for taking on a foolish and inexperienced girl as an employee and student; I appreciate it. Yes the slightly lumpy cookies are raisin/oatmeal. I know your secret weakness, Ms. Carson. Superman has kryptonite, you have raisin/oatmeal -- bru-ha-ha-ha ! Enjoy,” I said, and giggled my way out of the building.

* * * *

During the day, I continued baking while thinking about Isaac’s daughter and ways I might help her. So many people had been kind to me since my mutation, I felt obligated to return the favor, but how? I called Berlin and talked at length with Julie Ann about Isaac and his unhappy daughter.

Late that day I got road condition reports from Whateley Security and the regional Sheriff’s offices. I could make a day visit to Berlin tomorrow if I was careful. I mulled over a plan in my mind and hoped it might help. I spent several hours assembling the necessary *equipment* but I soon had what I needed.

* * * *

December 23, 2006

The forecast was right, and the roads were clear enough for me and my cycle to chance the trip back to Berlin. Early that morning, I’d described Leann’s plight to Ms. Carson. I explained my intentions, and she agreed to the plan. I called ahead to Isaac and we decided to meet at the dealership. I changed into the odd outfit I had assembled from bits and pieces the costuming classroom lent me, then slipped my winter motorcycle jumpsuit over it and road off. I was determined to help, winters chill and my period were not going to stop me.

* * * *

I parked at the cycle dealership and got the spare keys to my mechanic’s house.

”I can’t thank you enough for doing this for my daughter. I feel so inadequate as a father,” Isaac said.

“You’re doing fine from what your friends say -- I asked Julie Ann about you, and she had nothing but praise. Let’s say I can help, so I’m helping and leave it at that. It would be best if you don’t talk about my visit. People known publicly as my friends are at risk from loonies, kidnappers and extortionists,” I said to warn him.

“That must be true of celebrities in general, look at Charles Lindberg, Patty Hurst or David Letterman. I’ll accept the risk if you can restore my little girl,” Isaac replied.

“I’ll try,” I said and we walked to his home.

He’d informed me that Lee — he looked so sad when he said “Lee” -- had Saturday morning classes, swimming and gymnastics, so we had a few hours to prepare my surprise for her. I set up a live, potted Frasier Fir in their three-season porch and decorated it carefully. He worked on digging a hole and back filling it with straw and a tarp so they could plant the tree immediately after Christmas. I helped haul the soil into their garage to keep it from freezing. Luckily the frost was shallow and we were done well before he had to pick up his daughter. We cleaned up, and I touched-up my costume. We hurried back to the cycle dealership. I changed my tampon and liner as a precaution, then waited out of sight but where I could hear. I didn’t have long to wait. He walked in the door with an androgynously dressed girl.

* * * *

“Leeann, I have to work this afternoon. You feel up to taking care of yourself for a few hours?” Isaac asked his daughter.

“Dad, I’m Lee! Leeann is a little girl’s name. I am not a baby. I am almost seven. I can make a sandwich or scrambled eggs. I will be okay. Stop treating me like a kid,” she said in an angry/sad tone.

“But you are a little girl; you’re in first grade. Leeann is a pretty name; your mommy named you. Why don’t you like it?”

He knew well why she didn’t like it, but deliberately used her birth name for my benefit.

“Leeann is a stupid, silly name; a weak little girl’s name. I will not be weak like Mom and …”

“But, Leeann, Mom couldn’t help it. Sometimes moms get depression -- it’s like being really sad all the time -- after they give birth. When your baby brother died she couldn’t take it. Mom was sick in her mind, but she hid it from us. If I’d known, we could have got her help, and she’d be alive, but I didn’t. I’m so sorry, Hon,” he said holding back tears.

“Mom was weak. I will not be weak. She chose to die; I hate her!” Leeann shouted and stormed off.

* * * *

I waited for her to get a short way out the door, then I paralleled her to her house. I waited until she was in her yard when I let loose with barrage of snowballs -- gently thrown -- all around her. My exemplar body and momentary use of my time-stop made it easy. If you saw the snowball fight in the film Elf a few years back you’ve got the general picture. I made sure to miss her though; I don’t pick on kids, or anyone else, except in good-natured fun.

“Who is it? Is it you Tommy and Billy? I am not afraid of you!” she called out defiantly.

“I’m definitely not a boy. Hi, I’m an elf and are you hard to get a hold of Miss Leeann,” I said as I appeared right in front of her out of nowhere -- again thanks to my time-stop.

“I’m Lee, I don’t like Leeann. And elves do not exist; they are myth … mythi ….”

“Mythological beings, as in not for real,” I said completing her sentence.

“Yeah, and you’re too tall. Elves are short, have pointy ears, and they are not real,” she said with conviction.

“Who says an elf has to be tiny or have funny ears? Can’t we be tall and pretty if we like? We’re creatures of magic; we can be any size we need to be. Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Elf Joanie,” I said and held out my hand.

She ignored it and said,” You’re no elf. Go away or I will call the cops. I have a cell-phone,” she warned me. Her language was too mature for her age.

“Sorry, I’ve got diplomatic immunity,“ I said, giggled, and bounced around her popping up here and there by using short bursts of time-stop.

~~I will be one tired mutant by the time this is over.~~

Leeann’s eyes went wide at my antics. I was clearly breaking through her defenses.

“How did you do that?” she shrieked.

“I’m an elf, we just do it -- like in the Nike ads,” I added and giggled.

She started to snicker, but fought to hold it in. I saw my opening and took it.

“Lee or Leeann, either is a pretty name for a pretty young lady, wouldn’t you rather talk inside? I’ll bet you’re hungry. I could use some cocoa. What do you say?”

“I guess you could be an elf?” she said in a questioning tone. “Okay, come in but no trouble,” she stated.

* * * *

“What are you having for lunch? I can help; we elves are real helpful,” I said and snickered a bit. I saw Leeann smile in spite of her effort not to.

“I was gonna make scrambled eggs. Sometimes I get bits of shell in them. Can you help?”

“Sure, though even elves aren’t perfect,” I said and giggled. She smiled a big smile. Then that sad mask came over her face again.

I noticed they had bell pepper, leftover ham and some cheese.

“I could teach you to make an omelet. It’s scrambled eggs made extra fancy,” I said.

“Okay.”

I helped her grate the cheese, dice the pepper and cut up the ham.

“Be real careful with the grater; you could cut your self,” I warned her.

“I help Dad make pizza; I know how,” she said.

She was nearly finished when I heard her cry out.

“Ah! Oh my! Miss Elf lady, I cut myself!” she exclaimed and I saw tears on her face.

“Come here, let me look. I’m good at fixing cuts; I was in the Elf Scouts or was the Brownies?” I said and she smiled at my joke.

She showed me where the bandages and medicines were. I helped her clean her wound and put a bandage with antibiotic ointment on it.

“That better. I bet it hurts though, huh?” I asked. She nodded.

“You were a brave little girl,” I asked her, deliberately saying ‘girl.’

“I’m not a little girl,” she stared firmly.

~~Okay, let’s not pressure the child. New tack.~~

“What do you see yourself as, Lee?”

“I’m not a boy, I know that. I’m a girl but I am not a crybaby. I will grow up a strong lady. I will never cry! I’ll be tough like Dad,” she said, looking confident but sad.

“You have a nice dad, but girls usually want to be like their moms. My mom got sick -- she had cancer -- and she died before I looked like this. I never got to show her how I turned out. I miss her so much and hope to be a kind lady like she was. What was your mom like? I bet she was pretty like you.”

~~Going for broke are we, Joanie?~~

“Mom was … my mother was … Mom …” she struggled to speak but began to sob. “Mom why did you leave me?!” she cried then collapsed into my arms.

“It’s okay to cry child, I cry for lots of reasons too. It’s okay to miss your mother. Take all the time you need.”

Leeann cried off-and-on for an hour. The way she held on to me *screamed* she was starved for human contact. I let her have as much or as little as she wanted; it felt right somehow. One of my arms fell half-asleep, she was hugging me so hard. When she calmed down we got up and finished making our omelet. I heated some water for hot cocoa while we ate.

“Tell me about your mom. Did she sing any special songs to you or play any silly games? Did you have secrets you shared? Tell me, please,” I pleaded sweetly.

We sipped our cocoa, and she talked non-stop. Three years of pain and frustration were blown aside by fond memories of her lost mom.

“Mom was real pretty. She wasn’t tall like you, Elf Joanie, but she had dark, shiney hair. She had a pretty smile and happy eyes like yours. Mom’s eyes were green. I like your copper eyes too. You are very pretty, Elf Joanie. I like your perfume. It makes you smell like flowers. Mom smelled of flowers all the time, except after my brother died. I knew something was wrong. She stopped smelling of flowers. Her hair was not shiny. Her eyes were not happy. I didn’t know why. I wanted to ask her. I wanted to tell Dad that Mom wasn’t right, but I felt bad ‘cause I didn’t like my baby brother. I wished he’d go away so it could be Mom, Dad and me again and then ….”

“Your brother died, and you thought it was your fault?”

She nodded.

“No way was it your fault. And you believed you were somehow responsible for your brother and mom’s deaths all this time?”

She nodded again.

“No wonder you’re not happy. You have to tell your dad; he’s hurting inside because he doesn’t know what’s wrong with you,” I said.

“No, Dad will hate me for hating my brother!” Leeann cried.

“Your dad will understand. I said dumb things about my younger sister after she was born -- I wanted a brother. Sis and I have been the best of friends for years,” I said.

“For years? How old are you, Elf Joanie?”

“I’m a young elf, I’m 49 years old.”

“No! You look so young. Daddy is only 29 and he looks lot’s older,” she gasped.

“Let’s go see your *old* man them, okay, Leeann?” I asked and she giggled

I also noticed she didn’t automatically object to “Leeann.” We got our winter stuff back on and left the house for the motorcycle dealership.

* * * *

“Dad? Daddy!” Leeann called out once we entered the dealership.

“Lee?” he replied.

“It’s Leeann, Dad. You can call me Lee if you like. I have to tell you about mom and my brother and ...” she said, ran up to him and cried.

* * * *

I walked away and closed the door to the repair shop behind me as they talked, seriously talked, probably for the first time since her mom had died. I hoped she would agree to work with a therapist to resolve her troubles but at least she was opening up. I went to the office and got out the special gift I’d hid there earlier in the day. I made sure that Julie Ann, the office girl, would give it to Isaac and Leeann after they had their talk. The box held some cookies I’d baked and I added a note to the outside telling Leeann to enjoy her childhood and not worry about being a tough girl. It ended,

“Promise me to be yourself. Be who you want to be, not who you think you need to be. Do that for yourself first, and you’ll be fine.

“Your friend,

“Joanie.”

I had one last duty to do for Leeann. Via the magic of a local courier service, she’d receive a wrapped present tomorrow. It would contain my music CD -- autographed of course -- a photo of me as I usually dress, my private mail and e-mail addresses, and a CD I’d be burning in my Whateley laptop tonight. I’d make a short video explaining the reason behind everything I’d done, and how I hoped she could someday return the favor to another person who needed help.

* * * *

I rode back to Whateley shortly before dark, and spent the rest of the day wrapping presents for shipment to my friends after including the appropriate pictures. With a digital camera and my school laptop, I printed out some lovely photos for my friends to remember me by. I shot a couple special ones for Eric; I was feeling very silly at the time. I set my camera to shoot HD video and got a great still from it of me in profile with my hair in motion — real artistic and dynamic. I also did a close-up where I had this wistful expression — I looked so innocent yet so hot. *I* wanted to date this girl.

~~ He’ll love this …Teasing boys is fun, damn I wish I’d been born a girl.~~

* * * *

December 24, 2006

Christmas Eve was spent baking, and shuttling food and supplies to the Anderson's flat for the big feast. I made several calls during the day to home and to Madison. The Terrace Hill switchboard was jammed with political well-wishers, so all I could do was leave the Johnsons my recorded greetings. I pulled a double shift that afternoon and evening assisting Whateley Security officers, allowing a married officer to spend the night with her spouse.

* * * *

December 25, 2006, Christmas morning

I have to write this down before the memory fades. I had a strange dream. I was in an almost featureless space, as if standing in the middle of a flat desert in the haze. A woman who was unfamiliar, yet familiar, to me appeared out of the uniform gray of my surroundings, walked over and smiled.

“Thank you for helping my daughter. I wish I’d lived to meet you in person,” the woman said.

~~Strange lady. She’s scant feet away from me, yet speaks as if she’s not here.~~

In the distance was a shapely young woman -- likely no more than twenty -- her clothing and hairstyle were sixty years out of date. I could not make her out clearly, but when she smiled my heart jumped.

Impossible! It can’t be her, can it?~~ My mind was in chaos. I could make no sense of it.

The first woman pointed to the second and said, “This is as near as she may come; I’m sorry. She says to be strong, Joanie, and that she will always love you …” the woman said and they both vanished into nothingness.

I woke soon after.

~~Was that how my mind's-eye pictured Leeann’s dead mother? The other woman, she had to be Mom as she was in the mid 1940’s. My imagination worked overtime to cook this dream up. This was so Here Comes Mr. Jordan it’s not funny. It was a dream, wasn’t it?~~

* * * *

Christmas Day flew by in a flurry of baking, eating, and pleasant conversation. I’d shocked the twins with my turkey, but I pointed out the magic word -- leftovers -- and they relaxed. The bread and giblets stuffed turkey came out perfect, and the girls agreed it tasted of simpler times. I described what I done for Leeann and Isaac, and they called me a softy. I got warm hugs from the twins as well; they must like softies. As to the dream of the two women, that answer still has me confused, but in a good way.

“Joanie, I ‘read’ you as you spoke. I couldn’t help it; your thoughts were so intense. The image in your mind is so strong I can’t say if it was a dream or a vision. But does it matter? You did right by the child, and what you’ve done since your mutation would surely have pleased you mother. You say your dad and sister are happy for you, it’s time you were too, girl,” Tina said, and gave me a beautiful smile.

“You’re right Tina, I am blessed, it’s taken me a while to realize it, but I promise from this day forward you won’t hear a complaint from me about my lot in life,” I said resolutely. Then Chris and Tine grinned.

~~Oh, oh.~~

“Tell us again about this date you agreed to with Eric?”

“IT”S NOT A DATE!”

Oh well, I tried.

Until next time, dear diary/journal/whatever.

End Entry.

The end.

* * * *

Thanks to Itinerant and all the others who have entered Erin’s BC Holiday Story Contest. I hope my little story amused you. Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their help in polishing this unwieldy mess.

Notes:

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