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!

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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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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?

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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 new agents 86 and 99 of Control.

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? ...

“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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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, my new agents 86 and 99 of Control. Their moto, “We take the Kaos out of your life.”

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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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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 new agents 86 and 99 of Control.
“Facing danger for our clients and loving it.”

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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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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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.

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?

Story:

Timeout 2-Pause/Record/Fast-forward: 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)."

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:

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