Timeout 3- Continuous Play
Author:
Organizational:
Audience Rating:
Other Keywords:
by John in Wauwatosa
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 1
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
See Joanie resume testing her time travel powers assisted by a famous dead person who is not. Experience the horror of Peeper's punishment. Cringe as the foiled Pizza Poster Plot creates problems and opportunities for our heroine and Whateley if Joanie will reveal everything.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Well, here goes part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me. Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. Transcripts of this program may be obtained by sending a pre-stamped self-addressed envelope to… but who would want one of those ?
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers, but if you’ve read my stuff, you know it’s not very graphic and tends towards the silly, but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial 911 by Itinerant
Thanks to my sister and to Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 1- The Big Chill pt 1, Revenge of the Blonde: Epilogue, LA Story pt 1: Adventures in Photojournalism
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 22, 2007
March 22, 2007 7:05AM, Siegel Hall
I was summoned to an early meeting at Siegel Hall medical wing with doctors Pollard, Polland, Bellows, and a middle-aged bear of a man who looked vaguely familiar. “Joanie, this is Doctor Korolev -- he’s with the powers lab. We’ve brainstormed your time travel, um ‘side effect.’ Though we can’t see a way to eliminate it, we may have ideas to give you better control,” said Dr. Bellows.
“Control good, eliminate bad. Joanie like ‘side effect’ ummmmm.”
~ ~Sometimes you have to speak like Tarzan. ~~
Pollard, Polland and Bellows smiled, Dr. Korolev stared.
“Joanie acts the empty-headed teen at times -- don’t buy it. She’s as bright as anyone in this room; she chooses not to show It,” spoke Bellows.
“Aww, after that we’re not playing Twister anymore.” Then I pouted and crossed my arms under my chest, very petulant.
“Joanie, Dr. Korolev has something important to say; hear him out, okay?” said Polland. I nodded.
“Your experience with Mr. Lodgeman on your Operations ‘research trip’, and the data sent from Wisconsin, suggest your ‘side effect’ accumulates much like nitrogen gas in a diver breathing compressed air.”
“I hardly look like Jacque Cousteau, but I think I follow you. The deeper back in time I go and the longer I stay the more intense and urgent my arousal. We figured that out in Madison.”
~~Korolev, hum? Sounds like a Slavic -- Russian? -- accent with a touch of Spanish. Nah, must be my imagination.~~
“Yes, Joanie, but the analogy may be closer to the truth than that. In addition the larger the area affected by your time travel the greater the ‘side effect’. All else being equal, you hit ‘saturation’ sooner, correct?”
“Yes, so, Doctor?” I asked.
~~ Him? No, it couldn’t, he died in 1966? ~~
“We suggest you apply a variant of what divers do, purging and decompression stages,” he continued.
“Purging is breathing pure oxygen or exotic breathing mixtures to force the nitrogen out of your tissues faster?” I asked, not totally certain I was right.
“Precisely, Navy Seals and Army Rangers do the same thing for HALO skydives where they jump from extreme high altitude, and for the same reason -- to prevent nitrogen bubbles in the blood,” said Dr. Pollard taking over.
~~Oh, this is rich! ~~
“You’re implying I can stay longer and go further into the past if I get off prior to departure?” I asked with less-than-innocent interest.
“And you may be able to stay longer if you, ah, relieve some of the tension while you’re there — sort of, well, decompress. The total arousal ‘load’ will be greater because you’re in the past longer, but the residual when you return will be more manageable. The trance you went into at Badger Ordinance may be avoided, we believe,” Pollard added.
I giggled nervously. “I’m not one to stand in the way of progress. I don’t mind the ‘purging’ but the ‘decompression’ is a worry. Can you see me saying, ‘General Washington could you hold off crossing the Delaware until I’ve had a quickie?’”
“It’s that or shorten the trips. You told me yourself that the side effect hasn’t lessened over time, just that you can tolerate it longer,” said Dr. Bellows.
“A series of short trips to pinpoint the exact place in time you wish to visit should cause less of a buildup than one long trip to the same general span of time.” There was logic to what Dr. Korolev said.
“Two questions, Doctor. First, why do I perceive time travel as arousal, but time stop as fatigue. And second, is your first name Sergei?” He smiled a huge smile when I said the name.
“It's likely related to how you manipulate time. With your time travel you’re moving up and down within a time stream and often transport a minimal volume of space-time, that is yourself and not much more. Time stop involves simultaneously holding back the flow of time for a portion and moment of the time stream while maintaining your connection to the stream as a whole. It’s analogous to paddling a canoe up and down a stream vs. trying to dam part of the stream. It’s much easier to paddle.
“As to the second question, I’m glad you recognize me. As your great author Mark Twain said, ‘reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’”
I smiled back. “Why can I transport objects to and from the past and not experience a continual ‘side effect’ afterwards?”
“Because you’re no longer opposing the flow of time. Moving objects forward or back in time only requires expenditure of temporal energy while you’re transporting it. Time stop requires a continual application of energy and that requirement increases as the two times diverge, much like stretching out a bungee cord. I assume that the bulk of your transports have been from the past to the present?” said Korolev.
“Yes. I transported my grandfather’s motorcycle from 1920 to the present,” I replied.
“By the conservation of energy and mass, those objects existed in some form in the future, so moving them from the past to the present changed little. Moving something from the present to the past requires energy but the increased mass in the past compensates. When time catches up again, any imbalance cancels out,” Korolev explained.
“That explains the difference in the effort required, but not necessarily the perception.”
“You’re a lucky girl?” Korolev offered then laughed. I giggled joyously at his joke.
“Not to seem nosy, but didn’t you die in 1966?”
“It was a cover, Ms. Joan; I was about to be exposed as a mutant. I’m a gadgeteer and regen level three. How do you think I survived the Gulag? When I couldn’t hide that I wasn’t aging normally, I had to flee. Mutants were a threat to the USSR, unless you were KGB. When Khrushchev fell, I lost a powerful protector, so I made plans. I fled to South America; Rio is lovely this time of year. When the Soviet Union collapsed, a former colleague contacted me discretely, and here I am.”
“Why not rocketry?” I wondered.
“No funding. It’s too frustrating.”
“So you’re a powers theorist?” I snickered.
“Da.”
I broke up. ~~Mock Russian? Sergei’s a card! ~~
“It’s rewarding work and I do consulting in aerospace under an assumed name.”
I was going to say Werner Von Braun, but even I have some restraint.
“How do we test your theories then?” I asked.
Dr. Pollard spoke next.
“Medical has a sensor web you’ll wear during the experiments. Dr. Korolev will supervise. Afterward, you’ll discuss any personal observations with Dr. Bellows or one of us if he’s unavailable.”
“You’ll take a series of increasingly deeper time trips at a remote site we’ve scouted. First, you’ll do a sequence of quick down and back trips; taking photos to confirm your ‘destination.’ We’d like to start these this week yet. It’s possible you can do the deeper trips as series of time hops down or up. This would prove a boon to your historical researches. Until tomorrow, Ms. Brown.” Korolev stopped, then kissed my hand.
~~My, he’s a charmer. ~~
* * * *
March 22, 2007 7:59AM
Dear d/j/w you’re wondering what the deal was we struck with Peeper? The answer should be on the air any moment.
“It’s eight AM exactly, and WARS is on the air. Today’s forecast is for partially cloudy skies with winds light to variable, five to ten mph. Today is a green flag day, so it’s a nice day for flying. The lunch special is macaroni and cheese with three cheeses, bell pepper, onion and fresh mushrooms. The music department is holding tryouts at four PM in the King Annex for any student interested in the new pop/rock/country group that Joanie is forming. Please see Mr. King or Joanie for details. This Peeper for WARS signing off.”
~ ~I especially liked that last bit. ~~
That had to kill him; weather report, flag status, dish of the day and official school events and nothing else. He’ll be doing this twice a day, seven days a week, until the end of the spring semester. Slow torture is so satisfying.
* * * *
March 22, 2007 4:00PM
“Ms. Brown, may I speak with you?”
~~Oooh, so formal are we? ~~
“Sure, Peeper. Here to tryout for my band?” I asked and smiled graciously.
“No, I respectfully request to renegotiate our deal. I don’t mind turning over all the profits to the school and reimbursing it for the materials and supplies the print shop and photo lab used, but it’s nightmare to have to broadcast like that.”
I smiled then giggled. “We made a deal. Did you know we have high resolution still photos? They blow up real good.”
“Please?”
“It can’t be that bad. Give it a month. If you behave yourself, we’ll let you do some campus gossip within strict limits. We may agree to let you do a calendar, or more posters, for a cut of the profits going to scholarship, but all the models must give written permission beforehand. Any violation of good conduct, such as the micro recorder you’re trying to use on me, will only make things worse. I can always file that lawsuit against your parents. Oh, Peeper, Sam is still not happy with the deal we made.” I grinned.
~~I love my gadgeteer friends for that handy electronics detector/jammer they made for me. ~~
Peeper winced, then walked away. The delectable Tina walked in as Peeper left.
“Joanie, dear, you’re wanted in Administration immediately,” she said in her silken voice.
“Any idea why?” She just grinned in an unsettling way.
~~I know how Peeper must feel. ~~
“It would spoil the fun.”
“Thanks a lot, Tina.” She laughed and walked off. My eyes locked on her…
~~Not now libido. ~~
* * * *
“I was requested to be here, Ms. Hartford. May I ask why?” She looked pleased with herself.
“Ms. Carson will explain and, Joanie, dear, you have my sympathy.”
~~Ms Hartford called me “Joanie dear?” I’m in for it. ~~
I swore she was laughing quietly as I entered Ms. Carson’s office.
“How may I help you, Ms. Carson?”
“Please call me Beth. “
~~All three of them, Ghod no! ~~
“Am I dying, first Tina, then Ms. Hartford, now you?”
Ms. Carson laughed. “Hardly, dear girl; we received an unusual request today. Copies of Peeper’s latest money-maker ended in the possession of a magazine publisher. They wanted you, Sam, and Lex as you are of legal age; they both said no, but I told the publisher I would ask you.”
“Who is it, People, Newsweek, Scientific American or National Geographic, perhaps?” I asked. Ms. Carson was struggling not to laugh.
“Playboy,” she said, snickered, then recovered.
“An interview with accompanying photos of me in my school uniform?” I hoped.
“The cover, an interview“, she started to giggle but forced herself to stop, “and centerfold.” She lost it. I didn’t know whether to laugh or bust heads.
“An interview is okay, the cover maybe, but the centerfold? I look like jailbait for one. My proportions are ludicrous for another. And, I’m a freakn’ mutant. I was a guy less than a year ago, and they want my naked body in their magazine? No way! Are they crazy?” I ranted.
“They’re serious. They want you in their first ever all-mutant issue. They’re interviewing Dr. Otto for the scientific angle, and the money is equally serious.”
“What, like a million dollars? Hah!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Joanie. Two million, if you agree to the cover, interview, and centerfold. They’re willing to pay it as a charitable contribution to the school -- no taxes.”
~~Damn, it’s for the school. ~~
“That’s tempting. Can I think about it? How soon do they need a decision, and where would they do it?”
“They need it by Monday to make the July issue. The exterior shots would be here, with security ensuring they don’t photograph students or something sensitive. Whateley won’t be identified, per se. We’ll be ‘an elite college preparatory school for mutants.’ The interviews can be here as well. The candid photos in a studio or anywhere they can set up lights and reflectors. They could do it in your linen closet.” Ms Carson laughed and smiled at me. “If it sells as well as expected, we get 10% of the international sales.”
~~How do I say no now? ~~
“I’ll let you know.” I was torn.
~~How dare they treat me like a piece of meat; it’s so degrading … Am I that pretty? I need a second opinion and my head examined. ~~
* * * *
March 22, 2007 7:50PM
“Terrace Hill, how may I direct your call?” asked the receptionist.
“May I speak with Babs, please? I mean Ms. Johnson.”
“Who may I say is calling?”
“Tell her it’s Joanie from Whateley.” I head a gasp.
“Immediately, Ms. Brown.”
~~They must remember “Rambo.” ~~
“Babs here, how are you, Joanie?”
“Great, Babs, how are you?”
“Big as a house, I may be rezoned as a duplex any day now. You didn’t call just to say hello, what’s bothering you, dear?”
“My mother already? Here goes, got this offer, absolutely legit, to make an obscene amount of money for Whateley for just a few days work. A publisher wants to interview me and take some pictures for two million dollars.”
“If it’s legitimate, do it. Hell for half that I’d pose naked for Playboy…
“Joanie…?
“Joanie…?
“It’s Playboy?” she asked in amazement.
“The cover, an interview and centerfold for July 2007; I’d be the star of their first all-mutant issue. It’s for a lot of money. They’d pay it as a charitable donation to Whateley, so it’s tax free. We even get a cut of international sales, but I’m not comfortable.”
“Hon, you have a lovely body -- it can’t be that. It’s not a religious or ethical problem?” Babs asked.
“I’m getting used to my looks. I’m not a prude, and you saw what I wore on the TV show. I’m not worried for myself; it’s you, your family and my surviving family,” I explained.
“Once your dad and sister know how much is being donating to Whateley, they’ll be proud of you. I bet your sister will have a high time teasing you about this -- I would. A pity she can’t tell anyone else,” Babs suggested.
“It’s almost worth it for that alone, it will drive her insane. Ex-brother cackles fiendishly. Did I say that out loud, Babs?” We both snickered. “Dad might have a problem, but only because I resemble Mom.”
“Send him an advance copy as a keepsake, you might be surprised. It may bring up sad memories, but more likely lots of happy ones.”
“He did take photos of her in her one piece in her 20s and early thirties, and in a bikini at over forty. Those last ones they kept for themselves. She still looked pretty hot. What about Mel and her collection?” I asked.
“I can buy her a sealed copy to keep it complete; she’s only eleven, but the cover's okay for her room. Those pop star posters are as racy or worse … Sorry, Joanie, but you know what I mean.”
“No offense, Babs; I’ll send you a couple. What of Eric?”
“Ah, the real problem.”
“Okay, I’m, ah, sweet on him.”
“Afraid you’ll ruin your chances if he reacts badly?” Babs asked.
“Exactly.”
“Gotcha! You do like my son, don’t you, daughter.” She laughed from joy, not to taunt. “I see the problem -- his girlfriend naked in a national magazine. He’ll probably want copies to show his friends.”
“Babs, are you giggling again?” I could hear voices in the background.
“Who’s that, Mom?”
~~ That sounded like Mel. ~~
“Let me get them on the phone,” Babs asked.
“Joanie?”
~~ It is Mel. ~~
“Hi Mel! It’s great to hear you. I’ve got a decision to make, and I need to ask you how you feel.”
“Sure, Joanie, what you want to talk about?”
“I got an offer to do an interview, and pose for pictures in a national magazine. My school would get a lot of money, two million dollars, and a chance of more.”
“That’s wow, Joanie, who’d pay that much? Must be a big magazine like Time or People, huh?”
“Oh, it’s big alright. Mel, I’m calling because I’d be … the photos, well, are ....”
“What’s the matter, Joanie?”
“It’s Playboy. I’d be on the cover, do an interview and be the centerfold for the July issue.”
“You’d be naked?” she asked, then giggled.
“I’m glad you’re taking this well. I thought you might be hurt,” I said.
“Eric will go crazy.”
“That’s my biggest worry. I like your brother a lot, Mel. Will it be a good crazy, or bad?”
“Good, I think. My brother’s not the jealous type. He’ll get mad if they make fun of you, or say bad things, but he’ll like the pictures. He keeps asking if I have any new photos of you. He’s found magazines you were in I didn’t think to check, like Rolling Stone and Sports Illustrated.”
“I can see the music magazine but Sports Illustrated?”
“Eric bought it for me. Something to do with a poll on who the readers wanted in the next Swimsuit Edition. He’s working out every day with Dad, Joanie, running, lifting weights and stuff, and it’s not because he wants to play football. Dad says it ‘cause he wants to look good for you. You should see him, if he wasn’t my brother, I’d ask him for a date, and I don’t date yet. Mom says maybe when I’m fourteen like Eric.”
~~He wants to look good for me, how sweet. ~~
“What do the girls think of him?” I asked.
“They call him all the time now for dates, but he only goes out in a group for fun or to help his friends. He says a lot of girls will only date in a group, to be safe. He tells me they keep asking him if they can be his girl, but he says he already has one.”
I felt worried, almost angry, but why?
~~That brazen little…! ~~
“He has a girl? I’ll kill her! Who is ...?” Mel giggled uncontrollably. “Oh, you mean me.”
~~I’m jealous? Ghod, I’m jealous of myself. Dr. Bellows will get a laugh out of this. ~~
“Joanie, why were you angry? What’s wrong?”
~~Good question. Why am I so angry, so possessive of … No! But it’s the only answer that makes sense. ~~
“I just figured it out now, Mel. You’re the first to know. I love Eric.” Mel gasped. “I don’t think its infatuation, or the novelty of it. That I felt jealous at the thought of another girl with him confirms it. Given some time, I think you’ll be my maid of honor.” Mel giggled with happiness.
~~Am I serious? There goes the last lingering shred of my masculinity.~~
“You want to talk to Eric?” Mel asked.
“Yes, please.”
“Joanie?” That tingle stared up.
“Eric, dear, Mel said you’ve been working out to impress me. That’s nice of you, but do it for your health, or because you like it. Your other actions impress me more.”
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you’re asked out on lots of dates, but go for the fun and to help your friends get dates -- not because you’re dating the girls. That’s being very faithful, Eric.”
“Why shouldn’t I? I want you to like me.” My nipples began to ache.
~~I’ve got four years of this until he’s 18? If we stay together, I’ll kill him the first time we make love -- death by sexual exhaustion. ~~
“Eric, if I liked you any more we’d be having sex this minute in spite of our ages. I’ll come out and say it -- I love you, Eric. I think I have since the dance.”
He laughed nervously away from the phone. I heard him speak softly, but excitedly, to someone in the room.
“She loves me, Mel!”
“Told Ya.” He came back on. I was hot, damp and tingly.
~~Four years, oh my! ~~
“You love me?”
“Yah, believe it or not I do, stud. Now, what do we do about it? It’s not like we can date in the open. I’m in New Hampshire, and an adult, and you’re in Iowa, and fourteen. The press would hound you, if they found out. Until your 18, we can’t do it, um, have sex, unless you’d like visiting me in prison. It won’t be easy, Eric.”
“We could talk on the phone regularly like a date, say every Friday night at eight, my time.”
“I’d like that, any other suggestions?”
“Come out for the summer, Joanie. Mom could use the help with the twins due, and we could spend time together.”
I felt a mild twinge in anticipation. I snapped my oh-so-willing legs back together.
“I’ll see what my schedule is like, but I’ll try, Eric.”
“I’ll wait for you, Joanie.”
“I hope I last that long. You have no idea what your voice is doing to me.”
“If it’s anything like how I’m feeling, you’ll want to be alone for a while. I better go before I, oh … I love you, Joanie. Gottagobye.”
~~Did he just do what I think he did, and I did it to him over the phone?~~
~~“He’s hooked girl, reel him in,” ~~my inner voices were saying to me.
~~Crap, I forgot to ask him about the magazine‘s offer! I’ll call him tomorrow. ~~
* * * *
To be continued
Revised 11/14/2006
Thanks to Itinerant for copious editorial and proofing aid
Special thanks to my evil blonde sister for proofing assistance
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
 Timeout_3_chapter_1_janet_1.doc | 73.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 2
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie performs a series of experiments to refine her time travel power and has a great time doing it. She tell more friends of her, um, magazine offer and hears from her doctor in Madison about some new mutants and the concern over their origins.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Well, here goes part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me. Your constructive criticism and advice continues to help. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. No puns were hurt in the filming of tonight’s episode.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly, but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial CPR by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 2- The Big Chill pt 2, LA Story pt 2: Adventures in Photojournalism, The Inverters pt1
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 23-27, 2007
March 23, 2007
For our time travel experiments I wore period neutral women’s clothing, something that wouldn’t look too out of place in the last 100 years or so. I also wore a hooded cape which offered protection from the elements and permitted me to blend in further back. Not that it was needed if our research was correct, but it pays to “be prepared” — snaps spiffy Boy Scout salute.
“We’re done fitting the body sensors and your recorder belt pack. The cameras are micro digital units; one in your broach, the other in your hair clip thus giving us views fore and aft,” Korolev said.
“What am I, a ship?” I smiled nervously.
This was something new, a time trip by me in *uncharted waters*, so to speak. I had done a few this way to get the motorcycle, but after a lot of archival research. Dr. Korolev spoke without laughing.
“Your leather belt pouch has a small, hi-resolution manual film camera, in case something happens to the electronics. It also shoots in digital simultaneously, recording sound and up to one minute of HD video, if you wish. In the event you materialize in a bad spot, there is this.” He held up a Walther PPK and an odd chest harness.
“Kewl, somebody else likes James Bond here.” I said in bimbo mode.
“Very funny, ‘Jane Blond’, but we’re serious. What if you are attacked? Obviously, you want to avoid any major interaction with the past. Killing a future parent or something that will save a person from starvation in the future could be disastrous, but your incapacitation in the past would be bad as well, “ Korolev replied.
“Where does it go?” I asked looking at the unusual harness.
“We thought of on the back of your belt, but that’s too obvious if you’re searched. So this positions it just below your, ah ….”
“Well, if I’m concealing it there, you could have gone for something bigger, like an Uzi.” I gave my chest a quick lift for emphasis. “And if any one here tries combining bazooka with bosom, I’m out of here.” Korolev’s lab techs snorted.
“We also included a survival kit with Swiss Army Officers Knife, pocket carbide cable saw, illuminated compass, Mylar space-blanket and plastic ground sheet, compact sewing kit with 200 feet of carbon nano-tube thread and several fish hooks, 100 feet of 10,000 pound test carbon nano-tube line, first aid kit, an LED solar recharged flashlight, signal mirror, waterproof matches, energy bars, a one piece forged combat knife that looks like its part of your belt, and several dozen Spanish pieces of eight and 19th century US 20 dollar gold pieces on the faint chance you’ll need them. It all fits in your bag or on your person and weighs barely two pounds in total. You could be trapped in the past for some reason and be delayed in your return or we may need to flee the test site and you’re on your own for hours. Odds are you’ll never need it, but still. You never know,” said one of Korolev’s techs.
“What, no triple-thick condom?” I said, and then giggled uncontrollably. They stared at me slack-jawed. “None of you’ve seen Red Dwarf? Barbarians!”
We drove to a nearby mountaintop, remote enough not to be easily seen and where the terrain had not changed in millennia. Korolev continued. “You’ve done enough time trips that you should have a feel for how far back you‘ve traveled?” I nodded. “Use that as your guide. Try for the feeling you got on the ‘research trip’ for Operations. I know you call it Physical Plant, Joan, but it is Operations; that trip was what, 115 years?”
“Yes.”
“Do that again, snap a few pictures in each direction and come straight back. If it’s night, shoot the sky as well. We can use it and the changes in vegetation to determine the approximate year. We’ll transfer the data then you’ll try going back further. We’ll repeat this until you feel your arousal nearing intolerable levels, then we’ll stop and let you recover. Another day we’ll try the same series of trips but with you ‘purging’ beforehand. Don’t worry, we’ve got a plan to give you some privacy and we are professionals.” I didn’t like the leer I saw on the face of one tech.
“When we get to ‘that’ experiment, I’m flying solo, got it?”
“Are you ready, Joan?”
“Chocks away.” They stared again. “I mean, I’m ready. Gees guys, no sense of humor?”
“Oh, that was humor?” said Korolev, that made me laugh.
I relaxed and ‘fell’ back in time. I stopped and looked around me. There were far fewer clearings and the trees seemed much taller, virgin white pine? I smelled wood smoke from the farms and mills, and coal smoke from the distant Grand Miskatonic Shuttle and various logging railways. The research Korolev’s team did was sound. The search of deeds, tax records, logging and mining claims proved correct; there were no buildings or fields within a mile of the site and relatively few trees due to the massive rock outcroppings. I did ten trips in quick succession, by the last couple I was hungry, uncomfortable from sitting on the cold, hard rocks and Dr. Korolev and the techs were looking hot.
~~Ooh baby, the size of Korolev’s hands, ummmm. Oh-oh, it’s time. ~~
“Uh, guys, can we take a break? I’m… Let’s say I’m fit to burst.”
“Did you want some time alone? We could continue afterward. I’m surprised you didn’t say anything earlier; your readings the last few trips have been … interesting.” Korolev smiled.
~~Ghod, what virile man. Snap out of it, Joanie! ~~
“I wanted to do my best, but I think one more trip would put me over the top. How well did I do?” Hang in there girl, relief will be soon. “I noticed far fewer signs of civilization after the first few trips and nothing the last few.”
“Hard to say with precision: we don’t know if your ‘side effect’ builds up as a linear progression based on time depth and duration or not, or how fast it dissipates. A preliminary estimate based on your relative increase in arousal, if linear, and in the photos of the changing vegetation suggests you traveled back 2500 years the last time. Joan you can close your mouth, but roll up your tongue first.”
“Sorry.” The surprise of his announcement blunted my arousal somewhat.
“I think we’ll stop for today and let you recover. We’ll analyze the data and plan the next series of trips. Did you want the sensors off now?” asked Korolev.
“They’re mildly irritating, but if I start undressing now, I might not stop with me. You guys are looking awfully good to me, right now.” I laughed, but huskier and sexier than normal.
”We’ll give you 15 minutes with the sensors turned off,” said Korolev.
“Make that half an hour, please. Can I borrow a blanket? The ground’s cold.”
* * * *
“Terrace Hill, how may I…”
“It’s Joanie, Eric Johnson right away please,” I was anxious to hear his voice.
“Sure Joanie.”
“Joanie, I’m happy you called but surprised,” Eric replied enthusiastically.
“You said to call you at eight on Fridays.”
“Joanie, eight Central Time, its seven now, not that I’m complaining. We can talk longer this way,” he laughed, but I didn’t feel insulted.
“This couldn’t wait, dear. You don’t mind me calling you that? I’m not the best with this romance stuff.”
“No, it’s … I like it Joanie,” he said then laughed.
“Good, because if this works out you’ll be hearing it for a long time; I’m not a kiss and run kind of girl. I play for keeps. I forgot to ask you about something important yesterday, and I feel bad about it.”
~~Ghod, I’m getting aroused, and so soon. ~~
“Don’t feel bad, we were kinda preoccupied. What’s the matter?”
“Did Mel, or your Mom, tell you I might be in a major magazine. I’d do an interview, photo spread and be on the cover?”
“They mentioned something, but said you would tell me,” Erid repied.
“Eric, would you mind if I posed for Playboy?”
“Playboy?” Eric sounded … I’m not sure how he sounded.
“I won’t do it, if you don’t want me to,” I offered.
“Why would it bother me?”
“Because I’d be naked; it’s for the centerfold. I’d be on the cover too. It will be their first all mutant issue; I’d be Miss July.”
“My girlfriend, Miss July? It’s okay, Joanie; you’re an adult and all, so it doesn’t matter what I say. You’re doing this for your school, and you are so pretty, why not?” Eric said reassuringly but with a hint of excitement.
“That’s very mature, Eric, but it does matter to me what you think. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you? This decision affects us both, and we should make it together; it’s only fair we discuss this.”
“I won’t be embarrassed. Ah, Joanie, can I have a copy when it comes out, I can’t buy one because I’m under age.”
“If Mom and Dad say it’s okay, sure. I am your girl after all. Say hi to Mel, and your parents, Eric. I love you,” Ghod forgive me, but I do!
“Sure Joanie. I love you too.”
I think I’m getting the hang of this girlfriend/boyfriend thing. As to the up close and naked bit, I’m glad we have to wait. Good thing that was over the phone, I’m gonna need to decompress. Between the ‘research trips’ and this call I’m wound tighter that an eight day clock.
* * * *
March 24, 2007
“Since it's Saturday, we’ll just do a handful of tests and keep it a short day. You’ll do two test trips where you travel straight back in time as far as you can, take your photos, and snap right back. Then you’ll do a couple were you go half as far back, stop, take your photos, then try going at least as far back again, repeating until you can’t go any farther. This is the bounce down technique we discussed earlier. You then take your photos and come back in one shot. We’ll try the decompression-style returns in a few days after the analysis of these experiments. Don’t go any father back than your control permits, Joanie. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Are you ready?”
He must be concerned, he called me Joanie.
“Ready, uh, Sergei, and thanks for calling me Joanie.”
“Be careful, and good luck.”
I relaxed and ’pushed,’ ‘fell,’ -- it’s hard to describe how I do it -- as hard as I could into the past. I saw no sign of civilization in the two trips I made this way.
“We think you went back 4000 years on the second attempt, it’s difficult to tell until the analysis is finished. How do you feel?” Sergei asked.
“I’m fine, there’s a pleasant tingle here and there, but nothing I can’t cope with.” I was beginning to like this research project. I could do this all day, oh yeah.
“This time try the bounce down trick we discussed. Good luck.”
I relaxed and fell into the past, trying for half as intense an experience. I stopped, took photos, and traveled back again. I did this several times until my ”side effect” became uncomfortable, and I came back. After several minutes to compose my self, I tried again. I concentrated on the task at hand, and not what I’d like to put my hands on.
I pushed it as far as I could, to the point where my arousal was urgent. If I’d seen anything resembling a man, I would have stripped in seconds, happily. It would have been damned uncomfortable on top of all that hard, cold ice. It was frigid, and the glare was hard on my eyes even with the dark sunglasses I’d brought. I stood trembling, and not from the cold, shot my photos, grabbed a bag of samples, and came back like a rocket.
Once I’d recovered my senses I was tired, glowing, and sticky. Time travel and quiet dignity did not go hand-in-hand for me. I felt fantastic, but embarrassed.
“Um, how long did I …?” Korolev and the techs looked embarrassed too.
“You traveled at least 10,000 years, give or take a millennium. You were sitting atop the last great North American ice sheet, Joanie. Remarkable! Oh, thanks for the bag of ice. We’ve saved some for analysis, the rest we’ll serve drinks over in celebration back at Whateley.”
“That’s pretty far back, huh?”
I giggled with delight and relief. I was out of it when I’d first come back, oh yeah baby! Sorry d/j/w.
“Did I go into a trance?”
“No, the sensors say you were conscious, but preoccupied,” said the senior tech.
“Preoccupied?” This was too good to pass up.
“You were having one long, continuous…”
“Can’t say it, can you? We’re all adults here.” I gave my “entourage” a vamp’s smile and pose.
“You had a ….”
“Can’t, can you?”
“Sorry, Joanie,” the tech replied.
“Do you need help with that?” I said, pointing at the embarrassing bulge in his pants. He was very embarrassed.
~~My-my! ~~
“Thanks, but I have a girlfriend.” I noticed they all were suffering to varying degrees.
“I take it we try the decompression stops next time?”
“Oh yes, please!” they chorused.
* * * *
“Sis, pick up the phone. It’s Joanie!”
“Joanie, how are you?” It was her husband.
“How’s married life, Tony? Her Royal Pain in the A… Rear driving you crazy?”
“She’s a sweetie, and you know it, Joanie.”
“My Ghod, she’s been replaced by a space alien!” I exclaimed.
“Here she comes, hang on.”
“Stay on the line too, Tony. I need to talk with both of you.”
“What gives, my formerly evil older brother, now my evil younger sister?”
“I’ll be brief,” I replied.
“That’s a miracle!”
“Ha, ha! I have an offer from a major magazine publisher. In exchange for an interview and photos, Whateley gets two million dollars as a charitable gift.”
“So what’s the problem? I assume you’ve checked them out. That is a lot of money. It reminds me of an advance for a Presidential autobiography,” she said, then laughed.
“The interview is fine, and the magazine cover is okay. It’s the centerfold that bothers me. I’d be Miss July.”
“Playboy?” she said, choking.
“Yes.”
“That’s a gift from the gods to me,” my sister said, then laughed.
“Babs thought you’d say as much.”
“Been talking with Ms Johnson again. Are you seeing that boy of hers?” Sis asked.
“Not right now, but I like the young man. I like him a lot.”
“I know you, miss poster child for the shy. Tell me the truth,” Sis teased me but it was near the truth.
“How do you know when you’re in love? I never was before. I think I am now.”
“You love a fourteen year old boy? This gets better and better,” she said half-laughing.
“Tony, I haven’t heard a word from you.”
“I have to live with -- Ouch!”
“No fair hitting, Sis, and this isn’t funny. I don’t want Eric hurt, or to get either of us in trouble.”
“Be careful. It’s your lives and reputations on the line. If he’s worth it, you two can wait.”
“Thanks Sis. I just hope I can last that long. The way I react to him when we’re close, I don’t know why it is, but wow!”
“Joanie, um, are you on the Pill?”
~~So the gloves are off now? ~~
“Some of us have control, Blondie,” I snorted, then continued. “I told you, my new body burns off drugs, any drugs, real fast. The pill won’t work for me. I promise, Sis, as much in lust as I may be, I love him and his family too much to do anything stupid.”
“You’ve got it bad, but I’m happy for you. He must be something special for you to fall for him.”
“I think he is, and the best thing is he’s not Italian.”
“Oh you!” Sis exclaimed.
Did I forget to mention Tony’s Italian-American?
* * * *
March 27, 2007
“Before we proceed with the teleconference, let me give you some background.”
* * * *
March 25, 2007
“Dr. Grobschmidt-Taylor to emergency, stat. Dr. Grobschmidt-Taylor to emergency, stat.” the PA blared.
“I’m here, what is it?”
“We have a pair of new mutants in severe burnout. We’re struggling to stabilize them. The boy is in an ice bath with chilled oxygen and chilled IVs yet his temperature keeps rising; it’s at 105F. His twin sister is nearly as bad but her slightly smaller body mass is letting us chill her more effectively. She’s at 103.5F and steady.” replied the night intern.
“Add salt, good old sodium chloride, to the ice bath, lots of it, and add more ice. The salt will force the temperature down like in an old-fashioned ice-cream maker. Have someone get some dry-ice and a vacuum flask of liquid nitrogen from the lab. If we have to, we’ll use that to chill him, but very carefully. Inject both patients with the highest dosage of metabolic inhibitor their body weights allow, him first. Keep a constant watch on both, I’ll not lose one patient because we were too busy with the other.”
* * * *
“How are they doing?”
“Much better Dr. Sara, he’s at 103 and going down. She’s at 101 and we’re about to wean her from the ice-bath.”
“Any clues to the nature of their mutations, Carrie sweetie?”
“Mom! Don’t do that, it’s embarrassing. Will you behave yourself?” Sara pouted and nodded. “They’re twins and turn fourteen next month. He’s Thomas Allen Smith and she’s Thomasina Alice Smith, Mom.”
“Oh the poor babies. Be glad I didn’t give you a cutesy name to match mine, Carrie. What worries me is, why simultaneous burnouts? I’ll have to do a search of the literature to be certain, but I can’t recall it happening before. Identical twins that’ve mutated often end up with similar or identical powers, but they don’t necessarily mutate at the same time. These are fraternal twins so there’s less reason for twin burnouts.”
“The genetic tests show they’re in that rare class of polar body twins, an egg that split before fertilization.”
“I know my genetics, Carrie, but thanks for reminding me. The synchronized burnouts suggest this was deliberate, and the disappearance of their parents worries me. The police just informed me and advised us to increase our security.”
“Are you saying these are drug, radiation, or virus induced?”
“It’s possible. Are all normal safely precautions in place?”
“Double gloves, disposable gowns, masks, frequent hand washing, and the use of the UV/antiseptic spray airlock to their room.”
“Good. Have Dr. Alex call me when the lab results are back. Until we know they’re not contagious, no one goes home. This unit is under quarantine.”
* * * *
“So that’s what happened. Dr. Pollard, Dr. Polland, Dr. Otto, Mr. Lodgeman, and my dear Joanie, glad you could all make this video conference.”
“You said in the e-mail you needed our help,” asked Dr. Otto.
“We have suspicions, and if they prove true, the implications are frightening. The patients, polar body twins Thomas Allen and Thomasina Alice Smith -- no giggles Joanie -- entered severe burnout within minutes of each other. Salted ice baths and metabolic inhibitors controlled the symptoms and prevented injury. All lab tests came back negative for pathogens and radiation damage but we did find traces of unusual organic compounds. The material is unstable but from what we analyzed it acts similar to, but not as severely as, Ultra-X-Amine.”
* * * *
To be continued
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_2_rev_Janet_1.doc | 74.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 3
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
What is Ultra-X-Amine? Why are Joanie's friends so worried? Joanie's tagged to mentor the new mutant twins and members of MSG visit Whateley. Joanie has an easy day with Korolev and learns Ms Hartford set her up but feels like two million bucks after. Joanie has a nightmare, she hopes
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. Not responsible for any brain damage to readers of my stuff.
Adult content advisory: yet again this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly, but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Editorial necromancy by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 3- The Inverters pt2, LA Story pt 3: Adventures in Photojournalism, The Big Chill pt 3, A Little Nightmare Music
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 28-31, 2007
March 27, 2007
“What is Ultra-X-Amine?” I didn’t like the look on everyone’s faces; they appeared shocked.
“Joanie, ask Mr. Lodgeman if you need details. The Reader’s Digest version says Ultra-X-Amine is a poorly understood compound that induces supers level mutations in individuals with mutant genes. It’s usually fatal except in rare circumstances”
“Charlie, and, I take it, the Mystic Six, being the rare circumstances?”
“Yes, Joanie,” Dr. Otto continued. “Those exposed invariably die from intense burnout. The Mystic Six survived because they were young children when deliberately exposed, as has one other, a current student at Whateley who received a long forgotten sample of the compound as part of a practical joke gone wrong. She survived only due to being a nascent mutant mimic, and because of some unusual aspects of her burnout. That was the last remaining sample, so far as we know, and the knowledge to make the compound was lost long ago.” I saw his name tag in the video feed and smiled.
“So you’re the famous Dr. Otto. Thanks for helping Dr. Sara with my case. I may come to ARC someday for further testing if we can work it out with Whateley.”
“I’d be delighted, Ms. Brown. Our mutual friend, Dr. Sara, told me the most delightful stories about you.”
“I’ll bet she has. Don’t believe her, she lies.” Then I giggled. I can’t help it, I just do.
“Joanie, Otto, to the point,” remonstrated Sara with a chuckle. Dr. Pollard spoke.
“If someone has developed a non-lethal form of Ultra-X-Amine, this is dangerous. Supers made to order or a sudden plague of new supers could overwhelm the health care system. At a minimum, it would be disruptive. How can we help, Dr. Sara?”
“The FBI, CDC, State Crime Lab, and MSG are searching for chemists, biologists, engineers, or anyone else who might be capable of this. They are also tracing shipments of chemicals and equipment that such complex synthesis might require, and for suitable facilities. With so many of each in the area due to UW-Madison’s proximity, it’s a difficult task, but they claim to have leads. Doctors Otto, Pollard, and Polland, I need your detailed analysis of our data and of the trace samples of the compound we recovered from the victims’ blood and urine. Mr. Lodgeman, I need any recollections the Mystic Six have of the original experiments. Also, I need all the notes and any recollections from Sherry’s Ultra-X-Amine related experimentation. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.”
“I understand. I’ll contact the Tanakas and the rest today,” said Charlie. The doctors gave their agreement.
“What am I needed for, Sara, historical research?” I said hinting at my “special” kind of research.
“I need you to help the twins. You’re a recent mutant, a famous one, and you know the stresses involved. They’ve not experienced gender change, but their lives are torn apart. We’ve had at least one kidnap attempt at the hospital. Security stopped them, just. I fear for their safety and that of the staff. They’re on a Wisconsin Air National Guard plane to Whateley as we speak. Dari and Gin are escorting them. Dari, being an alumna, is giving the twins a quick course in Whateley so they won’t be total newbies. They should arrive at Whateley in a couple hours.”
“I’m not needed for a ‘research trip?’”
“Only if absolutely necessary. The authorities claim they’re on the trail. I suggested they make use of your ‘talents’, but you know how stubborn men are.”
“Sara, I used to resemble that remark.”
“Sorry, ah … girl.” Sara said between snickers. “It’s dangerous, Joanie, if they have more of the compound. Regen or not, if they exposed you, it might trigger another burnout, but to those without mutant genes it should be harmless.””
“My own regen might kill me?”
“There is a small risk, yes.”
“Then I gallantly volunteer for the death-defying task of mentoring teenage twins.” We giggled. “Sara, what of their parents?” I asked.
“Their status is unknown. They disappeared soon after our EMTs took the children. The parents knew to call us because of that website you mentioned on TV. If not for that, the children would have died. We barely saved them as it is. A regular hospital isn’t equipped properly. Officially, their parents are missing and possibly kidnapped or worse. There are no leads. See why I need your help?”
“Are any of the blood relatives mutants?” Dr. Polland asked.
“Not that we know. It’s possible the children were targeted at random or for some other reason. It’s all pretty vague so far, sorry,” said Sara.
“What of the kids, how are they?” I asked.
“They turn fourteen next month, and physically appear largely unchanged by the mutation. The only significant difference from their doctor and school records is their eye and hair color. Thomas had brown eyes and hair, while Thomasina had blue eyes and dirty blonde hair. They’re eyes are now an intense emerald green and their hair is changing; the roots appear reddish blond. It reminds me of your hair early into your transformation, Joanie. It's growing at a fairly normal rate so we’re not certain of the final color. Their powers are not fully tested either, but Dari and I recommend Hawthorne Hall for now.”
“A pair of strawberry blonds, my kind of … You said Hawthorne? Poor kids. Are they violent, or have uncontrolled powers?”
“A combination. As new mutants we’d keep them here until they gained some control, but the kidnap attempt makes that untenable. Whateley will have to finish the job.”
“But why Hawthorne?” asked Dr. Pollard?
“They’re inverters,” He said.
I saw looks of surprise on everyone’s’ faces.
“That’s a new one on me, inverters?” I asked.
“A rare sub-class of nullifier which is a subclass of PK or Package-deal Kinesis. Nullifiers were hypothesized, but never before confirmed. Instead of damping other mutant’s powers, their power acts like a corner prism and turns that power back toward its source. Theirs appears to be a generalized inverter power that responds to TK, energy beams, telepathy, and physical force. If it’s a threat, their power kicks in,” said Dr. Sara.
“You’re saying their power is passive and defensive by nature, so why Hawthorne?” I asked, Dr. Otto answered.
“They’re natural trouble magnets. Lacking an obvious offensive power, exemplar looks, or a fierce appearance, they seem easy targets. Some bully will try to intimidate them and go too far.”
“Like how the Omegas treated me first day at Whateley,” I said.
“Joanie had a run-in with the Omega’s?” asked Dr. Otto.
“They’ll never make that mistake again. She time stopped them and...” Dr. Sara gave Dr. Otto the “Cliff’s Notes” version of the incident.
“So that’s what the rumors were about. I’d heard a female warper had humiliated one of the campus thug squads, but I didn’t know it was you, Joanie. We do need to bring you in for testing someday,” Dr. Otto replied.
“What of our inverters?” I said.
“When something attacks them, the response is automatic. It’s likely a TK shell or field that reacts instantly to danger. The greater the force striking it, the stronger it reacts. Somehow the attacking energy re-enforces the field. Whatever hits it is returned toward its point of origin with little loss of power. This often infuriates the attacker as they think they’re being mocked. The violence escalates until the attacker suffers serious injury,” Dr. Otto said.
“If the attack occurs in a crowd, it turns into a brawl with many injured, often by accident?” I suggested.
“Exactly, Joanie. The inverter is like the initiator in nuclear bomb and this applies to physical force, too. Throw a ball at them they expect, you have a game. Throw one hard they don’t expect, you’re lucky not to bean yourself,” Dr. Otto concluded.
“I’d think a mild tranquilizer would help,” I offered.
“That would be worse as it’s a fully autonomic reflex. Only if they’re unconscious does the response not manifest. Dr. Alex and I feel though it’s a self—adjusting TK field, with training they may be able to turn it on and off at will, or moderate its intensity. They might learn to dissipate the energy rather than reflect it. As it stands now it’s like that old sci-fi series, Star Trek and the starship deflector shields -- only these shields shoot back.”
“Nasty, Sara, and it could look to observers and the Police that they did it and not the instigator.”
“That’s why they need to be at Whateley until they learn control and the people trying to harm them are captured,” said Dr. Pollard.
“Other than they know of me and my connection to Wisconsin, why me? There are other students or staff better versed on powers theory or psychology.”
“Because you’re bright, friendly, and a warper -- that last quality is crucial. So far that is one of the few powers they don’t react to. Empaths and telepaths are at some risk but your mental powers are passive so that shouldn’t be a problem. A brick or energizer would be a disaster,” Dr. Sara explained.
“But Hawthorne’s full of energizers and violent types, Sara,” I said.
“Yes, Joanie, but they — the students -- know that too. Hawthorne residents are extra careful with each other, and I recommended they have a room just for the two of them -- they are twins. Now that we’re all up to speed here, it’s time we take our leave,” said Sara.
“Wait, how should I dress to meet them? The full blown Whateley school uniform, casual clothes, my Whateley Security uniform, the ‘Joanie’ leather look, or something else?” I saw Carrie walk on camera.
“Ooh, choices, Joanie. Being the only familiar face on campus, the Joanie look toned down with a Whateley school blazer shows your connection to the school yet looks familiar. We miss you girl.”
“Hi, Carrie, I miss you too. Say hi to MSG for me. Be seeing you.”
“Number Six, The Prisoner,” Carrie and Dr. Sara shouted then broke the link.
* * * *
I rushed to Poe and changed into appropriate clothes. I must say the preppy school blazer over my leathers and Steve Zink number 11 boots was downright sexy. I’ll have to remember this look for when Eric is legal. I hustled to Administration to see if we had any info on the twins.
“Ms. Hartford, do we have a registration packet, or any other information on a set of boy/girl twin mutants that are arriving today from Wisconsin, Thomas Allen and Thomasina Alice Smith? I’ve been tabbed as their mentor and advisor, poor kids.”
~~That nearly got a laugh out of her, maybe there’s some hope.~~
“Nothing yet, other than their names and the names of the two members of the Madison Supers Group escorting them, that makes three of you at Whateley, five if you count their escort.”
“They're just visiting. Wisconsin’s not planning an invasion, certainly not this close to the spring walleye season.”
“Walleye, that’s a fish?” asked a secretary.
“Walleyed Pike, the best damned eating fish on earth, with the possible exception of Lake Perch, or maybe Smelt. Sorry, it’s a Midwest thing.” They all looked at me oddly. ”Is there anything else for me while I wait for them to arrive?”
“I have some mail for you, Joanie. It looked important so I wanted to hand it to you, personally,” Ms. Hartford purred.
“It’s not a bomb, is it?” I said then I giggled. The Administration staff fought to keep in control, but Ms. Hartford exploded with laughter.
~~What?~~
Then I saw the Rabbit Head logo in the return address.
~~I thought I forgot to tell them my answer … oh! Okay, “Amelia”, two can play this game.~~
“Thank you for informing them I’d accept their offer, Ms. Hartford. I plain out forgot in the excitement.” I walked over and hugged her, then kissed her on the cheek.
~~Hum, she doesn’t taste of poison, or smell of formaldehyde, definitely not plastic, and she feels warm-blooded. There go four popular theories down the drain.~~
Her cheeks developed a lovely red blush.
~~Game, set, and match to Joanie. Time for me to be a good sport.~~
“I’m just having fun with you, Ms. Hartford. Thanks, and I mean it. I didn’t have the guts to send it in, but Whateley does get a bundle for me taking my clothes off. It seems a fair trade.”
“You’re welcome?” she said somewhat confused.
~~That rattled her cage.~~
I sat in a quiet corner reading the letter. They were pleased I’d agreed so quickly.
~~Damn, Ms. Hartford faxed it in on the 22nd? That’s the day I first heard of it. I wonder … maybe Pinky knows when her Aunt's birthday is, and her real age. Revenge is a dish best served with butter frosting and candles -- lots and lots of candles.
~~They’re willing to do all the photos and interviews at or near Whateley; that’s a plus. These look like airline tickets, and an invite to his California mansion? Nah, I’m not a hot tub kind of gal. I'd better let them know I can’t make that. It pays to be polite. They say this should take three days at 16 hours a day, though possibly longer. I’m a regen, I can handle it. Now, two million divided by 48 hours is … ~~
“Joanie!” Gin cried out as she ran up then hugged me mercilessly.
~~My, that felt good.~~
“You too, Gin, Dari. Everyone listen up please. These two are Ginseng Glory and Dairy Maid, two of the nicest mutants you’ll ever meet.”
“Looking sharp, Joanie, but why the part Whateley, part leather, look?” asked Dari.
“Carrie and Sara suggested it for meeting the kids, mix the familiar with the new?”
Gin led two worried looking teens to meet me. They tried to hide behind her.
“Joanie, may I introduce Thomas and Thomasina Smith.” said Gin.
They were kids-next-door types, no fashion models in training or apprentice monsters, just average kids. Average height and build for their age, he was roughly 5’6”, 120 lb, she was slightly taller at 5’7”, 100lbs, but girls do mature sooner. Except for their shockingly emerald green eyes and the strawberry blond of the new hair coming in they were normal in appearance.
They sat down on a couch in Ms. Carson’s office; she’d kindly invited us in. They seemed happy enough on the surface, but their body language said they were terrified.
“How you two holding up? Were Dari and Gin good to you?”
“We’re okay,” said Thomas, his sister just nodded.
“You’re not okay, even I can tell that. If you two shook any harder you’d fall apart. What’s wrong, you can’t be afraid of me?”
I sat on the floor sort of side-saddle to be less imposing; I’m in a short skirt here people. Dari and Gin found some chairs.
“And it can’t be Ms. Carson, she’s a sweetie. She puts up with me being here, that qualifies her for sainthood.” Dari burst into giggles.
~~Odd, I thought she was a laugher.~~
Gin snickered demurely and Ms. Carson stuck her tongue out and winked but only for a moment before returning to her normal friendly face of authority. The twins smiled weakly. Thomasina spoke up.
“You’re so famous and all, Ms. Joanie, and these last few days were terribly strange.” She took a deep breath. “We felt awful during our mutation, we heard guns going off, and … no will tell us where Mom and Dad are!”
She started crying, her brother moved to hug her and he started sobbing too. Dari and Gin went to comfort them. I used this interruption to my advantage.
“I need to use the ladies room, excuse me.”
* * * *
Well I did, but that’s not why I left.
“Ms. Hartford, do you know where Pinky Conners is now?”
She tapped a few keys on her computer.
“She’s with Dr. Bellows until 11:50.”
“Thanks, I should have remembered. Could you get a message to her to meet me at our table in The Crystal Hall? She’s to meet me there as soon as she’s done with him. It’s important.”
“Certainly, Ms. Brown, I wonder…”
“Yes?”
“Could I have an autographed copy of the July issue when it comes out?”
“Sure, but why would you want one?”
“Insurance,” Ms. Hartford said stone-faced, though I could tell she was straining not to laugh.
* * * *
I fought back the giggles, and returned to Ms. Carson’s office. They were calmer now. I guess they’d cried out their stress.
“Do they have rooms assigned yet?” I asked, hoping they got a joint one as Dr. Sara said.
“For the time being, they’ll share the northwest corner room, third floor of Hawthorne. We’re making an exception on boys and girls in the same dorm room as they are twins,” said Ms. Carson.
“See, I told you she’s nice, “ I said.
“You’ll love it. I had a school friend who lived in Hawthorne. There’s a great view on that end and you’re near the bathrooms and showers, a big plus,” said Dari. “We have to catch the Wisconsin Air National Guard plane by 5PM, but we can stay for a few hours and get you settled in. Want a campus tour?”
* * * *
Tom and Tina, that’s what they preferred to be called ~~Great, another Tina.~~ were wowed when we got to the Crystal Hall, the next to last stop on our tour, the last stop being their dorm room.
“Are they still serving the TaterTots with French-fried onions, and those spicy curly fries? Their's were the best.” You could tell Dari was a gourmand.
“At least once a day. They’re still good, too. Tom, Tina, let’s get you lunch. Grab a tray and have your student ID cards ready to hand to the cashiers. They’re testy sometimes.” I giggled.
“Joanie, what did you do?” asked Gin.
“If a petite brunette named Cheryl is working, call her Brittany Spears.” I covered my mouth until I settled down.
“Tom and Tina, do be careful what you pick out. Some Whateley students have strange dietary requirements. You don’t want a cage of live hamsters on your plate by mistake.”
“Joanie!” Gin cried out.
“She’s right, Gin, but usually the strange stuff is kept out of the normal serving line. Treat yourself to some soft serve ice-cream when you’re done. This is some of the best I’ve ever had. I’m from Wisconsin and I ought to know.” said Dari.
“Are you about to sing the Pabst Blue Ribbon Jingle?” I asked.
We checked out, -- Cheryl was off today, ~~Damn!~~, and sat down at my favorite table. It provided a good view of the main campus commons. We’d been eating a short while when Pinky walked up. She was slowly becoming more comfortable with her situation. Whether it was due to me or Dr. Bellows, I don’t know, but she was dressed more appropriately for her male hermaphroditic form, a touch unisex, but definitely male. She even wore a school tie though many did not. She/he looked sharp and confident, and I said so.
“You look great Pinky. The tie is a nice touch.”
~~Is that silver tie-tack she’s wearing what I think that is?~~
“I can’t wear most of my favorite jewelry or earrings with this body but I still can have some flash.”
She/he smiled happily. Pinky was definitely happier in recent days.
“Pinky, these are Tom and Tina Smith. They’re twins and just arrived today. Since you’re my friend, and live in Hawthorne on the same floor, I thought you could be their friend and show them the ropes; the do’s and don’ts of student life at Whateley.”
“Sure thing, Joanie, I’m so proud what you’re doing for the school. My Aunty told me how much money we’re getting for you posing and giving an interview, and all the guys I’ve talked with say they want to buy one when it comes out, even some of the girls said so, too.”
“Slow down, Pinky. Take a breath. You’re talking so fast I can hardly follow you. Your Aunt told you about my magazine deal?”
“That’s why I’m wearing the silver tie-tack she gave me. Aunty is handing them out all around campus along with a little note telling them why. She said she bought a couple hundred.”
~~I’m sunk.~~
Gin and Dari looked close at the Rabbit Head logo pin and stated giggling.
“It’s not that funny, and it's for two million dollars, minimum. Your Aunt and I are going to have a long talk and she’d better …” I saw Ms. Hartford walking past handing out pins. “Hey, don’t I rate one, Ms. Hartford?” She walked over, smiling happily and handed me one. “This game goes to you.” I made a chalk mark in the air. She nodded and walked off. I pinned it on my blazer’s lapel.
“Ms. Joanie?” asked Tom.
“Just, Joanie, okay?”
“Isn’t that a Playboy logo?”
“Yes, I’m Miss July 2007, and no snickers, girls.”
They all broke up. I could tell the rest of the day would be downhill from here. The things I do to earn a buck.
The rest of the afternoon we worked hard getting the twins set up in their room, and my friends from MSG back to their plane. I’d wished we could visit longer, but they have their own lives. I saw them off then spent several more hours escorting Tom and Tina around campus and arranging for their medical and powers testing. I had evening shift with Security, so I left them in Pinky's capable hands. I knew I could trust her/him now, and there was a chance they could help each other. They could even be each others’ dates for the mandatory school dances, Tina when Pinky was both, and Tom when she was just a she. I gave them all some quick advice before I left.
“Tom and Tina, Pinky is a special kind of shape shifter, she’s a were. Her base form is a girl, but every other 28 days she becomes like she is now, a male hermaphrodite -- both sexes but male in outward appearance. She’s understandably upset about it, but is adapting.”
Tom and Tina each grabbed one of Pinky's hands and gave a friendly squeeze.
“Pinky, FYI, Tom and Tina are inverters. It’s like a nullifier, but their power turns an attack back on its source. That applies to physical and mental powers as well as TK, and energy blasts, so be careful, okay? I’m mostly a warper so I don’t set off their defense. You two know how to contact me if there’s any problem, and Pinky will help too. Wish I could stay but I have to go now. Duty calls.”
“Joanie, after our 7:00AM run, let’s meet with Tom and Tina at 7:45AM, by the main door to Hawthorne then go to breakfast as a group?”
“You bet.”
* * * *
March 29, 2007
“Today is an easy one, Ms. Brown, a review of what we’ve done so far and where we are going next with our tests.” Korolev explained.
“I don’t get to time travel today, darn. I was so looking forward to it.” I licked my lips and pouted.
I like this new and improved body. Oh, I miss the old me, but this body is so much fun. It’s like I traded in the old reliable family minivan for a Ferrari, a Ferrari that it came with its own service garage and mechanic. The options that came standard with this “model” astound me. The range of “entertainment” activities is better, too, and with this body I’ll have no problems getting the guys to “lend” me that one option I don’t have anymore. I’m sure they would if I was “that sort of girl,” which I’m not. A good thing as my contraceptive options are limited to condoms, the rhythm method and abstinence.
Given that I’m far more old-fashioned than I thought, the latter seems the choice for now. I’m amazed at how fast I became a one man woman, and I can’t have “ahum” with him legally for four years. Maybe that’s part of what attracted me to him, his being underage, and it’s not in a perverted way. Having to wait gives us time to mature, and get used to the idea, and believe me, I need it.
~~Gees, is he speaking to me? Korolev must be pissed, my mind wandered off again.~~
“Sorry Dr. Korolev, I was preoccupied.”
“The point I was making is when you knew precisely the ‘when’ you were traveling to or had just a rough date but a particular event, you homed in on it with great accuracy. The Wisconsin State Capitol building fire trip and the research trip for Operations are examples.”
“But what of these recent tests, you had me going purely by “feel”. The ‘go as far as the Operations trip “felt” then double that’ and so on, no specific dates?”
“I suspect if I asked you to revisit those same points in time you would do so with ease. We believe you have an internal ‘time sense’ and an intuitive feel for the flow of time as you manipulate it in either travel or your time stop.”
This sounded intriguing and like a challenge.
“Test me.”
“Okay, Joanie. Give me your best estimate of the year, month, and day you reached on each of the test trips you did for me.”
By now they had analyzed the body sensor data and the photos I took and the ice sample and had a fairly good idea of when I’d traveled to. I’d not seen any of it yet. All I’d got were the preliminary results but nothing precise. Korolev described the test trips, and I gave my answers. He took a few minutes to run some calculations.
“The further back in time you go, the harder it is for us to get precise times for your destination. We have only the limited evidence you could gather on such short-duration trips but at the worst you’re off less than one percent and that’s the deep trip to the continental ice sheet.”
“You mean the noon, July 04th, 10511 BC trip?” I was showing off but Korolev had been condescending at times.
“Give or take 100 years in our measurements. Your internal time sense may well be correct. My fellow colleagues and I suspect it’s a subconscious form of clairvoyance that allows you to guide your travels. It’s logical, if you can travel corporeally though time you can mentally as well, at least in some manner. You also have a ‘feel’ for the temporal energy used, since you could repeat precisely the time traveled in the Operations trip on that first solo trip at the remote site, and that was with no passenger that your passive empathic/telepathic powers might get feedback from.
"Our next series of tests will be for precision, and will involve testing the bounce up, with and with out ‘decompression.’ After those we will test your duration at ‘depth’ using ‘decompression‘ to lengthen the time your can remain. We’ll commence these next week, Joanie.”
“I look forward to it, and thanks for calling me Joanie.”
* * * *
March 30, 2007
Dear d/j/w Tina and Chris invited me to sleepover this weekend, with Dr. Bellows downstairs its safe enough, if we’re careful. Anyways, I like hanging out with them. Maybe we can invite Pinky over some time, she’d or she/he’d have fun.
* * * *
March 31, 2007, 2:53am
“NO! Make it stop, please! It’s horrible! Kill me now!”
“Wake up, Joanie. It’s just a dream, wake up.”
“Aaaaaaaaaeeeee! Nooooooooo!”
Wake up please, Joanie. It’s okay. It’s Tina, and Chris is here, too, calm down.”
“I just had the worst nightmare, Chris, Tina.”
“We kinda figured that out, Joanie.” said Tina. They both looked concerned for me and very sleepy.
~~Damn it’s not even three in the morning!~~
I’d had nightmares before, very few as a child, but I’d had a series of them after my transformation, mostly in the first few days. I never told Dr. Sara -- too embarrassed -- though I suspect she knew. They started up again for a while after my campus assault, but strangely not after the kidnapping, I think I was too angry. Talking with Dr. Bellows helped with that, but this was different, and it was so vivid, like I was there.
“What was it girlfriend, falling, fire, drowning, the campus assault, or your near rape in Boston?”
“No, Tina, nothing like that but it was hideous. She was beautiful but it was so evil.”
“You dream some shape-shifting monster attacked you?” asked Chris.
“She, she, she … it was so bad!”
“What was it, Joanie?” Chris questioned me..
They both gave me a hug. If I still was a guy my underwear would be binding something awful on a part of my anatomy. As it was, I felt more than safe in their embrace.
~~Another time, Joanie, maybe. I’ll have to ask Eric first.~~
“In my dream there’s this slender young woman, Dani. She’s average height, 5’6” or slightly taller. By physical appearance, she belonged on a college campus, or looked like a student teacher. In my dream, she’d been teaching at Whateley for some months on a part-time basis, a History of Early Egypt or some such title, so we were acquainted. She may also have been an expert on mythological races and an archaeologist back in Egypt. Possibly we’d become friends, I’m not sure; it’s all a little fuzzy. She was driving back from a seminar in Boston, something to do with early Egyptian civilization. I think she was a scheduled speaker.
I was in Dunwich on an errand when the weather turned cold, wet and nasty. I waited for the rain to stop; wet roads and motorcycles are not a good match. Dani sees me and offers me a ride. We wrestle my cycle into the back of her truck and drive off. The late fall, early winter rain is pouring by now so she has to concentrate on her driving. Next this song starts playing on her truck’s radio. Did I tell you she had the heater on real high?”
“No, Joanie, but it figures, Egypt, heat,” Tina said.
“Okay, we’re in her truck, she has an oldies country station on, I mean real oldies, 30s, 40’s, some 50s, and they were playing an old Hank William’s hit, Why Don’t You Love Me (Like You Used to Do?) . She started humming, softly, I think it was humming but she didn’t do it for long, thank Ghod. It took all the control I had not to flinch or make a sarcastic remark. I was embarrassed to think that, she was doing me a big favor and was such a nice person and all I could think of was how awful her humming sounded. She stopped humming. I kept quiet so she could concentrate on driving down the narrow, winding, and wet road. A while later, I can’t remember what song was on the radio then, I don’t want to remember, the rain came down harder and she sang. It was just one line of the song, but the damage was done.”
“And that’s what had you screaming in your sleep? What a wuss!”
“You didn’t have to listen to it, Chris.”
“How bad could it be?”
“Since my mutation, my ability to discriminate between notes and tone, and my sense of rhythm are the best they’ve ever been, even compared to me as a child. My music career and teaching duties have sharpened that further. Ever been on a field trip with 40 plus kids in a school bus when they all insist on singing ‘99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall’ all the way through or ‘John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt’ non-stop for half an hour?”
“Yeah, the girl’s soccer club in middle school was like that. It was annoying but fun,” said Tina.
“What if in your mind the bus never stopped and the kids never stopped singing those same two songs, ever.”
“That would grate after a while,” Tina admitted.
“It was worse, indescribably worse. She was sharp, flat, a half beat ahead of the music, then a full beat behind, sometimes all at once. And the tone, Gilbert Gottfried with a bad sinus infection and strep throat is angelic by comparison.”
“It couldn’t be that bad. For one, how could she be ahead, behind, flat, and sharp all at the same time, and second, it's just music,” said Chris.
“So I’m exaggerating some.”
“Joanie?” they gave me 'the look.'
“Okay, I’m exaggerating a lot, but she was bad. What was scary is she had this nice speaking voice, and from what little I heard she had the potential to be a decent singer; she had a pleasant tone otherwise, but you had to hear it. You’ve heard the old gag about someone’s violin playing being so bad, they sound like the catgut is still in the cat?” Tina and Chris nodded, “Itzhak Perlman at the height of his ability vs. Jack Benny at his worst.” Tina and Chris looked at me oddly again.
“So she wasn’t that bad, but I’m making a point. She was infuriatingly close to being pretty good, but her timing or pitch was off enough to truly irritate. If you ever heard Jack Benny playing for laughs you’d understand. Her errors seemed chaotic, almost random. She was pretty good for a moment or two, then pain! This was Chinese Water torture singing, but I couldn’t find it in my heart to make her stop -- she so enjoyed the music. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders, and drag her off to remedial vocal class, maybe after months of intense lessons?
"Like I said, she sang only a line or so but I couldn’t help myself, and I started moaning. I tried to hold it in, I clamped both hands hard over my mouth and nose but I couldn’t stop. I felt so bad; there was such joy in her voice despite the horrors of it. It was like making fun of a disabled person. I was more upset with myself than with her. The expression on my face must have been memorable, a surrealist mosaic of pain, regret, sympathy and shock. What truly scared me was, soon after she stopped singing, we stopped at an intersection with another road and her expression suddenly changed, I imagined for a moment she had a glowing aura, then as suddenly she was back to her usual self if perhaps slightly embarrassed. Our exchange went something like this,
“I'm sorry, Joanie. Sometimes I forget there are other people in the car. That's a big reason my students let me ride alone.” Then she grins. “You know, with your singing talent you could help me. There's this Willie Nelson number, “On The Road Again”, that I'd like to learn to sing properly ....”
“And that’s when you woke us with your screams?”
“I am not that shallow, Chris. I’m considerate of other’s feelings. I remember saying something like,
“Sure, Dani, I’d like that. I bet with some lessons you’d have a lovely singing voice.”
“I have my doubts. I’d be satisfied with not making my students flinch.” Then she pauses, her smile slowly becoming wicked, almost feral. “You know, Joanie that could take months -- many, many months…”
“That’s when I screamed.”
“A weird dream, Joanie, but still a dream.” said Tina.
“I’m not so certain it was, it was too real. I was there, like in my time travels, I could see her, smell her, feel the vibrations of the music, the cold rain pelting us, the warm air gushing out of the trucks fore, aft, and seat heaters. It was as if she was a cobra, and I was some helpless victim about to be bitten; she was hypnotic. What was so galling is I knew this woman, Dani, was kind hearted, intelligent, a natural teacher, endlessly inquisitive, and a lover of music. I got the impression, lord knows from where, she could sing beautifully, but long ago, something tied to religious worship. It was as if she was detached from time, in some fashion. My doctors said I might have a low level precognitive gift, being a warper with time powers, but it never came out in testing. Why precognitive vision? Ghod help us if I’m right,”
“Back to bed Joanie.” said Tina.
“Can I cuddle with you two, I’m still frightened.”
“Okay, but no funny business Miss ‘I’m being faithful to my boyfriend,’” she replied.
“But I am, honest, why else would I turn down what you offered the last time.” Why did I tell them about Eric, why?
* * * *
To be continued
Additional proofing assistance generously provided by Janet Nolan
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_3cb_rev_Janet_1.doc | 87 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 4
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie's time travels to Whateley's past yield an unexpected bonus. Joanie and Pinky's bond grows, Joanie takes a free boat ride and a not so pleasant swim. The Ultra-X-Amine caper hits close to home.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. NO! Bad Kitty, put the nice lettercarrier down.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with gratuitous sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Text Re-vivification by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for proofing
Chapter 4- The Inverters pt3, The Big Chill pt 4, What’s New PussyCat? Oops I Did It Again
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, March 31- April 7, 2007
March 31, 2007
I felt guilty not being around Tom and Tina much their first few days on campus. I did eat breakfast with them every morning, and tried to interest them in taking a morning run with me or Pinky or me, but they weren’t very athletic. Pinky and I did get them to start a regular program of run walks — you know, run, then walk, then run, and so on — and to take up some sort of physical activity to be better prepared for Survival 101, or self-defense for dummies, or Survival Class -- take your pick. The students had even less kind names for it, many of them vulgar, but I understood the purpose behind it.
Mr. Anderson would have a field day with the twins if they weren’t careful, and I did not relish their being picked on. Technically, I could audit that class. My Security training doesn’t preclude it and I might need to substitute teach it someday. I knew what he looked like, as Lex, Pinky, and Tina all had pointed him out at various times, but we had not met. I understood his method of teaching, and though effective, I thought it barbaric and would not sit idly by if he abused it. Sometimes the designated victim becomes tougher and self-reliant, sometimes it scars them.
~~We will see. As he’s fond of telling his class, ‘lack of information can be fatal.’ Well, it will be for him, if he’s not careful.~~
If there is one thing I hated about school, it was bullies.
Their medical and powers evaluations were progressing quickly, along with their psychiatric profiles. As their mentor, I was kept informed, but some things remained under the doctor/patient seal. I don’t like being kept in the dark, but they assured me anything that was a risk to my new friends would be passed on. As a precaution, Security provided them with panic buttons built into watches, and if certain buttons were not pushed in a particular order at regular intervals, it became a radio distress beacon much like those aircraft carry. It still bothered me. Their tormentor or tormentors were at large and had not been caught, despite the FBI's confident words. For my own peace of mind, I introduced them to Tina and Chris Anderson and Steel Lotus. The girls would check-in on Tom and Tina regularly to ensure all was well. Tina meeting Tina was confusing but fun, I think Ms. Anderson will make a good friend/older sister to Ms. Smith. As to Tom, I don’t know many boys on campus -- I think I intimidate them. But he thought Chris was hot. Then again, I do, too. I wish we knew what happened to their parents. Either way, it’s the not knowing that hurts most.
* * * *
April 01, 2007, the rooftop of Siegel Hall
“Ms. Brown, today we enter the next phase of testing, precision and duration.”
“Dr. Korolev, please call me Joan or Joanie, I keep expecting to see my mother standing next to me when you say Ms. Brown.”
“Very well, Joan. Today I want you to travel back 115 years, walk around, observe and take notes, shoot photos and take some samples. Remember to take great care with anything biologically active. We’ve provided sanitary packaging to carry out your own waste. Less chance of disturbing the timeline.”
“By waste you mean all waste, human as well?” ~ ewh! ~ “I have to carry out my own pee and …?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“That brings pack-in-pack-out to a new level. If the South Pole station can do it, I suppose I can,” I replied.
“That’s the spirit. I see you understand the necessity of these precautions. As long as you follow them, I’m confident all will be well.”
I didn’t think Korolev was as confident as he claimed. I made a sudden move, peeked behind him and confirmed my suspicion.
“Doctor, why are your fingers crossed?” He blushed.
~~My, he looks almost cute when he … ~~
“Please be careful. You remind me of my late wife.”
~~ The man has the hots for me, lovely. Then why does that not upset me? He is good looking for an older man and… No! This is not a good time but still … ~~
“Excuse me, I need to use the ladies room, I won’t be long, say 15, ah, make that 30 minutes,” I said.
Korolev stared then smiled knowingly.
~~He knows, the dirty old man. Maybe that’s why we work together so well. ~~
I gave him a kiss and ran to the bathroom.
* * * *
“Now that you’ve decompressed, shall we begin?” asked Korolev.
“My pleasure, Doctor.”
“No, mine. I’m glad to see a pretty woman still finds me attractive, Joan.”
They recalibrated my sensors and I was off.
I traveled to shortly before I arrived on the rooftop with Mr. Lodgeman. I hurried down the stairs, and carefully walked onto the campus. I had excellent reproductions of period documents to “prove” who I was, though I hoped to never use them. The campus was beautiful, though barren by modern standards. Only a few buildings I was familiar with from Whateley of 2007 existed. Some of the buildings that were here now — in the past -- no longer existed. The familiar trees of my time were not there, or if they were, they were much smaller. The great forest near Whateley was as ancient and majestic as usual. I could see other areas near the future Academy that were cut over, yet in my time were in second growth forest and areas in trees that were fields in 2007. The smell of wood smoke and coal smoke was present, but faint.
I was careful to avoid interacting with people, but it couldn’t be entirely avoided.
“Miss, I don’t wish to seem forward, but may I ask what you’re doing here?” asked a tall, slender man in his late teens. Tall for the 1890’s, I was a good inch taller.
“I’m here to check out the school for my nephew; he’s considering attending. I’d like to attend college as well, perhaps a state normal school as I enjoy teaching, but all the ones I’ve visited discourage women. They keep telling me I’m better off having babies or some such nonsense. I want a family, but I want to better myself. What if my husband should die? Where would I be without a skill to fall back on?”
“You’re not one of those suffragettes, are you?”
“No, but I respect their beliefs. Society would be better off it we made full use of all our Ghod given talents. Some women aren’t meant to be mothers, why trap them in a role they’re unsuited for?”
~~I have to break this off soon, we’re attracting a crowd and I don’t like the way some of them are leering at me. Who do they think I am, some girl from a French postcard? Oh, come to think of it, I will be in 115 years. ~~
“Excuse me sir, I’ve taken too much of your valuable time. Good day.”
~~That was too close; I hope I haven’t messed up someone’s future romance, and thus those unborn or never meant to be born. If Vince Lombardi is born a girl, Green Bay will kill me. ~~
I behaved, and spent nearly a week exploring in and around the old Whateley and environs. I found quiet places to take care of my ”decompression” needs and kept my tension within tolerable limits while avoiding detection. Balling up a silk scarf and biting down on it muffled the sound effectively.
I’m learning to love time travel. It combines business and pleasure most delightfully. I tracked my “need,” and found it becoming more insistent the longer I stayed. A rough calculation showed I could stay this far back for several weeks, before I could no longer be effective as a researcher. I used a little known attic room in one of the oldest Whateley buildings several times for short naps.
On the last day of my “trip” I got to thinking if I could last longer with the “assistance” of a fellow time traveler. A more intense “decompression” might extend the intervals between the need for them. Eric sprang immediately to mind. It’s was less than two weeks after I’d professed my love to him, less than two months since the dance, and a bare seven months since we first met on Labor Day 2006. The thought of him filling my hot …
~~Oh Ghod, we have to get engaged or something. I’m obsessing over him. ~~
Am I so changed since I transformed? I could scarcely imagine myself with a man then, now it’s my fondest wish and with a particular man. Is it this body and pheromones -- specifically Williams-Johnson pheromones? I react some in the presence of good looking men. Okay, I react a lot. Those A-10 pilots had my nipples stiff and aching and my panties damp. But, it took time and a night of drinks and dancing. Governor Bob and Senator Joe get me hot-to-trot in no time, but Eric -- I’m practically dripping at the thought of him… Gees, I am and they’re bullets already and oh, ah … Excuse me, I need “therapy,” stat! Where are the fresh batteries?
I spent over a week in the area taking frequent photos and notes. I took great care not to be seen doing this and to document were they were taken. I camped in the dense forest that was now off limits to most at Whateley. Maybe it was my imagination, but I thought the forest sensed my presence somehow and tolerated it. It was as if the trees were sentient, “knew” I was from the future, and that I was friendly. Strange, why had I thought that?
April 03, 2007 the King Annex, Whateley
Korolev was pleased with the results of previous few days test, and decided we’ll go for broke tomorrow. That’s one of the wonders of time travel. I was gone nearly 8 days, but returned moments after I left. Korolev gave me a day off to recover and for his team to analyze my data. The “decompression” worked well, though it was inconvenient, but not unwelcome I must admit.
I’m glad we’re doing these tests now and not a couple weeks ago during my latest menstruation. How would I explain a tampon or pad to someone 115 years ago if I’d been discovered? Knowing me, I’d have run out of them at the most inopportune moment. Ghod, have we got it good nowadays, girls. Notice I did said good and not perfect. As I think of it, a few days earlier than that would have been worse -- can you say horny bitch on wheels? I’m not that bad, but it’s an excellent excuse to fall back on with the guys in security when I’m particularly moody, “Sorry, Guys, it’s the PMS talking.” The fools fall for it all the time.
Having a Little Annie Fanny caricature of a woman’s figure helps me. Once their eyes lock onto my “headlights,” my victims are doomed. I swore I’d never use my good looks to an unfair advantage, but I lied. Most know when I’m doing it, but the guys, and a surprisingly large percentage of the gals, don’t mind. I think they enjoy the show. I’m both relieved and mildly disappointed that so few of the staff or students have hit on me. I’m not exactly ugly. Three reasons I can think of: I’m too famous, I’m one of Ms. Carson’s pet projects, and I’m on semi-friendly terms with the Anti-Christ, Ms. Hartford. She would scare off just about anyone from disturbing me. She scares me. I can’t figure her out. I think she does what is best for her first, then Whateley, and then, begrudgingly, the students. I have to admit she’s competent.
She surprised me yesterday by showing up at the King Annex at the start of another of my open house/practice sessions for my band. We were waiting to audition a percussionist. I was practicing my guitar as Pinky sang along. Pinky is fast becoming an accomplished backing vocalist, and I suspect will be a fine lead singer someday. Ms. Hartford walked in, which shocked me, she rarely conducted business outside of Administration unless it was to hand deliver a letter of expulsion or some other happy news to a student.
“Ms. Brown, may I have a moment?”
~~What now? My dad’s dead, and she’s here to dance gleefully? I’m game; bring it on but first …~~
“Please, call me Joanie or Joan if you must. We know each other too well to be that formal.”
“Very well, Joanie,” ~~Whoa, she must want a big favor. ~~ “I’m attending an emergency computer security conference at the University of Illinois Supercomputing Center, and am unable to care for my niece during the Easter weekend.”
“No luck patching things up with Pinkie’s Mom?”
I looked at them both. Pinkie was sad, something she rarely was nowadays, especially in her female form. Ms. Hartford had that look of utter disdain she reserved for fools and idiots, and it wasn’t aimed at anyone present.
“She still hates mutants -- even her child? I’m so sorry. Sure, Ms. Hartford; I love to take care of Pinkie. I am scheduled to fly to Wisconsin on Good Friday, then drive to Iowa to visit friends. I should be back by Monday at the latest. Is that alright?”
~~I’ll have to visit her Mom. This is ridiculous. What is she, just a baby machine?~~
I turned to Pinky. “I’d love to have you along, girl. You’d get to see Gin, and Dari again, and the rest of MSG. The Johnson family in Iowa is fun, too, and it’s a private charter -- first class all the way. I could give you a lift, Ms. Hartford, it’s not much of a diversion.”
Ms. Hartford almost smiled. I think I’d surprised her.
“I have a DOD plane arranged through DARPA — ah, Miss Nikki Reilly’s dad, but thank you for offering.”
“Pity, it’s a Gulf Stream II, real classy. What you say, Pinky, want to bum around with Ms. Flakey?”
“Please, Aunty?”
“You will keep her safe?”
“Absolutely. I can always do a Boston on any troublemakers and my MSG pals are far more vindictive than I.”
I made a menacing grimace, then I giggled. Ms. Hartford gave me a knowing look. My use of “Boston” meant several things and she knew them all: what I did to my would-be rapist, what I did to the bastards who raped Pinky, and what the police did to my father’s mugger. I hear Pinky’s doctor was severely beaten in jail and had to be moved to solitary for his protection, poor man. As to the mugger, he’s safe in a high security cell, they won’t tell me where. Afraid I’ll go ballistic on him.
“Mind what Joanie tells you, Pinky, and your studies had better be up to date.”
That’s only the second time I ever saw Ms. Hartford blush, when Pinky ran over and hugged her. She may be a class “A“ bitch most of the time, but family means something to her.
* * * *
April 03, 2007
“Joanie, this is the big one. Please no snickers.”
~~Damn him that was my line!~~
“I want you to go back to the continental ice sheet, explore, take photos and some limited, biologically safe samples, then come back in one piece,” said Korolev.
“I’m a trouble magnet then?”
“Be careful, we, I’d miss you. You’re like a favorite niece, dear.”
~~I’m his wife, now his niece? My, he’s charming, or trying to get in my panties.~~
I gave him a bear hug and kiss. His assistants looked surprised. I gave them each one too.
“You’ve got it Sergei. Here I go.”
* * * *
I time bounced back to that same spot, but at a slightly different moment in time to avoid myself. I had glacier goggles, skis, crampons, climbing gear, and a sonar device to warn of crevasses. After several hours I was off the ice sheet, and cautiously negotiating the outwash plain. I found a high, dry spot for my camp and set up the heat and motion sensors to warn of anyone or anything approaching. I explored the area taking many photos and small samples of the sediments, rock, and water.
I was careful around anything living or biologically active to protect the timeline. I ate with great care. I was to make no fires except in dire emergency. All my meals were self heating and self contained, even the water. Total pack-in-pack-out. The human waste part was bothersome, but critical. The everyday healthy bacteria and other micro organisms my body harbored could be devastating to the people of this distant time. Though the risk was remote, I had to treat myself like a plague carrier.
I found a “therapy” session to “decompress” every few hours kept me in control, though I was constantly aroused. This was a fun trip for me, more so than the early Whateley one. I shot a few photos of myself for Korolev to analyze and I sure had that “glow” in all of them. If I can project that into my photo sessions with the magazine, it will be the top seller of all time.
~~This is better than hot chocolate and a whirlpool tub.~~ I thought at the time.
The next morning I had a long “therapy” session, then dressed and packed up camp. I had calculated the time until I would be incapacitated by my arousal, so I planned on no more than a few additional hours of exploration before returning to my transport site. A quick “therapy” session just prior to climbing up the ice sheet would prevent me from being “stricken” while ascending -- dangerous if it occurred.
“This place is so bleak. To think in a few thousand years this will be lush with vegetation,” I said to the desolation.
I explored a while longer, when I spotted human footprints in the soft silts of the outwash plain. I scanned with my infrared enhanced binoculars. It was clear except for a large cooling object, and two smaller hot ones. Several animals I guessed from the blurry distant objects. Against my better judgment, I walked to it, though it took some time. It was a human kill, an adult smilodon — a short-tailed saber-toothed cat — with a Clovis point spearhead embedded in its flank. It was near death, but remained dangerous. I could, and should, do nothing, despite how much its suffering disturbed me. Then I saw them -- her cubs. The mother must have fought off her attacker, and fled with her offspring until the wound overcame her. I approached warily. She was not breathing -- death had claimed her. She was near the unstable edge of the terminal moraine. I knew she’d be soon buried under the ice and sediments along with her starving, mewing kittens. They huddled tight to her fading warmth, hissing as I neared.
“Ghod forgive me.” I cried, kneeling down and scooping up the wet, shivering cats, maybe five or ten pounds each.
They tried to claw me and twist free, but were weak and exhausted. I retreated to a safe distance from the moraine, dried them off and rigged a neck sling to keep them warm, dry, and safe. I offered them some of the condensed milk I carried in a back packer’s bottle for my coffee. They soon licked it eagerly from my fingertips and started to purr. The warmth of my body, the vibrations of my heart, and my breathing combined with the milk to revive them. I closed my coat around them, hefted my backpack, and climbed to my transit point. It was difficult and I stopped several times to offer them more milk. Their loud purrs encouraged me. Several hours later I shot back to 2007, arriving the same day I’d left. I was exhausted, glowing, and ready to screw a grizzly bear, but I held on. I could wait, they could not. Korolev looked at my telemetry, then me, and appeared concerned.
“You need to decompress Joanie, the instrumentation shows you’re flushed, your heart is racing, you’re breathing fast and shallow, and … What? I’m reading two additional, faint, fast heartbeats. What did you do?”
“Nothing major, Sergei. You’re all still here. Get me to Whateley at once; my passengers need medical attention.”
I gave them the “don’t fuck with me or else” look, and we drove to the academy, my coat moving occasionally.
“You sure you don’t want us to stop Joanie? You look, um… in distress,” asked one of Korolev’s assistants.
“Just drive, I’m… Ooh that tickled. Not there kitty, ooh please no! Ah, oooh, yeah, do that again little one.”
I don’t know how they kept the truck on the road with me like that. I hurried into medical, worried for the kittens and frantic for relief.
“Dr. Pollard,” I moaned, “Who here knows the big cats, like lions, and cheetahs?” I was in a bad way, and it felt fantastic.
“Dr. Polland has experience. His parents were zoo keepers.”
“Get him at once,” I demanded, well. More moaned.
~~He has experience, I need experience. Maybe a threesome with these experienced, virile doctors would help.~~ I forced myself to stay focused.
“Why?” Pollard asked.
I opened my coat and my friends mewed in protest. My nipples' protest was more visual.
“What are they?”
I nearly ripped off my blouse and said. “My aching breasts, Einstein. Strip, NOW!” But they needed my help, and I’d made a silent promise to their mother.
“Baby smilodons. Their mother died, and they were about to be buried by the glacier. I couldn’t just leave them to die!”
That horrid thought took the edge off my condition, but I wouldn’t last much longer.
Dr. Polland came in, examined them, and took samples to test for parasites and disease. I examined him closely.
~~Dr. Polland is surprisingly fit for his age and profession and those large, caring hands. What is it they say about men with big hands? Oooooh! What? Not now, Joanie.~~
I shifted my concentration to the kittens, and held on. After some quick research by Dr. Polland, we took a calculated risk and vaccinated them, using vaccines intended for the big cats, and domestic cats where there were none. Even partial protection would help them fight off modern germs. I helped hold them while Dr. Polland administered the vaccinations. They were so well behaved, just a few hisses, not a claw mark or bite .
~~Brave kitties.~~
Medical promised not to harm them or experiment on them, but I didn’t trust the student lab techs. After an hour or so and no signs of an allergic reaction to the vaccinations I took them to my linen closet, locked the door and finally got relief.
“Thank You Ghod!”
~~I think the entire dorm heard me.~~
“You can come out from under the bed, little ones.”
It was now late afternoon. I rushed to Operations and got a sack of Oil Zorb, the predecessor to cat litter, and a clean steel parts washing pan. From the school store, I bought tennis balls and other items suitable as toys. A stiff bristled hairbrush would do for grooming their fur. The Crystal Hall cafeteria supplied condensed milk, corn syrup, baby rice, pasteurized liquid eggs and Purina Lion Cub Chow. They have everything there.
~~I wonder who needs the Lion Cub Chow?~~
I hurried back to Poe and mixed up the ingredients for a large cat baby formula, thickening it with the eggs and baby rice. After some encouragement, they licked it eagerly. I moistened some Chow and put that out. They sniffed, then licked some of it, too. They were hungry -- a good sign. I lay on the floor, and watched as they groomed themselves and each other, licking me as well, then curling by my side and purring intensely. I rigged them a bed with a spare blanket, stripped, and fell into bed. I dreamed I was with Eric, and he …
“Oh! Eric, stop that, you’re driving me wild. I never dreamed you were so oral. Oh Ghod!” then I woke, just as it was getting to the good part.
The kittens had climbed onto my bed, and were clamped on and kneading my breasts expectantly. I extricated them gingerly.
~Ow, milk teeth!~
“Smart kitties, but those tittys are not in the dairy business yet. Cum’on George and Gracie, Mommy will feed you.” They needed names and those suited them, don’t ask me why. I put out some more of the formula, and moistened dry food. I checked my room carefully, but they’d kept it all down from yesterday. When they finished eating, I encouraged them to use the litter box. They caught on almost immediately; which was a relief. I heard a knock on the door, slipped on my robe and answered.
“Coming.“
It was Ms. Carson and Dr. Pollard. He must have told her. They did not look happy.
“Joanie, you know we don’t allow pets in the dorms and for good reasons.” I felt hurt and angry at Pollard’s betrayal and Carson’s words.
“If you’re here to kill them or make me take them back to die, I’m leaving Whateley. How could you?”
I started crying, and threw myself on the bed, remembering back when the vet put down my old, dying cat as I held the frail animal in my lap. That was a dozen years earlier, but I couldn’t help myself. I felt a hand turn my face; it was Ms. Carson.
“No, dear child, nothing so drastic, but you shouldn’t have.”
“What can I do? I couldn’t leave them.” I started bawling again.
~~Get a grip; this is embarrassing, they’re cats -- not my children. I think I’m their mother? ~~
“We’ll make an 'I didn’t see anything, what problem?' exception, but as they grow…” Ms. Carson said as she stroked my head like Mom … I had to get my emotions under control before I lost it. I thought fast.
“My friend, Pinky, is an empath -- so are some in Security. What if we train them as police dogs, big, fluffy, saber-toothed police dogs? They’re very intelligent. I’m also considering building, or buying, an off-campus home near Dr. Bellows. I could board them there when they’re not on duty. Please?”
Ms. Carson approached the cats and kneeled. They came over, sniffed her, rubbed their faces against her, and started purring -- or as much of a purr as big cats have. “Sucker,” they had to be thinking.
“They’re so precious!”
“Told you, Ms. Carson.”
“Okay, Joanie, you can keep them, provided you have suitable facilities for them before they get too big, and that you carry through with their training. I must be crazy.” I felt relieved and mischievous.
“It could be worse.”
“Worse?” asked Dr. Pollard.
“Baby Mastodons are just darling.”
“No!” they both said, and left my room.
* * * *
Good Friday, April 06, 2007
Accommodating such a diverse student body meant Whateley did its best to cater to the spiritual needs of its students. If you consider the avatars, a fair portion of the students are spirits. They were fair about it. If you were an agnostic you got just as many “religious” holidays off as the faithful. Spring Break was a biggie. It usually was the second week in March, though many students also took off Good Friday for the Easter holiday weekend. Technically, class was in session, but any excuse to cut class... The instructors knew this, so most either gave out assignments early in the week, or used Good Friday as an enrichment day. A few instructors were strict about it being a class day, but their students knew and acted accordingly; they ignored the instructor.
I signed excused absence slips for all of Pinky’s classes and hand delivered them to be certain. I wouldn’t have her grades suffer on my account. Ms. Hartford covered her ass as well and, just prior to our departure to the charter jet, we signed formal papers making me Pinky’s temporary legal guardian for the duration of the trip. Pinky was present for this.
“I’m so happy to be going with you, Auntie Joanie.”
“What did you call me?”
“Auntie Joanie, the papers make you my real, legal Auntie, don’t they?”
“If you keep calling me Auntie, I’ll scream, Pinky.”
“Okay, Auntie Joanie.”
~~Ms. Hartford had to have put her up to this.~~
“I’ll take good care of her, Auntie Amelia. Sorry. Hartford.” Ms. Hartford marked an imaginary point on the imaginary chalk score board for me.
* * * *
Pinky was eager to meet my MSG friends having met Dari and Gin at Whateley, and especially eager to meet my “boyfriend”, as if I wasn’t.
“Your boyfriend is how old, Joanie?”
“Fourteen, and if you tell anyone, including your Aunt Hartford, you die.”
Pinky was fully female again and reveling in it. She chose the most feminine and attractive clothing for the trip and was dripping with jewelry. It suited her personality; she was so outgoing now.
“Why no motorcycle, Joanie?” she asked during the early morning ride Mr. Lodgeman gave us to the airfield, while on his way to visit the Tanakas.
“It would be nearly impossible to get both of us and our luggage on my vintage cycle. My friends in Madison will meet us with my car and Red’s F250 pickup. We’re driving to Baraboo for lunch, and, if the weather's good, a hike at Devil’s Lake State Park. It’s part of the Ice Age National Scientific Preserve, sort of a national park. The quartzite cliffs remind me of the area around Whateley. You’ll love it; it’s a fun place. If the weather is bad, we can go to the Circus World Museum. It’s not far from the park in Baraboo. They have way over a hundred colorful circus wagons from the 19th and early 20th centuries and all sorts of costumes and memorabilia. If all else fails, we can go looking for former hippies near UW-Madison.” I giggled shamelessly.
“So it’s a history lesson as well, my Master.”
“Yes, my apprentice. Learn much must you.” So my Yoda sucks.
* * * *
We landed at Truax Field at ten am. The whole Gang of Four plus Dari was waiting. She spoke first.
“My Ghod, Joanie, is that Pinky? You said she was changed to her female form, you didn’t say she was a total babe.” Pinky giggled happily.
I whispered to Dari.
“Thanks, she needs a confidence boost.”
Dari whispered back.
“Who says I’m exaggerating? Pinky’s smoking hot.”
“Looking fine, girl. You’re giving my friend Joanie serious competition in the gorgeous department,” said Gin then she gave us both hugs and kisses.
~~Was that her tongue on my ear?~~
She stepped back then licked her lips.
“Gin, Pinky’s under age. If there’s any of that to be done, see one of the other MSG gals or me.” We all laughed nervously. “We’re all bisexual here, Pinky, just like you.”
“Ahem!” coughed Red.
“Okay, some of us are lesbian. I think, whatever our personal preference is, our heightened desire is because we’re all exemplars. That perfection of the body goes beyond just appearance. I think it does something to our sexuality. If you’re extremely fit and attractive, sex is more rewarding no matter with whom. You’re underage so we need to be careful and not exploit you, but when you’re older, call the girls up; they're real cuddly -- I know.”
Red blushed over her whole body, as did the rest of them to varying degrees. The Gang didn’t know, but Dari and I had fooled around some, and I considered her a cherished member of my circle of love interests. They had better make room for Eric in the center or I’d be disappointed. But I knew they’d respect my decision. Dari, Red, and Carrie were not to be outdone by Gin, and I was subject to a barrage of non-stop sensual hugs. I was ecstatic and my nipples were hot and hard.
~~I like these hugs, oh yes, yes, yes! What is Red doing with her, oh Ghod!~~
“Red, get your hand out of there. I’m saving that for Eric.”
“You’re serious, Joanie?” Red looked hurt. I broke up.
“You were having me on. Shame on you, Joanie.”
“You’re all on the exempt list -- you too, Pinky, if you want to -- but only when you’re legal. He knows about you and my history with these, my MSG special friends. But, I don’t want to hurt him. If we’re discreet, it's okay.”
“Eric sounds very mature,” said Carrie.
“In some ways, he’s older than I am.” Then I stuck out my tongue, and blew a raspberry.
We split up; Pinky sitting up front in my Focus with Gin in the back, the rest riding with Red in the crew cab. I told them to follow me to the ferry. We got off the Interstate at State Highway 60, drove into Lodi, and turned onto State 113 to the Merimac ferry.
“Why are we stopping here?” asked Pinky.
“Because Joanie is a cheapskate, and wants a free boat ride,” said Gin. “And if we drove much further without the boat at the landing, we’d get wet.”
“It’s not a boat; it’s a ferry, though it is free,” I said, then I pouted. “I’ve ridden on it since before I can remember, and that’s back to the Colsac I.” Pinky looked confused.
“It connects Columbia and Sauk Counties, thus Col-sac. The current ferry is the Colsac III,” said Gin.
“It's lots of fun, too. Please be in your seats, belted up, before the loading ramps drop. Okay?” I said.
We drove on the ferry, parked, and got out to enjoy the mild, April day. It was in the 50s F, and sunny, so we moved to the rail to get a better view during the five minute trip.
“This is Lake Wisconsin and that railway trestle is famous for pictures of the Circus Trains from the Milwaukee parade recreations. When I was I child, we used to tow our small speed boat to Decorah... beyond the railway on the north end of the lake, and ride to a clean sandbar. I had so much fun playing… Is something wrong with that woman?”
I pointed to a teenaged girl, Pinky’s age, maybe older. She moved strangely -- drunk or drugged? I saw a man in mirror sunglasses, and a plain suit, get out of a dark sedan -- the kind police use. He walked towards the girl as another man in similar garb got out the other side of the sedan and walked from a different direction towards her. They stared intently at her, mirrored glasses or no.
“Something’s wrong here, Red. Call for backup. I think the girl’s in trouble.”
“You got it, Joanie,” said Red.
I slowly moved towards the girl, Gin and Dari following, Carrie keeping Pinky safe. The two men closed on the girl.
“You’ll never catch me. I won’t go back, I’ll die first.” she shouted in a strained voice, as she backed tight to the rail. They ran at her, and she climbed clumsily over the rail and fell in the lake.
“Man overboard!” I shouted, grabbed a life ring, and jumped. “Damn, the water is cold!” I sputtered.
Then I swam stiffly to her. I’d managed to get my boots off before I jumped, but my clothes interfered with my swimming, and I was quickly numbing in the frigid waters. I caught her, and put her in a lifesaving carry I’d learned over 30 years earlier. I could feel the heat pouring off her.
“My Ghod what’s wrong with you… burnout!” I exclaimed as she struggled with me.
“Let me go. I won’t go back,” she said through chattering teeth.
“I’m not with them, dear. I’m here to help. If you could kick your legs some, I’d appreciate it. I’m getting numb, this water is so cold.”
~~You’re thinking why not time stop, dear d/j/w? How would we get on the ferry? And by the time I was close enough to time stop her, the ferry was too far away. I trusted my friends to do what was needed.~~
We swam toward the cable driven ferry which had reversed and was closing on us. It was hard to keep afloat, despite the life ring. A few minutes in the cold water and I was starting to weaken. My grip on the ring was slipping and I was shivering and getting sleepy. The girl was worse and was almost unconscious. There was a splash as a life ring was tossed beyond our location, and pulled to us. I grabbed for it and just managed to hook my leaden, free arm through the center, dunking our heads in the process. I felt us being pulled through the water, then warm hands lifting us onto the ferry. The girl was unconscious -- I was close to it. Hypothermia is a silent killer.
“Red, burnout.”
“What, Joanie?”
Red was blurry, I was feeling suddenly warm and calm, signs of severe hypothermia. I gathered all the energy I could, and awkwardly pointed at the girl.
“Burnout, mutant.” I don’t remember any more.
* * * *
I woke in the familiar confines of the Mutant Wing or State Paranormal and Mutant Unit at the University Hospital, University of Wisconsin-Madison, with Carrie and Pinky keeping watch.
“I have got to stop doing this.” I was tired, but felt okay. “How’s the girl?”
“You mean Wisconsin's newest mutant and third confirmed case of Ultra-X-Amine homolog exposure? Alive, and expected to recover consciousness at any moment. Her attempted suicide saved her. She was in the early stages of catastrophic burnout, but the cold water knocked her temperature down for a while. Thanks to your passing the warning on to Red, we kept dousing the young woman with lake water until some fellow passengers got ice from a bait shop at the ferry landing. We kept her on ice until the chopper arrived and then we iced her heavily for the flight to the Mutant Wing. You saved her life, Joanie,” said Carrie.
“What of the men she was fleeing?”
“I got them,” said Gin as she walked in the door. “Red and some fellow passengers were busy rescuing you, when the men pulled guns on us -- big mistake.”
Gin gave me that feral grin of hers, and her eyes actually glowed for a few seconds.
“Where are the bastards?”
~~What did Gin mean?~~
“One’s in intensive care, with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the lower abdomen -- nasty. I TK’d him as he fired at you and the girl. He’s lucky -- I was aiming lower.”
“The other?” I asked.
“She’ll be free in, say, 15 years.”
“He couldn’t be in prison already, not even in a dictatorship can a case be … You said she; I'd swear they were both guys?”
~~Gin looks embarrassed, but proud?~~
“I tried out this transformation spell I’ve been learning -- surprised the hell out of me how well it worked. She’ll be released from Children’s Protective Services when she’s eighteen again. I turned him into a preschool girl. Damn, I’m good.”
“You should have seen it, Joanie. It was so Kewl.”
~~Another Kewl freak.~~ I thought.
“One moment he’s this big man about to shoot at Red and you, and the next he’s shrinking, screaming in pain, and terrified. I felt bad for him, Joanie, it was awful,” said Pinky.
“How is *she* then?” I asked.
“Still scared and confused, but oddly happy. I think he hated his old life. He was a brute; she is cute, and will be sexy cute once she grows up. I patterned her on myself. Genetically, she’s my clone. She may have my powers, too. I think the spell rewrites the subjects BIT, as well as their DNA. I thought it would only make him a pubescent girl at most, but she’s like I looked at four, down to the curly hair and button nose. Ghod, I was a cute girl, but now I’m the cutest.”
~~I’m suffering from 'a cute' toxicity.~~
“Another Humong magic and TK wielding sexpot. I’m emigrating to Australia.” I said.
Gin laughed.
“You’re okay, as silly as ever. Dr. Sara says the new mutant you saved should be up and about tomorrow. She’s starting to come to, as the burnout is over. Her family is in the hospital now waiting to see her, and you. Sara told them the woman who jumped after her is a Wisconsin mutant, and friend. They want to meet you.”
“She didn’t tell them who I am?”
“Didn’t have to. It got picked up on by the national news networks. You’re in the headlines again, girl,” said Carrie.
“Oops, I did it again,” I sang. -- I know recent songs, too, people. -- “What of the transformed man?”
“My family may take the former him in and raise her right. She is blood, now,” said Gin.
“Maybe that’s why the spell worked so well. He was unhappy as man because his BIT was female, but never expressed. He was a kind of transgendered, and the spell fixed that. The extreme age reduction was determined by his stuck BIT, she reverted back to a point where she could grow into a normal woman, albeit sexy, cute, and your twin.”
“You may be right, Joanie. Confusing, but right,” Gin replied.
* * * *
I was cleared to leave, so I showered, dressed in some clean clothes, did my makeup, and went to see the state's newest mutant. There were National Guard troops stationed a critical checkpoints at stairs, elevators, and the like. I recognized several as people I trained with. They were careful to check our ID, and congratulated me on my actions. Security was definitely improved since the kidnap attempt the other week. Red was both the head nurse for the girl and the head of the girl’s personal security detail.
“Red, is that bulge in your coat what I think it is?” I whispered.
“44 magnum snub nose, custom made for me by Dari. It has a 24 shot clip loaded with explosive rounds -- they could stop a small tank. After the kidnapping/assault on the hospital, we’re taking no chances.”
“Can your patient have visitors?”
“Sure, she just woke, and we paged her parents. She wants to see them. If Sara or the rest of the Gang didn’t tell you, the girl was a victim of that Ultra -X-Amine homolog again. We have no idea as to her powers yet, as we’ve not had a chance to question or test her, but she has those same emerald green eyes, and that reddish tint to her original blond hair’s roots.” Red led me to her bedside.
“Dear, are you up to a visitor?” Red asked softly.
“What’s her name?” I asked Red.
“Susan, or Suzy, Kenner.”
“Kenner? I’ve heard that name before,” I replied. The girl stirred.
“Are you the lady who saved me? I was pretty sick, but I remember your face and hair.”
“That was me. The names Joan, but you can call me Joanie. My nurse friend, Red, here, says they paged your Mom and Dad. They’re in the hospital now.”
”We were visiting relatives for Easter. Mom’s from Milwaukee originally. We’d come out to Madison to shop, because there’s some really crazy women’s stores in this pedestrian mall down near the big University. You should shop there some time. They say it’s where the singer Joanie got her best outfits. You look a lot like her, what’s your name again?”
“We’d like to know that too, dear lady. We couldn’t believe the press reports at first, but then the police took us here.“
~~That voice, I’ve heard that voice.~~
“Who’s that, Suzy?”
“That’s my mom. We were at this coffee shop when I felt sick. I went out to the car to lie down, and those men you saw followed me. I’d just got my license -- I turned sixteen last month -- so I drove away, but they kept following me. Somehow I ended up on the ferry where I jumped, and you ...“ she cried. I held her hand.
“No one will ever hurt you again, Suzy. You have my promise. Now introduce me to your parents.”
I still hadn’t turned around to see them. This was getting spooky; I knew that name and the mother’s voice was so familiar.
“What’s your mother's name? I’m Joanie.”
“I’m Christine, and this is my husband Greg,” The woman behind me said for her tired daughter. I turned partway around. “I’m so glad to … You are that singer! The news reports were right. Suzy, the lady who rescued you is the singer, Joanie. I tried to get in the business when I was young, but ended up an accountant with the FDIC.”
~~That voice; FDIC?~~ I turned the rest of the way.
“It’s a tough business, you should be proud …”
I saw her; she was older, but I remembered. I’d last seen her in 2005, singing at my mother’s funeral.
“Oh my Ghod!" I gasped, then I blacked out.
* * * *
To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their invaluable assistance
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_4_rev_3b_proofed_Janet.doc | 98.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 5
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie meets Suzy's mom and bares herself -- literally & figuratively. Joanie and Pinky visit Iowa & the Johnson's. Joanie tries to keep a low profile -- oops! Pinky chaparones Eric and Joanie just-in-time. Suzy comes to Whateley & Joanie learns her kittens are vicious killers.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. George, Gracie, no scaring the freshmen, that’s the seniors job.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Text therapy by Itinerant
Thanks Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 5- Oops I Did it Again 2, The Big Broadcast of 2007, What’s New Pussycat? 2
Madison WI, Des Moines IA, Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 06-09, 2007
April 06, 2007, Madison WI
I awoke back in that same familiar hospital room again; Dr. Sara, Gin, Dari and Pinky were all staring at me.
“Can I get frequent flyer miles for my hospital stays? What happened, I fainted?”
“The question is, why? There’s nothing wrong with you,” said Sara. I glanced around to see if we were clear.
“It’s not everyday I find out Wisconsin’s latest mutant is the daughter of my cousin. Susan’s grandmother is my dad’s sister.”
“Oh Ghod!” said Sara.
“You know how I feel, then. Better bring Christine to my room, but only her for now. I’ll need some privacy when she gets here. Someone please brief Red and Carrie on the ‘relative‘ situation.”
* * * *
“You asked to see me, Ms. Joanie?”
Christine was ten years older than me, but wore it well. She was the oldest of my Aunt’s children, and the best and brightest. She’d made a good life for herself. She sat in a stuffed chair, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed nearly exposing myself in the process.
“Just a moment while I fix this hospital gown. I didn’t flash you, did I?”
She blushed.
“Oh dear, I did. Sorry, but if what her Doctor says is correct, Susan’s will be the same color.”
~~Gee, how glib. ~~
“What did you want? I doubt it was to prove you’re a real strawberry blond? You’re better now I take it. You had us worried, Ms. Joanie.”
“I fainted from the shock of realizing who you and Susan are.”
“You know us?” Christine looked puzzled. I giggled from tension.
“I’ve known you for 49 years, or more correctly you’ve known me. I was just a baby then.”
“How? You’re a teen!”
“Remember the press coverage last year, when I rescued the girl on Labor Day. All the press speculation on my origins -- what was the wildest one?”
“That you were a 48 year old man from Milwaukee … NO!”
“Take Joan. What’s the easiest conversion to a common male name?” I suggested. Her eyes were locked on me. She knew, but couldn’t believe it.
“Well, John I suppose; substitute ‘h’ for the ‘a’.”
“And what’s my last name? I didn’t change that.” She went wide eyed and tried to speak. I got off the bed, and gave her a hug. “I missed you, cousin Chrissie.” Then I kissed her cheek.
We spent the next hour or so talking, crying, and laughing in turns.
“My own cousin saves my daughter. What were the odds?”
“I think someone, somewhere, is yanking my chain. I can’t explain it. What were the odds I’d be in Prairie Du Chein at precisely the right moment to save Melissa Johnson’s life, or be at Merrimac to save Susan’s at the ferry? And my mutation is one for the record books, so late in life, and such rare powers. I have several the press doesn’t know about, and one of them makes my time stop seem a cheap toy. What, if anything, is the purpose to `this’? It’s like some deity is loading the dice of chance, or has his or her thumb on the scales of fate -- not that I’m complaining. So far it’s been great, but I wish I knew if there is a grander purpose to all of this. I’m so glad I could tell you, Chrissie. The only members of my family that know about my mutation are Dad and Sis. You’re number 3.”
“All we were told was you were gravely ill, but recovering.”
“How’s Suzy?” I asked as I got up and started to dress.
“She’s been out of bed a couple times.” She looked away. “You want some privacy?”
“We’re all girls here, now.” She looked at me, and laughed. Chrissie had a carefree laugh. “Stay, I could use the company and some advice. You’ve always been a snappy dresser. I don’t age like a normal person anymore, so how do I make this look adult?” I dropped my robe, and gave her several model’s turns.
“You have the most beautiful body, Joanie. My Ghod.”
“Yeah, but I look, what 17?” I asked Chrissie.
She studied me closely.
“17, maybe 16 given how perfect your skin is, and how high and firm your breasts and rear are. With your tiny waist and skinny butt you could be fifteen, but by your height and the size of your breasts, you’re a college girl.”
“See my dilemma, and why I wear all that tough girl leather stuff?”
“I think you’ve chosen well on the clothes. That LBD you wore for the dance with the Iowa Governor’s son looked exceptional on you.”
“You saw that, Christine?”
“North Carolina is not some backwater; even there you’re big news.”
“Me, I’ll admit to having had my fifteen minutes of fame. I guess my recordings may sell for a while, but I’m hardly newsworthy.”
“Can the false modesty act, cousin, it doesn’t become you. You’ve saved the lives of two people, one I …” She paused and wiped a tear. “The speculation in the East-coast press is that the mutant reputed to be critically involved in breaking the Boston child pornography case is you. Why else would Senator Williams of Iowa be identified as being involved in assisting the prosecution? It’s obvious in the press coverage that the man dotes on you. The whole Williams-Johnson family is your biggest cheerleader, Joanie.” I made a gesture to shush her, she continued anyway. “It all makes sense now. The girl with you, the one they call Pinky, was one of the victims?” I nodded and checked to see if we were still alone.
“For her protection I can’t say much, but, yes, she’s how I found out about the crimes. I’m trying to help turn her life around. The 'incidents'," Christine blanched when she realized it was multiple sexual assaults, “left her in a disturbed mental state. The loving teen was being replaced by a cynical manipulator.
"The bastards who did this to Pinky hurt others, too, and further abused their power in attempting to stop the police investigation. The woman detective who pursued this case after higher ups thought they’d quashed it deserves the credit. I just had access to some investigative tools she lacked, and the Senator had the contacts to get us an honest and sympathetic judge for the necessary subpoenas. With our help, the detective assembled a rock-solid case and nothing can stop it. I’m so happy I could help. Several of the victims are suffering serious mental trauma and are receiving psychiatric help at my expense. I didn’t want them to have to wait for government aid. So far, I hear they’re doing better. I know my friend Pinky is, thank Ghod.
"Despite her fine work, there’s been a backlash against the detective by members of the force. It's regrettable, as my interactions with Boston’s finest have been nothing but professional and positive. It’s a combination of the ‘don’t rat on your fellow officer’ mentality and the fact that there may be supporters of the accused persons on the force. The Senator’s contact, Judge Juday, used his influence to get the detective an indefinite assignment to the Massachusetts Violent Crime Victims Assistance Bureau where she’s helping the other victims recover. She cares, and it’s the best we could do for her now.”
“That’s exactly the point, cousin Joanie. You’ve been a mutant nine months, and look at the impact you’ve had on this country. From my contacts in the civil service, I’ve learned your Senator’s Federal judge friend is on the short list for the next US Supreme Court vacancy, and has moved up within it since the Boston case broke. Governor Johnson is a favorite to win his party's nomination for President, if not for the 2008 election then most certainly for the 2012 race. Flashes in the pan do not run in these high circles. You’ve taken down a US Senator and the speculation is rampant over who’s the next target of the Avengers.”
~~They’re calling me and my cohorts from this case 'The Avengers'? I could see the Senator in a suit and hat like Patrick Macnee’s, and me in a cat suit, meowrrr! ~~
“Christine, that was a cult TV show and movie, and I look much better in leather than any of those actresses did. Oh Ghod, did I just say that?” She smiled. “It’s not like any of this is planned. It just happens,” I added.
“Maybe it’s proof that your unknown deity is yanking your chain. You have all these gifts and he, or she, is ensuring you use them wisely.”
“If that’s the case, why give me these?” I said as I cupped the undersides of my breasts with my hands.”
“To distract your enemies and give delight to your lovers?”
“Christine!” At least she didn’t say Eric’s name out loud, for which I was grateful. “Before we got sidetracked, you were giving me fashion tips.”
“Remembering back to that dress from the school dance, Joanie. I think, um … how old was your … ah, date?”
~~So I’m not dodging that today.~~ I gave her “the look.”
“Sorry, Joanie, that’s none of my business, but that was a good look for you. Perhaps a classically styled formal dress or a woman’s business suit could make you look 20ish. Maybe you could change your makeup, hair style or accessories, but that’s all I can think of.” She got this thoughtful look on her face, then smiled broadly. “Cousin Joanie, with your face, and that body, I’m surprised one of the fashion or men’s magazines hasn’t made you an offer.”
I burst into a giggle fit. It was a while before I was coherent.
“They have?” I nodded.
“You accepted?” I nodded again.
“Tell me which one. You’re driving me crazy.”
“They’ve been around over fifty years, starting originally in Chicago.”
“Chicago? You’re being mysterious, why? Is it embarrassing? It’s not naked photos?” I snorted, trying to hold in the giggles.
“I’m the cover. I’m being interviewed, and I’m the main photo spread of the issue. I’m Ms. July in Playboy. It’s their first all-mutant issue.”
Christine did the dignified, mature, fifty something thing; she broke into giggles. I had a hard time keeping from joining her.
“This is serious stuff, Christine. I’m getting two million, plus a cut of their overseas sales, and I’m donating it all to Whateley Academy, the mutant prep school I’m at. And yes, Eric is too young to buy it.”
“The Iowa Governor’s son? Was that just for fun, or are you seriously dating the boy?”
“He’s not a boy; he’s a man -- a young one, but a man, Christine. I’m very fond of him, okay.”
“Nine months, and you’re dating a bo … man. You’re crazy, but I’m happy for you.”
”Ghod help me, but so am I, when I’m near him. If you think of anything else, here’s my e-mail address.” I handed her a business card. “Let’s see your Suzy.” I dressed, and we walked to Suzy’s room.
* * * *
We walked, hugging each other constantly on the way to Suzy’s room. We caused some commotion in the halls but didn’t care. Her husband, Greg, and Red were the only others in the room. Suzy grinned happily when she saw her Mom and I enter the room holding each other.
“Suzy, Joanie’s back, and she’s fine. She fainted because she knows us.”
“You know my Mom?”
“Red, can you make sure we’re not disturbed?” She smiled, then left the room.
We all sat down, Christine smiling all the while. I let her speak.
“Greg, Suzy, Joanie knows us because she’s your Aunt once removed.”
“You’re my Aunt?” Suzy said. She and Greg locked their eyes on me.
“I’m your mom’s cousin. I went through a similar mutant burnout last July, and ended up looking like this. It was a shock; I used to be a middle-aged guy.”
“John?” asked Greg.
Greg may sound like a Southern Good Ole’ Boy, but he’s a sharp one.
“What you think of my makeover, Greg? Did I come up trumps or not?” Then, I giggled. I was so happy I could burst, then I started to cry. I’d regained some of the family I’d thought I’d lost. “Your Grandma Denny is my dad’s sister, Suzy dear.” I was almost sobbing.
“It's true,” said Christine. I gave Suzy’s hand a squeeze and kissed her forehead.
“I’m not alone, you understand this mutant …” then she cried, too.
I sat next to her on her bed, and held her for sometime until we both settled down.
I explained where I was living, and what I was doing for a living. Since the people behind this Ultra-X-Amine homolog were at large, I felt Suzy should come to Whateley, both for training and her safety. I offered to pay all her expenses.
“We can’t have you do that, we’ll pay,” said Greg.
“I have money coming out my ears. Let me do this as a favor to your family for all they’ve done for us.”
“The press said you’ve made a lot of money off the recordings,” said Greg.
“I’ve had some success.”
“Success, Joanie? You’re the odds on favorite to win Artist of the Year at the next Grammys, and the nominations don’t close until September. You have half a dozen songs in the top 25 spread over four charts. They said so on VH1 the other day,” said Suzy.
“So I’m not likely to be singing at the next family wedding or funeral? Too expensive?”
“You’re number one on two Billboard charts, Miss July, and no one has challenged you for number one on the country chart since you re-took first place six weeks ago. My Ghod, Joanie, you bumped Shania Twain off number one with her own song.”
~~ Man! 'I Feel like a Woman' is doing okay then. ~~
“I may not be a professional singer anymore, but I follow the business. Joanie. You’re number one in Japan, and Australia, and in the top ten in nearly all of Europe. There probably isn’t a more popular singer in the World today. Forbes said you were one of the top grossing entertainers for 2006, and your first recording didn’t come out until Halloween, wasn’t it?” Christine said.
~~Huh?
Of course, I haven’t considered overseas sales; I wonder how much I’ve made? I thought I’ve only made few million. Mr. Karaoke needs to explain this one; I have exclusive worldwide rights. But that is chickenfeed compared to my real assets. ~~
Greg looked at me then his wife and back at me again.
“What did you mean by ‘Miss July’, Christine?” He looked back at her; her face screwed up like a guilty child’s.
“I’m getting two million dollars, and a cut of the overseas sales, to be on the cover, give an interview, and be the Centerfold model for this July’s Playboy. One snicker, mister, and you’re out of here.” He broke out laughing. Susan stared at me like I was a pop idol. Then again, I guess I am.
“Cousin, that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. I made some investments early on and have done real well.” I winked at my cousin. I saw a look of recognition.
“The ‘other thing’ you told me?” said Christine. I nodded. She’d guessed I had some other time power, but I knew she’d tell no one, even Greg. “Okay, cousin, I assume we’re not to tell anyone, even our families?”
“Be certain you don’t, or you’re all at risk for kidnapping or worse -- terminally worse. The people behind Suzy’s mutation and the two before her are dangerous, and I’m a target because of my time stop and for other reasons.”
“Hon, cousin Joanie told me she’s donating all the magazine money to this prep school for mutants where she teaches. I think Susan should attend there,” My cousin Christine finished.
* * * *
We agreed that they’d only say I was doing this as a charitable act for a fellow Wisconsin mutant, should anyone ask. Suzy would stay at the Mutant Wing until Pinky and I returned from Iowa, then she’d fly to Whateley with us.
“You’ll love my kittens, Susan; I rescued a pair the other day,” I told her. Christine spoke next.
“You and cats, Joanie. I swear if you had the money you’d have a pair of lions.” I saw a panicked look flash on her face. “They’re not lions, are they?” I snickered.
“ No, not lions, Christine.”
* * * *
Before I left to check on Pinky, Christine talked to me in private.
“What are you up to, Joanie girl. Just how wealthy are you? That motorcycle you said on TV it was your grandfathers, but I don’t remember ever seeing it, even when I was a little girl.”
“I bought it from the man who bought it from him, soon after grandpa sold it in the 1920’s.”
“But that means… You can time travel?”
“See why I live at Whateley? I’m a big target now. It'll be worse if ‘that’ power ever becomes public. Those investments?” she nodded. “I made them starting back nearly 100 years ago. I may make Bill Gates look a pauper in a decade or so.”
“The Meridian Foundation, you own it?” I told you, Chrissie’s the best and brightest.
“The entire board is here, and present, and it’s all mine -- all 20 billion, give or take a few.” My investments had done well in the last few months. “You can never tell anyone this.”
“If I did, the banking system might collapse. Thanks for trusting me, Joanie.”
“Oh, I was serious about singing at family events. You could claim you’re advising me on my taxes, and investments, as a thank you for what I did for your daughter, and that my singing is a gift in return. You are a former bank auditor after all. Want to do a duet?”
* * * *
As a favor to me, and a safety precaution, MSG held a get together in the mutant wing. They all visited my relatives, and offered their assistance. Only the Gang of Four, Dr. Sara and Dari knew our blood kinship; the others saw Susan as just a fellow mutant, but all made her feel welcome. Suzy was so happy afterward, and said she thought the Cranberry Kid was hot; so did Pinky. Who am I to say?
* * * *
April 07, 2007, Madison WI to Des Moines IA
Pinky and I left for Iowa in my Focus after I’d made quick calls to my sister and dad. I let them know the basics on what happened with my cousin, and her family, and to keep quiet even in his e-mails to the Kenners, unless Christine or I said otherwise. They were happy I had helped family and wished me well. MSG arraigned a diversion so we could get away from the reporters; my car and plate were known to the press since the November Iowa sleepover, so I needed some help. Once on the road, its common shape and color proved effective camouflage.
We arrived in Des Moines at four pm. The Johnsons were just back from some event, and preparations were underway for an Easter egg roll on Sunday. Security was extra tight for the upcoming festivities as a precaution against a terrorist attack, but the officers soon recognized me, and, after verifying my temporary guardianship papers, let us through. We parked, walked to the front door of Terrace Hill, and rang the bell. To my surprise and delight, Eric answered.
“Egg roll registration is at the … Joanie!” He gathered me in his arms and smiled.
~~Is he taller again? We’re eye-to-eye and I’m in heels, and the muscles! Eric’s down right buff. Has it only been seven weeks? My, I feel something else growing too. Sorry boy, but you have to wait a few years. Oh Ghod, I’ve missed this!~~ We kissed, then broke apart. My heart was racing.
“Glad to see you, too. Eric. This is Pinky, a sister student at Whateley. She’s with me for Easter.” Eric gave her a big hug and a kiss.
~~Hey, that kiss is lasting a bit too long.~~ I felt my anger rising.
“Break it up before I hit someone.” Eric quickly came and hugged me; I felt foolish.
“I’m sorry, I’m new at this boyfriend/girlfriend thing, and I get jealous for no cause when I see a beautiful woman with Eric. I shouldn’t, but I do.” Pinky came, and gave me a lovely kiss.
“Thanks, no one ever called me a woman. You said I was beautiful.” Pinky gave me a hug.
“Joanie is right, you're not a little girl, dear lady.” He gave her friendly hug and a peck on the cheek. Then he gave me another powerful squeeze and tantalizing kiss.
~~I could get to like this girlfriend stuff.~~ I thought as we walked into the governor’s mansion.
“Joanie,” she whispered, “Eric’s a hunk, and I see how he looks at you. I envy you, girl.”
“Well don’t. I love Eric.” He heard and smiled. “But it hurts waiting until he’s of legal age. If you think he’s handsome now, imagine what he’ll look like in a few years. You’ll understand when you see his dad and grandfather. Hunks run in the family.”
* * * *
We walked up to the fourth floor private rooms and came upon Babs; was she ever pregnant.
“Joanie, I’m so glad you made it. We saw the video from your rescue of that girl.”
"Huh Babs? I knew there was coverage, but video?”
I’d been so busy with other matters I’d never checked out the news. I think I deliberately stayed away from it.
“You haven’t seen it, Joanie? There were closed circuit cameras on the ferry, and a man shot some home video. How is the girl doing?” Babs asked.
“Susan is fine, and she’s a close relative.”
“Joanie?” Babs asked.
“Her mom’s a first cousin on my father’s side.” I knew Babs would be discreet, and Senator Joe would likely know soon anyway.
“What were the odds of that?”
“I don’t want to know. How are you, Babs? Duplex my ass, you’re an apartment building and your breasts, I’m jealous. I’ve seen strippers with silicone implants less impressive.”
“Bob’s happy too, but these are a pain to carry around, and there are the two gymnasts I’m housing. John and Joan are the most active I’ve carried.”
“That’s wonderful, I’m glad my namesakes are healthy. How are you?”
“Blood pressure is up slightly, but still normal. A nurse checks it every day to be sure. I’ve been lucky and avoided most complications of pregnancy, but we’re taking no chances. The only major one I haven’t avoided Bob is helping me with.”
“Nothing serious, is it Babs?” I asked.
“Only if Bobs refuses me. I’m hornier than a drunken nymphomaniac on aphrodisiacs, but morning, noon or night Bob’s been there for me. It’s a good thing you inspired him to get into top condition; I’d have killed him otherwise. If I knew he’d be like that, I’d have ten kids by now, at least,” Babs said, then giggled softly.
“I take it this is Pinky Connors; she sure fits your description. You’re a lovely young woman, Ms. Conners.” Pinky blushed. “A friend of Joanie is a friend of our family, Pinky. You’re welcome anytime.” Pinky giggled nervously.
“Babs means it, girl, and that’s for both of you.”
“She knows about my other form?”
“Joanie had to tell me, I’ve been giving her advice on how to help you. I do have BAs in sociology and human psychology. I’m not just a pretty face; I’m the Governor’s brood mare, too.” Pinky and I fought to hold in our giggles. “She e-mailed a photo of your hermaphroditic male form, and Pinky, you’re dreamy. I’d go out with you if I was younger and single. I have no qualms of you dating either of my children. If Joanie trusts you, that is all I need to know.”
“I’d have some objections, Mom!” I said. “Mel’s a bit young to date yet, but I’d not object.” I paused for effect. “If you as much as touch Eric, you die.” Then I kissed Pinky.
* * * *
We talked a while, then us kids left Babs and went out to the back lawn to see the preparations. I could see Bob and Senator Joe showing Mel around the site.
I called out, “Is it too late to register?” Mel screamed, ran, and leaped on me, nearly knocking me over. Babs and Eric weren’t the only two growing like weeds. As she’d approached me, it was like watching a rerun of Baywatch and those lady lifeguards running in slow motion. Mel’s figure wasn’t blooming, it was exploding. And she was so tall. She’d be a fashion model in no time if she wanted -- a busty one at that.
~~Mel’s not even twelve? What will she be like at eighteen? Does Victoria’s Secret offer a finders fee? ~~
“Mel! I'm glad to see you. This is Pinky Conners, a friend from my school. I’m her Mommy for Easter.”
“You’re not my Mommy, you’re my Auntie,” said Pinky, then she snickered. I held mine back. Mel smiled at us curiously.
“It’s hard to explain, but I’m her legal guardian for this trip,” I said.
“Hi Pinky, I’m Mel. Isn’t Joanie the greatest? She saved my life, you know.” Mel turned to me and looked mad. “Joanie, are you crazy jumping in freezing water to save that girl?” She paused and broke into a broad grin. “I’m so proud you’re my friend. Don’t ever stop being so brave and sweet. When the press said you almost drowned, Eric cried.” Eric appeared embarrassed.
“Did he?” I laughed. “That’s sweet, Eric, but I was okay, and the poor girl needed my help. I knew the Gang of Four, Dari and Pinky would help me. Speaking of help, want some help with the egg roll? It sounds like fun.”
“Sure, Joanie, let’s see Dad,” He replied. We walked onto the well-maintained grounds.
* * * *
“Joanie, are those two their dad and grandpa?” Pinky pointed to Bob and Senator Joe who were off to one side of a group of workers who were prepping the site. I nodded. “They’re major hunks for older guys.”
“I told you. Why do you think I put my claws into Eric so young? I’m taking no chances.”
“Hello, Joanie, who’s the lovely young woman with you?” asked Bob. Pinky’s blush threatened to overrun the city.
“Pinky, this is Governor Bob Johnson of Iowa, and the equally handsome older man is United States Senator Joseph Williams, also of Iowa and Bab’s father.” The men bowed and kissed the back of her hand. Pinky nearly fainted.
~~If that doesn’t make her feel like a desirable young woman again, nothing will. ~~
“You helped catch that sick man who raped me, my so-called doctor!” Pinky spat out “doctor.” She had this odd smile her face. “I love you!” she exclaimed and hugged the Senator. I could see tears running down her face. The Senator hugged her back and wiped her tears with a hankie. He whispered something in her ear; she giggled and moved next to me.
“I see you did the superhero act yesterday, Joanie. Life getting too dull, is it?” asked the Senator.
“You know me, a sucker for kittens in the rain. I’ll tell you about her someday; let’s say I’m so happy I could help her. A word of advice -- wait a couple months before swimming in any northern lakes, they’re cold now. Are you going out to eat or staying in, Bob? Anything but fish is fine. I feel too much like one at the moment.”
“We're going out. Want to tag along, Joanie? I’m scheduled to appear on a nationally broadcast, live, radio show tonight. They serve a catered meal to the cast, guest stars, and VIPs. A Prairie Home Companion is on its spring tour and is broadcasting from the main auditorium at the local University of Iowa campus. Heard of the show?”
“With Garrison Keillor, Lake Woebegon, the Sidetrack Tap, sure; I’ve listened to it for years. Never been to the show; I’d love to come.” I turned toward Pinky. “It’s a throwback to the golden age of radio, Pinky, you’ll love it. Is Babs coming? I’d hate to think of her all by herself.”
“We’re all going. She wants to get out while she still can. Did you ladies wish to change your clothes? You’ll have to hurry; we need to be there by 4:30 at the latest.” said Bob.
Pinky and I hustled to the guest rooms and put on our best outfits. I went all out and chose the same LBD I wore for Eric’s Prom. Don’t ask me why I packed it. Right, I know why. I danced with Eric in it. I added three inch heeled dress sandals, sheer hose, Mel’s ponytail clip and some tasteful jewelry; very classy. A light touch of makeup and I was ready. I wore a tan cardigan to keep warm and to stop the guys from drooling. Pinky wore a pink sundress, tan stockings, modest heels, a cream V-neck sweater; and loads of jewelry. I helped her braid her hair and touch up her makeup.
* * * *
We rode in a government limo. Pinky and I helped Babs to her seat in the auditorium. The stage manager walked over to us and spoke.
“Governor, thanks for coming, and you, too, Senator Williams. Mr. Keillor would like you to do the same speech and skit you did at the Friday rehearsal show. Here’s a script to refresh your memory. I see you brought some guests with you.” Bob made the introductions.
“This is my wife Babs, our son Eric, and our daughter Melissa. The shy ones over there are our dear friend Joan, and her school friend Pinky.”
The stage manager stared at me then said, “You look familiar.”
“I get that all the time. Who do you think I look like?” Mel giggled, Bob and Joe laughed, while Babs and Pinky held their hands over their mouths.
“The singer, Joanie?” he asked hesitantly. I stood up and took off my sweater.
“Honestly, do I look like myself?” I asked, then giggled.
~~That was subtle.~~
The stage manager looked pale.
~~I do keep doing this to people.~~
Mr. Keillor walked over. I was busy helping Babs and Pinky with their sweaters.
“Good evening, Governor Bob, Senator Joe, wonderful you could make it. Who are your guests?”
“This is my wife Babs, my son Eric, my daughter Melissa, our good friend Joan and Ms. Pinky Connors, a friend of Joan’s.”
The stage manager continued to stare, and then Mr. Keillor turned to me.
“Joan?” I turned and faced the tall writer/performer.
“Hello, Mr. Keillor, I’m a fan, but this is my first time at the show.”
I shook his hand. His bushy eyebrows threatened to stampede.
He, and his staff, worked frantically to rewrite parts of the show. I’d join in several old gospel and country songs, and they wrote me into a skit or two.
“Sorry, gang. Okay if I perform?”
Their hugs told me all I needed to know. Eric’s hug had my motor racing; I’d take on a Panzer division for one of those again. Keillor sang the opening to the tune of Tishomingo Blues, did a comic bit about Iowa, then introduced the Governor.
“Please welcome Governor Bob Johnson, of Iowa.” There was a huge roar of applause as Bob walked on stage, he is a very popular governor.
“I’d like to formally welcome you, Mr. Keillor, and the show, to Iowa, which is pronounced eye_oh_wah despite any confusion caused by The Music Man.”
“I understand you brought a special friend with you,” Keillor said.
I was waiting in the audience, holding tight onto Mel and Eric’s hands, and terrified with stage fright.
“We first met last Labor Day when this dear woman saved the life of our daughter, Melissa, and we haven’t let her forget her mistake. Certainly our Mel hasn’t.” The audience laughed politely. “She’s become famous for other reasons since that day, but as her heroics yesterday reminded us, she’s just a darn nice girl. May I introduce my favorite ex-Wisconsinite and the prettiest school teacher I know, Joanie.”
I walked onto the stage to thunderous applause. My nerves settled down like someone had thrown a switch. Bob gave me a loving hug and the best kiss on the lips I‘d had since Eric. The last of any lingering stage fright was replaced by pure joy at the outpouring of love. I waited for the applause to die.
“I thought for a moment I was being eulogized. Hello, everyone.” I waited a moment. “I’m not prepared as I didn’t know I’d be at the show an hour ago, but I’ll give it a whirl. Mr. Keillor?”
We sang a silly version of 'Here Comes Peter Cotton Tail', complete with wacky sound effects by Tom Keith. Being radio, we could hold the scripts and sheet music in our hands -- a big plus. We next sang the classic gospel, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow', Keillor’s deep voice complemented my soaring vocals to perfection. I’m not a particularly religious person, but the song struck a cord. Later, I returned to the stage for the Ketchup Advisory Board skit. The long running series of fake ads has the premise that … On second thought, why don’t you look it over and judge for yourself, dear d/j/w reader?
* * * *
Garrison Keillor: “… after this word from the Ketchup Advisory Board.”
Tom Russell: “These are the good years for Barb and me. Our children in college, the mortgage paid off, and we’re finally getting enough fiber in our diet. A time for well earned bliss. Then my wife came to me the other day... “
Sue Scott: “Jim, I’m concerned. I’m so stressed these days.”
TR: “Why, Barb, aren’t you getting enough ketchup? Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that make life’s little problems seem less important.”
SS: “I know Jim. It’s our new neighbor, the singer Joanie. She’s up at all hours of the night singing and playing her electric guitar. She was at it until two am last night, and it’s wearing me out.”
TR: “Sounds like she needs more ketchup in her diet, Barb.”
SS: “I’ve tried, but it isn’t working, not even my prizewinning ketchup, macaroni, and green bean hot dish I brought her the other evening, or the ketchup and cottage cheese desert.”
TR: “That’s serious. Barb. Let’s call the Ketchup Advisory Board.”
GK: “I’ve reviewed the case, and I fear your neighbor suffers from KIS, or Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome.”
SS: “Is there any thing that can be done?”
GK: “In cases like these an intervention is in order.”
Joanie: “Hi, Joanie here. The Ketchup people came to my home and explained my neighbors’ fears. Turns out I do suffer from Ketchup Insensitivity Syndrome, a side effect of my mutation, but they found a solution. Whenever I feel the need to practice late into the evening, I mix up several pitchers of ketchup cocktails and share them with my neighbors. Ketchup makes the perfect mixer. I find eight ounces of ketchup, mixed with eight ounces of a fine Minnesota Chardonnay, and a jigger or two of an aged Iowa scotch, shaken, not stirred, and served over cracked ice in a tall glass does wonders. After a couple of these, my neighbors wouldn’t care if I did chainsaw sculpture at three am. Ketchup, I never leave home without it.”
Rich Dworsky sings: “These are the good years,
Spring eases winter’s shocks.
Life is flowing like ketchup on the rocks.
GK: “Ketchup for the good times.”
RW sings: “Ketchup … Ketchup …”
* * * *
In the second hour, I sang several country classics, the Creedence Clearwater Revival hit 'Bad Moon Rising', and the 1930’s hit 'Wahoo'. Pinky’s backing vocals were magic. The musicians and professional singers on stage all complimented her on her performance. It gave her long suffering ego a needed booster shot. I was so pleased. I told her back stage, as we waited for our next part.
“I told you you’re good, but you wouldn’t listen. why wouldn’t you listen?”
“A parody of Oscar winner Burl Ives speaking to a dying Chuck Connors in 'The Big Country'.” said Pinky. I exploded in giggles. The cast looked at us like we were loonies.
I played a bimbo 'femme fatale' in the Guy Noir sketch -- a big stretch, huh? Pinky and I sang backup to Keillor and others on several songs. My time on stage was exhilarating. The highlight of the show for me was singing with the University of Iowa-Des Moines chorus and orchestra. I joined with the chorus on a medley of parodies of patriotic and popular American songs as re-written for 'The Songs of the Cat' by Keillor and Co. The Marine hymn, originally a mid19thcentury Orpheus comic-opera tune, now irrevocably linked to the United States Marines after someone rearranged it to fit the poem. 'From the Halls of Montezuma', is not the same after Keillor’s rewrite.
I sang one serious number with the chorus and orchestra, the Roy Orbison song, 'A Love So Beautiful'. By the end of it, I had tears streaking my face as the emotional impact of the music and lyrics got the better of me. For the show's finale, I borrowed an electric guitar and for the first time I played the instrument in public. The show went off the air to the strains of the full cast and I singing 'Dream Baby', another Orbison classic.
* * * *
We were mobbed trying to exit the auditorium; I’d forgot about the live web-cast, but the campus security and police sorted things out, and we returned to Terrace Hill.
“Joanie, that wasn’t just the press, I think most were fans,” said Mel.
“Why do you say that, Mel?”
“I recognized the Joanie Fan Club T-shirts and buttons.”
“Wah, um what, Mel?” I was so coherent.
“You said my friend Lisa and I could start one, and your producer at Warners was real helpful. We give all the profits to big charities, and have sold over two hundred thousand button and T-shirt combos. They’re in kewl colors, and have your face on them.”
“Two... hundred... thousand?”
~~And I thought the Barbie doll was bad.~~
* * * *
April 08, 2007, Terrace Hill, Des Moines Iowa
The Easter egg roll was a sea of screaming kids, parents, and press. I’m not sure who was loudest. I had a great time helping the younger kids, and posing for photos with them. I signed tons of autographs, and I did speak with the press for a while. This made Pinky happy, as she spent most of the day in the company of a friend of Eric’s who came to visit. She was increasingly holding the young man’s hand and giggling as the day went on. They disappeared several times, and the last time they returned her lipstick was smeared, mostly on him. I took her aside.
“Pinky, we don’t need to buy you one of those home pregnancy test kits, do we?”
“Not yet, but almost. He said I was so pretty. Ghod, I love being a girl.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong, or try to take advantage of you?”
“He was a perfect gentleman, though I was a little naughty.” This worried me.
“You didn’t take advantage of him, did you, Pinky? Sometimes those who were physically, or sexually, abused abuse others. They can’t help it; they’re sick in their minds.”
“Never, Joanie, I would never do that to someone. We just talked and kissed. We kissed a lot. It felt wonderful, and I got all tingly.”
“Good for you, Pinky, but go slow, okay? I don’t want you setting your self up for a disappointment when the person you’re going out with finds out you switch forms.”
“I told him before we kissed, and he said he wouldn’t mind, since I’d still be a girl just also a boy. At worst, I could be his friend.”
~~Gees, what nice boy, but I worry she’ll get burned by someone. ~~
“You think your other self could be happy doing something like this?”
“Maybe, Joanie. I don’t hate him anymore. He’s me after all, and it could be fun being both. It’s certainly easier to pee like that.”
“Rub it in, Pinky. I miss that, you bitch.” I pouted, then we both laughed.
~~She’ll be all right. ~~
* * * *
Sunday evening, we kids watched movies on DVD. I fell asleep on a couch next to Eric. I dreamed Eric and I were engaged in lovemaking; one of his hands was massaging a breast, another teasing my womanhood as my hands rubbed his back and stroked his stiff… Something or someone was trying to wake me.
‘Wake up Joanie. Eric, wake up.” It was Pinky.
In our sleep our hands had wandered and were doing exactly what I dreamed, except our hands were outside of our pajamas, thank Ghod. However his hands were on my …
“Eric, Joanie, cool down or get a room.” We both realized where our hands were.
~~What am I doing?~~
“Oh my! Thanks, Pinky. Uh, Eric, we need to break up for the night. Not that I mind your hand rubbing my breast, or my ...“ He retrieved his hands.
“Same here, Joanie. I guess we let things get out of hand?”
“More like in hand, and it felt glorious. Please be patient, Eric, as I can’t be patient alone.” We kissed, lightly, and went to our separate beds.
~~That felt so good, I didn’t want it to stop. Ghod forgive me, I *wanted* him. Fourteen or not, I wanted *him*! What’s wrong with me? … Joanie, you have to be strong, for Eric’s and your sake.~~
* * * *
April 09, 2007
Early Monday, Pinky and I drove to Madison. The Senator made sure no one bothered us. My cousin and her husband reaffirmed Susan should come to Whateley ASAP, so we planned to fly her out on my charter jet as soon as we got the okay from Dr. Sara.
“How’s Suzy?” I asked Dr. Sara.
“Well enough to travel with you, and we have preliminary powers results. She’s a mid to low level shifter, and medium or higher mimic. This means she can consciously, or subconsciously, copy another person’s body so precisely that if she’s given sufficient time, to an MRI or DNA test, they’re nearly identical. The mimic power means she can copy another mutant’s power, though at a slightly lesser ability, at least in the short term. Her copied powers improve with practice. When she copies a male, she’s fully male, down to fertile sperm, and similarly for girls. It’s remarkable. The shifting does deplete her energy levels, but she’s able to draw on the surrounding environment to replenish them, so she recovers quickly. In that respect she’s like an energizer or mage.”
“Does she have control?” I asked.
“So far yes, though in copying powers, she has to be careful when she first uses them. They confuse her initially, but I don’t feel she needs to be in Hawthorne.”
“Can she copy warper's powers?” I worried about this one.
“To a limited extent, and the same for magic. With TK, exemplar, energizer, bricks, and empath/telepath powers, she’s the equal of the original for as long as she retains their pattern, and she doesn’t need to mimic their body or sex to do it. She’s also a low level regen,” added Sara.
“She’s in real danger of being a kidnap target, if word leaks,” I said.
“I agree. Your friends in the National Guard will escort you to your plane, and the Air National Guard has made arrangements to escort you all the way to the Airport near Whateley. They say it’s to repay you for what you did for Susan. The guys you did your ‘graduation exam’ all volunteered to be the air escort.”
“I suppose they want dinner, drinks and dancing again? Mind you they are pretty sexy … oh!”
“Joanie?”
“Sorry, Sara, residual frustration from earlier.”
~~My Ghod, I’m picturing the pilots as Eric. This is ridiculous, I’ll be one insanely jealous bitch by the time he’s 18. I have to talk to Dr. Bellows soon. Screw that, I’ll just have intercourse with Eric and go to prison a happy woman. ~~
* * * *
We arrived at the small airport near Berlin, NH, where officer Lex Luthor, Alexis, that is, picked us up in a Whateley Security squad car. Gas turbine-electric, very fast and quiet, and one of the less sophisticated vehicles we had.
“I hear you did it again. What are you, a serial do-gooder, Ms. Brown?” said Lex shaking her head.
“Sorry, Lex. Next time I’ll let the victim drown. By the way, let me introduce you to the drowning victim, Susan.” I knew Lex was kidding me but I was pissed, and Lex could sense it.
“I didn’t mean anything by it. My apologies, ladies. I was just joking.”
“You’d better be!” Then I whispered to Lex. “Susan’s my cousin’s daughter.” Lex was shocked.
“I’m so sorry, Joanie. Susan, you’ll love Whateley; it’s a great place. Listen to what your friends, Joanie and Pinky, tell you and you’ll be fine. Joanie, Operations” — she said that last word slowly — “needs you to do another ‘research trip'. Something about a cable laying project.” Pinky giggled, she knew what Lex meant.
“’Research trip?’ Aunt Joanie, let me in on the joke, please?”
“I’m a warper. You probably know that from the press reports after I saved Melissa Johnson’s life last labor day.” Susan nodded. “What is not known, and you must never tell anyone, is I can time travel -- real, physical time travel. I did it before for Operations to determine the origin of a magical object buried in an area scheduled for excavation as part of a construction project.”
“Kewl! Auntie, can I come sometime?”
“Maybe, if you live that long -- which you won’t if you keep calling me Auntie. Our blood relationship is potentially dangerous, if the wrong people find out. I’m glad we’re related, but keep it under wraps or you’re more of a kidnap target than you already are.”
“Okay, Joanie. Can I see your kittens when we get to Whateley?”
“George and Gracie? Sure, Susan. How are they, Lex ?”
Lex gave me a queer look.
~~Oh dear, what’s happened? ~~
“Speaking of your ‘kittens’, Joanie; you owe me a couch. They decided mine was the ‘purrfect’ scratching post.”
~~I’ve got to get my own place, soon. ~~
* * * *
To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their assistance
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_5_rev_4_Janet.doc | 105.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 6
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie's mutant niece meets the couch killer kittens and the ever gracious Peeper. Tom and Tina meet Suzy -- lust at first sight. A precognitive hints at Joanie's future and Joanie house hunts. A friend of Ms. Carson visits campus, a secret of her past is revealed.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Yes, it’s yet another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/ magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. I know Joanie likes to sing Roy Orbison but she is not renaming Gracie, Clawdette.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Text salvage by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 6- What’s New Pussy Cat? 3, Oops I Did it Again 3, The Inverters 4, Home Improvement, I’m Ready for My Close-up, Mr. Hefner
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 09-10, 2007
April 09, 2007
“How can a pair of kittens tear up a couch? We’ve had cats and they had to be pretty well grown before they could do much damage,” said Susan.
Lex kept her eyes forward, but the tone of her reply was unmistakable.
“Should I tell her, or do you want to, Joanie?”
~~I’m supposed to be the wiseacre tease here, Lex. ~~
“They are kittens. I guess you call them that, or cubs, but they’re not domestic cats. They’re about six weeks old, weigh nearly ten pounds each, absolutely unique, and irreplaceable.”
“Joanie!” Lex replied.
Lex sounded irritated -- or was she baiting me? She does have a strange sense of humor, and I love her for it.
“What are they Aun … Ms. Joanie, tiger cubs? You told Mom they weren’t lions.”
“Oh, they’re not lions,” Lex and I said in stereo.
Pinky was smart, and kept out of it, content to simply snicker.
“Joanie is fine. Don’t ever refer to me by the A_u_blank_blank title again, Suzy, it could get you killed. I love hearing you say the word. It almost makes me cry, but it’s not safe dear. What Officer Susan Alexis Luther wants me to say is, I rescued them during a test of my time travel power. They’re native to North America circa 9500BC. They’re smilodons.”
Suzy looked puzzled then excited. She asked.
“Saber-tooths? You have saber-tooths?”
“They only have their milk teeth so it’s not obvious now. They look a bit like adult Manx cats.”
~~Body-builder Manx cats with a short tail.~~
“They are one of the saber-tooth cats and will get a lot bigger as they mature, nearly as big as African lions. I’m planning on having them trained as police cats, sort of Dobermans on steroids,” I said.
“Aren’t you afraid they’ll try to eat you?”
“They have, actually. My nipples will attest to that.”
“What?” Suzy shrieked.
“They weren’t fully weaned and I made the mistake of sleeping in the nude. I woke to, well, now I know why some women are afraid to breast feed, ouch! … Luther, watch the road, you nearly drove off the edge! I guess that means I’m officially their Mommy now, but I will have several empath/telepaths, and a police dog trainer work with my furry friends and me to get us properly trained. Now that you’ve settled down, Lex, how well have they been eating?”
“They’re both hungry kitties, that’s for sure. They lap up the formula eagerly, and seem to go for the moistened Purina Lion Cub Chow.”
“I hope I can find a satisfactory dry, big cat food. The thought of them ambushing a cow for breakfast several times a week is not an appealing image. I can get some cutter and canner cattle if I have to, but that’s all the more reason I need to find and build a secure home off campus, but near Whateley.”
“Would you take them back to your room before it gets to that point?” said Lex faking sarcasm.
“As soon as I get Suzy settled in, Lex. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for a new couch. Hell, get a whole living room set, I can afford it.” Lex seemed much happier.
When she dropped us off at Administration, I said discreetly, ”Thanks for wearing the contacts, the eye patch would be a bit much for Suzy right now. Oh, how are you and, you know, your girlfriend doing?”
This was a tough area to get Lex to talk about, but I was hoping she’d open up. I was glad for the lovely woman. She seemed so lonely at times. It was as if her life had been turned upside down at some point and the memories occasionally haunted her.
“That’s our business, but we’re fine.”
Gees, she said something about it, finally. Then she got this predatory look in her good eye, I preferred not to see what was in the other. I’d done it one time by accident. It wasn’t pleasant, but I was otherwise unaffected. She told me most people go off-line for a while when they see into the eye the magic affected. She thinks she can use that to advantage in dangerous situations.
“A sort of built in Tazer,” I suggested once, and got one of those looks of amused disapproval she’s so good at.
I may look at it again sometime but it will be when I’m ready, and not one minute before.“How is your BOY friend, Joanie, still under the statutory rape age?”
~~’A full spread of photon torpedoes and phasers? Hard about Sulu, we’re gonna ram this sucker!’ Two can play this game, girlie. ~~
“Yeah Lex, he’s still fourteen and am I glad. He was amazing last night, such stamina, and so energetic, ooooh!” I cooed.
Lex’s jaw dropped, then I laughed so hard I had to run for the nearest women’s room.
“Oh you!” I could hear her shout after me.
* * * *
I offered to help out by sharing my linen closet with Suzy, but Student Services found her something in Dickenson. Her roomie is a sister shape shifter from Savanna, Georgia — say that fast five times.
~~Could be worse, could be Sioux Falls, South Dakota.~~
I swear, someday my sense of humor will get me into serious trouble. Suzy had lived in Atlanta, and other southern cities, for most of her life. Her parents got transferred many times between Federal Reserve Banks, primarily those in the South, so they should get along — the similar cultural backgrounds will help.
Administration got Suzy’s ID and intro package together in record time. Dr Sara had informed Ms. Carson of Ms. Kenner’s’ unique relationship “relative” to me, and Ms. Carson had pulled out all the stops. Ms. Hartford was unusually polite in dealing with an incoming student, but then she knew what I thought about duty to friends and family. She had to know, but said nothing -- quid pro quo, I guess. I gave Suzy the quick campus tour and dropped off excused absence slips for Pinky’s missed morning classes.
* * * *
Suzy and I went to Security to pick up the kittens.
They were in a travel kennel on top of a desk and pawed excitedly through the bars when they saw me.
“I missed you too, little ones. Come and meet my friend, Suzy.”
I took them out of the cage. We sat on chairs next to the kennel.
“Joanie, they’re as big as adult cats -- bigger I think.”
“My, you two have grown! Lex must have taken good care of you,” I said in a cutesy voice.
“Is it okay for me to hold one?” Suzy pleaded.
“Here’s George. The boys are usually more outgoing — at least they are with domestic cats. Be a good smilie, George. Suzy’s precious to me, just like you.”
I scratched him behind the ears and rubbed the side of my face against him, marking him. I kept making soft high pitched sounds to comfort him. Gracie was content to curl up tight on my lap and purr.
“Oooh, George, you have such soft fur. Can I pet you?” Suzy said as she let George sniff her hand.
He settled down on her lap and she gently petted and scratched him. Soon his purr motor was going. Maybe it was instinct, or mother’s intuition, or just maybe my empathic gift kicked in, because I got this sense of absolute love and contentment. It seemed to be coming from the smilodons. I got out the figure eight harnesses and leashes, and carefully put them on my babies.
Dear d/j/w, why did I call them my babies? But I do so want to have a baby; many babies, with Eric and my genes they’ll … He’s only fourteen, he’s only fourteen, he’s built like a Ghod in training but he’s only fourteen.
~~Mental memo to self: never, ever, be alone with Eric for any length of time. I’ll jump his bones for sure. What is it with me? Am I that kind of a girl, the kind of girl that is so in love with the idea that Prince Charming and a baby will make my life complete that I have no control over my desire? I used to think the young women I worked with were so foolish to get pregnant by some slick talking Neanderthal. They’d admit -- after-the-fact -- ‘he’ had nothing going for him other than looks and a dick, and here I am falling for a similar trap. Thank the Ghods Eric is a good person and not some opportunist looking to score. I have got to find an outlet for my passion other than stroking myself. It eases the tension alright, but I find I’m fantasizing about Eric more and more. I worry I won’t be able to separate fact from fiction when we meet again. I could never forgive myself if I violated his and his family’s trust that way.~~
“Come on babies, up on our shoulders. We‘re going home,” I said.
I gently picked up George, and set him on Suzy’s shoulder, and did likewise with Gracie on mine.
“Won’t they fall off, or get scared?” Suzy asked.
“Smilodons were suspected of being excellent tree climbers given their anatomy and claws. It will be easier than carrying the kennel and safer than walking them.”
* * * *
We left Security for Poe, Suzy merrily chatting all the way.
“Wow girls, what a great pair of pussies!” said a familiar voice behind us.
“Excuse me one moment, Suzy. Why don’t you sit on the lawn, and play with George and Gracie?”
I turned to see Peeper grinning at me. That turned to a worried look when he saw who he had just propositioned, then to a look of panic. It wasn’t totally his fault -- well the off-color remark was -- but I was not in my normal Whateley clothes. I was still in stealth mode from our trip and was wearing a baseball cap for my hair which was further tucked inside my blouse.
“I am so sorry, Ms. Joanie, I …”
“Stuff it, Peeper, before I do something we will both regret. Though in your case, you might not live long enough to experience it. I will say this once, and you will remember it. The lovely young woman you propositioned is a new mutant I had the privilege of rescuing a few days back. Naturally, she is very dear to me. If I hear of anyone mistreating her, insulting her, or, Ghod forbid, harming her, they will hear from me. I’m not saying to treat her with kid gloves, just with restraint. Suzy needs to learn to survive in the real world, and I don’t want anything, or anyone, to interfere with that, got it?”
I was livid at his insulting dear Suzy. I didn’t like it either. I didn’t want to see the expression on my face -- certainly Peeper didn’t. I smelled something, and noticed a growing stain near his crotch. Maybe I've learned that trick of Big Red's?
“Go and get cleaned up, and pass the word; anyone who harms Miss Susan Kenner is my personal punching bag. Now go!”
Peeper ran off towards Twain Hall at a full sprint. Somehow, I frightened him; harmless little ol’ me? I restrained myself until he was out of sight, then the dam burst.
“Gees, am I pissed.”
I started laughing so hard I had to lie back on the lawn.
I slowly calmed down and my smilodon friends came and nuzzled me -- two particular parts of me.
“Are they trying to nurse?” Suzy said her eyes wide, and wet from her own tears; she’d been laughing hard, too.
“Yah, smart creatures, aren’t they. Here we go, Gracie,” I said as I sat up, put her back on my shoulders and stood up. “It’s time to get them home.”
* * * *
We got them settled in my linen closet. Suzy got a kick out of the fact the plaque on the door said “Linen Stores”, and not “Room 318 A” or “Joan Brown.” My cork board on the door did have my name and schedule on it.
I posted my schedule for good reason. Those who wished me harm could find it out easy enough, anyway, and I wanted my friends to know were I was. Also, I get preoccupied at times and it’s a great reminder, like sticking a note on the ‘fridge door. I had a small pad of Post-its, a pen, and lots of spare thumbtacks up as well, so people could leave notes. I was always looking for more to tryout for my band.
“I’m surprised they have a simple tan coat. I thought they’d be striped like a tiger,” Susy told me.
“They’re primarily grassland hunters of the far north. Tigers have stripes because they’re jungle and forest hunters. A dull tan with minimal markings is the best camouflage for grasslands. In many ways they’re like African lions, just from a much colder climate.”
We fed them and then Suzy and I headed off to the Crystal Hall for our lunch. I made a mental note to get them a bigger scratching post. I had an idea where I could get one cheap.
* * * *
I was happy to see Tom and Tina Smith sitting at my preferred table, and Cheryl womaning a cash register. Manning didn’t fit somehow and personing is too PC for my taste, and I am from Wisconsin. Doesn’t anyone remember Donna E. Shalala?
“Suzy, see the petite brunette cashiering? Call her Britney Spears when we check out. Don’t bother with the ID card they gave you. Lunch is my treat.”
I tousled her hair, which made her giggle. She tickled me back, I nearly peed.
~~I hope Eric never finds out about my ‘weakness’, I’ll be helpless before him. Hum? ~~
We started picking out our food after I warned her to read the labels carefully. We took our booty to checkout. Cheryl was charming as usual.
“ID card?” she said in her New Jersey accent.
~~Sounds like a lower pitched Fran Dresser. ~~
“Sorry, my friend behind me is paying,” said Suzy.
“Heard that one before. Get out your card newbie, you’re holding up the line.”
“Ring hers up with mine, Britney,” I said from behind Suzy.
“You again? I should have known, Joanie,” Cheryl growled.
~~My, she’s taking this well. ~~
She rang us up then whispered to Suzy.
“Be careful around this one; she’s a bad influence.”
“I will, Ms. Spears,” Suzy whispered back.
“Joanie, you … you …“Cheryl sputtered.
“Yes, I am one, aren’t I. Come on Suzy, lets eat!”
We sat down next to the twins.
“Tom and Tina Smith, this is Susan or Suzy Kenner,” I said. I looked to see if we were clear. “She’s a new mutant from Wisconsin, and an Ultra-X-Amine homolog victim,” I whispered the last bit.
“I’m so sorry,” said Tina.
“Me too, and you’re cute, Suzy. Seeing anyone?” said Tom. He’d been eying her up and down, his smile growing all the while.
~~Making the moves already, Slick?~~
“It’s okay, I look like I used to except for the eye color. I have these great powers and how else would I have met my Aunt… Oh crap!” Suzy said in frustration.
I tried to shush them. Fortunately, the Crystal Hall is noisy at lunchtime and no one else heard her.
“Joanie is your…” Tom stared to say.
I gave him a look that would weld battleship armor plate.
“No one ever mentions ‘that’ fact again. It’s too dangerous, understand?” I tried next to calm them.
“It’s not that I’m unhappy with the ‘situation’,” I made quote marks in the air. “But I have enemies who wish to use my abilities for their purposes, just as you three are vulnerable to that same threat.”
“Like from spies and organized crime, Joanie?” Tina asked.
“Exactly. Anyone closely associated with the public ‘me’ is at risk as well because I’m so well known. Be careful and Whateley will teach you what you need to know to survive. That’s enough of the morbid stuff, gang. Why don’t you tell each other about your selves and your powers, and what it’s like at Whateley?” I said. “Okay if Suzy tags along with you two? I have some things I need to do.”
~~ ‘There’s no need to fear, Underdog is here!’ I must be in good mood if I’m this silly. ~~
“Sure, Joanie. We’ll keep Suzy safe,” said Tom smiling. Tina nodded her head.
“Good. You have my number and Security can always locate me. Call me for any reason; I don’t mind. I’ll try and be here for dinner at six, but let’s agree to meet outside the main door of Dickenson at 7:45AM and have a group breakfast. I’ll probably bring Pinky with me, as we run at 7AM most mornings. If you’re feeling up to it, I’ll see if the Anderson twins will host a slumber party Saturday night.”
“What about my brother?” asked Tina.
“Are you interested in police gadgets, Tom? I could have some friends at Security give you a look at what they do. Not the patrolling, but the situation room, CCTV system, and things like that. I could schedule a Saturday night film fest at the Crystal Hall. I donated the widescreen TV.”
“I like gadgets and stuff, sure. Can’t I come to the sleepover?”
“And ogle half naked girls as we oil our bodies and shave each other's privates. I think not.”
Tom's eyes went wide. Then I giggled.
“You’re silly, Joanie. I like you,” said Suzy.
“You too.” Then I gave her a hug, and an Auntie's kiss. I whispered in her ear. “Never forget it. You need me for anything, call -- you're family.”
I broke from Suzy, and saw Tom smiling at her -- too suavely for my taste. I suspected he was eying her as a possible date and more. Then I gazed lower on his body. I was shocked. She was eliciting from him the same tell-tale, um, physical response many men gave me. I raised my eyes to his and glared at him with a ferocity that worries me still.
“Tom, if you get Suzy pregnant, I’ll kill you. Nothing personal.”
* * * *
Ms. Hartford was at her desk, prim and grim as ever, but she almost smiled as I neared her.
“Before you speak, I need to say how grateful I am for you having taken care of Pinky this weekend. I see you managed to maintain your low profile -- cold water rescue on camera, national radio appearance, seen hanging in the presence of major movers and shakers in American politics.”
“These things happen to me. I don’t plan them, I swear!”
“Yes, Ms. Joanie, but please be more careful next time.”
“Next time?”
“Absolutely, Pinky was gushing like a little girl on Christmas morning describing her adventures with you and your MSG friends. I heard the broadcast, and saw a portion of the web cast of your appearance on 'A Prairie Home Companion'. Your friend, Ms. Tina Anderson, recorded them and insisted we watch some earlier. She’s a big fan of the show and of you, Joanie. Though I’d prefer Pinky remain anonymous, it would be a waste of talent if she did not perform. She sounded and looked wonderful, and the expression of joy on her face was obvious. You’ve restored my happy, carefree, niece, and I thank you for that, as annoying as it will be to have two of you here. What do you want, Ms. Joanie?”
“Who here knows the local real estate market? I’m looking to buy or build a home near Whateley -- the closer the better.”
“Ah, your cats, I take it?”
“That, and I hope to start a family someday. My linen closet would hardly suffice.”
“Ms. Anderson has some knowledge from her and her sister’s search for housing, and some of the Security officers could be sources. Your best contact is the community representative on the Whateley board, Mrs. Potter. I don’t see eye-to-eye with her, but no one knows Dunwich and the surrounding area better.”
“Mrs. Potter sounds ideal, and I thank you for putting personal feelings aside.”
* * * *
~~Just to cover my butt, I’ll ask Chief Delarose and Charlie about Mrs. Potter, though I think Ms. Hartford was speaking the truth.~~
Delarose and Mr. Lodgeman confirmed Mrs. Potter was a good suggestion, so I made arrangements through Charlie to meet with her the next day.
* * * *
April 10, 2007
I had no classes Tuesday morning so, as the weather was mild, I rode my vintage Harley into Dunwich. I parked outside a quaint — the town does cater to summer tourists — coffee shop. I stripped off my riding clothes, brushed my hair, straightened my business suit, slipped on a pair of dress pumps, and touched up my makeup. I checked myself in one of the cycle’s mirrors before I walked into the shop.
~~Not bad, professional and adult -- okay, I still look like a high school girl but at least I look sharp, and presentable. The knee length skirt was the right choice. ~~
“I’m here to meet Mrs. Potter,” I informed the proprietress.
She led me to a table, where an elegant older woman sat. She looked of indeterminate age, though Charlie said she was roughly 60. Mrs. Potter projected an air of confidence and of restrained power. What I knew of her said she was a force in the local scene, but not arrogant about it. She could be a great friend, or a powerful opponent. She gestured for me to sit, and then she spoke.
“Good morning, Ms. Brown, Mr. Lodgeman has told me all about you.”
“Good morning, Mrs. Potter, and thank you for meeting me on such short notice. Mr. Lodgeman told you everything about me and you’re still willing to meet me?” I smiled; she gave me a motherly look.
“Charlie said you don’t take yourself seriously, but to never underestimate you. I take what Charlie says seriously. He’s a good man to have as your friend.”
“I like him too, Mrs. Potter. I act the way I do, because I fear if I take myself too seriously, life won’t be worth living. I’m still getting used to all this.” I motioned along my body. “I’ve been given a great gift and I don’t wish to waste it.”
“From what Charlie says, and what I know of you, you’re doing well. I must applaud what you’re doing for your student friends. I wouldn’t want Ms. Conners to end up like her Aunt.”
“That will not happen, I promise you. Ms. Hartford doesn’t want that either.” Mrs. Potter nodded. “Can you help me?”
“Charlie explained your situation, and I know the very person you need. She’s reliable, and discreet -- a must in your case.”
She handed me a business card with some writing on it, then gently, yet firmly, grabbed my hands. I felt an indescribable sensation. Mrs. Potter got a look of surprise on her face, and then smiled beatifically. She spoke like a mother to her dearest child.
“Don’t worry, my dear. Your life may seem dark at times, but your friends, family, and soul mate will pull you through. My word, Joanie, you’ll be a busy mother!”
She excused herself and left. My thoughts were spinning.
~~First my great, great, whatever grandfather, now Mrs. Potter. How many children will I have? Suzy’s grandmother gave birth to seven. The World record for live births is 63, I think … NOOOOO! ~~
I asked the proprietress, “Mrs. Potter made a prediction about my future; do you know what that was about?”
“Mrs. Potter is a gentle and enigmatic woman, but doesn’t suffer fools lightly. You must have impressed her to get that much personal time. She’s a talented precognitive. I’ve never heard of one of her predictions being wrong.”
“Oh Ghod!” I whimpered.
* * * *
I rode a short distance to the edge of town, several of the residents waving politely at me as I passed. My cycle is distinctive. The address was a lovingly maintained Queen Anne Victorian. The realtor’s offices were in a wing to one side that appeared to be a converted solarium and green house. I got back out of my riding clothes, and rang the bell. A slender woman, in her upper twenties, of Native American ancestry, opened the door. She had a momentary look of surprise and delight. I wondered if she was a fan.
“Ms. Brown, I’ve been expecting you. Mrs. Potter told me of your unique requirements, and I have several possibilities. Sorry, I didn’t introduce myself, I’m Ms. Theresa Juneau.”
She smiled easily, and offered her a hand, then surprised me with a hug.
“My, you are a big girl, Ms. Brown. I wish I had a figure like yours.”
She looked at me intensely; her smile seemed more sensual than before.
“You're no slouch in the looks department yourself, Ms. Juneau. Are you any relation to Solomon Juneau, the French American fur trapper who helped found Milwaukee? Your name is the same as his beloved Native American wife. It suits you well.”
“Thank you, Ms. Brown, and yes, I believe they were distant relatives.”
“Joanie, please,” I replied. Ms. Juneau's smile grew wider.
“That’s where I know you from. The word around town is Whateley has a famous young singer as one of their staff; so it is you. Please call me Tessa. I’m a fan of yours, Joanie. I love my name, but Tessa is so friendly sounding -- a must in my profession. I had trouble pronouncing my name when I was little and it stuck.”
“You understand my needs, Tessa?” I asked.
Her smile became almost feral for a second.
“Near enough to Whateley for safety and convenience -- critical with your being so well known -- a large enough structure, or sufficient land, to build a secure home for your eventual family and guests, and land and buildings suitable to the long term care of two large cats. This last request is odd. Are these exotics, like tigers or leopards?” Tessa asked.
Now Tessa’s smile looked friendly, but professional, that struck me as odd. She appeared as if engaged in some internal struggle with her emotions, but why?
“You could say that. They’re extremely rare and valuable, so I need their quarters to be secure as well,” I replied.
“I have a couple small farms that may do. One is just down the road from your Dr. Bellow's place.”
“The location would be ideal. Can you show it to me today, Tessa?”
“Certainly. You do realize New England properties can be expensive,” Tessa warned.
“If Mrs. Potter says you are the best, I’ll trust you to get me a fair price. I will be paying with a bank check if that helps. I don’t need a loan, or want one -- too much risk of publicity.”
Tessa got a knowing look on her face.
“That’s right, you have been doing well as an entertainer. I can guarantee the owner will be discreet. We don’t want urban sprawl to infest the area, or tacky tourism. The last thing Dunwich wants to be is Branson East.”
I giggled softly in response.
“I’m not planning on building a theater, just a home, Tessa,” I said, then continued to snicker.
“Do you want to ride in my Blazer, or follow on your cycle?”
“I’ll ride with you, that way we can talk,” I said.
She seemed pleased with my decision. I noticed that her truck’s built-in organizer/cup holder/center console held a number of CD’s in their jewel cases. Prominent among them were the distinctive colors and markings of both of mine.
She described various points of interest and properties she had sold, should I want references. She showed me the other farm first. It wasn’t bad, 30 acres with a lived-in house and solid out buildings. But it was on the wrong side of Whate, which would necessitate a longer commute in winter than I’d like. And, it was equally inconvenient to Dunwich and Berlin, where I caught all my charter flights. The farm near Dr. Bellows home caught my eye at once.
~~This is it, I’m home!~~ I thought, though I tried to conceal my enthusiasm.
“I can tell you’ve fallen in love with it, Joanie. I’m a low level empath, your excitement was deafening. And no, I won’t raise the price too much.”
We both laughed and I gave her a friendly hug. She hugged me back and kissed me hard on the lips, her tongue dancing with mine for a moment and then we broke apart.
“Why did you do that? Not that I minded, Tessa. You’re attractive and a great kisser. I find it flattering you think I’m desirable.”
“I prefer women, Joanie, and I just had to try it once with you. You don’t know how your body and voice excite me. I know that’s unprofessional, but I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t tell you.”
I do admire honesty. I was just surprised she admitted her attraction so quickly.
“I wouldn’t be honest if I didn’t say part of me is tempted to take you up on the implied invitation, but I’m becoming serious about someone and I wouldn’t feel right about it. I could introduce you to the Anderson …”
“Tina and Chris, the minxes. We’ve met. And no, I haven’t slept with them, well not in some time.”
“I’m afraid they never mentioned you.”
I was confused. I knew from how they acted with me they were no virgins, but still... My relationship with the Anderson’s was becoming that of girls who are close friends, and not that of girlfriends and sex partners. It was a disappointment, but safer for the three of us. My intensifying relationship with Eric was the biggest reason I was not their lover.
“We had a minor fight when I moved out of the area for a year, and we drifted apart after that,” Tessa explained.
“I’m sorry you broke up. They’re good friends to me.” We wandered in and out of the buildings.
“I still like the girls, but it’s not to be. What do you think of the place? Fifty three acres, fifteen in second growth mixed hardwoods and white pine. It’s a former dairy farm -- just forage crops for the last few decades. The owner retired and moved south to the Carolinas. Since the last renter left in the mid 1980’s the farmhouse has been unoccupied.”
We walked through the house. It needed a lot of TLC.
“The farm house is in poor shape. The roof is leaking, the plaster is damaged, and a window is partially out. It needs roof repairs, and the window replaced ASAP if it’s to be salvaged. It could make a nice rental property or guest house.
“I’m more interested in the barn. The timber frame looks sound. I think if some of the gadgeteers from Whateley and a structural engineer could look at the place, it may work. I’d jack the building, dig a full basement, pour a reinforced concrete foundation, then reattach the barn to it. The structure would need extensive reinforcement and upgrading, but from the outside it would change little. Give me a detailed land survey and description. I’ll hire an engineer and get my tech friends to check it out. You may have a sale, Tessa.”
I got this wickedly silly thought and couldn’t restrain myself.
“Oh and …”
I gave her a big hug and kissed her back passionately. I threw in a loving squeeze of her firm butt for good measure, then I backed away and smiled.
“Wow, Joanie! I’m not lowering my commission, though I think you just earned a big reduction in the closing costs. If we’d gone any farther, I’d do it for free. If your girlfriend or boyfriend dumps you, give me a call. Being a professional singer is a waste. You should be a professional lover.”
I broke out giggling, and she soon joined me.
She drove me back to my cycle and promised to deliver the papers to Whateley Administration by noon the next day. It was past noon, so I hustled to Whateley for my afternoon classes and to check on my babies.
* * * *
George and Gracie greeted me eagerly and soon purred contentedly as they stuffed themselves with the food I set out. I brushed their fur, cleaned their litter box, and changed for class. I wore my student uniform with its short skirt; my hair held in a banana clip, and looked like a proper student -- or a refugee from a porn shoot. I looked in the mirror and giggled at my appearance.
~~I look like a hybrid of Lolita and Little Annie Fannie with just a touch of Sailor Moon. ~~
Oh well, compared to many on campus, I was normal. I was leaving my second and last class when I got paged on my security radio.
“Timeout to Administration, Timeout to Administration, you have a visitor -- over.”
I acknowledged receiving the message, and ran to Administration.
~~That was a strange message, who would be visiting me? ~~
There was a stretch limo in front of Administration, a bad omen. The next ‘things’ I noticed were a pair of tall, busty young women in designer clothes. I found myself studying them intensely.
~~They have to be models. They’re nearly as tall and busty as me, but my legs are nicer, and she’s not a natural blond, and my breasts are firmer, and real, and the black-haired girl’s wearing colored contacts, no way her eyes are that blue… Ghod, I’m comparing myself to other women. Am I that vain? Anyway, the blonde’s butt is too big, and her waist... I am that vain. When did this happen? Why am I babbling on like this? I’m usually not this way unless I’m nervous about something. What have I got to be nervous about?~~
There was something about what I’d seen that worried me, but I couldn’t bring the thought into focus. A stretch limo and two exceptionally attractive, well dressed women. It smelled of an entourage, but whose? I knew the answer. I just couldn’t think of it at that moment.
“Ms. Brown, you have a visitor. He’s waiting in Ms. Carson’s office.”
Ms. Hartford sounded so cheerful and was smiling.
~~I’m dead. ~~
“Is this where I say, 'we who are about to die salute you?'”
The office staff stifled giggles. Ms. Hartford kept smiling.
“I know, it’s the FBI here to take me to Alcatraz?” I suggested.
“Better,” said Ms. Hartford, then she laughed.
In Ms. Carson’s office was a man my father’s age, trim, impeccably dressed, and frighteningly familiar.
~~Not him? I said I couldn’t make it. ~~
“Joanie dear, this is ...” Ms. Carson started to say.
“Hugh Hefner, I recognize him.”
I now realized what I’d been so nervous about -- the upcoming photo shoot. My mind was so ablaze with conflicting thoughts and emotions that I don’t believe I was thinking straight. Why else couldn’t I resist saying it?
“Visiting a former girlfriend?”
Ms. Carson shot me a look. Mr. Hefner broke out in a laugh.
~~Don’t tell me they were? ~~ I thought, my eyes going wide.
"Ms. Carson posed for us, when was it, dear lady?”
“December 1961,” she said, and then my jaw dropped.
“You were in Playboy?” I asked. My eyes tried to climb out of their sockets.
“She was the Playmate of the Month, and of the Year -- one of our best. I tried to persuade her to date me, but her duties as a super precluded that,” he said.
“Being a super is a bitch, I know. So, I’m not the first mutant to pose, just the first to be publicly announced as one?”
“I did it as a dare under a pseudonym to raise money for the supers group I was with. Government funds were drying up as the Cold War wound down. Mr. Hefner’s been most generous over the years and the photos were in good taste -- nothing salacious,” said Ms. Carson.
“Call me Hugh. My friends do, and Ms. Carson has for years.”
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
~~Like you don’t know, Joanie. ~~
“I wanted to meet you and your actions last week saving the young woman convinced me to come to you here. I’d like to interview you myself as a preliminary to the big interview our professional writer will do. You’re too important to leave anything to chance,” Mr. Hefner said.
“I’m flattered, but you know I can’t reveal anything about my family, or Whateley for their and my safety,” I replied.
“Ms. Carson and you will have final editorial authority over everything related to you, your families, or Whateley -- text and photos included. I, too, recognize the value of keeping a secret, as Ms. Carson can attest. Before we go any further, Ms. Brown, you are the most attractive young woman I have had the pleasure of meeting, with the exception of Ms. Carson. Your donation to Whateley of every cent we are paying you is a generous act, dear lady.”
Oh my, that had me going. Things stated snapping to attention and making ready for action... all over.
~~I knew I should have gotten some relief after Ms. Juneau and I fooled around. Now, Ms. Libido, if we do what you want to do, it will kill him, though it would be a glorious death. Talk about going out with a bang. ~~
Okay, so my internal voice is a potty mouth, big deal.
“When do we start?” I asked politely.
In my state, I sounded like I was propositioning him. I felt wicked and aroused.
“Security has made arrangements. You can start at any time, Joan,” Ms. Carson said.
~~The things I do to stay faithful to you, Eric. ~~
“Mr. Hefner, are you allergic to cats?”
* * * *
To be continued
Thanks again to Itinerant and Janet Nolan for their assistance
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_6a_rev4a_rev_Janet_1.doc | 89.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 7
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Joanie meets some magazine models and learns of the pros and cons of modeling, then bares her self to the cameras and an interviewer. More nonsense with the kittens, Pinkly and some of Joanie newest friends. She has an amusing time with a grumpy security officer and she teaches a class she's a student in. Boy these are hard to write when you're tired.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. Joanie says she’s sure glad Playboy doesn’t use staples anymore; those things must hurt.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Text remodeling by Itinerant
Thanks to Janet Nolan for additional proofing
Chapter 7- I’m Ready for My Close-up, Mr. Hefner, The New New Avengers, The Kids from Wisconsin, Home Improvement, The Substitute
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 10-16, 2007
Mr. Hefner was charming and, well, normal once you got past the carefully crafted public image. His eye candy companions were not your stereotypical silicone bimbos. We spent several hours walking around campus. I showed them the sights as Mr. Hefner and the Playmates described the interview and photo layout process to me. They adored my kitties. I never admitted to what they were, but he knew they were something rare and special. I agreed that, when the photographer arrived, George and Gracie would participate. I claimed they were a cross between a lion and lynx the genetics lab experimented with. The gals weren’t fooled for a moment. The 20-something blonde took to modeling to pay off her mounting medical school debt. She was in training as a neurologist. The surprisingly tall, jet-haired, Amerasian girl was completing her BA in business administration and wanted the money to buy a retail franchise.
“If possible, I’d like to see photos of you in your dorm room, both clothed and naked. It will make you all the more appealing to our readers,” Mr. Hefner said.
“It’s just a room, a converted linen closet at that. I admit George and Gracie are cute, and most cats like the warmth of a lamp so the photofloods won’t bother them. The, um, naked part is obvious, but why my room?” I asked then chuckled; okay, giggled.
“That’s it, Joanie, that's what we need to show our readers. It will show how normal a young woman you’ve become and how unspoiled by the fame. Rather than living in some mansion surrounded by armed guards where you party every night and abuse your servants, you’re here. Here studying with your fellow classmates, teaching, sharing your gift of music while struggling to make sense of your new life. It’s like one of those Horatio Alger boys stories of the late 1800’s, except you’re a girl rising to greatness by the honest sweat of her angelic brow.”
~~And the jiggling firmness of her breasts. Let’s be honest, Mister. ~~
“If you’re trying to get in my panties, Mr. Hefner, that’s a damn good approach. It won’t work, but keep it up; I’m getting all tingly,” I said, and then I spoiled the effect by giggling.
He laughed, got up, gave me hug and well practiced kiss, then excused himself. He and Ms. Carson had a private dinner planned for that evening — destination, “none of your business, Joanie.”
~~Hum?~~
~~Now that I’ve seen her up close, I owe the blonde an apology. Her breasts are natural. The pushup bra fooled me. Still, mine are nicer even without any augmentation… I’m doing it again!
~~Why am I so competitive about my looks? Could it be because I’m in the fertile part of my cycle? That might explain my compulsion to compete with other women. I certainly felt the need to prove to Tessa that I was the dominant female, even if just for fun. That must be the reason. I’m at the peak of my fertility. I’m only four days away from my period. No wonder I’m…. Good Lord, I’m competing for the available males! For a member of a so called ‘civilized’ species, I’m sure letting my hormones do the talking.
~~That also explains my intense arousal, and reaction, to Eric… Thank Ghod Pinky was there. We might have done it if she hadn’t interrupted our sub-conscious foreplay. I’d like to think I have control, but I’m not so confident now. I ‘burn’ for Eric; that’s the best description I can give. It’s a phrase I read some time ago. I can’t remember were, but it fits. At least the readers of Playboy will get their money's worth. I looked hot in the self-portraits I shot during the over-night time trip to the Ice Age, the trip that ended with my rescue of the smilodons. The buildup of my ‘side effect’ showed clearly in them, I was ’glowing’ with desire. I’ve got that look now, though it’s more manageable. ~~
* * * *
The Nordic babe, Candice, “please, don’t call me Candy, it makes me sound stupid”, and the Amerasian, May Lee, “I was born on May first and Dad loved Christopher Lee horror films”, told me what to expect and what not to tolerate from the photographer.
“Male or female, it doesn’t matter. They should never touch you without your express permission and never on or around your genitals. This publication is more a throwback to pinup artistry than sexually explicit erotica. You will be on display in every sense of the word, but if you’re not comfortable doing it, don’t. Remember, Joanie, they came to you. That gives you considerable leverage with your photographer, so use it. Oh, and Joanie, your cats are not what you claim they are. What are they? I almost went into veterinary science and I’ve never seen ones like those,” said the articulate blonde bombshell.
“Those are no lynxons or lionyx or whatever you said, fess up girl,” May demanded politely.
“I can’t say how we got them, but they are the first pair of living smilodons the Earth has seen in nearly ten thousand years.”
“When Mr. Hefner said Whateley was something special he wasn’t joking!” exclaimed Candice.
May spoke next, “If you do continue in the modeling business, be careful, Joanie. I’ve heard horror stories from girls who went into nude modeling to earn cash for college, or to pay for a new car, or wardrobe, and got conned into doing degrading things. The sleazes are clever and say things like 'I’d like to help but you don’t have what we need. If only you had that look of arousal on you. Flushed, sweaty skin, wet, pouty lips and um, more explicit signs of arousal are what sell. I can help you if you’ll let me.'
"A first it’s a few drinks to relax you, and some oil to make your skin glow on camera. Maybe some judiciously applied makeup, spirit gum, or double-faced tape to enhance that wanton look. You feel a little guilty, but the money is good so you do it again. Pretty soon you’re half stoned on drugs, and doing DP’s, and other sex acts you’d never dream of if you were sober. It happens, not all the time, maybe not even most of the time, but even rarely is too often. There are many legitimate photographers and adult film makers, and then there are those who are not. We’ve been fortunate,” said May Lee, a sad expression on her face as she gestured at herself, and Candice.
“This happened to a friend, the bad experience?” She nodded. I could see she was crying.
“Did they force her to have sex or abuse her? How is she?” I had an uneasy feeling about this.
“My... the girl had major debt. She’d lost her student grant on a technicality and had to return it. I don’t know why they wouldn’t give her more time. They demanded she pay it back immediately,” said May.
~~There’s something odd here. Banks would rather spread out the payments than take you to court. What could they gain by suing a student: it’s their future income that’s valuable, and they have no assets to seize? I’d think they’d treat this like a student loan. ~~
“Her family offered to help, but she was too proud to take a handout. The creepy filmmakers she met kept telling her, ‘only one more job and you’ll have enough to be debt free, and a little set aside.’ But there were always, ‘unexpected delays’, ‘the video didn’t sell as expected and the creditors got their money first’, and worst ‘we thought you understood the surgeries were at your expense.’ It was a vicious spiral she couldn’t escape from.” May paused, and then continued. She looked distraught.
“I suspected they were slipping her drugs and brainwashing her. She admitted on the phone to having drinks on the sets and that her memory was giving her problems. This from a girl with a 3.9 average through all her school years. I saw her six months after it started and didn’t recognize her, what with all the tattoos, piercings, and the breast job. I convinced her to see a lawyer about her pay, and they skipped town on her.” May was near tears.
“Who is she, May, a close school friend, or a cousin?” I asked, hoping my worst suspicion wasn’t true.
“My younger sister, Anna. She was engaged to be married and he broke it off when he found out. She wanted a traditional Asian man, they want virgins.”
May was struggling to stay in control. I was right. It was the worst case possible.
“When he dumped her, she tried to commit suicide, but we got her to the hospital in time. Mr. Hefner’s people are paying for her drug rehab and counseling. He has his legal staff looking at her student grant troubles, but she has physical problems too. They ‘persuaded’ her to get breast implants, big ones, and tattoos. It will cost thousands to remove the tattoos, and to remove her unattractive breast implants. It will cost thousands -- maybe as much as ten thousand -- to repair the damage and restore my sweet Anna’s original appearance. She’ll likely have some scarring, and she was so pretty, prettier than me.” The young woman poured out her pain. Candice and I did what we could to comfort her.
~~Her sister was the prettier one, and May’s a Playboy centerfold? I feel sick. ~~
“Mr. Hefner must know her story if he’s helping her, so why tell me?” I asked. I was near tears and getting angry.
“That’s why he asked May to come. He wanted you to know of the bad side of his business as well as the good. We’re also mutants, like you, Joanie. No major powers. We’re both low level exemplars, and that’s about it. He felt you’d be more comfortable hearing all this from someone with a shared background. We’ll be in the all mutant issue with you. Mr. Hefner said it was time for the truth about mutants. I attended the mutant school near Chicago. May attended one on the west coast. Neither is the equal of Whateley, but not every mutant can afford it, or needs it,” Candice explained.
The reasons for their being here were certainly logical and explained their good looks. I suspected there was another reason why they’d been picked.
~~Ms. Carson, you devious woman. Ghod I love you. Hefner knew and told you, and you’re getting me involved on the sly. I do owe you and this Anna needs help. Time to break out the cat suit and boots, and buy a Pierre Cardin suit, bowler hat, and a brolly for Senator Joe. Now, where can we get some kewl theme music? Oh no! I’ve caught the kewl bug from Mel. ~~ Then I giggled quietly.
“What’s so funny, Joanie?”
“May, it’s, um… I have certain connections. Can you get me everything your sister knows about the people who exploited her? Also photos, locations of the facilities they used, any thing might be the key. I’d like to talk to her myself if it’s possible. This weekend after the photo shoot and interviews are over would be ideal. I know some people good at finding the truth. As to her medical problems, I have some friends who might help with several unconventional restorative therapies, and I can help with the financial issues,” I said.
I gave her a warm conspiratorial smile. She looked confused, but interested in what I was saying.
~~If Gin can turn a man into a little girl, the mages, and thaumatologists at Whateley should be able to help restore her looks and physical virginity. ~~
“No, I hear you’re already paying for three students to attend here and Mr. Hefner said how expensive it is,” May said.
“Don’t worry, I have tons of money. I also have connections with a charitable organization, Meridian. They have billions. If you won’t take my money, perhaps you’ll accept theirs. At least let the medical staff here examine her and see if they can restore her in mind and body. Please let me help?”
Candice had been staring at me while I spoke my piece, then her face lit up like she’d had the most wonderful surprise, or the Mother of All Orgasms. Sorry about that d/j/w.
“It was you! You’re the mysterious mutant who broke the Boston child pornography and rape case! Mr. Hefner said there was more to you than what was in the press, and you saved those two girls lives. There was... let me remember… Melissa, the daughter of Iowa’s Governor, and that new mutant girl -- the authorities won’t release her name -- the one who jumped off the ferry boat: I‘m honored to meet you, Joanie,” said Candice with respect, and was it awe?
“Don’t forget the obstruction of justice and ongoing criminal conspiracy charges. I’m especially fond of those,” I said, and laughed. I had to defuse the situation and soon.
“Do you want to meet her, the girl from the ferry? She’s here at Whateley. When you meet her, you’ll see why either of you would have done the same. She’s a precious child.”
Candice gave me a hug. She was a mistress of the art, wow! May stared at me for a moment and then she wrapped her arms around me and cried. Two gorgeous ‘babes’ fawning over me. The old me is having fits as ‘he’s’ not here to enjoy it. She calmed after several minutes, kissed me sweetly, and told me she’d consider my offer. May said she would let me know after the interviews and shoots were over. In the back of my mind I considered ways to get Anna justice.
* * * *
I introduced them to my friends during dinner in the Crystal Hall. This was a great way to get my mind off May’s horror story, and we were hungry. Pinky and Suzy charmed the panties of them, metaphorically speaking -- damn. When Tina and Tom showed up, Tom looked happy, and terrified. It was too much of a good thing for him, I guess. He went up in my estimation by showing proper attention to all present, not just the sexy models. He behaved respectfully, not like a junior Lothario on the make, and I was impressed. I wonder if I’d scared him earlier. Whatever it was, Suzy noticed, too. She whispered something to Tina, and then to Tom as they left. I think she gave his cheek a peck. Tina snickered, but Tom blushed.
~~Suzy seemed awfully pleased with her self afterward. If her mutation has triggered a surge in her puberty, oh girl! Who’s the aggressor now, I wonder? I’d better ask Suzy if she needs to go on birth control.!!
Teens and hormones, who can figure them? I can’t figure myself out half the time, and I’m one of them.
Meanwhile I had my own upcoming trial-by-fire, the photo shoots.
* * * *
April 11-14, 2007
We started the next day with an early morning shoot in my linen closet. This would get the bulk of the critical nude photographs over and done with first, and make me more comfortable for the casual and action shots. It turns out the poster that convinced them to contact me was the one of me running, my face in that expression of pleasure personified, ‘Runners High.’ They hoped to capture something like it, but with higher resolution and less clothing. I was considering it. My kittens got in a number of the shots. They did like the warmth of the flood lamps. I had to discourage their pouncing on the power cords. I think George and Gracie thought they were snakes, or toys. The entire ‘set’ consisted of a woman makeup artist/photographer's assistant, the photographer, the ‘cats’, and me, which was good, given the tight confines of my room.
I saw some of the digital test shots — the photographer shot in both digital and film — and the photos with the smilodons were so cute -- sex kitten cute. A couple of digital video/sound cameras captured everything we did. They intended to edit it down into a DVD of the making of my Centerfold and the interview. They sell quite briskly, I understand. The assistant next showed me some of the glamour/pinup style shots. I was stunning. I knew I looked good, but with these I’d joined the major leagues. I was as good as, or better looking than, the competition. I was speechless.
~~This is worse than when I woke up in the hospital. I’m a freakin’ babe! I look so hot, ‘I’ want me. ~~
“I look like that?”
The assistant nodded, as the photographer repositioned some equipment.
“That’s the real you hon, no illusion. Most girls I’ve worked with have some flaw that needs concealing, some weakness in their beauty that needs a boost. You have none of those. I never seen anyone with such flawless skin, and your hair color is remarkable. See how it seems to glow in these shots. You’re about to set the standard for what is considered beautiful in a woman. A Barbie Doll would be envious of your face and figure. I’ve seen a handful of mutants in my job -- Candice and May Lee are near perfect, as are many exemplars, I understand -- but you’re in your own league,” the assistant said.
“So Candice doesn’t dye her hair, and May Lee doesn’t wear colored contacts?” I said nervously.
“Candice does tint hers to bring out the blonde character of her hair. Her mutation enhanced her overall beauty, and toned her physique, but her light blond hair became darker than she likes -- more a dirty honey blond. May Lee wears tinted contacts, but it’s only to restore her pre-mutation eye color, not that the jet black irises she has now aren’t sexy. Her Dad's parents are from Japan and her Mom’s a former model from Sweden. May used to be a slightly shorter, less curvaceous, blue-eyed Amersian brunette. The mutation gave her the height and build of her Mom and her Dad’s jet black eyes and hair. Other than that, neither girl changed much.
I don’t need to do a lot to make them look great, but with you I did way less. Joanie, you’re the most naturally attractive woman I’ve ever seen, and I’ve worked with hundreds of top models. Don’t let the fact that I’m 23 fool you; I’ve been doing this job since I was a kid,” she added.
“Stop it, I feel like you’re worshiping me. I’m pretty but I’m no paragon of perfection, or whatever it is you’re saying. I’ll admit I’m cute, sexy maybe, but I was I guy less than a year ago; how can I be this benchmark of femininity? Give me a break.”
I tried to look upset, honest I did, but it came out as this wickedly erotic pout; I’ve seen the photos. I have got to be more careful with my facial gestures.
“Hold that pose, that’s dynamite, Joanie,” said the photographer. “My assistant’s right, Joanie, you may have been a man but you move, and sound, like what you are, a woman. There is nothing in how you move or act that reminds me of a man, and your body screams woman in it’s every detail.”
I tried to silence him, but he kept talking. I was half expecting them to erect an altar to me, and burn incense. Hey, I don’t mind people stroking my ego but this ‘cult’ was a threat to my sanity.
“When I got this assignment, I told my wife, and she immediately insisted on Wendy as my assistant. Wendy’s our oldest daughter.” He smiled, Wendy laughed and I giggled.
“Tell your mom I’m not dangerous, Wendy. Your dad’s good looking, but I’m no predatory female,” I said, and giggled again.
“No, I’m sure you’re a respectable girl, and I know the ethical lines in my business, but the wife felt much happier with Wendy here.”
“Daddy, stop lying. Joanie, Mom wanted me here because I usually work with him, like she did before us kids came on the scene. She still works with Dad on occasion, but someone had to take care of my younger brother and sister. They’re in middle school, and high school.”
We got along great after that. I stopped whining about how I’m not that pretty, and they stopped pretending I was Aphrodite’s twin sister. I got some great makeup tips and found I could look like I was anywhere from 15 to 21. Prepping for the photos wasn’t much more work than I did in getting ready for the prom, though it held its own surprises. I knew they’d be meticulous, but some things were a shock. I understood the careful brushing and combing of my hair, it’s, well, I’ve never brushed ‘that’ hair before. They wanted things perfect, and took no prisoners. I felt silly afterwards, and the makeup she applied to reduce the shine off parts of my body tickled delightfully as she brushed it on. They didn’t brush anything down ‘there’, though they did apply powder to the tops of my breasts a few times. I liked that -- ooh! Everything was done with the utmost professionalism. They never did anything without explaining its purpose and asking my permission to continue with it.
After spending all morning in my room, they took pictures in the shower room and of me running in that skimpy outfit I wore to bait Peeper’s contestants. With my long hair, I’m sure they got some artistic shots. I certainly had fun doing it. After a break to eat and rest, they followed me around campus the remainder of the day and the next two days as well. We got some strange looks as I walked around campus in a variety of outfits for the “casual” photos. I wore everything from my signature leathers to my school uniform and my ‘Indiana Joanie’ costume. They shot me diving into, and climbing out, of one of Whateley’s pools wearing that fluorescent pink thong bikini, and dancing in my prom dress at one of Mr. Lodgeman’s ballroom dance classes.
We attracted a fair gallery of onlookers, but Security and their class schedules kept them at bay. Sam Everheart made a show of patrolling wearing her twin Glocks -- a thing she rarely did. I half expected her to be marching about with her monster sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. Lex was more subtle in her “no, I am not interested in posing” look, but the photographer got the message in both cases. I got a glorious smile of encouragement from a passing student, Nikki Reilly. She’s a part-time model at Whateley. In a campus full of beautiful young women, her elfin looks stand out. For some reason, I felt like I should rush over and protect her. I thought that odd, until I remembered hearing she projects a powerful glamour.
I knew that model photographers shot lots of photos, I’ve seen the Austin Power’s films -- you’re permitted to laugh now, dear d/j/w reader -- but it was amazing. They followed me everywhere, from the King Annex where I sang for them, to the Crystal Hall with its remarkable array of foods and my table of friends. They spent a whole day just following me around as I carried on in my normal routine, interrupting only to touch up my hair, or makeup. They shot me running with Pinky. Ms. Carson and I will look at the photos and video carefully. We need to be sure none of the students or adults are identifiable. They shot me at breakfast with my ‘gang’, teaching vocal music, teaching history, attending class, and on evening patrol with Lex. She made certain they didn’t take any photos she thought inappropriate, so they mostly shot me.
~~Hey, for two million dollars, they can shoot me naked … Gees, I’m such an airhead today, like whatever. ‘I’m a blonde, yeah yeah yeah.’ Eat your heart out Julie Brown. ~~
* * * *
The informal interview I did with Mr. Hefner that first evening was a warm-up for the big one set for the last day of the shoot, Saturday the 14th -- my fourth full day with them. We set up in a soundproof practice room in the King Annex. This provided privacy and was large enough accommodate the accompanying photo/video shoot. I was glad we would be finished soon, as I was due for my period, and it can be uncomfortable for me. I answered most of the questions. I even confirmed my actual day and year of birth, but not the hospital. I was careful to give them nothing regarding my past and origins that a data miner could use to trace my family. We discussed my mutation and my recovery, and I described what I liked most and least about being a young woman.
“It’s true, then, that you’re a 49 year old former man?” said the writer.
“I’m 49 going on 17, or so it seems. But I’m grateful for this second chance at life. I miss being a man, but the benefits of my new life outweigh the drawbacks, and the powers are fun too.”
“Your powers, can you describe them, how you learned of them, and when you realized you were a mutant?”
“Three questions in one, you don’t waste words, do you? I can’t give you a detailed description of all of them. It‘s rather technical and dull. I will talk about the powers that are public.”
You have more powers than are reported?”
“I have the power to turn grown men into babbling idiots.”
I gave the writer my most sultry look. His face went blank for a moment. His pants soon were tighter fitting, painfully tighter.
“How did you like my demonstration?” I joked, then I giggled.
“That was devastating. Please, don’t tell my wife.”
“I knew something was odd soon after my mutation triggered. When I woke up in the hospital four days later looking like a teenage boy’s wet dream, there was no denying it. I’m a warper class mutant and it gives me some unusual abilities. I didn’t know about my time stop when I saw Melissa run into traffic. It was pure instinct and terror that drove me to make that mad dash into the road. I realized something strange and wondrous was happening, but I was too concerned for the girl’s safety to stop and analyze it. Although it meant the end of any hopes I had to remain anonymous, I’m glad I did it. I’ve received a great gift through my mutation, and saving this wonderful young woman was, and is, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
I paused, and wiped my tears.
“Sorry, I’m such a girl these days.”
“I see you’re very attached to Ms. Johnson, and her family. Are the rumors true about her brother, Eric, and you?”
“And what are those rumors?” I smiled.
“He’s your boyfriend?” the writer asked.
“Right for the jugular, eh? I’m fond of him and the whole Williams-Johnson clan. They treat me as if I’m a long lost child. How can I not love them? I wouldn’t be as comfortable with myself if it wasn’t for their unquestioning love. Mel, that’s Melissa, is my sister in every sense of the word. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her. The thought of her lying dead or crippled in the road haunts me and drives me to excel in my new life.
"I hate having to say this, but should anyone get the bright idea of holding my friends for ransom or threatening them with harm to force me to do something -- don’t. I may not look tough, but don’t let that deceive you. I am fierce when it comes to protecting my friends or anyone I see being taken advantage of. Never provoke me. You won’t like what happens. I’m sorry to come off all bitchy, but I value my friends and family, and will do anything to protect them. I want those who might harm them to know I will not stop pursuing them until justice is served. This potential for harm to my friends and family is the only serious downside to my mutation. I can’t visit my birth family often or openly because of the risk, and it hurts. I so wish I could share my new life with them, but I can’t.
"My gratitude to those who helped me during my mutation and those first awkward days and weeks after is why I’m so eager to help other new mutants. My friends in Madison, the doctors and staff at the hospital, and the members of MSG, the Madison Supers Group, the Williams-Johnson clan, and the amazing people at the school I’m at, all made me what I am, and I’m grateful. My teaching and other efforts are a way of repaying their kindness. It was my trust in their abilities that made it possible to jump in after the poor girl at the Merrimac ferry. I knew I could count on their help as much as I knew I had to try and save her. She’s doing very well, as is another friend I’ve made since all this mutant craziness happened.”
~~Time to change the subject; I’m getting aroused thinking of Eric. ~~
“Want to see a demonstration of my time stop?” I asked.
I did the soda can trick, but with an open can. It looked like one of those high-speed photographs the late Dr. Edgerton of MIT was famous for. You’ve seen them, the splashing drops of milk, and a rifle bullet passing through an apple. As an added bonus, I carefully collapsed the field surrounding it and scooped the soda out of the air using a cup. Then I drank it after grabbing the can.
“This is great soda, I’ll not waste it. It also stains the wood floor. Want some?”
~~A certain Atlanta based beverage company will pee in their pants when they see their red cola can in the magazine. I wonder if I can persuade them to give Whateley a discount? ~~
I was vague about my powers, not giving out much more than was public knowledge. My safety was at stake here, so the regen, time travel, and possible mental talents remained secret. I gave them enough to satisfy their curiosity, but no more.
“Your remarkable appearance... can you say what the cause is?”
“I’m an exemplar. My body is a near perfect representation of what my genetics and body image template say I should be as a woman. I’m by no means super human, but it does give me resistance to fatigue and illness greater than most normal people. My doctors say I have the mind and body of a 15 to 18 year old, depending on what they’re measuring. My brain structure and hormone levels are of a healthy 17 year old girl.”
~~That last sentence is an understatement; it’s more like a healthy 17 year old nymphomaniac. ~~
"My skeletal development is more like a 15 or 16 year-old. If it wasn’t for these” — I hefted my generous breasts; it felt wonderful — “I could pass for 15 easy. I am cursed with a skinny-girls butt and tiny waist, oh well,” I said and giggled.
“You look perfectly proportioned to me, Joanie,” the interviewer said.
“Thanks. Overall, the doctors say I’m a 17 year old girl and will remain so indefinitely,” ~Oops! ~
“Indefinitely? How long will you live?” the writer asked.
“Let me put that better. I don’t age the same as the average person.”
I didn’t lie. I simply don’t age.
“You’ll look as you do for a long time then?”
“Remarkable, isn’t it?”
“You said your brain and hormones are that of a 17 year old girl. That implies you’re sexually active.”
“I’m a virgin in that I’ve never had intercourse, that is, sex with a man. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed the blessings of this body. I’m attracted to both men and women, but I’m cautious in that area. My body is fertile, and I’m surprisingly old-fashioned. As corny as it sounds, I think I’ll wait for Mr. Right. That may change, but I doubt it.”
“Is Eric Johnson Mr. Right? You do spend a lot of time with his family, and him.”
“How could I not? I saved their daughter and in a way they’ve saved me. They’re decent, honest folks and I’m proud to call them my friends. It’s through my experience with them I decided to enter teaching. My hospital and MSG friends taught me the value of helping others, but I wasn’t sure how. Mel’s energy and enthusiasm started me down this path; the success of my accidental singing career moved me along further. The reaction of Mel’s family and friends last November cinched my decision. The intelligence and eagerness to learn, combined with the girls’ love of life made choosing teaching a snap,” I said.
“Last November, that was the girls’ sleepover at the Iowa Governor’s Mansion?”
“Yeah, it was a blast. You should attend one. Oh, right, you’re a guy. Sorry, sometimes I’m so blond,” I giggled.
~~Blond like a shark. Let them think you’re an airhead. ~~
“Your ‘accidental singing career’, as you put it, has done phenomenally well. You do know you’re currently the best selling recording artist on the charts. Getting back on the subject, what’s your relationship to Eric Johnson?”
“As to Mr. Johnson, Eric’s a fine young man I’m privileged to call a dear friend. I have to remind myself he’s fourteen. He acts so mature most of the time. When he’s eighteen, ask me again. I can say this much, when I do get around to dating men, if he’s still available, he’s on the list. “
None of this was a lie, Eric was on the list. He was the list.
* * * *
April 15, 2007
I spent much of Sunday morning catching up on my laundry and cleaning after the hectic week. Whateley, being Whateley, accommodated the diverse religious needs of its students. Tom, Tina, and Suzy, were able to attend a church service on campus. Happily, it was not conducted by the Rev. Englund. He makes Ms. Hartford look sweet and sympathetic. He’s the kind of man that gives ultra conservative, right-wing religious fanaticism a bad name -- at least that’s my opinion of him. Charlie Lodgeman, the nicest man on campus with the possible exceptions of Chief Delarose, Stan and Morrie, hates the man with a passion. He’s polite and quiet about it, but I’ve learned the Right Righteous Pain in the Posterior was partially responsible for Sherry’s death, and Lodgeman can’t forget, or forgive. So far I’ve avoided Englund’s attention. I suspect he thinks I’m a flake, which is fine with me. I’ve enough complication in my life without a religious nut case on my case. If he should learn of my flirtation with lesbianism, my life here could get complicated. That one of the students, Nikki Reilly, looks like Sherry must complicate things for Charlie.
While I cleaned and washed and generally acted the grumbling bitch — my “friend” was back with extreme prejudice -- Pinky entertained and began training George and Gracie. I “love” my periods, they make me feel so feminine. There are few things more graceful and womanly that shoving a tampon up your… I’m being sarcastic here, dear d/j/w. I do admit it’s a small price to pay for possible motherhood, but it is a nuisance.
I got some advice from one of our Security officers who works with police dogs, and Pinky was helping me implement it. We would start simple, a solid sit/stay command, and build on that foundation. We intended to use a minimum of negative correction, like that would work when they were 450 pounds and had teeth like commando knives, railway spikes, or bayonets -- take your choice of analogy. Pinky was patient and started the many repetitions of the commands and intermittent food rewards given for displaying the desired behavior -- classic Pavlov/Skinner style conditioning.
I’m getting better, dear d/j/w; I didn’t say, “Pavlov, ring a bell?” at least not right away. Cats are trainable if you start early enough. They’ve long been used in magic and entertainment acts. The big cats are a circus staple. Pinky had the added advantage of being able to empathically sense the smilodon’s emotional state and to project back an appropriate emotion. The two of us would train them in the basics and experts would assist us as needed. They were responding well to a harness and leash. We always made it pleasant. They get food treats, playtime, a brushing, and walks in the edge of the woods, anything the cats enjoy. They do eye the squirrels suspiciously, and, given what good climbers George and Gracie are proving to be, the leashes are necessary. The sit/stay should solve that problem. Heel comes next and I think it will go easily as they will walk on the leash for a hundred yards at a time before protesting.
* * * *
Between my loads of laundry, I reviewed the information Tessa sent me about the farm I wanted to buy. The well was fairly recent and deep with good water quality. The tested rate of flow was sufficient for two homes. The septic system was older but in good order and would do for the farmhouse, though I’d probably go for one of those newer mound systems for the barn conversion. Whateley did extend its sewers to Dr. Bellows so an extension to the farm might be possible. I’ll have to see what the zoning laws permit. The telephone and electric lines were modern, though the farmhouse wiring was from the late forties and needed upgrading. The machinery shed was only 20 years old with a concrete floor and would make a great garage or possibly a practice hall for my music. It needed insulation and heat, but that was easy. When the septic was dug I could see about adding a ground to air heat pump system. They’re supposed to be environmentally friendly.
My mind was busy trying out various ideas and possibilities for the place. I shocked my self with a couple of them.
~~That 15 acres of woods could be a great place for a tree house for our children, and they could have ponies, and that old concrete silo would make a great playhouse and lookout tower, or astronomical observatory… I’m not even engaged and I’m thing of my, that’s our, children. Eric, hurry up, I need you beside me. I’m achy, bloated, have a tampon in me, a pantie liner in place, and I’m thinking of children and a husband. Mom, if you could see me now, are you laughing at me or smiling? Ghod, I miss you! I wish you could have met him. ~ ~
I* * * *
In the afternoon I practiced with Pinky and the smilodons. They were fast learners. The sit/stay was shaky, but they grasped the general concept. With luck they’d have it down pat in a matter of days rather that of weeks.
“How did you get so far with them in a few hours? You’re a natural at this.” I gave her an older sister’s hug.
“I had a dog when I was little and I helped train him. He got sick, and died, two years ago last March.” Pinky said. I could see tears on her face.
“I’m sorry, but you have George and Gracie now. I don’t mind sharing. They like you.”
The cats were spending almost equal amounts of time with each of us as we talked. Possibly they’d decided Pinky was my sister, and thus their Aunt. Related female domestic cats and lions sometimes share in feeding and carrying for their young. Pinky had taken care of George and Gracie while I was busy being photographed and interviewed and had formed a strong bond with them. I was happy Pinky had another activity to take her mind off the horrors of the last year and to remind her of the joys of childhood.
“You mean it, Joanie? They’re mine, too?”
“Absolutely, I think they’ve adopted you as their Aunt. I bet they’ll love their Uncle, too. Speaking of that, have you ever had ‘the talk’, the talk about human sexuality, and reproduction? You are an attractive girl and the other Pinky is handsome and exotic. You’re going to turn boys and girls heads. I want you to be prepared,” I told her.
“I had a little in school. The last was female hygiene class when I was 12, but after I mutated, Mom didn’t want much to do with me, at least nothing that reminded her of my change. The doctors here were the first to explain how my male organs work and that there is a chance, a good one, I can impregnate myself if any of my semen gets in my vagina. I turns out I’m just as fertile a female when a hermaphrodite as I am as a normal girl. I’m also a highly potent male, which surprised them at first. They say it’s something to do with my hormones and receptor sites. My male parts and my female parts don’t interfere with each other when I’m both. They think I might even continue changing forms during a pregnancy, at least until the last few months. When my breasts get ready to produce milk, they think I’ll stay a girl, though I might still switch, but keep the breasts. They don’t know for certain. I’m kinda special they said,” Pinky said without any shyness.
“Pinky, you’re special, period. I could talk to your Aunt and get you on birth control, if you want. I can’t take the pill or any of the contraceptive drugs, my physiology is too robust being a regen, but it could be a good precaution for you. Take it slow and easy, please. You’re doing so much better now, I don’t want to see you get hurt by some boy or girl taking advantage of you.”
Pinky looked me in the eyes so intensely I thought she was looking into my soul. I saw tears start to form.
“I promise, Mom,” Was all that Pinky said, and then she hugged and held me tight. I’d never head such beautiful words in my life. We didn’t speak after that, we simply held each other and cried.
~~If her parents don’t want Pinky, could I get custody or possibly adopt her? I’m not a relative, but someone needs to care for her. ~~
We must have been quite a sight when we walked puffy eyed and still sniffling to Sunday dinner with my friends. The Kids from Wisconsin — I know it’s the name of a student singing group at the State Fair, but it fits — Tom, Tina, and Suzy were there, waiting at my favorite table. Pinky and I were getting our food when the Anderson twins, Tina and Chris, came in dressed to the nines, and then some. We checked out then sat at the table. it was crowded, but a good kind of crowded.
“You okay, Au … ah gees, I forgot my, um, ketchup. Be right back,” said Suzy with embarrassment and ashamed.
“It’s fine, dear. No one heard. You wanted to ask if I was okay. I’m fine. I was crying because I’m happy. Girls are allowed to do that, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Joanie, do Tina ‘A’ and Chris know about Suzy?” Tom was learning to keep the secret.
“Tina and Chris know. I had to tell them, Tom. They’re my backups for when I’m not here to help you kids, and Tina’s in Administration, so she knew from the paperwork.”
“Suzy, you need something, or have a question, or problem, call us, or stop by Administration,” said Tina.
“Or stop by fleet maintenance,” said Chris.
“You got the full-time position, Chris? Way to go girl!” I said in congratulation; then I gave her a hug.
“Tina was always bugging me to apply for a full-time position at Whateley. I still work Saturday mornings for the law office in Dunwich and a couple half-shift evenings a week. It’s a lot of hours, but I’m making good money. I plan to have a family someday with or without a partner, and I want to be ready for it. We’re dressed up because Tina’s taking me out to a late night supper club to celebrate. Don’t worry, we’re not drinking. We have a small bottle of champagne chilling at home when we get back. You’re welcome to come over after if you want, Joanie.”
* * * *
That got us talking for hours. They had to kick us out so they could close up for the night and the Anderson gals could leave for their supper club date. It was nearly nine PM before I was back to Poe and my furry friends were fed and cared for. They do like their new scratching post, odd how it looks exactly like a couch. Lex is very happy with her new living room set. I threw in a floor lamp in exchange for her old couch. George and Gracie love it.
~~That was a long week. I forgot something, but what was it? Our Friday night phone call! Damn, where’s my cell? ~~
“Terrace Hill, who may I say is calling?” I’d gotten a Security officer.
“Is Eric Johnson available? I normally call him on Friday nights, but I was busy. It’s Joanie. He’ll want to talk, honest.” I felt so bad.
“Joanie who, miss?” said the officer.
“Sorry, Joanie Brown, I’m a family friend. It’s possible you’ve heard of me, I sing professionally.”
“Yeah kid. I don’t know who you are, but impersonating famous people to harass the Governor’s family is sick. We have caller ID and we will prosecute if you don’t hang up now,” said the man.
~~In a most condescending tone too, ~~ I thought.
“You just do that. I dare you to give the caller ID number to the Governor. Tell him the caller insisted, Officer Dickhead.”
~~That should fix you, jerk. ~~
I was steaming. He was costing me time, time that could be better spent talking with my Eric.
~~Damn the man for wasting our time. Damn me for forgetting. The magazine people would have left early Friday evening if I’d asked, and damn me for falling for a fourteen year old.~~
“You’ve got it, Missy,” he practically spat into the phone.
He was so mad he put it on speakerphone instead of hold. This was going to be such fun. I could hardly keep from laughing. I could hear a distant, but clear conversation.
“Governor, there’s some silly girl on the phone asking to speak to your son. She ‘claims’ to be, Joanie, that singer, but come on.”
“How do you know she’s not? Never assume; it’s dangerous, and foolish to do so in politics,” said Governor Bob.
“I have her caller ID here, the name is blocked, but the area code, and number list as Dunwich, New Hampshire, I mean…” said the officer laughing.
“Officer Miller, did the other officers tell you about an incident that happened here last November?” Bob said in a lecturing tone.
“Oh, that’s the one were a security officer at the gate got sent back to the state police academy because he pulled his gun out, and tried to arrest …”
There was a period of total silence.
“You will be there tomorrow at eight AM sharp to repeat the entire rookie course or you are fired. You will apologize to our dear friend and then you will turn in your gun and badge to your night watch commander, and explain to him why I am requesting your retraining. Got it, rookie?”
I had never heard a word in anger from Bob before, that was impressive in more than one way.
~~Ghod he’s loves me. Uh, why are my legs apart and ... Bob’s done it to me again. Even the voices of the men in this family arouse me. ~~
The officer gave me an enthusiastic apology, which I accepted. Bob was terribly sweet on the phone, but said he was serious about the officer retaking the whole officer boot camp. I made him promise me the officer would be restored to his former rank and pay if he did well. Bob told me he intended to do that all along -- the softie.
“It will do him good to be retrained. Everyone needs a good refresher course once in awhile. I’ll let him know before he leaves. I’m not a vindictive man. You want my son, I’ll get him. And Joanie, can I have one of those magazines when they come out, but autographed on the cover? I’d like to frame it and put it in my official office where everyone can see it. I’d display the centerfold, but Babs might get jealous,” he said, then laughed.
* * * *
If you want to know what Eric and I said, dear d/j/w reader, tough luck, that’s for our ears only. I will say I told him I was sorry for having forgotten to call, and that he was sweet about it. It quickly got sickeningly cute and romantic. Shirley Temple would have died from a sugar overdose on hearing it. Ghod help me, I loved it. I fell asleep that night a tired, but happy woman.
* * * *
April 16, 2007
Taking classes as a student is fun, plain and simple. I’ve made a several friends among the teens, and my girl skills have improved with their help. I usually remember when my period is due and have the tools-of-the-trade at hand, amazing! My growing network of friends and acquaintances provides me with a level of insider information of unauthorized activities on campus that few are privy to. It’s my own informal Distant Early Warning system, or DEW line. Supplemented with information gleaned from Security and my friend Tina in Administration, I’m rarely caught off guard by developments at Whateley. Combining this information with tip-offs from MSG, Dr. Sara, Babs, and the Senator may protect me from future attacks, at least the planned variety. Oh, and now I know which singers are the ‘hot’ items these days. Not as vital to my survival, but if I can get autographed photos and memorabilia — through Mr. Karaoke -- that no-one else can get, I have the spoils to leverage my position in the student hierarchy. At a minimum it improves my safety. Who wants to lose the goose that lays the golden eggs?
Teaching has been both hard work and a hoot. At a small to medium sized school like Whateley — less than a thousand total staff and students — you get to know or at least recognize everyone else in time. Most of the student body and nearly all the staff knew I was staff and something of a celebrity. Many knew me as a student as well. As months passed, the teens I had classes with thought of me more as one of the kids than as staff. This made the first few times I taught classes I was in a treat. It was easier for them to act as if I was one of them. I certainly look the part of a high school girl. I encouraged it so I could get the full flavor of student life.
I was on my way to History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, a required course. It was warm for the 16th of April and the early spring flowers were showing in the woods, lawns, and gardens of Whateley. I had ample time to waste. I had no first period class on Mondays, so I took my time, scouting out new trees the smilodons might wish to place their mark upon. Elms and oaks with their corky bark were favorites and with care, no harm would come to forest or felines.
“Timeout to the Office of the History Department Chairperson, ASAP, acknowledge.”
I occasionally got non-security related messages via the encrypted voice and messaging phone I carried. Mr. Hefner’s visit was a recent example. This was nothing unusual, so I acknowledged and rushed to her office.
“Joanie, I need you to teach History 103 second period today as the regular instructor is ill,” the new Chairperson, Dr. Bakers stated.
“Hir’s time of the month?” I replied.
Our instructor was a true hermaphrodite, fertile both ways. And I thought my sexuality was confusing. Hir worked as well as anything else as a form of address, it was definitely better than herm, or they. I’m simply her, Ms. or miss. Occasionally, I’m 'hey you!'
“Kelly is having a hard time today and asked off. It’s a introductory level class, you’ll do fine.” Said the history Chairpers… said the Head, ah, said Dr. Bakers.
‘I’m a student in that specific class; won’t it confuse them?” I asked.
“Exactly. Have fun, girl.” The head, um, Bakers grinned at me. Sorry, but he only took over from Dr. Alden last week.
I didn't have time to change. Okay, I could have time traveled back twenty minutes, run to my dorm room, changed, run back, and returned to the present but that was a poor use of my gifts and exhausting. To be honest it would be something else more debilitating, but satisfying. However, I simply forgot I could do it. I was dressed like any of the other girls in class, clothes guaranteed to give boys or girls erections, and parents heart attacks. It was subtly slutty. Too outrageous was frowned on as we did get visitors. The color coded lights in the dorms and flags outdoors reminded us constantly. Today was a green flag day, so all bets were off, along with a lot of fabric. I do need to fit in, so I was baring lots of skin. It’s not like I’m a show-off. Well, maybe a little, but it’s for fun.
We chose our favorite seats. Many kids clowned around while waiting for the teacher. At the appointed time I got out of my seat, placed my backpack and laptop on the teacher’s desk, sat in hir’s chair, and put my feet up on the desk.
“Joanie, are you crazy? Dr. Kelly will have you in detention for that. You signed a binding pledge to be treated as a regular student, girl. I remember hir making a big deal out of it. Faculty or not, hir’ll have your ass. You know what a prig hir is,” said one of the girls.
“I don’t care. I hear we have a substitute today, and I‘ll bet you she’ll be eating out of my hand.”
I started eating a bag of corn chips, and opened a soda.
“Hir’ll suspend you from class, please.”
“Nah, I told you I’d be eating out of my hands. I’m the substitute.”
The class quickly got noisy, and rowdy. I fired a toy cap pistol to get their attention. I carried it to get the smilodons used to gunfire. That’s similar to how hunting dogs are trained.
“Word of warning, I can be a right bitch when I need to. Give us all a break, and let’s have a calm, productive class. I promise it won’t be boring, ‘k’?” I said.
I loosened the next to last button on my blouse, just shy of the point where things would get interesting. It got their attention. They calmed down after a few grumbles. I stood up to hold their attention and to show off my outfit.
~~I paid good money for this. It’s cute and almost decent. It’s a proper school uniform blouse. It’s not see-through, not completely. ~~
“See, class, that was a minor example of abuse of power. I had knowledge that you didn’t, and I took advantage of it. Think back to the assigned readings and give me examples of abuse of power that have had an impact on mutant/normal relations. Feel free to speak your mind. There is no wrong or right answer here. The worst that will happen is you’ll make a fool of yourself and I’ll have to comfort you, ooh,” I said that last bit seductively, and the class laughed.
They’re a bright bunch of teens and came up with every example I did, and a few I’d missed. They behaved well, and I was proud of them. For Dr. Kelly’s benefit I took note of who contributed in addition to recording everything on a camera and microphone attached to my laptop. I typed up my notes and e-mailed the works, video included, to Dr. Kelly that night. Hir was pleased and told us so at the next class on the 18th. We’d covered everything hir’d intended and several topics from the next assignment.
“I thank you for showing maturity and discipline, and making the substitute’s job that much easier. As for her, the less said the better, or her head will explode.”
I giggled, and blushed.
“Great effort, each and every one of you, now from our last class, the first record showing knowledge of mutants in the American colonies was where, and when, anyone?”
* * * *
I’ve got an interesting assignment after lunch today. I’m substituting for one of the magic teachers... should be interesting as I know nothing about magic.
* * * *
To be continued
Thanks again to assistance generously provided by Itinerant and Janet Nolan
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_7_rev_3.doc | 126 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 8
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Another BigCloset TopShelf story.
Our heroine gets advice from a very friendly friend. Her substitute teaching takes 'show-and-tell' to extreams. Joanie finds teaching a *breeze* and revealing -- too revealing. She agrees to purchase the farm and begins to recruit a work crew. She phones dad about the magazine deal and learns more of the darkside of modeling. Her new mutant friends develope a lead on a crime and grow as a group.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006. Wow, every subchapter is a ’2’, must be having a two-for sale.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Text tweaking by Itinerant
Thanks to my evil blonde sister and to Janet Nolan for proofing
Chapter 8- The Substitute 2, Home Improvement 2, The New New Avengers 2, The Kids from Wisconsin 2
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 17-18, 2007
April 17, 2007
The students' confusion between me as a sister student and a teacher has its upside. I have over three decades more experience than any of them, so I use it to my advantage. They might try to get the better of me, but it costs them.
Today, I’m filling in for one of the magic instructors. I have no magic powers, but I do know something about magic through my time with Gin at MSG. I called her prior to my class, and she said I’d do best to admit my lack of experience in ‘that’ field of endeavor. She giggled a bit when she said 'that’, the minx. She suggested a class I should teach instead.
“Yeah, like they’d let me do ‘that’ in class Gin. I don’t think Ms. Carson would allow it. If I demonstrated *that* with a student I’d be breaking the law, and Monty Python did it in 'The Meaning of Life', so it’s nothing new. Anyway, at best I’m a talented amateur,” I said trying hard not to break up.
“Joanie, you’re not amateur, you’re a mistress of the art -- I know.” Then she giggled.
“I did get a lot of practice between the three of you.”
“And on top, and beneath, and …”
“Gin, this is getting smutty; not that I mind, but I have the magic class to teach?”
“Sorry, Joanie, but you need to understand that most kids with such powers are as uncertain with them as I was when I mutated. Honesty and your unusual mutation should protect you.”
She admitted to using a mild lust spell to encourage me last year when I’d first showed interest in her, but confessed that it had backfired. She said the rebounded magic made me extremely attractive to her, but because she knew it was due to her own spell, she didn’t panic. Fortunately, my own strong libido solved the problem to our mutual satisfaction. She blushed, and stifled a snicker after explaining this to me. Dear d/j/w readers, Gin and I were on a video cell phone so don’t go around with that “how the heck did you know she was blushing” expression on your faces.
“You used magic to seduce me? I do remember feeling unusually attracted to you shortly before we … You sneaky bitch, you did put the whammy on me!” I growled, but felt bad about my outburst moment’s later.
“I’m so sorry, Joanie. It didn’t work, not as I intended anyhow. Somehow your warper powers sent my spell back on me; if anything, it intensified it. Ghod, I’ve never been so horny in my life. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest, but I thought you might reject me,” Gin said apologetically.
“Gin, I’m so very happy you did it.”
“Huh? You’re happy I used a lust spell on you?”
“I’m not happy you resorted to magic. I’m happy you chose to share yourself with me. Gin dear, you make Lucy Lu look plain, not that I’d turn down a romp with her. Did you see her in 'Payback'? She was smokin’, but you’re better. With your looks, and sexy moves, I assure you I was interested. You, Red, and Carrie made me love this body, and what it could do.”
Her tone suggested she thought I was lying. I grumbled, then giggled.
“Okay, Mr. Vibrator gets an honorable mention, and I don’t have to take him dancing or get him drunk.”
Gin snorted, I laughed until my eyes watered.
“All your magic did was jumpstart things. It wore off in minutes, but by then we were, um … Don’t sell yourself short, Gin. I still desire you; you’re my favorite Chinese Make-out.”
“Oooooh, Joanie that was sick. Please, no more puns, I beg you,” Gin said, and then faked a moan.
“I couldn’t resist, and when would I ever get the chance to use that line? Gin, you risked traveling with me on those first, potentially dangerous time trips. You devised the seemingly lethal tank incident at Badger Ordinance that gave me the key to my time stop, and you hooked me up with that funky shop with those incredibly sexy custom boots. I love you, I suspect I always will, but I’m trying to be faithful to … “
“Eric. I saw what you see in him. He’ll be a catch in a few years, I hope I can find as fine a man, or woman. I don’t blame you; I like guys too. Please forgive me?”
“Gin, if I wasn’t afraid of hurting him, I’d be with you now. I’d be standing by your side, dodging the dangers of your sexy curves, and your sorceress powers, risking my life and limb in your bed, constantly in fear for my chastity, ‘and loving it’. I wish you had been honest, but I forgive you. I could have been happy as your long-term lover,” I said.
“Wow, a Maxwell Smart parody! You do love me,” said Gin.
I almost dropped the phone I was laughing hard, and I was feeling aroused. I swear some days I could look at a mailbox and get aroused, but I was fond of the heavenly Humong hottie.
“Don’t doubt it. I desire you, and the rest of the Gang of Four. I love you like sisters -- my gorgeous, insatiable, lesbian, nympho sisters. I still do, and not just for the sex. I could have been happy with any, or all of you as lovers, but Eric is my destiny, my soul mate. I don’t know why, or how, I know, but I do.”
“Promise me, if he gives you reason to doubt, you’ll call me?”
“You and the rest of the Gang of Four will always have a place in my heart. If it was just love, companionship, and fantastic sex, I’d be happy as it was. It’s just that I want to have children, Gin, and a family. I owe my late Mom, and I ache deep in my heart for the touch of a child’s lips on my breasts. I know I could have artificial insemination, or go with a guy, and dump him after I’m pregnant, but I’m used to a two parent home. Can you understand?”
“You have it bad, Joanie. The Mommy bug is unrelenting, and Eric seems an ideal mate. In the short time I knew him he was handsome, smart, and polite, and if it grows with the rest of him, built like a porn star,” Gin said then giggled in her sexy way.
“You should see him now; he’s growing so fast. They say size doesn’t matter? Fuck them! He’s going to be a stud.”
I giggled so hard I wet my self, but not with pee.
“You slut, Joanie; when you do it with him, be careful. He’s a nice bo ... young man, don’t kill him.”
* * * *
I took Gin’s advice, and was honest with the class.
“Like, hi everyone, I’m, ah ... Joanie. You probably don’t know me, for sure,” I said in a sing-song Valley Girl voice. I’m so good at it, I frighten myself.
The class laughed at my cheap joke, but it broke the ice.
”I’m a Warper, not a sorceress. I’m not qualified in magic in any fashion, so that’s why I’m teaching this class. Administration must be desperate,” I said, and smiled.
“I want you to treat today’s class like an advanced version of show and tell. I’d like you to describe the spell you are most proud of, and show it to the class,” I requested, “perhaps we can learn by example. I’m curious to see what you can do.”
The class went well. Several girls demonstrated glamours, and starting, and stopping, fires. The guys manifested false images, and one boy transmuted an orange into an apple, complete with a wriggling Gummi worm.
“Very impressive, I wish I had your abilities. Who hasn’t gone yet?”
An older, tough looking Goth boy, Mystor, volunteered. If it wasn’t for the makeup, and clothes, he’d be a babe magnet.
“Ms. Joanie, could I use you for my demo. I promise you won’t be hurt.”
“Sure, what do I do?”
I should have said no, but I prefer to be a trusting soul — big mistake.
“Stand still for a moment.”
He concentrated, made some arcane gestures, and the room felt cooler and drafty. The class looked embarrassed, then started laughing. I looked down, and saw I was naked. He had made all my clothes disappear, the horny little bastard. I was upset, and envious.
~~Damn, I wished I’d been able to do that in high school. If I could have done that to Deanne, or Julie, whoa Momma! Oh well, I asked for it. Oh, great, my nipples are reacting to the air. ~~
“Impressive, but those are expensive clothes. Those boots alone are over four hundred dollars. May I have them back, please?” I was polite under the circumstances.
“Um, sorry, I transformed them into a Barbie Doll, and it took all the magic I had, maybe tomorrow?”
I saw a lifelike Barbie Doll that was my tiny doppelganger, complete with the outfit I’d been wearing -- the expensive, custom leather outfit I’d been wearing. I got angry, but kept a calm exterior.
“So, I have to stand here naked?”
“That’s the general plan. Sorry, but you are so sexy, Joanie,” he said and smirked.
“You couldn’t wait for the July issue? Fair is fair, Mystor, and you are about my size.”
“What do you …?”
I time stopped him in mid-sentence, and stripped him bare. His underwear I discarded.
~~Yuck! Smelly underwear.~~
The pants were a tight fit on my butt, and loose on my waist. His shirt I used in a Daisy Duke fashion, tying the tails under my breasts. I was covered, but looked like ‘the farmer’s daughter’ of innumerable traveling salesmen jokes, and cartoons. It was a good look for me, too. I thought my stiff nipples accented the ensemble nicely. His shoes didn’t fit, so I put on my running shoes.
~~I have to remember this look for Eric; he’ll go crazy. ~~
I unfroze Mystor.
“Mean?” he finished, then realized he was naked.
“I’m glad to see you ‘appreciate’ my body; I only wish the ‘salute’ wasn’t so small,” I said pointing at his erect penis.
The class laughed uproariously until I shouted for them to stop.
“That’s enough! Let’s not pick on the *boy*. When I was his age, mine was about the same size; Mystor has nothing to be ashamed of. I was average in that department. Size does matter to an extent, but Mystor is still growing. All of us have something about our bodies we’re not satisfied with. Frankly, my ass is too small, don’t you think? And these breasts are way too big.”
I giggled, but they got the point. How could they not?
~~Thinking on it, my laughter must have made my breasts jiggle. Marvelous, I’m gonna be in lots of naughty dreams tonight.~~
I gave Mystor my sweat pants and a t-shirt from my gym bag I’d carried with me since my morning run with Pinky. They needed washing, but the alternative was my athletic bra and my running shorts, neither in his size or color. Sure, I could have slipped on my whole workout outfit, but where’s the fun in that? I couldn’t let a student get the best of his instructor and he deserved some punishment.
“How we look to the world is to a large degree at the whim of our genetics and BITs. It’s not fair to penalize or reward people purely on their looks, though you may worship me, within limits. Absolutely no animal sacrifices!” I giggled again. “Mystor, come with me after class and we can work out how you’ll pay for my clothes,” I said. Then I kissed him on the cheek, and the class went crazy.
“He’ll be doing chores for me, you perverts: I’m not having sex with him, though he is cute. If you got rid of that makeup and dressed sharp, Mystor, you’d be a looker. Class dismissed.”
They got up to leave.
“Wait a moment! I’m about to buy an old farm a short distance from here, and I could use help cleaning up before, and after, the work crews. It will be mostly after afternoon classes are over, and on weekends. It’s possible I might need help in the early mornings, too. I’ll pay a good wage if you’ll work hard, and you get to work with me. Wait until you see me in my bib overall cutoffs. How about it? You can leave a message on my dorm room bulletin board on the third floor of Poe, or get word to me through Security, Administration, or Mr. King in the King Annex.”
~~I’ll need laborers for demolition in the farm house I intend to buy. Mystor has just signed on as one of my grunts, though he doesn’t know it yet. ~~
* * * *
I stopped by Operations after class; they wanted to talk to tell me more about that ‘research trip’ they needed. I told them about the Hennessey farm and that I was close to buying it. When I described my plans for the house and the barn, they got excited and practically begged me to let them do the work. They had a lot of students in part-time jobs, some got work study credit for it. My future homestead was a welcome opportunity.
“The students need the wages, and it’s a chance to show off their new skills,” said Stan.
“We’ll make certain it’s done right, and I guarantee the security and safety features will be better than the best. Stan and I can head out to your place and do a preliminary engineering survey,” said Morrie.
I was hesitant; I knew they were qualified, but this was my baby. They saw my hesitation, and sweetened the pot.
“As we were saying earlier, Whateley has a major cable laying project due to start soon,” said Stan.
“I remember someone telling me a few days back I might need to do a research trip for you guys. Sorry I got off the subject, what do you need?”
“It’s much like what happened during the repairs to Hawthorne. The laying should go quickly; most of it can be done with a vibratory plow, but the usual odd stuff has shown up on the ground scans. We can’t do a thing until the anomalies are checked out. If you and Mr Lodgeman can confirm what we’re dealing with, we’ll cut you a deal on the cost.” said Morrie.
“And throw in a hot tub, gratis,” said Stan.
“A hot tub? Are you thinking of inviting yourself over, Don Juan?” I gave him a sultry smile, and Stan blushed.
“You got a deal, but I have to buy the place first. Go ahead with the survey; it could affect the selling price.” I said, as I gave them each a hug. I am so into hugs these days.
I gave them a description of my plans for the place, and arranged to provide them a copy of the surveys Tessa sent. They gave me a copy of the planned cable routes, and where the areas of concern were. I agreed to do the *research trip* ASAP. Next, I was off to Administration to contact Charlie.
* * * *
The always delightful Ms. Anderson was at her desk.
“Tina, where’s Amelia?”
“Ms. Hartford is at lunch, Joanie. She eats food like the rest of us. I was amazed when I heard; I thought she sucked blood.”
“Tina, I know she’s a bitc … hard woman, but be fair. Can you get a message to Mr. Lodgeman and send him a copy of these construction plans? We need to do another *research trip* for Operations,” I said.
“Sure. Um, Joanie is there something going on between you and Mr. Lodgeman? I know you’re getting serious about you-know-who, but you do spend a lot of time with the man in places where no one else can see,” said Tina.
~~Is she being serious, or trying to prank the mistress? It’s time to shock her, I think. ~~
“I did get off with him the last time trip; you should have heard me screaming -- then again, you probably did. I was loud. Ghod, it felt great.”
I said this straight-faced with a hint of fondly remembered lust in my eyes. Tina’s did a double take, then we broke into giggles simultaneously.
“Joanie, I give up. Please don’t do that again,” she said then leaned close, and whispered. “You know how Chris and I feel about you, if you need to talk about your May-December romance, or if it falls apart, we’re here for you,” she said then hugged me.
“Hey, I’m not December, I’m Miss July!”
* * * *
I had a singing class to teach at 1PM, so it wasn’t until 3:15 PM I got into Dunwich and pulled up outside Tessa’s real estate office. She came out to greet me; I was only half out of my riding suit.
“I take it you have questions about the property, Joanie?” she said, smiling warmly.
I finished removing my jumpsuit and motorcycle boots, slipped on some pumps, and straightened my rumpled skirt.
“Only one, Tessa. Are there any deed restrictions beyond those you listed? Your information packet mentioned historic preservation, business, and subdivision restrictions.”
“That’s it. You can’t subdivide the property without a zoning variance, which is difficult to get, and any new structures have to be superficially similar to existing structures in the area; nothing tacky, in other words. The only permitted commercial business is farming or related business such as livestock, Christmas tree, and nursery stock growing. Recreational businesses are regulated on a case-by-case basis. Hunting is usually allowed, stockcar racing is probably not,” Tessa said.
“May I rent out the farm house?”
“Absolutely, but you can’t sell it separate from the property unless it is to be moved to a different piece of land. Likewise, the land can only be rented for the permitted commercial purposes. You can’t rent it to, say, an auto salvage yard for storing wrecks.”
“How difficult is it to get construction permits? I intend to do extensive excavation. I’m fixing the farm house as a rental, or guest house, but the barn will be my home. “
“Ah, you must watch 'This Old House',” Tessa said.
~~I wonder? I’ll have to contact WGBH. ~~
“Is the price the same as before, and does it include everything: all fees, title, and lien searches, inspection fees, closing costs -- the works?”
“No changes, Joanie,” Tessa said.
“You have a deal. I have some friends from Whateley coming to inspect the place, but I don’t anticipate any surprises. How soon can we close?”
“Is tomorrow at 4PM too soon?”
“I’ll be here, with bells on.” I said.
“Only bells? Sounds kinky; I like it. Oh, you need to bring the check, Joanie.”
* * * *
I stopped by Administration to check on my mail, and to see if Mr. Lodgeman got my message. Ms. Hartford was in, busy at her PC.
“Please have a seat, I’ll be with you momentarily,” said Ms. Hartford almost joyfully.
“I can wait, Ms. Hartford.”
I heard a rapid stroking of keys, like she was rushing to finish, and then Ms. Hartford turned to me, smiling. This did not bode well for yours truly.
“Did you have news for me?” I asked.
“Several things, my dear Ms. Joanie,” cooed Ms Hartford.
I dreaded what was coming, but I took it head on, like a … woman.
“I have a package for you from California, from a Ms. May Lee in care of Playboy. Photos, perhaps?”
“I wish they were photos. They're documents, and I may need your help, Ms. Hartford. It’s possible her sister was the victim of an unscrupulous pornographer, if what May Lee told me checks out. The use of drugs, mind control, and an oddly coincidental financial hardship that made the woman easy prey concerns me. That she was the *star* of a number of extreme hard core sex films could add multiple rapes to the list.”
The mention of rape caused Ms. Hartford to tense.
“If these allegations are true, why not go to the police?”
“That’s something I need to know; I hope these documents will expose the truth. If I need your assistance in researching the case, Ms. Hartford, would you help?”
“Of course, you did my niece a great service; I’m obligated,” she said, then paused. “And I want to. It’s what I’m good at, and I may need your help someday.”
“Thank you. I will honor your request for help, if I can. Was there anything else for me?”
I was confused. Had she admitted, in an oblique way, she wants my good will, or even friendship? At a minimum she’s agreeing to a quid pro quo.
“Mr. Lodgeman says the earliest he’s available for your *research trip* is the morning of Thursday the 19th. Any time after 8AM is agreeable.”
“Tell him 8AM is fine. Is that all?” I asked.
“Except for these, dear.”
She smiled as she placed, one-by-one, a dozen of the nation’s best selling newspapers on the desk. She’d included a wide variety of publications, from the prestigious, such as the Washington Post and LA Times, to sleazy NYC tabloids. Each presented the story on their respective front page; it must have been a slow news day. One of the NYC tabloids put it best. Ms. Hartford made a point of reading that one out loud.
“’Mamnificent Musical Mutant Joanie Magazine Nude.’ Where do they get these words from, mamnificent? You’ll like these two, Joanie,” she said, and handed me the Wall Street Journal and Variety.
“’Playboy Launches Biggest Publicity Blitz in their History to Promote All Mutant Issue Staring Joanie', and ‘Babe Bares Body for Boarding School’.” I read out loud as Ms. Hartford calmly smiled.
~~I hope my sister told Dad. Oh, Ghod, I don’t think I asked her! ~~
* * * *
I called from a secure room in Security.
“… all solicitations please hang up,” said my dad’s voice on the answering machine.
“Dad, pick up; it’s Joanie, Dad! It’s real important.”
“Joanie, what’s wrong? You sound upset.”
“Are you sitting down Dad? This could be a shock.”
I was worried for him. He’s 80, with a replacement heart valve.
“Did my sister tell you I got this offer to pose for a national magazine?” I asked carefully.
“Oh, you mean the Playboy interview and centerfold? She told me the day you told her. She said she had to tell someone, or die trying. It took a couple minutes before she could speak again without laughing.”
~~Dear Sister needs to be brought down a peg or two. I’ll have to think about it. ~~
“Very funny Dad; you’re not upset?” I asked.
“Why should I be? You’re young again, and devastatingly attractive. You’re prettier than your Mom, and you know how I felt about her. Don’t worry, Joanie, she’d approve. She’d probably buy copies to show off when other women bragged too much about what their kids -- the doctor, the lawyer, the athlete -- had accomplished. She’d be nice about it and say, ‘Oh, my middle child, she’s just a teacher, model, singer, and a mutant super heroine. Don’t take my word for it, read this’, hand them the magazine, sit back, and smile sweetly.
"So you’re baring your body to millions. It’s for a respected publisher in the field. I know the photos will be in good taste, because you’re too famous to mess with. That you’re giving it all to your school makes me so proud. I knew we raised you right; this proves it, daughter. It’s a pity they can’t mention Whateley by name, but I understand why. Whateley is a special place; you chose well dear.
"Your sister showed me how to access the Prairie Home Companion web site. I listened to your performance, and they had some photos of you. I wish I’d been there; you were wonderful. I cried when you sang that Orbison song. I'm sorry your Mom can't see you like this; she’d be so happy.”
We talked for an hour or more, catching up on each other. I promised I’d send him a framed, autographed copy for him. I also learned The Evil Blonde was another *cheerleader* for me, though discreetly by necessity, and was frequently calling him with items she’d read, or heard about me. My Dad was his old, teasing, and verbally competitive self again, but I heard the love and pride in his voice. I was told my uncle had nothing but praise for ‘that lovely mutant woman, Joanie’ who had saved his granddaughters life, and was now her sponsor and mentor at some elite school. I had to end the call, as I’d become overwhelmed with emotion. I walked out of the office, and Delarose spoke.
“What’s wrong, Joanie? You look like you’re crying, and your eyes are puffy, bad news from home?”
“My Daddy loves me!” I blubbered as I ran out of security and to my room to calm down.
* * * *
I flopped onto my bed, and sobbed. How can one be so happy and sad at the same time? It seemed the smilodons sensed I was upset, because they jumped on the bed and rubbed their heads against me, finally curling up below my breasts. I calmed down, and played with my furry roommates while I contemplated why I’d been upset. My period was due to end soon, perhaps which was why I’d been so moody? The range in my emotions from high to low was unsettling these last few weeks, and this wasn’t likely to improve soon. I wondered if it wasn’t a case of PTSD flaring up months after my assault. The rescue of Suzy had been stressful, and May Lee’s revelations about Anna were sickening. Maybe they pushed me over the edge?
~~I’ll talk with my friends and, if they say so, I’ll talk with Dr. Bellows or Dr. Sara. I may be a proud woman, but I have to keep my self mentally sound for my friends and family. They count on me for so much, and I’d be lost without them. ~~
I fed George and Gracie and marveled at how the were thriving. He weighed in at over 12 pounds and she was close behind at 11. At a pound a week they’d be full grown in under 18 months. I’ll need that new home, and soon. I sifted their litter, then I read May Lee’s packet. The more I read, the worse I felt. Anna had attached several notes for me. From Anna’s notes I could tell she was a bright and articulate girl, but wounded in spirit. Her attention to detail was remarkable, given the combination of drugs, alcohol, and mind control they’d used on her. She sent copies of her medical tests from after leaving her abusers, and from her required physical for entering college.
Sufficient residual traces of the drugs they fed her, and their breakdown compounds, were in her blood and urine after her sister rescued her. Enough to prove she’d been on multiple drugs. Several were highly addictive and either illegal or dangerous, especially if used long term. One or more had hypnotic -- even hallucinogenic — effects and will and memory inhibiting properties, particularly when used in conjunction with alcohol. They had her on high dose birth control, which had put her at risk for blood clots, and combined with the other drugs would have greatly enhanced her libido.
~~No wonder they were able to con her into doing all those degrading acts. They had her so horny and high she couldn’t think straight. ~~
The psychiatric exams confirmed the implications of the drug tests. The combination of drugs, financial worries, sleep deprivation, and other mind control techniques left Anna nothing more than a drug and sex addicted subservient woman who would do anything for the faintest of praise from her tormentors. Part of Anna’s doctor’s conclusions disturbed me greatly.
“We believe Anna is lucky to have come out of this experience without significant brain or organ damage from the dangerous cocktail of drugs and alcohol used on her. She has been subject to unethical and potentially hazardous plastic surgery that will likely leave permanent scars, and may lead to future medical complications if not quickly corrected. It appears likely she may have difficulty nursing a child or obtaining a normal response from her nipples as some nerve and milk duct damage resulted from one of the implant surgeries.
"It is our conclusion Anna was treated no better than a dog by these people -- worse in that large amounts of painful negative correction were used on her. There is credible medical, and physical, evidence that electric shock devices similar to a canine *invisible fence* were used on a regular basis. Electrical burn marks on her ankles and neck match closely to the position of electrodes in several such devices found in the trash of the location she was rescued from. A private investigative agency hired to assist in her evaluation recovered these and empty containers of several drugs found in her system out of a near by dumpster.”
I stopped reading partway through the documents, and ran out of my dorm room, barely making it to the women’s room where I spent the next 15 minutes vomiting until I had the dry heaves. I was queasy, and angry that the authorities had not caught these people. They’d vanished almost without a trace from the police reports May and Anna included. The few leads investigators had were tenuous and difficult to follow. Perhaps these descriptions triggered a remembrance of my assaults, but I wanted these people bad. I can’t save the world, but maybe I could stop these criminals before any more lives were ruined. I sipped some cold water to settle my stomach and returned to my room.
May added a note saying Mr. Hefner was pleased with the photos and interview, and that some of his top editors would call to setup a time to review their choices. May Lee, and Anna, would accompany them so Anna could be tested, and we could speak. She said Anna had been so out of it during her *modeling career* that she didn’t know of me other than a vague memory of a mutant woman saving a politicians daughter. Anna’s financial troubles had started around the same time as my rescue of Mel, soon after she was well into being deceived, drugged and worse by those criminals masquerading as a legitimate photo studio. With the financial stress, the drugs they had her on and the mind control it was remarkable she remembered anything of that time.
Anna was eager to meet me, and was fast becoming a fan of my music. May Lee was putting her though a crash course on *Joanie,* and Whateley, in preparation for their visit. May felt her sister was coming out of her depression, but was concerned she could relapse from the reaction of others to her appearance. I emailed May Lee back and assured May Lee that on a campus full of mutants Anna would blend right in. I put everything back in the packet, and took it with me to dinner.
* * * *
I got a small soup and sandwich as I was not hungry. I was not good company, and my friends were concerned.
“What’s wrong, Joanie? You’re so down tonight,” asked Suzy.
“Yah, Ms. Joanie, what gives? You’re usually so happy. I’ve never seen you like this, and it scares me,” said Tom.
Pinky guessed, or maybe she didn’t have to; she is an empath.
“It’s the younger sister of the Playboy model, May Lee. You said the other day that she needed help; it must be pretty bad to hurt you, Joanie.”
She slid over next to me, and took one of my hands in both of hers. The rest of my school mates moved in close as well.
“This never leaves this table; you can tell no one else, promise?” I whispered.
They nodded in agreement.
“May Lee’s sister, Anna, went through something similar to what happened to you, Pinky,” I said softly.
“Ghod no!” Pinky cried.
She wrapped her arms around me, and started to shake. I hugged her tight as she sobbed inconsolably.
~~Damn, did I trigger a PTSD attack? ~~
“That’s okay, Pinky, let it all out. I’m sorry I had to tell you, but you’d have found out soon enough. You’re tough; you’ll pull through,” I said as I rubbed her back.
“Was Ms. Anna raped?” Tina asked, looking sick.
“Under different circumstances than Pinky, but yes, they violated her. By the time her tormentors got done with her, she was little more than a drug addicted sex slave working for an unethical pornographer. They tricked her into oversized breast implants, tattoos, and other things that have scarred her. It was with May Lee’s help she escaped. I’ve offered to help her recover and to catch those who hurt her. Would you like to help me, Pinky? The same goes for all of you. There are a lot of receipts, photos, bills, and other evidence to sort through. More eyes will help me get through it sooner, and may spot something I’d miss.”
“Count on it, Joanie. Is my Aunt helping us?” said Pinky, determination on her tear-streaked face.
“Ms. Hartford said she would help. That’s why I need to sort through this mess and look for patterns of activity so she and my colleagues in Security have a starting point for their investigations. One of the practice rooms in the music department should serve us. We need to do this without being disturbed.”
We finished eating, and walked to the King Annex.
“Joanie, do we get to wear trench coats and deerstalker hats?” asked Suzy, giggling at the end.
“Ah man, I was hoping Joanie’d dress up like that lady from ‘The Avengers’?”
“Diana Rigg?”
“No, Joanie, the movie one. What’s her name, Liv Ulman, the same actress who was in 'Kill Bill'. You’d look hot in leather, Ms. Joanie.” said Tom smirking.
His sister Tina gave him an angry look, and I laughed.
“It’s okay, Tina. Tom, from what those photographers told me, I’d look hot in a flannel shirt, blue jeans, and construction boots, but thanks for the compliment. I’m not sure about costumes, but I can probably get us decoder rings, and a secret handshake and door knock.” I laughed again.
We found a room, and set out the papers May had sent.
“First, let’s lay everything out in order from oldest to most recent. Be careful not to lose any, and don’t tell anyone about this unless I, or Chief Delarose from Security, tell you to, okay? I must warn you some of the evidence and Anna’s recollections are grim stuff. If you find something too disturbing, set it down and call for me to look at it. We’re looking for things that are out of the ordinary and patterns in the data. If you see anything like multiple phone calls to the same number, multiple travel bills, or multiple hotel bills from the same destination, let me know.”
“Anything else to look out for, Joanie?” asked Suzy.
“A signed confession with accompanying photos would be nice, but anything that seems odd or catches your fancy, pass it on. It maybe a cliché, but it could be anything. Go with your gut feeling; hunches are big in police work.”
The kids and I worked quietly for an hour or so, sorting out the paper by date, and then by type. I gave them all note pad and pens, and told them to each pick an address, or phone number, and try to follow it across the months.
“Joanie, is this something important? It’s Anna’s credit card bill for travel expenses to the same city in Mexico multiple times over several months. Each time it’s for multiple persons. Don’t they have plastic surgery clinics that cater to Americans? I remember reading about it in a news magazine, and I think I saw something on TV,” said Suzy.
“Wonderful, Suzy, I think you found a lead. Show what you have to the rest, then make careful notes of what you found. Great start, gang, lets find more.”
I looked over what she had: several individuals accompanied Anna to the same city, and hotel, in Mexico, and there were these many thousand dollar charges from the same business each time. I suspected it was the surgical clinic.
“Joanie!” Pinky all but shouted.
“Calm down, what do you have?
“Anna’s phone bills show dozens of calls to the same few numbers in Mexico, and these same numbers show up on a fragment of a bill that isn’t hers; maybe it’s the pornographer’s?” she said, grinning like a cat closing for the killing bite.
I rushed to her side. She showed me what she’d found, and how she did it.
“I could kiss you! What the hell!” I said.
I gave Pinky a big hug and a light kiss on the cheek. I was so proud of her. Then I heard her gasp and felt her stiffen. I looked in her eyes, and for a moment I thought I saw confusion, and fear. I can be so stupid.
~~Ghod, what have I done? I’m an idiot! ~~
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Pinky. I shouldn’t have done that. I forget how much you’ve changed in a short time. I don’t ever want to see you hurt again, least of all by me. I feel like I violated your trust,” I whispered to Pinky. I felt sick.
Pinky visibly relaxed, and looked at me like I needed consoling, and not her.
“Joanie, it’s okay. I’ve been on edge since I heard about Anna’s troubles, it brought up bad memories. I know you were just being nice. My mom used to do that when I did something she was proud of, but she stopped after my mutation. I’ve missed it, and I thank you for it. You don’t need my forgiveness,” she replied softly.
Then Pinky smiled, hugged me back, and kissed me sweetly on my cheek. I smiled with relief.
“I’m so proud of you, Pinky, and Suzy. I’m proud of all of you for helping. Keep looking at this stuff; maybe try sorting it a different way, by location or by amount spent? Use your imaginations. If it gets too intense for any of you, let me know, please? I don’t want anyone suffering nightmares. I’m calling this info into Security, so they can look it over. I’ll have them bring back copies so we can keep at it.”
Chief Delarose came into the music room within minutes.
~~The Chief? I must be a favorite, or it’s a slow evening. ~~
“What do you have for me, Timeout? It sounded important.”
“Timeout? Joanie has a *handle*?” said Tom wide eyed.
“She certainly rates one, and it avoids confusion,” Delarose said. “When dispatch passed on your message, I had to come. What do you have for me, Ms. Holmes?” he said with a wry smile.
“She’s Emma Peel, from 'The Avengers', Chief Delarose. Don’t you follow the news?” said Pinky absolutely stone-faced, like her Aunt. Eww!
“Ah, by 'The Avengers' you mean the *mysterious* individuals who helped solve the Boston rape and conspiracy case. I’m glad to have been of assistance to you, Ms. Conners. Joanie’s quite fond of you too. You are right, she’d look much better in a cat-suit and high heeled boots, than a deerstalker and Edwardian hunting garb. I must complement you on assisting in this case; it can’t be easy for you. You’re a special young woman, Ms. Conners.”
Now Pinky was the one blushing for a change.
“May I see the evidence you think you’ve uncovered?”
I handed it to him, and gave a short synopsis of what we suspected.
“The beginnings of a case against a pornographer, drug pusher, sex slave trader, and kidnapper, I hope?” I said.
“This is excellent work; you’re all to be commended. I agree these are significant leads. I’d like to take all this with me; I’ll make two copies of everything, one for our investigators in Security, one for you folks to continue working up leads from, and the originals I’ll lock up as evidence. I’ll get the department working on it at once. Joanie,” he said with an odd smile on his face. “Do I get a suit, bowler hat, and umbrella? I’ll let you know when it’s time to put on the leather cat-suit, and boots,” the Chief said.
“You’re out of luck, that’s the Senator’s outfit. What if I loan you a Walther PPK, a sharp suit, and a hot sports car? You can be Delarose, Chief Delarose. Give me a kiss, 007.”
“If you insist, Mrs. Peel,” he said as he moved toward me.
“Chief, what are you doing? I was only joking. You don’t have to mmfghp!”
It is difficult to talk when you’re being kissed like I was. Chief Delarose was not just a great lawman. He broke off, and I struggled to speak.
“… Oh my Ghod!”
“No, just me, Joanie, but my pleasure,” said the Chief as he walked away.
~~You know, he is a great kisser. Who’da thunk it? ~~
April 18, 2007, 7:00AM
I took care of my *cats*, dressed, and headed out for my morning run. What I saw surprised me.
“Good morning Pinky, Suzy, Tom, Tina...? What’s going on, not that I mind the company.”
“You’ve been so nice to us, and now you’re helping a girl you haven’t met. We thought we should be nice to you,” said Suzy, the apparent ring-leader.
“You don’t have to…” I started to say.
“Tickle attack!” shouted Suzy.
They caught me off guard, and I was soon writhing on the ground laughing so hard I cried and my sides ached. I hadn’t laughed like that in ages. It was nearly as good a sex and carried no risk of pregnancy, however …
“St_st_st_op, p_p_please … I c_can’t … I’ll wet …“
They stopped, eventually, and stood around me, smiling.
“Damn, now I have to go and change my clothes, but thanks,” I said, followed by kissing each of them on the cheek. Poor Tom blushed and looked embarrassed until Suzy winked at him, and he smiled.
~~My niece is going on birth control if I have to drag her in for the shots myself. ~~
I rushed to the nearest bathroom, changed out of my wet panties and shorts, freshened up, and put on a fresh pair with a panty liner to be safe. Except for some grass stains, my shoes and running-bra top, were fine. I put on my school uniform skirt; it would have to do for now. With the sport bra top, it made a provocative outfit. I ran back to the running track.
“Joanie, that’s a different look for you, but I like it. Face it girl, a potato sack looks good on you. You know, Joanie, with some ribbons in your hair and a big bow tied around your waist, that’s practically a Sailor Moon outfit,” said Lex, who’d come late to the party. “Thanks, Joanie, for the living room set, and floor lamp. It was most generous of you. My old stuff was getting thread-bare. How’s the scratching post working out?”
“Scratching post?” asked Tina.
“Officer Luther’s old couch, Tina. My smilodons took a liking to it when Lex baby sat them this Easter weekend. They were a touch enthusiastic,” I said.
“Enthusiastic? The stuffing was falling out of one corner and they’d cut grooves in the wood frame. George and Gracie are a cute, furry, wrecking crew. I’m pleased you did the right thing and replaced the damaged furniture. Buying a whole living room set was a nice touch. What I didn’t expect was the new carpeting they installed. It looks great, Joanie,” Lex replied.
“I called the furniture store before they delivered, and they had carpeting designed to match your set. You’ve been so kind to me, Lex. It’s not that the rest of Security hasn’t been decent, but you made me feel welcome. What’s the point of having money if you can’t do some good with it? And before you say it’s too expensive, that living room set, and carpet, cost less than what I make in a week on my recording royalties. Don’t sweat it. I’ll like to be generous when I can.”
“I could buy a good used car for what that living room cost. Let’s see, times 52 … How much are you making a year, Joanie?” Lex said.
“Forbes said I was one of the top celebrities for 2006 in terms of my earnings. I’m doing much better this year.”
“You mean you’re up there with Oprah?”
“I’m doing far better than her, Lex.”
“My Ghod, I’m working with Billie Gates!”
“Ha, ha, Lex, What do we do now? It’s nearly 7:30,” I asked.
“We can still run, just shorter, but faster. I have a cunning plan, Lord Joanie,” said Lex.
“You’re parodying Black Adder, this can’t be good. You had this all worked out before hand; this is a set up?”
“I’m sorry Aun…, oh hell, no one's here, Auntie Joanie. Pinky told us how you never seem to tire or even sweat much, so we’re giving you a workout the best way we can. Ready to tag-team her?” said Suzy.
“Huh?”
They ran a relay race against me, so that no one ran more than a lap, if even that, before another took over. This way they could run at or close to an all-out sprint continuously. It took everything I had to stay competitive.
“7:45, time’s up, Joanie. Let’s see how we did,” said Lex from behind me, moments after her watch alarm sounded.
They were all sweaty and breathing hard. Lex, despite her magic induced regen, was almost as exhausted; even I was a little damp and tired.
Suzy spoke. “Joanie, you held a sub-four-minute-mile pace for 15 minutes. It took everything I had to keep up, and I’m sure the rest of us feel the same. Are you sure you’re not an energizer?”
"Nope! Boing, boing, boing, boing …”
“Tigger? Now cut that out.”
“Jack Benny, Lex?” I offered.
“Arrg!” Lex cried, throwing her arms up then walking off laughing.
* * * *
To be continued
Want to comment but don't want to open an account?
Anyone can log in as Guest Reader -- password topshelf to leave a comment.
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 9
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Joanie's band and her clean-up crew grow. She learns maybe there is a chance she could become a sorceress, kind of. The investigation into Anna's tormentors heats up. Legal help comes from an older friend. Joanie experiences Tina's inverter power up close and personal -- oh yeah baby! She buys a farm near Whately.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the kitchen sink epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, honest, though comma useage still confuses me; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with sexual topics and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Grammar by Itinerant
Body by Fischer
Proof positive by Janet Nolan
Chapter 9- I’m Just a Singer in a Rock and Roll Band, The New New Avengers3, Bell Book and Candle, Home Improvement 3
Whateley Academy Dunwich NH, April 18, 2007
April 18, 2007
Pinky, the kids from Wisconsin and I had a messy breakfast. We kept breaking each other up, and spilled a lot of food in the process. I’ve seen middle school lunch rooms that were better behaved. I fell much happier afterward, the kids were a tonic for my spirit.
“You feeling better now, Joanie?” asked Suzy.
“Yes, much better. I can’t remember when I’ve had a more enjoyable, and insane start to the day.”
“You’d better stay happy or Suzy here has a couple more evil tricks up her sleeve to cheer you up. Wet panties are the least of your worries,” said Pinky trying to look fierce, but coming off petulant and a bit flirty instead.
“It’s my right as an American to be grumpy if I feel like it. Thanks for making me realize I don’t want to feel that way anymore,” I said and smiled at my friends.
“You’d better not feel grumpy, Joanie. When you feel bad, you’re not the only one hurting. You’re the best friend any of us have here, and that includes me and my brother. As much as I love Tom, it’s you I’d turn to with a problem, no offense, brother,” Tina said.
You don’t realize how much we all rely on you, Joanie. It hurts to see you sad,” said Tom.
"I mean that much to you?” I asked back.
"You’re the kewl, pretty, older sister I never had. With Mon and Dad missing, you’re the only one I feel comfortable to come to for help and advice,” Tina replied.
“Do the rest of you feel like Tina?” I asked.
“Joanie, I love my sister, but I’d come to you first if I was in trouble. You’re smart and pretty, and you’re Suzy’s … best friend, so I’d better like you,” Tom said and winked at Suzy.
“You saved my life, Joanie. I can’t stand to see you hurting. That we’re, you know, makes our friendship that much more special,” said Suzy, reminding me I’m her Aunt.
“You know how I feel about you. You helped me put my life together, and didn’t abandon me after the harm I tried to do to you. I couldn’t love you more if you were my real mother,” said Pinky as she wiped her eyes.
“Now look what you’ve done, I’m so happy I’m crying,” I said as tears welled up.
They all moved closer and took turns hugging me or holding my hands as they smiled at me. Tom and Pinky gave me a glorious back rub and I felt the tension melt away. I gradually felt calm and content.
“Okay, okay, I promise to stay happy, are you satisfied?” I asked.
They laughed and moved back to their seats. I paused for a moment, then I spoke.
“I know I usually eat during one of the later lunch periods, but I’ll be here for the 11AM lunch today; I have a closing on a property at four,” I announced.
“You’re getting that farm near campus?” Pinky asked.
“It’s getting crowded in my linen closet, and I do hope to get married and raise a family. The farm will be perfect for the smilodons -- over fifty acres to explore, nearly a third of which is wooded. It will be a great place to unwind. You’re all welcome to come and visit. We could have sleepovers on the weekends. I’ll have lots of room for guests once its all been built or remodeled,” I said excitedly.
“George and Gracie will love it. Oh no, that means ... can I still see them, Joanie?” asked Pinky, looking unhappy.
“They will still be in training for use as police cats, so I’ll bring them to campus most days. You are their primary trainer, Pinky, and I expect you to continue in your duties. The farm is an easy ten minute walk from Whateley and you’re big enough for a mountain bike or, if your Aunt agrees when you turn 15, I’ll buy you a motor scooter. Your birthday is in June, isn’t it? That gives you all summer to get your license.”
“A motor scooter? Oh, Joanie, thank you!” she squealed with excitement.
“Wait until Ms. Hartford says yes. You have to help train and care for the smilodons, if I’m to buy it for you. If I ever see you riding without a helmet, I’ll take it back.”
“I love them, Joanie; I’d do it for free. I don’t mind a helmet; can I have a riding suit, too? Maybe a hot looking jumpsuit like yours? Thanks, you won’t regret getting me that scooter.”
“I’ll get you all the protective gear for both of your bodies, sure, but it’s not a done deal; Ms. Hartford could say no, Pinky.”
“With you asking my aunt? No worries! Hey everybody! I’m getting a scooter for my birthday.”
Pinky stopped in mid-grin, and frowned for a moment.
“Joanie, this isn’t anything to do with last night? I said it was okay, and I meant it.”
”No, this was in my mind as soon as I realized I wanted that farm. How else would you get out to it? My smilies need their trainer, and when the construction is over I hope you’ll want to visit me often. That goes for all of you; we could have mixed gender sleepovers, if you girls can control your selves. Poor Tom is the only boy. Well, half the time he is,” I said and grinned, Pinky blushed.
“Anyway, the earliest the farm house will be rehabbed is a month or two, conventionally. The barn conversion into my dream home could take all summer or more using conventional methods and materials. I will make extensive use of Whateley people and methods, but it still will take weeks, I suspect. I understand Samantha Everheart built her apartment in Kane Hall in a matter of days, but I don’t know if I can use the same people, and my project is much larger. Plus, I can’t lift 1000 pounds like Sam can,” I explained.
I waited a moment to get everyone attention, and got serious.
“Listen up everyone, this is important. You were all there last night when I did something stupid and unintentionally cruel. In my exuberance over the clues you’d found, I could have hurt Pinky. I know she felt uncomfortable. I want you to understand why she felt uncomfortable and why I was wrong to do what I did,” I said, feeling some lingering shame.
“It was when you hugged and kissed Pinky? Because she’d been abused like Ms. Anna, oh Ghod, it reminded her of her rapes!” Tom exclaimed.
“Nothing gets past you kids; that is exactly it, Tom. I’m not saying to treat our Pinky like some antique china doll, I don’t think she’d like that, but keep it in mind. Since my mutation, I’m a touchy-feely kind of girl, and I forget that not everyone is comfortable with that -- especially someone whose trust has been abused. Despite that, I shouldn’t have grabbed Pinky that way without warning; it was too much like an assault, even if the intent was innocent.
“You must remember, it’s almost like I’m a little kid again. I love hugging and kissing, especially the kissing, so I guess I’m not that little,” I said and giggled. “That’s because I’m a teenager, emotionally as well as physically, so please treat me like one. I may know a lot more than any of you, but I’m more like you than you think. That’s no excuse, just an explanation. I let my emotions get the better of me, and I brought up bad memories in a dear friend. I feel like a fool.”
“I like being hugged, especially by you, Joanie, and I like being close to people I know, but sometimes it weirds me out, because ... you know,” said Pinky.
“That’s why we need to be aware that each of us reacts differently to close, personal contact. We’ve all had our share of traumas recently, some more than others. Each of our mutations and their aftermath has been traumatic. We’ve all had our lives disrupted and have each lost something valuable. Many of us have suffered greatly.
“Tom and Tina were victims of unscrupulous experimenters who later tried to kidnap them, and we still don’t know where their parents are or what happened to them. Pinky was assaulted by someone who was supposed to be aiding her, and now she has been rejected and ignored by her parents. Suzy here is also a victim of these people and their drug, and nearly drowned trying to escape them. I was kidnapped and my hands and legs nearly severed as an experiment. In a later attack I was savagely beaten. It’s natural some things will upset us, especially things that remind us of those bad things in our pasts.”
I could see my friends wince as I described how each of us had been violated but they kept their cool and listened to me closely.
“If any of us are doing something that bothers you, ask and we’ll stop. If one of you sees any of us doing something that one of us objects to, tell us to stop. If you see anyone at all abusing someone, call Security at once. In other words, be considerate of each others feelings. That goes for all of us, agreed?” I said, asking for their assent.
They all agreed, though they looked a bit down.
“Sorry about the grim stuff, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t experiment with relationships and flirting and, well, sex, when you’re ready. You’re teens on the edge of adulthood and that’s your decision, but helping Ms. Anna reminded me of the bad times in our pasts, and I want us to put that behind us. What we need is a fun night. Everyone remind me the next time you see me. We never did have that sleep over at the Andersons, maybe this weekend? If the weather is nice, we can hike over and I’ll give you a tour of my farm, it’s just down the road from Dr. Bellows’ place.
“Tom, no sleep over for you for now; the dangly bits between your legs disqualify you. And no saying that Pinky is part guy and shouldn’t attend either, she's in full girl mode now and looking fine. Even in her hermaphrodite form she’s a complete woman and counts as far more of a girl than you. You get to spend the night hanging with my pals in Security, and several are good looking women -- single women. The athletic lady this morning, Lex, is one,” I told them.
Tom grinned; I didn’t tell him Lex prefers females.
~~If he behaves himself maybe I’ll take him and Suzy on a chaperoned date. The alternative is them sneaking behind my back; between their hormones, and some of the inbred old-timers around Whateley, that could mean a shotgun wedding.~~
* * * *
To my amazement, Cheryl the cashier, was friendly, and called out to me as I was about to leave the Crystal Hall.
“Joanie, may I have a moment of your time, please.”
~~Whoa, polite? Cheryl? Is she on drugs? Am I on drugs? ~~
“What can I do for you, Cheryl?”
“I hear you’re a Playboy model. Can I have a couple autographed copies? I have older brother at NYU; he’s a fan, and thinks you’re sexy. He likes tall women.”
“Gladly, but why a couple copies, Cheryl?”
She motioned for me to come closer.
“I think you’re sexy too,” she whispered then pulled me close, and kissed me on the lips.
I think some tongue action and butt grabbing was involved. My memory is vague as to what precisely she did, but as to how it felt, yes, yes yes!
“I … ah … oh my … but … oh wow … Cheryl?” I sputtered.
Cheryl laughed so hard I thought she’d fall off her stool.
“Got you!” said Cheryl loudly. “I still want those autographed magazines, and you are sexy, Joanie,” she whispered.
I was in shock, but smiling when she hit me with the second barrel.
“I heard on WARS you’re still looking for people for your band. No snickers now, Joanie, but I play the French horn and cornet. I was a first in both the marching band on cornet, and in the orchestra on the horn. I can play alto sax, though not as well. I loved being in band and orchestra back in my old school before my mutation, and I still play daily, for the fun of it. Plus, it pisses off the students in the adjoining dorm rooms,” Cheryl said, then she smirked. “I know this one boy who plays the bagpipes and he isn’t Scottish, he does it to get some time by himself away from his roommate.
“Are you comfortable playing rock and country, Cheryl?” I asked.
“I love old fashioned rock, especially the classic stuff from the fifties and sixties. I may look, and talk, like a tough Jersey ‘goil’, but it’s an act. You owe me a chance for all the teasing,” Cheryl explained.
“Okay, Ms. Spears, you get your try out. You got any sharp outfits you could wear if we have a gig?” I asked.
“I’ve got some cute, sexy outfits; not as sexy as yours, Miss July, but pretty hot,” she replied.
“See you tomorrow at four then, Brittany,” I said.
"I’m not a Brittany Spears type; I consider myself more of a short Fran Dresser. And Joanie, because of those last two remarks, I expect three autographed copies. I have a younger brother as well; he has a couple of your posters up in his room, as I do in mine, Ms. Hot-stuff.”
~~Some people, who knows? ~~
* * * *
I was exiting the Crystal Hall when one of the students from the magic class stopped me.
“Ms. Joanie, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, you’re Lonnie from the magic class yesterday?” I asked.
Lonnie reminded me of a gymnast or dancer the way she moved, and her face revealed a sharp and cheerful mind. She was cute in a girl next door fashion; the girl next door you didn’t dare ask out because she was the head cheerleader at school. I had my suspicions she had a touch of exemplar in her.
Something had bothered me during the magic class. Something was familiar about this *Lonnie* but what? Mystor’s hi-jinx had pushed it out of my mind but now it came back in a rush.
“I remember you; you talked to me shortly before Christmas. You asked if I was thinking of starting an oldies band. No wonder the idea came to me so fast when it did, you’d planted the seed. Please ask your question, Lonnie.”
“Yes, Ms. Joanie. Are you sure you’re not a sorceress, or mage, or something, even a little bit?”
“I’m reasonably sure. Nearly all my powers are due to being a warper. None of them are tied to magic, or so I’m told. Why do you ask, Lonnie?” I asked.
“I can see some ley lines and concentrations of magic, but only those generated by or connecting living creatures. You know what ley lines are?” Lonnie asked.
“There are several explanations, some kind of inter-dimensional energies being one, but essentially they are the real world equivalent of Hollywood’s, The Force. That’s two ways of putting it that I know of,” I said.
“That’s not a bad analogy, Ms. Joanie. There was a residue of a magical force, not touching any part of your body, surrounding you at the start of class. When Mystor transmuted your clothing, part of his magic appeared to get *stuck* to this *shell* surrounding you. The use of magic often leaves behind a residue, but this one is odd. I saw a constantly swirling field of magic around you like a skin. Normally the residue is inactive, static, and faint. The *colors* were odd too, like it was the residue of more than one source of magic that was somehow combining, or evolving. At first I though it was evidence of a magic shield, but you said you don’t have any magic powers, and I don’t see it touching you,” Lonnie said.
“Sorry, Lonnie, I can’t do a decent card trick to save my life, let alone real magic.”
“It’s definitely surrounding you; maybe a little weaker than when you left class yesterday, but not by much. The ‘colors’ I saw have changed too. Maybe the several magics are reacting to each other, and becoming wild magic. You’d better get yourself tested,” she advised.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Wild magic is unpredictable, but usually runs down after a while unless something sustains it. By normal standards, after a day you should only show a trace, but there’s a lot more than a trace of magic around you. Eventually it should dissipate, I hope,” Lonnie said.
“Like a battery losing its charge?” I suggested.
“Kind of, Joanie, but if any thing should overcharge that battery bad things might happen. You might not get hurt, but those around you might. The experts on campus may have a way to drain the magic off you. Or, you’ll love this, Joanie, it’s so kewl, you might be able to do real magic.” Lonnie said and smiled.
“But I’m not a sorceress, I’m warper. How can that be, Lonnie?”
“You don’t have to be of a magical bloodline to do magic. Non-magical types can do magic; it’s just a lot harder, and you need spells, mystical objects and stuff. You say you’re a warper, Joanie; I wonder if your ability to manipulate multiple dimensions is acting as a reservoir, or more accurately, a trap, for any stray magic you encounter. You don’t generate it so much as passively capture it for a while. Over time it leaks out, but it’s there for now. Your own warper power may have made you a passive focus for magic, like a magical black hole, well, more of a neutron star as the energy does slowly leak out,” Lonnie hypothesized.
~~I wonder... great, great whatever Grandpa John is a magic user, is there an inheritable family gift? Does that explain my situation, and is it dangerous? ~~
“Can all this magic you say is surrounding me hurt me or others? Does it matter that a blood relative a few generations back was gifted in the magic arts?” I asked with growing concern.
“I don’t think so, but I’m only a student. Most magic users store their magic internally or in a carefully crafted device. Since yours is external, I don’t see how it could easily hurt you. As to your magical heritage, that can skip generations. If it didn’t show up in testing you probably don’t have it, but who knows? You live in Poe, Joanie; ask Belle, or Nikki, they’re both pretty good with magic,” she suggested.
“Belle, she’s an older student, and Nikki is the girl in the school brochure. I’ve seen her; she has a strange affect on me. When I see her, I feel like I should protect her,” I said.
“That is a glamour like I showed you in class, but mine is for disguise. Her glamour makes her more attractive, and makes people want to please her, and do her bidding. I’ve met Nikki a few times, and she’s real sweet. And she’s very pretty without it; she says the glamour is a nuisance at times. Belle helped with a class once, she manipulates ectoplasm, or something like that. She has a wicked sense of humor, a real trickster,” Lonnie rattled off.
“You seem knowledgeable, who’s the best doctor to see?”
“I suggest Dr. Ophelia Tenent, she’s also called Caduceus. She teaches Principles of Magic and is an honest-to-goodness witch. You’ll like her, Joanie,” said Lonnie holding back the snickers.
“Okay, what’s so funny? No! It wasn’t her class I substituted for, was it?” I asked with embarrassment.
“Yeah, it was, and she’ll have a good laugh over what Mystor did to you, and how you got him back,” Lonnie said with a grin.
“Thanks for the advice, Lonnie. What’s your last name?”
“Darnell,” she said.
“Lonnie Darnell?” I asked in my surprise, and then I laughed uncontrollably.
“What’s so funny, Joanie?”
“Your name sounds like the wife and assistant to a 50s/60s TV magician, Mark Wilson. I used to watch him when I was little. You’re built like her; I bet you are, or used to be, a gymnast or dancer?”
“How’d you guess I take dance and gymnastics?”
“You move so fluidly, with grace and precision beyond your years. I noticed it during your magic demonstration in the class, it may have been a simple demonstration, but you had everyone’s attention with your stage presence. You also showed impressive flexibility and strength as part of your demonstration, very useful for doing big box magic tricks on stage. I’ll talk to the people you recommended, Lonnie, is there anything else you wanted?”
“Joanie, can you use a girl on your cleanup crew? I may be small, but I’m strong for my size, and I’m tough. I’m on a partial scholarship, and I need the money -- Whateley is expensive,” she explained.
“If you promise to work hard, and smart, you have a job. By working smart I mean lifting carefully, being aware of your surroundings and fellow workers, and using all necessary safety equipment such as work gloves, safety shoes, safety glasses, dust masks, hard hats, and so on. I’ll supply the gear if I take you on, and I’ll have someone from Operations demonstrate their proper use. I’ll let you know the work schedule soon; I’m buying the property this afternoon.
“By the way, Lonnie, you don’t play an instrument, or sing, do you?”
“I was hoping you’d ask,” she said and grinned. “I know it sounds silly, with me being a girl and all, but I play the drums. I like the old fashioned mechanical drums best, it’s a great workout. I can play the electronic drum kits too. I was in my older sister’s band before I came here, and I’m taking music as an elective course,” she said.
“A gymnast who plays the drums; I’ll bet you’re good, and look good doing it. Tomorrow at the King Annex at 4PM, my band is having a practice. I’d like you to come, and try out. You’ll be among friends; you already know the lead singer, and electric guitarist.”
I pointed at myself.
“Me, play the drums for you? Ms. Joanie, I couldn’t. You’re a professional singer; I’m a kid, I’m nobody. I just thought you’d be directing the band, I didn’t thing you’d be performing.”
“Lonnie, I’m the amateur here by comparison. I’ve only been at this less than a year, you know, being a girl and all it entails. I didn’t realize I could sing this well until last September. The recording contract was a total fluke, and I first took up the guitar in December.
“You do your best, and you’ll be fine. My friend Pinky sings backing, and some lead, and is learning to play the base guitar. My new friend Suzy can play the keyboards, and sings a little. These twins I know from my home state, I’m hoping to get them to try out, and with one other exception, that’s about it for now.
“I think people are intimidated by me, Lonnie, and they shouldn’t be. If there’s anyone you know who has some talent, encourage them to try out. I need horn and reed players, maybe a jazz, or country fiddler, electric and acoustic bass, all sorts of people. Lonnie, I’m desperate, I’ll consider accordion and bagpipe players, if they’re good. Well, maybe not an accordion player, I have my standards,” I said, and chuckled.
“I’m serious, I’m open to all comers, and I don’t bite, well not hard. And please call me Joanie, except when I’m teaching, Lonnie.”
“I’ll see you at four tomorrow at the King Annex, you won’t regret it. I’m playing drums for a superstar!” She shrieked, hugged me, and then hurried off, as I snickered softly to myself.
~~Poor kid needs to perk up, seems kind of down. ~~
* * * *
I taught an early afternoon session of the same introductory history of mutants in America I took the morning. The students were well behaved, though I caught several ogling my ass. I felt insulted, and elated; insulted that they treated me like a piece of meat, and elated they thought risking detention was worth a good look at my butt. This woman business still confuses me. I know I used to stare at the pretty women; checking out the fertile fillies, I guess. It’s natural, but it’s rude. Now that I’m on the receiving end, I understand why some women get upset by it. The line between sexual harassment and hopeful desire is blurry. I imagine I owe a few ladies apologies for my own past behavior. I was happy to see Jenny Chang, AKA Steel Lotus, in the class. We’d exchanged pleasantries in the halls at Poe ever since my first day on campus, but hadn’t socialized.
“Nice to see you again, Jen; you impressed me in class. I made a note of it for Dr. Kelly.”
“Thanks, Joanie. Um, I was wondering. You’ve had these announcements on WARS that you’re looking for musicians and singers for your pop/country/rock band. Could you use a violinist? I play classical, country fiddle and jazz style.”
“If you’re interested, come tomorrow to the King annex at four; I’m holding a practice and open audition. Except for guitars, I don’t have a string player. If you’re as good a player as you were a student today, I could use you.”
“Thanks, Joanie, you won’t regret it. I sing pretty well too,” she said excitedly and ran off to her next class.
* * * *
The rest of my afternoon was open, so I stopped by Security.
“Is there any progress on the *special* project?" I asked the officer on duty.
“Chief Delarose left you a sealed envelope; sign for it please. The chief said it’s important you read it in private, and within the next few minutes. I’m to inform him I’ve delivered it to you as soon as it’s in your hands.”
I signed, took it, and rushed back to my room. I topped off the smilodons' food and water, and then I opened the securely sealed envelope. It told me to meet him in observatory in the Kane Hall tower one-half hour after my signing for the envelope. Samantha Everheart, and her mysterious Hive, would act as a lookout to ensure we were not overheard. I checked the time and realized I didn't have much to waste. I hurried to freshen up, then sprinted over to Kane Hall where I ran up the stairs two at a time, straight into Samantha’s strong arms. She laughed at our near collision and pointed me up the stairs to the observatory level. I saluted, and walked at a more dignified pace up the last sections of stairs to the top. Chief Delarose pointed to a map table and chairs and I sat down.
“Why all the undercover hush-hush, Chief? You’d think we were FBI agents working undercover in the Mafia,” I said, still excited over all the secrecy.
He called down to Sam to begin jamming any eavesdropping, then he spoke.
“These are dangerous people who enslaved Ms. Anna. They have operatives all over the country, even in New Hampshire. If one of them heard of our discovery before we and the authorities take coordinated action, the consequences for your classmates, or families, could be catastrophic. Joanie, you must remember that some at Whateley work for the *other side*, or *straddle the fence*, so to speak. Whateley is neutral ground for all developing supers. Some in Security provide information on promising mutants who may be less than ethical to those in need of such talents. I know who they are, but to be safe we have the need for secrecy for the moment.
“Anna’s cellular bill and the fragment of a phone bill she rescued from her employer’s trash listed numerous calls to a medical clinic in Mexico that specializes in plastic surgery. The multiple hotel bills on Anna’s cards are all for the same hotel in Mexico and it’s a short walk from the clinic. Various other charges on her cards relate to expenses consistent with multiple *chaperoned* trips to and from the clinic in Mexico and the California photo studio.
“This is where it gets serious, Joanie. The hotel is owned by a series of holding companies, the same holding companies that own the clinic, and the now abandoned photo studio Anna recalls working in. They thought they’d covered their tracks with several layers of dummy corporations between themselves, and the true owners, but your fellow officers, with Ms. Hartford’s help, are making the true connections known. There is still much we do not know, but the *Dragon Lady* promises she’ll have everything there is in a couple of days,” Delarose stated.
“And the Dragon Lady is who?” I asked.
“Ms. Hartford; I’d thought you’d approve, Mrs. Peel.,” Delarose said and smiled.
“Thanks, 007; did you want the Baker Street Irregulars to try again tonight?” I asked in my best upper class British accent.
“Sherlock Holmes is it now? Right, I called you that last night. Sure, we appreciate the help of your friends; you got us a couple good leads, but be careful. One of those frequently called numbers is to a suspected money laundering operation used by the drug trade. Another of the leads your friends found is to an organization suspected of procuring young adults, and even pre-teens, for the prostitution and sex slave markets. I know you’re a tough girl, and intelligent, but these people are ruthless, organized, and suspected murderers. If they can’t get at you, they’ll try to harm your friends, and relatives. They won’t hesitate to hurt innocents if they catch you out in the open.
“When it gets down to the nitty-gritty, let the professionals take the risks, Joanie. You will be a professional someday, likely soon at the rate you’ve been learning, but play it safe. I admire your courage, but if you’re seen too often in a prominent role in these investigations, the bad guys will learn you’re not the blond bimbo they think you are. We’re a campus security department for the same reason there's a police force, or the Marine Corps, or trade unions for that matter; there is greater power and safety in working with others,” Delarose reminded me.
“I won’t do anything unilaterally, Chief; you have my promise. As an extra margin of safety for when they might need it, I intend to have Ms. Cecilia Rogers make bullet resistant clothing for my closest student friends here; that’s the kids who are helping me, and maybe those who join my band. MSG’s members can defend themselves, but I’ll give them a heads up. Likewise with the Williams-Johnson’s; they’re a political family, and know about the risks of kidnapping and assassination. My old family is safe because they are untraceable, MSG did a good job, then Sam and Hive did the rest,” I replied.
“Good, then you understand what’s at stake. Following the leads you gave us may soon require subpoenas, Joanie. Does your senator friend have any college chums, or fraternity brothers, in the law in California? We’ll need them for there soon, and for Mexico, though I know a couple honest police officials in the country. Any help is welcome, and the more discreet, the better,” Delarose asked.
“I’ll give the senator a call; I think he’s sweet on me. I suspect he can get us some good contacts in California; I got my record producer indirectly through a Senate pal of his. Let me know what you need and I’ll pass the word on, and thanks for worrying about my friends and me, Chief,” I said.
* * * *
I was anxious all morning from the anticipation of closing on the farm, or so I preferred to believe. With hindsight, I think Chief Delarose’s concerns worried me more than I let on. That morning I’d called my old bank back in Wisconsin, and arranged a transfer of ample funds into my local bank, more than sufficient to cover the purchase, and any foreseeable construction costs or overruns. They had to be dying to know who the owner of Joanie Enterprises LLC was. It had to be one of the biggest accounts at the institution. This was a way I could help my family financially with out much risk of discovery. Sis got a huge bonus for landing my account; the Senator’s office had assisted my MSG pals in setting it all up, yet keeping my identity secure.
I was walking along, absentmindedly toward the Crystal Hall for the 11 AM lunch when I heard an altercation. Nothing unusual for Whateley, or another school with teenagers, but one of the voices grabbed my attention.
“I will not go out with you. I don’t know you, I’m not interested, and you’re acting like a jerk. “
It was Tina Smith, one of my kids from Wisconsin. I saw an older boy, a junior or senior from the looks and attitude, grab her by the wrist.
“No one turns me down, babe. Let’s go someplace quiet, and I’ll show you what you’re missing.”
“Let go or I’ll cry rape,” Tina said loudly.
“And who will care?” he said sardonically.
“I will care. Let the young lady go. This is your only warning,” I said in a commanding voice.
I think things would have gone smoother if it wasn’t for my voice. The problem is, my commanding voice has been described as an unholy trilogy of Sigourney Weaver, Lucy Lawless and Jenna Jameson. I heard a tape of it once, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to obey this woman or have sex with her. Lex and my fellow officers have been working with me on it, but I’m not sure if it’s getting more authoritative or more erotic. I have my suspicions they prefer it dirty, the perverts.
“Who are you to order me around, bitch?” the young man asked angrily.
“Gees, a real news buff, aren’t we? First, the name is Joanie to my friends, and Ms. Smith here most definitely is my friend. You, on the other hand, will call me Officer Brown, I’m with Whateley Security. I’m also a teacher here. I‘ll ask you one last time to let the woman go, or you will be in violation of the Whateley student code, and will be arrested for breaking New Hampshire law; it’s called sexual assault. I’ll overlook the insulting an Officer of the Law, every one's entitled to their opinion,” I informed the would-be lothario.
I pressed a series of buttons on my cell phone/police radio to summon help.
“We can do this sensibly. You let her go, apologize to Tina and me, and if you attend counseling sessions with the doctors here, your record will be clear. The alternative is to be some bigger man’s girlfriend in jail, your choice,” I advised him.
He was lucky I didn’t have my Tazers, I was pissed at him. I’d long thought abusers of women and children were contemptible, but I was a woman now, and this was a friend. Tina used his indecision to break free, and run toward me.
“No one defies me!” he spat.
He raised a crystal-topped gentleman’s walking cane, like many stage magicians used to carry, and pointed it us while chanting some undecipherable words. The crystal glowed, and he adjusted the cane as if he was aiming it. Tina reached me, and I stepped between the two.
“Time out … oooh ah!” I started to call out and then stopped.
I’d misjudged it, and was caught square in the chest by a blast from his cane before I could time stop him. It didn’t hurt, in fact it felt wonderful. For a moment my eyes locked on his, and I felt calm and so aroused I could hardly stand.
“Come to me my slave ….” he commanded, and then he froze.
“Fuck me now, my master. I burn for your … What the Hell am I saying?” I said as I snapped back in control.
The compulsion to obey faded as fast as it came, along with the intense arousal.
~~Oh well, there’s a downside to everything.~~
I felt strange, and more tired than usual, from my time stop, but I cuffed him, and confiscated his cane. I was reading him his rights as my backup arrived.
“You have the right to remain silent.…” I warned the manacled boy.
“My goddess, I beg you, forgive my transgression. Let me gaze upon your perfection. I must have you; I am your slave, command me,” he swore to me.
“Oh this is lovely,” I said in frustration.
“Have you been flashing your breasts at the boys again, Joanie?” asked one of the single, male officers as he and another officer lifted the cuffed boy to his feet.
After a line like that, I knew why he was single. All the while, the boy stared at me like I was the most precious thing on Earth.
“David Copperfield, Junior here tried to hit my friend Tina, and me, with some sort of combined lust and obedience spell. I confiscated this crystal-topped cane he used to channel his magic through,” I said, and handed the cane to a fellow officer to tag as evidence.
“What have I done to offend you, my divine love?” the strange boy said.
“Love? Buster, you’ve got some imagination, and tell little buster to stop twitching in your pants; it’s embarrassing,” I said, but it was secretly gratifying.
“Let me kiss your ripe, warm lips, let me suckle upon your heavenly orbs, let me lick the nectar from your sacred.…” the love struck boy continued.
“Are you crazy? You keep quiet. In fact, I command you to shut your mouth. One more word and I’ll have you up on sexual harassment charges as well,” I screamed.
I’d seen *woodies* before, this one had to be made of teak. I’d had my share over the years, and his appeared to cause him great distress. Cuffed as he was, he wouldn’t be getting relief soon, somehow that made me feel better.
“You okay, Joanie?” asked a senior officer.
“I’m fine now. The spell he tried on us wore off the moment I time stopped him. I managed to block most of it. Would you be a gentleman, and book him for attempted sexual assault, resisting arrest, and interfering with an officer in the performance of her duties, also assault with a weapon, his magic and this cane. He’s making me miss my lunch, and I need to check on my friend, Tina, here,” I said.
“Sure thing, Joanie; you certain you’re alright?” the senior officer asked again.
I nodded.
“Mister, you’re lucky we don’t take you off and shoot you; no one harms a fellow officer. And no one harms our Joanie,” the same officer said fiercely.
Then the officer gave me a hug.
~~Why a hug, don’t guys shake hands anymore? Of course then he wouldn’t get to feel my breasts pressing into him or … What the hell? You dirty son-of-a-bitch, that’s your hand squeezing my ass! I ought to … Ooh that felt nice. ~~
“I will earn your favor, Goddess Joanie. You will be mine!” the boy said, as security hauled him away.
I turned to check on Tina. She turned toward me and her eyes locked onto mine. I noted she was panting, flushed, and unbuttoning her blouse one-handed. Something strange was going on here; in hindsight, her soft moans, and the other hand moving inside her skirt suggested an explanation. I was too mesmerized by her actions to grasp the obvious answer.
~~My word, she’s so exotic, and sexy. I want her so bad, I … what am I thinking? This must be a lingering side effect of his lust spell. ~~
Tina moved sinuously towards me, her eye’s fixed on mine. They were glazed, and unblinking. By now her blouse was hanging open, and she had unhooked her bra.
“Ah, are you okay, Tina?” I squeaked, noting that she now was essentially braless, and inches from me.
“I’mmm fine, Joanie. He was wrong, you’re mine! What a firm ass you have, love,” Tina growled sensuously.
~~Great, this is just great. ~~
Poor, innocent, Tina was the ass grabber. She wrapped her arms around me, and started groping, and caressing, and kissing, and biting, and trying to undress me, and …
“Oh, that felt fantastic … No! Stop it Tina, behave … mmphgf … your self! This is not you; it’s the lust spell controlling you; fight it girl. Do it for Joanie, I command it,” I said with difficullty.
I hoped the compulsion part of the spell would help her regain control over her lust. I could see the painful struggle displayed on her face. Suddenly it was like a switch was thrown; her eyes lost that glassy lustful look, and she started crying.
“Joanie, I’m … ssso ssorry, I ccouldn’t!” she sobbed.
She backed away from me, but I caught her, held her tight to me, and gently patted her back. I worked to comfort her, while I awkwardly attempted to close her wide-open blouse.
“It’s okay Tina, you did nothing wrong; that was powerful magic he used on us. When he got the jump on me, for a moment I was the worshiping the sexiest man on earth, and I had to obey him, the pimple faced git,” I snickered, and Tina laughed.
“Okay, he isn’t that bad looking, but at least you can laugh about it. I mistimed his attack, I tried to time stop him, but part of it got through, and it affected both of us. The moment I froze him, his power over me ceased,” I explained.
Tina was relaxing, and the crying nearly stopped apart from an occasional sniffle. I helped her close up her blouse after she carefully fastened her bra.
“I wonder if your inverter power kicked in, Tina. Some of his magic must have got to you, and you sent it back with me in the way. That had to play havoc with his spell. When I first saw you afterwards for a moment you were looking mighty sexy, Tina,” I said and smiled.
“I couldn’t stop myself, and what’s worse, it felt so good! I feel dirty and violated,” Tina said with shame.
“I understand, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. For a moment you were under the influence of his magic, you were not responsible for your actions. You’re a teenager, and dealing with your maturing body and emerging sexuality. You’re struggling with being away from home, your forced mutation, and the disappearance of your parents. Don’t cry, dear, we’ll find them and make those who took them pay dearly. This magical attack came on top of all that baggage; no wonder you feel so bad. The thing is we stopped him in time; you didn’t give in, and let's face it, I am drop-dead gorgeous. You couldn’t help it,” I said and made a sexy model's pose.
Tina began laughing and giggling so hard she had to lie down. I broke up, got dizzy, and sat down too.
“Joanie, you are so crazy! I love you, girl.”
* * * *
I walked her to medical to be checked out; we walked slowly to minimize the ogling. Okay, we walked slowly to show off. We’d attracted a sizable crowd, mostly boys. What surprised me, and made me happy yet slightly jealous, was they were looking at Tina most appreciatively. Tina may not be a fashion model, but she’s pleasant to look at, and is developing a nice figure. Dr. Pollard saw us first, then a half an hour or so later, Dr. Tenent. It made sense as she is one of Whateley’s experts on magic.
“Except for a bruise on your wrist where he grabbed you you’re fine. If you wish, Tina, I can refer you to one of our counselor; that attempted assault could be traumatic. There’s nothing wrong in seeking expert help,” said Dr. Tenent.
“I recommend it, Tina, I never was much for psychiatric help, but after my campus assault, talking with Dr Bellows helped me regain my sense of self worth. Consciously I was fine, but subconsciously I was a wreck. You may find you don’t need it, but there is no harm in trying. Security teaches a great self-defense course for women, I’ve taken it myself, and it helps you to know what to do when attacked, and better yet, how to avoid one. The way the boys were admiring you earlier, you could use it. Want me to sign you up, Tina?” I offered.
Tina agreed, and as we were about to leave Dr. Tenent asked me to stay a while.
“I’ll try and catch up with you at lunch, Tina, what’s left of it. What can I do for you, Dr. Tenent?” I asked.
“Ophelia, please, Joanie; don’t be so formal. Thanks for filling in for me the other day. I don’t think any of the students will forget that class, ever. I know, because I was there,” Dr. Tenent said.
“Huh?” I gasped.
“I wasn’t at my doctor, or a seminar, or visiting a sick mother, I wanted a chance to observe my students surreptitiously. I was the mousy brunette who remotely lit some candles,” she said and smiled.
“They never told me why I was there, I was simply told to fill in. I talked with this sorceress I know in Wisconsin, and she said to be honest with the kids,” I said.
“They’d spot a phony in minutes, and I must say you were a good sport about it. Are you sure you don’t have a bit if the Fey in your background? Your hair, skin, and general build reminded me of them, except for the ears and eyes. Those copper eyes are a puzzle. Did your doctors tell you why they’re that way?” Ophelia asked.
“They said it was something to do with enhanced night vision, somewhat like a cat, though not quite as good. Why did you want to see me? I’m not being rude, but I’m missing lunch,” I replied.
“Lonnie Darnell told me earlier she’d seen a shell of magic surrounding you, and she’s right. You’re lit up like a Christmas tree, Joanie.”
“I got clipped by a lust/obedience spell a short while ago, as you know. I time stopped the boy, and that stopped his attack, then I got hit again by Tina’s inversion of his attack on us -- lucky me, two for the price of one. Are my friends, or I, at any risk from this magic?” I asked.
“That’s a good question, and I haven’t the foggiest,” she replied.
“What?” I exclaimed, surprised by her answer.
“You're probably fine; I can’t sense anything malevolent in the magic around you. I’d like to see you regularly for a while, perhaps once or twice a day for a few days, so we can track the changes in nature and strength of the magic. I agree with Lonnie, it’s likely to dissipate over time. The question is, how long? You are retaining the magic far longer than normal, and without it appearing to affect you, most strange,” she stated.
“Can I do anything useful with it, or can you drain it off?”
“More great questions, Joanie, for which the answers are maybe, and possibly. We won’t know until we try. I’d like to schedule you for a proper magic evaluation soon, I’ll check with Administration to set up the time. A word of caution, to those not well trained in magic, you will appear to be a fairly high level sorceress from the intensity of the magical field surrounding you. Some may wish to steal that magic, they could do you harm in the attempt,” Ophelia warned me.
“From a magical attack?” I asked, concerned.
“No, from trying to kill you to steal the magic, that’s one of the traditional ways for the less skillful to do it,” she answered.
“I’m not so easy to kill,” I said.
“That’s what’s so bad, you’d survive, but the pain of the experience could snap your sanity.”
“Gee, how cheerful; thanks, Dr. Tenent. Okay if I heave my guts now, or should I wait until after lunch?” I said in mock disgust.
“Kids!” she said, throwing her hands in the air in a comic gesture of protest. “I’ll set up an appointment schedule. I’ll only need to see you for a few minutes so it won’t be a problem.”.
“I’m curious about this too, Ophelia. My doctors in Madison never detected any sign of magical abilities, and now you and Lonnie say I may get them through the back door, as it were. I didn’t learn of it until after I was a Whateley, but I have a great, great Grandfather who is a magic user. Is that of any significance?”
“We’ll see, Joanie. Since you’re so curious, I’ve been called in to consult on the boy who attacked you. That’s why I wanted to see you; the lust/compulsion spell isn’t wearing off normally. It should have dissipated significantly by now, but it’s persisting. He may have to be confined for several days before he’s back to normal. Somehow the interaction between your warper body, Tina’s inverter gift, and your time stop amplified the spell such that if you asked him to cut his hand off to prove his love, he’d do it happily. Fortunately, any mention that his actions displease you gains his immediate obedience. We’ll go into all this in more detail later, dear.
"Joanie, did you say your great great grand father *is* a magic user? Your ancestor is still alive?”
“I met him this winter, I’m named for him. John claims to be 383 years old. He says his magic has kept him young. Everything he’s communicated to me inclines me to believe his story,” I said.
“It could be significant; it could be nothing. We’ll talk about it another time. In the meantime, get something to eat, you look scrawny,” she said in a motherly tone.
I laughed and walked off.
* * * *
It was too late to eat with my friends, so I grabbed a couple sandwiches to go, ran back to Poe to change clothes, and got on my Harley for the trip to Dunwich. I parked outside of Tessa’s home, stripped off my riding suit, and walked into her office. The crop top, with low-rider Capri’s combo was daring, but it was a comfortable under the riding suit, and I thought Tessa deserved a free floor show.
“You wore that for me, Joanie?” asked Tessa.
I nodded.
“I’m not lowering the price, but thanks anyway, though, I think you’ve earned a free meal,” she said warmly.
Tessa was cheerful and friendly, all the documents were ready, and exactly as I expected. In fact she was almost too nice to me, and I began to feel uneasy about it.
~~Maybe I'm paranoid, but Tessa is acting too eager to close the deal.~~
“It’s not that I mind, Tessa, but why the VIP treatment? I’m Joanie from Whateley Academy, not some Hollywood star. I am somewhat famous, but why all the attention?” I asked.
“I like you, Joanie, and to be honest, this property was hard to sell. It’s too remote for most vacationers and a farm this small isn’t what today’s farmers want. The proximity to Whateley scared off some buyers, I think. I heard rumors a group of hunting buddies nearly bought it, shortly before the owner asked me to sell it. The moment Whateley was mentioned, they backed out.
“I’m earning a larger than normal commission on the sale because the property sat on the market for several years. It was listed by several major national real estate firms with nary a nibble in all that time. I’m making a nice chunk of change with my commission, and I get to rub it in their corporate noses that I sold the place they couldn’t. That I got to meet you was a special treat; do you want to go to lunch to sign the papers? We’ll need this witnessed and notarized. Well, technically we don’t, but I want to show off. Let’s walk to the café down the street,” Tessa suggested.
“I’d like to, but I brought along some sandwiches, I haven’t eaten lunch yet,” I informed her.
“I’ll put them in my ‘fridge for you for later. They serve a great lunch at any hour of the day, and quickly.”
We put my sandwiches away and we walked to a cozy bistro. It had some faux features to lure the tourists but was primarily a place the locals frequented. It reminded me of the Crystal Café back in Iola, Wisconsin. I could tell Tessa was a regular patron; the waitress greeted her by name as we sat down at a small table.
“Tessa, dear, it’s lovely to see you. Your usual today or we do have a great special, Atlantic salmon. It’s poached, and served with a wine sauce and a fresh spring greens salad. The ‘fresh spring greens’ means we didn’t use any cheap iceberg lettuce. It’s very good, you’ll like it Tessa.”
“The special sounds great, Jenny, and instead of coffee could we have one of those German white wines you’ve been hoarding? We‘d like to celebrate; my lovely dining companion here bought the Hennessey place.”
“Congratulations and who is the new owner of… you look familiar, no! Tessa, do you know who’s buying that farm from you?”
“Yes I do, Jenny, and it’s perfect for her; she’s a teacher at the academy.”
“It’s nice to see you putting down roots here, Joanie. It makes sense, your teaching at Whateley Academy, it’s one of the best places there is for a mutant to work. I’ve met a few of the staff; they’re strange people, but they’re good people for the most part. I suppose you’re teaching history,” Jenny joked.
“How did you know I’m a history instructor?” I asked.
“You teach history, Joanie? I’d thought you’d teach … what I mean is … well you are a famous singer.”
“I teach music, and I’m organizing a band, but I really do teach history, and I substitute in other subjects. I’m an auxiliary security officer too, not that I have the stereotypical look of a police officer. I’d like to have a family some day, and this is a much more stable career than music. That’s my hobby.”
“A hobby? The woman’s burning up the charts, and she calls it a hobby. I should have such a hobby,” Jenny said in a decent Yiddish accent.
We had a nice meal and shared our wine with the other café patrons. Tessa and I signed the contract, and we got it notarized on the spot. Jenny was a notary in addition to a waitress.
~~Looks like I’m not the only woman around here wearing more than one hat. ~~
It was nearly dark before I left for Whateley. I arrived in Poe Hall the proud owner of a farm -- my farm. My nearly forgotten sandwiches made for a nice, light supper before I went to bed.
~~Damn, I haven’t asked Eric what he thinks. I do hope he likes the idea. ~~
* * * *
To be continued
Read older comments here. or leave a new comment below.
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 10
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Our heroine makes plans for a future trip to the past. She meets with her magazine publisher, Mr. Hefner, and sees the harm May Lee's sister Anna endured at the hands of her tormentors. Joanie gets in contact with PBS, who go all NOVA on her. She tells a bad Bill and Ted joke. The clever minx wants to get on This Old House -- part of the hide-in-plain-sight plan. Oh, She also buys a truck, a piece of cake, right? Poor Mr. Ford.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with home renovation and buying a truck, and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Prose primping by Itinerant
Proofing perfected by Janet Nolan
Chapter 10- Origins 1, The New New Avengers 4, Mommy Dearest 1, 4X4- Does That, Ah, Mean My IQ’s Like, 16?, Home Improvement 4
Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Washington DC, April 19, 2007
April 19, 2007
I met with Mr. Lodgeman early Thursday morning, and we agreed to eight AM Friday, the 20th for the ‘research trip’ Operations requested. The planned routes were marked in Diggers Hot Line flags, and spray paint, which made it easy for us to pick our vantage points for the ‘trip.’ The roof of Administration was one point, as were the roofs of Poe and Emerson Halls. These provided excellent views of campus, and of the several mystical trouble spots that concerned the Princes of Plumbing, Stan and Morrie. In the short time I’d known them I’d come to love their odd humor, and workman’s common sense. They loved working at Whateley, and took their jobs seriously. If they didn’t, they could soon wind up dead, or worse. At Whateley, that’s not merely a figure of speech, but a serious possibility.
There are things deep under Whateley that defy description, and should best remain deep under Whateley. If we uncovered anything truly dangerous, the staff magic experts, with assistance from Sara Waite and Nikki Reilly, would handle the problem. I was leery of students being involved, but Nikki is hardly an amateur when it comes to magic, or the other realms. I understand her mutation is such that her DNA’s not human anymore. Sara Waite may look like a teen, but is in her mid-twenties; as a half demon she is quite capable of taking care of herself. I still worry though; she’s been like this less than a year, less time than I’ve been a girl. I’d hate for something bad to happen to her; I’d lose those remarkable dreams I have of her and… I’d miss her. I remain pleasantly surprised Whateley trusts me for this work, but one of the mages said it best.
“We can divine, conjure, and remote view all day and night, but it’s your ability to observe the moment the magic was used that makes our plans for dealing with it so much better. Your being an outside observer, in that you’re not a magic user, gives us insights we might otherwise miss. There is always the risk that those originally using the magic would detect our presence if we traveled with you. Charlie’s been around long enough he knows how to conceal his powers, and you're so odd they wouldn’t believe you're there, even if they detected you, Joanie. You could stand there naked, and they wouldn’t notice you; well, they’d notice you, but they wouldn’t complain.”
I snickered at his joke.
“Your looks work to our advantage; even if spotted, most would assume you’re there to visit a boyfriend. They see the gorgeous girl and dismiss you as harmless. Joanie, you and Charlie make a good team; seeing how well you work with him tells me you would have fit in the Mystic Six quite well. With you added to the mix, they would have had to rename it the Mystic Seven, which doesn’t sound as cool.”
A particularly troublesome spot was a small clearing in a grove, or copse, of trees near Emerson Hall. An auxiliary transformer vault/superconductor storage cell for that section of campus was to be buried there for esthetic and engineering reasons. Powerful and surprisingly recent magic permeated the area, and Operations needed to know the source. I’d reviewed the security logs for the times in question, but no mention of any incident was recorded. Nothing of note was visible in the sensor or CCTV tapes either. I’d considered asking Chief Delarose about this, but he’d been so helpful with Anna’s investigation and with Pinky’s earlier, I didn’t feel like bothering him. The mages who scanned the site felt it was the remnants of the magic equivalent of an explosion, possibly more than one, but it was confusing and difficult to read. With a good date and time for the event that caused it, we should get to the source of the problem.
I had a class that morning at nine, but was called into Administration instead. Ms Hartford was at her desk, efficient and imperious as ever, but she did treat me with respect.
“Joanie, Ms Carson will see you immediately, and says you’re excused from all other activities for the day.”
“Sounds important, can I have a clue, Ms Hartford?”
“That’s, 'may I have a clue, Ms Hartford?', and no, you may not, Ms Brown. You’ll find out soon enough.” she said, and I swore she stifled a laugh.
I walked into Ms Carson’s office, and was immediately pounced on by a familiar oriental college girl, May Lee. May gave me a brief hug, too brief as it felt wonderful, then she flashed me an electric smile when we broke. Then Ms Carson came up and gave me a motherly hug, in part to conceal her whispering to me.
“Don’t be alarmed at Anna’s appearance. I’ve spoken with her, and she is every bit the smart, sweet girl we were led to believe. I’ve told medical to cooperate, so anything she needs that we can do, she gets. Your only duty is to help Anna, Joanie, for as long as you’re needed,” Ms Carson whispered.
“Joanie, it’s great to see you. These persons are two of Playboy's senior editors, plus Mr. Hefner whom you’ve met, and this is my dear sister, Anna,” said May Lee.
I turned and smiled at her younger sister. I knew what to expect, but was horrified at her appearance. The criminals who had drugged her, and manipulated her into doing ultra hardcore pornography had done a number on her face and body. I could feel the disgust, and indignation, rising within me. I held it together, and gave her a warm hug.
“I’m so happy you could come; I promise we’ll do our best to make you feel comfortable,” I said.
I was about to say more, but stopped when Mr. Hefner motioned to me.
“Before we review your photos and interviews, I must say they surprised me. I’d anticipated something special, but you exceeded our expectations in all respects, Joanie. The cameras loved you, and your interviews were interesting and amusing, though I realize you had to withhold some information to protect friends and family. I am confident that this will be our best issue in years, and it’s all due to you, my dear.”
“This worshiping the strawberry blond goddess is beginning to wear thin, with all due respect, Mr. Hefner. It’s not that I mind some praise now and then, but this much makes me uncomfortable. I’d like to take Anna and May Lee someplace private so we can talk, that’s unless we’re needed here. As to any editorial decisions that are needed, I trust Ms Carson to protect my interests. She knows better than I do what’s safe to reveal and what’s not. Is there anything I haven’t covered, or may we go now?” I asked then smiled. “Do me a favor, and ease up on stroking my ego; my head's big enough as it is,” I said, then snickered.
“Of course, Joanie. I do like to ‘pump up’ our models; a happy model makes for better photos, but I was honest. Yours are the most outstanding pictures I’ve seen since a certain woman graced our publication some four decades ago. We’re already getting inquiries from TV and film producers. I’ve passed copies of the interviews, and photo shoots, on to several of the most reputable people I know and trust, and you may be hearing from them,” replied Mr. Hefner.
“You think I should be an actress? I’ve only been a girl less than a year, and I look like Little Annie Fannie,” I protested, and stuck a resolute pose.
Mr. Hefner laughed, and then I saw myself in a mirror on Ms Carson’s wall. I stared back at the image; I may have thought I looked resolute, what I saw looking back at me was this confident, sexually desirable woman; she was magnificent. I don’t think I’d ever seen anyone as desirable as this exquisite creature. Then I giggled and the spell was broken -- a laughing, happy teenager was grinning back at me. I got silly, and thrust my chest out; I turned while looking at my reflection.
“My Ghod, I’d meant that as a joke, but I could be any of them, from cartoon pinup fantasies like Daisy Yokum of Little Abner, to real actresses in their prime like Sophia Loren in Houseboat. Hell, l could be an Austin Powers fembot with these weapons,” I said as I pointed my chest at the mirror like they were twin guns.
I kept making different faces, and expressions, in the mirror, and it dawned on me, I looked every bit as good as the actresses I’d lusted after as a teen. Damn, I was better looking than most of them, and that was without expert makeup artists and lighting. I turned to face Mr. Hefner.
“You’re serious about this?” I said placing my hands on my hips unconsciously.
“That’s proof enough. You’re absolutely convincing as a woman, it’s as if you never were a male. I’m not saying you come off as some girly-girl type. My talk with you, and the interviews, showed a strong willed young woman, confident in herself, and joyously embracing her new life. Most of the professional interview required little editing, you came off so smooth and polished. I’ve listened to the recordings of the Prairie Home Companion broadcast you were on, and you were flawless with everything, not just the singing. I called them, and they confirm you went on the air with no rehearsal, and had to read your scripts cold. It would take little effort on your part to be a fine actress, and you have something no young actress has, nearly fifty years of life experience.” He said convincingly.
“I’ll consider it, but for now let’s say I’m doubtful, if you will excuse me.”
~~Me an actress? When pigs fly, but it’s a nice dream. ~~
* * * *
The editors, Mr. Hefner, and Ms Carson left for a conference room while I escorted the girls to my dorm. We spoke as we walked.
“Be honest with me May Lee, was he on the level?” I asked.
“He’s been raving about you for days, Joanie. I talked with some of his longtime staff, and they say he hasn’t been this excited over a new model in years. I saw some of the photos, and you’re glowing in them. The combination of teenage innocence and sensuality is mesmerizing. How did you do it?” May asked.
“It was my cycle. I was days from my period, and my libido was through the roof. I wasn’t glowing, I was in heat, meower!” I said, and then snickered.
The sisters laughed, and smiled, and I could see Anna relax. We entered my room
“I’d have taken you to a room in campus security, I’m an auxiliary officer, but I felt you’d be more comfortable here.”
“You live in a linen storeroom?” Anna asked incredulously, as she’d seen the plaque on my door.
“A converted linen storeroom, with my two roomies. George, Gracie, meet the nice ladies,” I said, and the smilodons walked over, and sniffed the ladies cautiously.
They quickly recognized May Lee, and rubbed happily against her long legs. Anna opened up at the sight of my kitties.
“May, you weren’t lying when you said she had a pair of sabertooths; living smilodons! How did you get them, Joanie? They’ve been extinct since the end of the last ice age! I know this, I was planning to be a biology major before …”
Anna fought to hold back her tears. I could see what May Lee meant; Anna was an exquisite beauty despite the piercing scars, tattoos, and ludicrous breast implants. Her spirit was my biggest concern; I could see the stress in her face and eyes. She had a haunted, distant look not unlike that of those pictures of POWs, and concentration camp survivors as the end of WWII. Here was a woman whose youth, beauty, and dreams were stolen from her. I’d had youth, beauty, and the opportunity to live out any dream I wished handed to me on an orichalchum platter. It didn’t seem fair. A part of my mind was getting very angry.
“You’ll get back to college, Anna. If not in the California system, then Wisconsin and Iowa have great public Universities. It might be good for your peace of mind to stay away from southern California for a while, and it would be a chance to start over fresh. I have friends in both states that can help -- good friends you can trust -- and I will help, pretty lady,” I said.
She started to cry, and turn away. I gently touched her, and turned her back to face us. She turned away as soon as I let her go.
“I mean it, Anna. I have contacts in Madison through the University Hospital, and the local mutant group, MSG. In Des Moines, I’m friends with the Governor’s family. I also work part-time for a major charitable organization, The Meridian Foundation; I’m sure they’d help. Don’t let your appearance make you turn away, Anna. Please let me see you, let me see what they did to you. Don’t be ashamed of what you are; you were cruelly deceived, and it is not your fault.”
Her sister nodded her agreement, and Anna disrobed to her bra and panties. I could see several large tattoos on her back, and when she turned to face us, I could see how out of proportion and unnatural her breasts appeared. Her waist seemed unnaturally small and long; I suspected that they had shortened or removed some of her ribs. When she took off the rest, I was not prepared for the prominent scars, discoloration, and uneven appearance of her breasts, or the garish dragon tattoo circling one of them. They did not hang naturally, and the nipples were not in the normal place. The signs of healing piercings in ‘other places’ I will not describe in detail, other than it disgusted me. Anna was being brave, but tears ran down her face. I noticed that only some of her makeup ran.
~~Shit, I think they gave her permanent makeup. Thank Ghod it’s not too garish, but still. ~~
“I’m not a fan of piercings, or tattoos, though to each his or her own. I was squeamish getting my ears pierced, and only one per ear, thank you very much. If someone truly wants it, fine, it’s their body; who am I to judge? To use drugs and brainwashing to manipulate someone to agree to mutilate themselves.... I’m so sorry for you, Anna. I’ll help you to get your body put right somehow; those sick people won’t win. You can get dressed, and I’ll take you to Medical for an evaluation,” I said as I fought to keep my outrage in check.
Anna looked apprehensive; May gave her hand a squeeze.
“Don’t worry, these doctors are the best. They deal with a variety of medical needs no normal hospital ever deals with, and I trust them. They will do their best for you as they did for me after a vicious beating I took some time back. I have nothing but respect for them, and Dr. Polland’s one sexy ex-Australian,” I said and blushed.
I think some other signs of arousal made themselves obvious because next May asked, “Joanie, are you and the doctor, um?”
“No, I react to good looking men. I mean that I react to handsome men BIG time; it’s embarrassing, but fun. I think I’ve single handily boosted the Whateley store’s profits from all the panty-liners I buy. You ladies must remember that physically I’m a 17 year old girl, with all the privileges and hormones, that go with it. My 48 plus years of male memories don’t always help matters. If the old me was here, he’d have a painfully stiff one by now; you’re still a desirable woman, Anna. Damn, I think I need to change this liner, I’m so aroused. When you’re back in fighting trim girl, I shudder to think what might happen.”
Anna blushed, and gave me a gentle peek on the cheek in thanks. I stopped by the girl’s bathroom to change my liner, and we chatted about Whateley in general on our walk to Medical.
* * * *
“We’ll do our best to help you, Anna. Ms. Carson said to treat you like family, and we will. We like a challenge, and this is a great opportunity to apply some new techniques we’ve developed. Don’t worry, you’re no guinea pig. All you need to do is answer any question we ask you as completely, and truthfully, as you can, and help us get you well. Did you bring the photos from just before all this happened, and your college entrance physical exam records?” inquired Dr. Polland.
May Lee handed the doctors several packets.
“These will be invaluable in restoring your appearance. Also your measurements and clothing sizes from before are useful too. Security is tracking down copies from your last to your earliest known porn shoots and films, not only as evidence, but as an additional guide to your appearance before and between the surgeries, drugs, and tattoos. This, and our exams, will determine how we can best treat you to restore your original appearance. It’s often easiest, and best, to work backwards in undoing unwanted cosmetic surgeries,” Dr. Pollard continued.
“Don’t either of you worry about the expense, the school can write off some as a charitable act. Any expenses not covered by that, a lovely young woman has agreed to take care of. That includes all costs of your sister staying with you, doesn’t it, Joanie,” said Dr. Poland smirking.
“You’re paying for me -- for both of us? May said that Playboy is paying you over two million, and you’re giving it all to the school,” Anna almost shrieked.
“It’s not that much; I have loads of income; my singing has proved most profitable. How I can stand idly by when I can help in some way? My friends in Security and outside of Whateley are assisting in investigating the people that hurt you. I promise we will get justice for you, and others they must have harmed. I’m sorry if I sounded pompous there, Anna; it’s just people like that infuriate me. Did you want May Lee or me to stay with you during your tests? Ms. Carson said I was yours as long as I was needed,” I said in a soft voice.
“No, you can go, Joanie, my sister will be fine. I promise I’ll pay you back for your kindness,” Anna replied and came close to me.
“I don’t know if you like girls, but they taught me how to please a woman. You’re so beautiful; if you don’t want money, would you take me instead?” Anna whispered seductively, but I could sense the conflict in her offer.
“Dear woman, if you could make that offer freely I’d treasure it, but that’s the programming affecting your thinking. You have no need to be embarrassed by it. If at the end of everything, you honestly desire me, I’d be flattered. Not everyone is a slime ball like those people who betrayed you. It will take a while for you to learn to trust again, and when that day comes, I will rejoice.
“Help someone else in the future; that will be payment enough. That sounds like a line out of an old Hollywood tearjerker, doesn’t it? Let’s say I can help, so I’m helping and leave it at that, Anna,” I said, and smiled.
“I still can’t get over I’m on a first name basis with you. May Lee’s helping me to catch up on everything I missed when they were controlling me; I was out of it most of the time from the drugs, and other… I don’t know how you do it girl, um Joanie … oh, you know,” said Anna.
“I don’t know either, Anna. It’s been a crazy nine months. If you think all that’s in the press is crazy, I’ll let you in on a secret, I have a boyfriend, and he’s a hunk. Promise you won’t tell anyone,” I said with a giggle, and a pout.
“If you can go from a middle-aged guy to a happy, husband-hunting girl in nine months, I can fight to be me again. I don’t have near as far to go. My sister was right about you, Joanie. You are the prettiest, and nicest, young woman. May says a girl you saved goes to school here, can I meet her?” Anna asked.
"Sure, I eat with Suzy every day, usually at breakfast and dinner, sometimes lunch. May Lee knows my favorite table in the Crystal Hall, if you break in time for the 11 AM lunch period, stop on by. If you need me, Whateley security can page me day and night; I carry a special cell phone/radio. You can also reach me through my friend Pinky; May Lee, you met her at the Crystal hall along with my other school friends. Pinky can almost always track me down, she’s like my little sister. Excuse me; I need to make some phone calls," I said before leaving them.
* * * *
“United States Senator Joseph Williams of Iowa’s office. How may I help you?” asked the telephone receptionist.
“How do you say that in one breath? I’m impressed,” I asked.
“It takes practice,” she said, and chuckled softly.
“May I speak with the Senator? Tell him it’s Joanie from Whateley.”
“Joanie, the Senator left word with all his staff that if a young woman called and mentioned Whateley to put her through immediately, no questions. He’s in conference, but I’ll get him. Before I do, Ms. Brown, I must thank you for saving his granddaughter. I don’t know how he’d have taken it if she’d died, and I’ve worked for him nearly twenty years; my mom and his late wife were friends. I do know he holds you as dear to his heart as his own daughter. Did you know he has a framed press photo of you holding his granddaughter tight as you’re running out from in front of that truck? It’s on his desk next to a photo of his late wife holding their newborn baby. The man has nominated you for a Carnegie Hero award, dear lady. Hold on … Senator, its Whateley,” she called out.
“Joanie how pleasant to hear from you, how may I help you?” asked Senator Joe warmly.
I heard the love in his voice, and felt my arousal returning. I snapped my legs tight together, fought back the urge to play with myself, and spoke.
“You think I only call for help? Well I do, sorry. I’m not interrupting anything important am I, Senator Joe?” I apologized and giggled slightly.
“It’s the party chairman, and the President Pro tempore; they can wait,” Joe replied.
“I need a couple favors. I need to call Judge Juday for some legal advice regarding Ms. Pinky Connors,” I said.
“You’re a softy, Joanie. You’re thinking her Mom has repudiated her daughter, and her father’s too busy traveling around, and trolling for women. Pinky needs a mother, and you’re volunteering,” he said.
“I wish it were otherwise, but the more I think on it the more it seems the best course of action. I intend to try to broker a reunion between her Mom and her, but I doubt I’ll succeed. I need a fall-back position. Pinky made her Mom look a fool, or worse, in the eyes of the court. That, combined with her Mom’s anti-mutant beliefs, makes the task difficult. She’s a wonderful child at a vulnerable age; she needs stability,” I replied.
“As to how stable your mind is, Joanie, I have my doubts,” he said with a chuckle, “but as to your compassion, I have none. To do this properly you’ll need witnesses, and will have to stop by Judge Juday’s chambers first, but it can be done, Mommy. That’s the first favor; what’s the other?” asked Joe.
“Do you have any reliable contacts in California’s justice system, or in Northern Mexico? I may need subpoenas for a case I’m assisting.”
“I have several trustworthy friends, Mrs. Peel,” he said, and laughed.
“Not you, too, Senator Joe? You fancy you're John Steed?”
“I may be sixty, but I still enjoy looking at a lovely woman. I spoke with my daughter the other day, and Joanie, may I have, um.…”
“An autographed copy of the July Playboy? I’m beginning to regret posing. Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Speaking of women you’d like to see naked, how are you and Dr. Sara getting on?” I asked.
“We, well, I …”
“You haven’t yet? You’re both fools. She’s brilliant, attractive, funny, has a mutant’s constitution, is nearly your age but is still a fertile woman, and she makes a great living. You must have impossible standards if she’s not good enough for you. What are you waiting for, mister? Next Senate recess, you fly out to Madison, and romance her. Better yet, you give her a damn good screwing. I want to hear her screams of joy, and that’s an order, soldier!” I said, and I giggled.
“My Ghod, did I just order you to have sex? I’m serious Joe, you’re a good man, she’s one of the finest women I know, and you both deserve someone like each other. Ask her out before it’s too late. She thinks you're handsome, charming, and a hopeless romantic for having not remarried after your young wife’s death. You’ve mourned long enough. Please ask her out, for me?” I said.
So I was laying it on thick. Though Sara hadn’t said all that, she’d implied much of it. They made a good match, and it felt right, somehow.
“I’ll let you know about what subpoenas I need and when. I need your most trustworthy contacts; the people we’re after are reputed drug money launderers, child sex slavers, and murderers. Discretion is everything.”
“I will do my best, Joanie. I think Dr. Sara is a lovely woman, too. Don’t forget the magazine.”
“I won’t, you pervert. Don’t you forget our Doctor Sara.”
* * * *
I had lunch with my friends; unfortunately Anna’s tests were more involved than I thought, so introductions would have to wait. I stopped by Administration after lunch to talk with Ms Carson. Tina let me in as Ms. Hartford was on break. Tina led me to a conference room where the editors, plus Mr. Hefner, and Ms. Carson were busy sorting through photos.
“Joanie, are you here to review your photos?” Mr. Hefner asked.
"No, as I said earlier, I’m sure anything Ms. Carson agrees to is in good taste, and protects the other students and staff. I wonder if any of you have contacts in public television. I was hoping the This Old House folks would be interested in my project.”
“You’re building a home near Whateley, Joanie?” asked Mr. Hefner.
“I’m moving in for the long haul, my linen closet is hardly suitable to raise a family in,” I said.
“Wouldn’t showing it on TV be contrary to your intention to remain anonymous here?” asked Ms. Carson,
“This is part of ‘a good offense is often the best defense’, or however the old saw goes. Word of my residence here will eventually get out, as will the fact I’m at Whateley. The trick is to control what gets out, and when, and thus confuse the enemy. I won’t be lying so much as letting the bad guys imaginations get the better of them. If they see how well my home is protected from intruders and attack, most threats will be scared off. The few stupid and persistent enough to locate me will have faulty reconnaissance to rely on. I will have numerous, nasty surprises waiting for them, I assure you. I care little for my property, but for my friends I will spare no expense,” I said with deliberation.
“Joanie, it can’t be anything intended to kill, or maim,” said Ms. Carson in a serious tone of voice, and looking worried.
“You mean lethal electric fences, claymore mines, and automated machine gun nests are not legal here? They let you have them in Texas. Does this mean the zoning board won’t let me put in the tank traps, how petty,” I said, and snickered.
Ms. Carson relaxed, and so did her guests.
“Joanie has a wicked sense of humor, and she uses it to fool people into underestimating her. I see the validity of your plan, dear, providing they don’t give any clues to your whereabouts, or that of Whateley, I approve of the TV appearance. I’m sure Mr. Hefner could provide you a PBS contact, but I can do that one better. I know the producer of a NOVA special on mutants, a multipart series intend to kick off the fall 2007 TV season. I’ve been interviewed for it as have several others you know, Dr. Sara of Madison, and Dr. Otto of ARC being among them. They wanted you too, Joanie,” she said.
“They wanted me? Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked.
“You were extremely busy at the time; they called the day you left on your Easter weekend trip. I’d intended to pass the message on to you. After the excitement of the cold water rescue, and your involvement with your fellow students and their difficulties, on top of the Playboy shoot, I begged off on your behalf. They said if the situation changed to call them. Give me a moment,” she asked me, then picked up the phone
She dialed, and in minutes was talking to the producer. She explained about my home projects, and that perhaps we could work out a deal.
“Yes, she’s here now … You are? … Yes that could work; I’ll put her on,” said Ms. Carson switching to speaker phone.
“Joanie here, how may I help you?”
“Ms. Carson said you have a proposition for us, a remodeling project?” said the voice on the phone.
“I bought a farm, and I intend to rehab the farm house, and do a conversion of the timber frame barn into my own home, complete with a basement, and special security features. Would This Old House be interested?” I offered.
“It sound interesting, but our production budget and schedule are set for the fiscal year. There is a chance we could work something out, but it’s difficult. How soon are you starting?” the voice asked.
“As soon as I can get a crew together; Whateley Operations is putting together an engineering survey as we speak. I intend to use both conventional and beyond the state of the art methods, and they’ve offer to help. I’m not looking for a handout; I’m paying for everything out of pocket. I think your viewers would be interested,” I said.
“We could do several visits; a tour of a celebrity’s home is always popular. I tell you what, you do us a big favor, and I’ll guarantee the TOH people are out there ASAP. We’ll find the time and money somewhere. Please host, and narrate, our NOVA special on mutants, Joanie,” the producer on the phone begged.
“Me? You want me to host? I thought you wanted to interview me about my mutation? Why not Dr. Otto, my own Dr. Sara of Madison, or Ms. Carson, she’d be great,” I answered.
“We asked their opinions, and they all said the same thing -- ask Joanie, she’d be perfect,” the producer stated.
“I’ll admit I’m recognizable to the public, but I’m no expert on mutants. You tell me why I’m so perfect for these duties,” I said, putting the producer on the defensive.
“That’s roughly what they said to us. You were an average middle-aged man less than one year ago, and now you're one of the most recognizable women on the planet, both for your vocal talents and your heroic rescues of the two girls. Who better to symbolize the positive, and negative, aspects of becoming a mutant? That you have a pretty face, attractive body, and sultry voice doesn’t hurt. The hosting segments could be filmed in a handful of days, possibly over a couple weekends, if that helps accommodate your schooling, and Whateley’s needs. Much of it is ‘green screen’, or Chromakey, segments. The narration could be done at Whateley; all we need is a soundproof room, and sufficient space to set up a HD-DVD playback system, and a sound board for the recording engineer. We might wish to shoot some sequences using Whateley, or your new home project, as backgrounds, subject to Ms. Carson’s, and your, approval. This is a landmark for us, the first big science documentary we’ve done on mutants. Don’t you want to be a part of history?” the producer cajoled me.
Why it happened, I don’t know, but suddenly everything was so funny. One word set me off, history.
“A part of history? Gentlemen, we’re history!” I said, and mimed putting on a pair of way cool shades, then started giggling.
Soon Ms. Carson joined in, and we broke into uncontrolled laughter. She recovered first; I was still giggling steadily.
“It’s an inside joke, something you said about history,” she said, I giggled harder. “You wouldn’t understand, but we, that is Joanie, agrees, don’t you?” she asked, and I nodded, while continuing to giggle. “She agrees. Contact me with the particulars ASAP, and thanks. You’ve made Joanie very happy,” she said, and hung up the speakerphone, while I continued to giggle sporadically.
“What was all that laughing about?” asked Mr. Hefner.
“Ms. Carson, explain … still ... catching breath,” I panted and kept snickering.
~~If he only knew I time travel; I’ve not only seen history, to paraphrase Rufus, ‘I’m history’. I think I’ve seen Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure too many times. ~~
“This is a trifle delicate; could I have a word with you in private, Hef dear?” Ms. Carson said.
They walked off by themselves, while the editors showed me some of the photos they’d chosen. I’d done some photography in my life, and occasionally got great shots, but these were mind blowing. I’d seen some of the test shots, and early proofs, these were finished, touched up, color-corrected, and cropped to perfection. I looked, wow!
“How much did you have to tweak these to make them look so good?”
“Hardly any; we simply cropped them for the best image, and made sure the colors were correct. We used no airbrush, or Photoshop, magic on your body. In the old days the airbrush artist would have worked overtime to tone down those ‘bullets’ of yours, but the natural look is in these days, and it would be a sacrilege to hide your full range of expression,” an editor said.
“In other words I look hotter than a pistol.”
“Crude, but accurate, Joanie, how did you manage to look so young and innocent, yet sexy and um, eager? We’re baffled, and grateful.”
“Ask May Lee and Anna; I explained it to them. It was all me though, I didn’t fake anything.” I said then giggled.
~~Boy, ah, girl, am I in a happy mood. ~~
Moments later Ms. Carson, and Mr. Hefner, returned. He looked at me with wonder in his eyes, and a hint of sadness.
“Ms. Carson explained why you two laughed earlier. I understand why you laughed, and also why it must remain private. Joanie, before you leave us, may I say you have surprised me yet again. A man of my age has seen, and heard of, many marvels, but you are beyond words. What you experienced, and will experience, on your ‘researches’ is priceless, I envy you. And Joanie, for what’s it's worth, I’m sorry, but it’s a burden you must bear. Please remember me.”
“Um, ah, thanks, I better go.”
~~What was that about? ~~
“Joanie, a word please?” asked Ms. Carson as she followed me out of her office.
We went into the nearest ladies room. She checked that it was clear then whispered to me.
“I told him the truth of how you got the smilodons, how you travel through time, and I told him about the effect your regen would have on your appearance and lifespan. He can be trusted; he knows equally dangerous secrets of mine he’s never disclosed. It was better to tell him than risk speculation among his staff. That’s why he said he’s sorry; he knows you’ll outlive us all and anyone you love. It’s a great burden, but a great gift as well; you keep the link to the past alive. You’re like a high priestess and keeper of the flame. As long as you live, all those you knew are never truly gone.”
“I … it’s … well I don’t like to think of it much.” I said, and wiped a tear.
“Gee you’re an emotional child. Now I know why you act so silly most of the time; your love of life keeps the demons at bay.”
“Demons?” I asked, sniffling a bit.
“The knowledge that all those you love must die, even your children and that you will go on.”
I must have looked sad and forlorn; I know I was crying at the thought.
“Cheer up girl. That won’t happen for a long time, and I’m sure with your penchant for finding damsels in distress you’ll make lots of good friends in the future. Your doctors speculated any children you have will inherit such robust genes from you they will likely live a long time, hundreds of years or more, without the benefit of your time locked/dimensionally cross-linked BIT. But what if your BIT is inheritable? Then they will live as long as you. Don’t let your fear of the unknown rule your life, child. Maybe you’ll find a way to share your long life with a select group of others; it could be possible.”
“When pigs fly,” I retorted, and smiled.
“The genetics lab is working on that, though they claim flying monkeys are easier,” Ms. Carson said.
“With all the sorceresses, and mages, here, I don’t doubt that, my little pretty. I’ll get you... and your little dog too!” I cackled.
Ms. Carson smiled, then walked away softly chuckling.
* * * *
I wanted to assist in the construction and rehab projects as much as I could, and needed larger transportation. Be reasonable dear d/j/w reader, how would I carry 80 pound shingle bundles in my cycle panniers? I considered renting or leasing a truck, or van, great for the project, but what about afterward? Transporting George and Gracie on my cycle was impractical. I could rig a sidecar or trailer, but that would be awkward at best -- though the thought of how people would react to the sight of us made it tempting. A full sized pickup with a crew cab like Big Red’s made sense, as it could carry the widest variety of cargo, tow, and transport my eager student workforce and the smilodons. This meant a trip into Berlin, NH, where the nearest dealerships were. Charlie Lodgeman was busy, and I’d imposed on him enough. Korolev was involved in some secretive research, and was unavailable, so I told Security where I was going, and took the Harley.
I’d been to Berlin several times, but always in passing, as I caught my charter flights there. I’d only the one morning class that day, which Ms. Carson had excused me from. With Anna busy being tested, the rest of the day was mine. It was a pleasant spring day, into the lower 60’s, so I wore my Whateley security uniform under my cycling jumpsuit. I determined the truck should be police equipped, at least to provisions for a police radio, emergency lights, and a siren, and winch, much like a VFD -- volunteer fire department -- member’s vehicle might be configured. I needed a ramp, or hoist, system to load and unload my cycle, and a way to secure it in the bed. Some kind of strong, protective animal kennel for the smilodons was a must, and I’d need a towing package.
I made great time to Berlin, and found the community had a GMC, Ford, Mercedes/Chrysler, several import, and one full size truck dealership that catered heavily to the logging industry. I’d ridden or driven Ford products most of my life, so I rode into the Ford Dealership, parked my cycle in front of their showroom, and changed out of my riding clothes. I walked into the showroom, and was promptly ignored by everyone. In their defense most of the salespersons were busy, and it did give me some time to look at the models. I’m torn between prompt and possibly too aggressive salesmanship, and hands-off, but possibly too impersonal an attitude. I noticed a hybrid drive system was available in the full-sized models. This was more efficient and far cleaner burning than any conventional engine. This would leave open the option of a conversion to full electric drive by Whateley’s tech gurus at some later date.
“How may I help you, young lady? Looking at buying your first new car? We have some great deals on the Focus, or if you want something with more flash, we have T-birds in stock. A tall, attractive woman like you would wow the guys driving by in one,” said the salesman.
He was thirty and single, I guessed from the lack of a wedding band on his hands.
~~What is it with thirty-something salesmen and good looking women? Do they believe those chat up lines work? ~~
I toyed with playing the bimbo routine to the hilt, but I didn’t have the time. It was time for brutal honesty.
“I own a 2005 Focus ZX4 SE which is in storage back in Wisconsin. I need a vehicle for a home renovation and construction project on a farm I recently purchased. I’ll be hauling building materials, construction debris, and workers to and from the site, and I may need to tow various trailers. I need accessories to load and secure my 1915 Harley that you can see in your lot, and I’ll need an animal enclosure that can handle two large cats that will eventually weight between 400 and 450 pounds a piece. I figure I’ll need an F250 with the hybrid drive system, crew cab, and maybe built-in GPS. The floor model here has much of what I want.
“If you’ve been observant, you’ll have noticed I’m an auxiliary security officer at Whateley Academy, so I’ll need a police/emergency vehicle package. That means the oversized electrical and cooling systems, emergency lights, radio and computer hookups, siren and PA, special frame bracing, and handling enhancements, and such. Are you following me so far?” I asked him as I stopped for breath.
I had him rattled, but to his credit he recovered fast.
“We don’t have all that in stock, but we can get it quickly, and have it installed in a week or less. You do know this will be expensive; you could be looking at over 50 thousand dollars after tax?”
“Police get a discount, and I am deputized by the State of New Hampshire. I'm also an officer, on inactive status, with the Wisconsin National Guard. I won’t need financing; I’m paying with a personal check, if that’s okay?” I said, and smiled.
He looked at me doubtfully, but resisted being condescending. He was trying hard not to fixate on my chest, though parts of him were being uncooperative, and more impressively so by the moment.
“I’ll need to run a credit check in any case, to insure your check is good. I’ll need your driver’s license, employer, and security IDs as well.
“You shouldn’t need all that, but to confirm I’m eligible for the police discount, I’ll agree.”
I handed him the ID, and waited for the fun to begin. He handed them through a window to an office worker to photocopy.
~~Damn, he didn’t look. ~~
A girlish shriek from the office, followed by a chorus of ‘Oh my Ghod, oh my Ghod’s’, confirmed the secretaries had looked.
Several women from high school to college age burst out of the office, and bombarded me with questions; they reminded me of Mel. The salesman stared, clueless and tongue tied.
“Frank, do you know who she is?” asked the oldest girl incredulously.
“Somebody famous from your reactions; sorry, you know me; if it’s not cars, or sports, I don’t follow it,” said Frank.
“She’s only the hottest singer on the radio, that’s who. Frank, this is Joanie,” said the college girl, who looked to be in her early 20s.
“Joanie who?”
The girls looked shocked; I broke into a giggle.
“My luck to find the one man in America who hasn’t heard of me,” I said, and giggled some more. “You said you’re into cars, and sports … You read Playboy, even subscribe to it?”
He looked uncomfortable and embarrassed, and my usual effect on men had him on the defensive.
~~Do I have it or what? If that got any stiffer, he wouldn’t have any blood left for his brain. ~~
“It’s a free country, sure I do. What of it? It’s not like I bring it to work,” he said.
“Make sure to look check out the July 2007 issue, it should answer a lot of questions, though I doubt it will help reduce that swelling in your slacks,” I said.
“They interviewed you?” one of the girls asked.
“And they took lots and lots of photos,” I replied.
“Y...you posed?” Frank stuttered.
“Meet Miss July, and the cover. It’s their first all mutant issue,” I said.
“Her checks are good then?” Frank asked sheepishly.
“Frank, the Wall Street Journal did a piece on her. Don’t look at me funny; you know I’m finance major. She could buy the dealership with what she’s earned in the last six months in recording royalties,” said the college girl.
After that my treatment improved immensely. The owner wanted to take care of me, but I insisted Frank have a chance to redeem himself. Frank impressed me; the man knows his trucks and accessories. In little over an hour he and the dealership located a 2007 F250 crew cab with the hybrid drive, and the basic police package, and arranged for its transfer to the dealership. Frank, with a mechanic's help -- a woman mechanic -- measured my cycle and ordered a cycle loading and carrying system that fit my Harley perfectly. It could be easily adjusted to handle a scooter as well. A slick cradle and winch system made loading and unloading in a tight space safe and easy. A custom animal carrier builder was contacted, and would install a sturdy, protective kennel for the truck bed. It could be quickly dismantled as needed, and as easily reinstalled. They were dubious at first to my need for it, and then I reminded them I work for Whateley.
“Whateley explains everything, Ms. Brown. You won’t be disappointed with our craftsmanship,” the builder said politely.
Frank worked hard to be helpful and get everything for my truck specified as I wanted it. He was courteous, charming, and I loved the attention. After a bad start, he’d recovered beautifully.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they were sabertooths, given the stories I’ve heard about Whateley,” he said as a joke.
“How did you know I have smilodons?” I queried, straight-faced.
“Very funny, I deserved that, “ he said, and laughed.
~~I’ll have to bring them by the dealership when they’re all grown, he’ll wet his pants. ~~
We got everything double checked and confirmed. The truck was exactly as I wanted. By some quirk it was painted in light Tundra, the same color as my Focus. When I saw that specification, I nearly wet my pants laughing.
"What’s so funny, Joanie?” Frank asked,
“Just that by pure luck my truck has exactly the same paint as my 2005 Focus; what were the odds?”
Frank continued to work at overcoming his macho first impression. He talked to the owner, who talked to the district manager, who got hold of the regional manager, and so on, and after a few minutes I was in a multipart conference call to Dearborn Michigan, and speaking with Mr. Ford. In exchange for the rights to use my image, and voice, in their ads for one year, I got everything for free, even lifetime servicing and repairs. They’d pay me a handsome sum any time I mentioned I owned a Ford when I was on TV, radio, or at some public event. I asked they send it all to MSG in Madison. They had a fund to assist needy new mutants, and I owed them.
“I’m in awe here. I fully expected to pay for my truck. Your offer is most generous, and I fully accept, pending the review of any contracts by my lawyer, Senator Johnson of Iowa.”
~~If they think they’re getting me this cheap when it comes time to renew our contract, boy will they experience some sticker shock. ~~
“That’s a reasonable precaution, and we’re not that generous, Ms. Brown. To hire a celebrity of your caliber would be far more expensive normally. Without agent fees, and using product instead of money for this deal saved us sizable sum. That’s why the bonus for mentioning you own our vehicles is so generous; we can afford it, no pun intended. Could you spare a few hours for photos, and to record some brief advertisements when you take delivery? That should be convenient for you, and help us get our ad campaign started at once,” said the descendant of the company founder.
They were eager to use my talents as they had already bought a full page advertisement in the July Playboy before anyone knew I was in it. They offered me a T-bird, or even a Ford GT, a car worth more than my father’s home, but I was happy with the truck. They got a great deal. For a present value of around 100 thousand dollars they got several times that in my services as a spokeswoman, though I do keep vehicles a long time, so I’d make back a fair bit of it on the lifetime free repairs and maintenance. I left the dealership, and got back to Whateley in time for dinner at six with my friends.
* * * *
I was thrilled to see Anna, and May Lee, had made it.
“Has everyone introduced themselves?”
They all nodded in assent.
“Anna, these are the masterminds behind helping catch the criminals who abused you. They don’t stand a chance now. The authorities are involved so the gang here doesn’t get too violent,” I said and snickered.
“Is Joanie often like this?” Anna asked.
“No, she’s usually far less serious,” said Suzy, covering her face to hide her grin.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt, but may I speak with Ms. Brown?”
The voice came from a petite girl of Asian ancestry. She couldn’t have been much more than 13, or 14, though her figure showed signs of promise. This girl would be a heartbreaker when she matured; she had the kind of face that screamed sweetness of character. Her eyes showed a keen intelligence, and determination to succeed. Then it struck me, something looked odd about her boots.
~~Is she wearing elevator shoes? At a minimum those are fairly high heeled. I wonder what else isn’t as it seems? I wonder why I noticed that, maybe I am shoe obsessed.~~
“I’m Joan, um, I mean, I’m Ms Brown. That didn’t come out quite right, did it? Please call me Joanie. What may I do for you Ms. …?”
“My apologies, I’m Jade Sinclair; Stan and Morrie in Operations said you were looking for workers to help with a rehab and house construction project? My sister, Jinn, and I would like to work for you. They said you would pay a good wage, and provide all need safety gear and equipment,” she said, clearly and efficiently.
~~This girl's certainly confident. I wonder who’s interviewing who here? She mentioned the princes of plumbing, hum? ~~
“How do you know Stan and Morrie?” I asked.
“I’ve worked as a student employee with them since I came to Whateley last fall, so has my sister Jinn. Ask the guys, they’ll tell you we're good workers, and not afraid of the tough jobs,” said Jade.
“I will; I’m doing a ’research trip’ for them tomorrow with Charlie Lodgeman’s assistance. I trust their judgment; they’re helping with my housing projects. If they vouch for you, you're in, Jade. Where’s your sister Jinn, I’d like to meet her?” I asked.
“Jinn’s my older sister, and she’s dead, but that hasn’t slowed her. She’s a student here. She should be here any minute, her maintenance shift ended later than mine today,” she said, then looked at me to see my reaction, sharp girl.
~~You are interviewing me; you have a sharp mind. Jade.~~
“I’ve got smilodons, so what’s strange about a dead girl as a student? This is Whateley; I’m game if your sister is, Jade.”
* * * *
To be continued
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_10_rev_3_Janetpost.doc | 98 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 11
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Joanie meets two wanna-be construction workers, a petite girl and her dead sister. She timetravels and learns something she shouldn't about another member of the staff, Lex. Joanie checks on Anna's medical tests and invites her to an all-girl sleepover. She sets up Tom and Lex shamelessly. Eric learns of the magazine shoot but not the farm. The cleanup crew visits the farm. Joanie and Lex reconcile. The sleepover goes well. Joanie has a frighting premonition.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with home renovation and buying a truck, and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Prose primping by Itinerant
Janet Nolan-ized for your protection
Chapter 11- Home Improvement 5, Origins 2, The New New Avengers 5, 4X4- Portents
Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Boston MA, April 19-23, 2007
April 19, 2007
“Jinn, over here.” Jade called out.
A mysterious and beautiful young woman walked over. My first impression was of a junior or senior. She was reasonably tall, possibly as much as five foot, eight inches, with a slender build, and was showing the start of some sensuous curves. She had the graceful build of a runner or dancer. Though the girl might be late bloomer, I suspected she would quickly surpass her peers. Her skin and clothing were odd even by Whateley standards. Her skin — all of it -- was pure white, like a classic geisha’s face, but her clothes screamed sexy, confident babe. She was baring a lot of skin, and her clothes appeared to be of a modular, mix and match construction. They reminded me of runner’s warm-up suit, or a type of backpacker's clothes where sleeves or legs could be zipped off and on at will. In her case it was taken to the extreme; it appeared that almost any part could be interchanged with any other. I wondered why she needed, or wanted clothing that reconfigurable. One of those fiendish jigsaw puzzles, with every piece cut identically, came to mind. She approached our table, and embraced her sister, Jade, for a moment. Jade displayed an odd expression on her face; it was subtle, but I could see the change. A moment later it was gone.
~~Something was exchanged there, but what? ~~
“Jinn, this is Ms. Brown, or Joanie as she prefers.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Joanie, I’ve not had the opportunity to sit in one of your classes, but I have seen you working with Security, and there are your posters,” said Jinn in a voice that complemented her exotic appearance.
~~If this girl was alive, she’d have guys lined up for blocks to date her, and she works for Operations? That’s like remaking the Honeymooners, and casting Lucy Lu as Ed Norton. ~~
“Are you referring to the commercial ones, or the Peeper specials?” I asked, and softly snickered. “By the way, sharp outfit though I couldn’t get away with quite as much skin showing; the risk of ‘wardrobe malfunction’ would be prohibitive. I thought I had the tough, sexy look down, my congratulations, Jinn. Your charming sister says you have both worked with the Princes of Plumbing,” I replied.
“Stan and Morrie are great guys to work with. They suggested we contact you. I was told you’ve purchased a farm near Whateley, and that you intend to renovate the farmhouse as a possible rental unit. The ‘Masters of Maintenance’ also said you plan to convert the barn into your home. We’d like to offer our services for the demotion and cleanup, and the construction crew as well,” Jinn said.
“The demolition and cleanup almost anyone can do, and I’m providing safety training for them. What can you two do that should compel me to hire you for construction work? Now is your chance to sell yourselves, ladies,” I challenged them.
“Stan and Morrie would not have suggested we talk to you unless they thought we could do the job,” Jade said forcefully.
“I’m sorry, Jade and Jinn. I did not intend to insult either of you. I trust the guys' judgment too, and I will talk to them soon. My concern is whether you can do the job safely. Minor demolition and clean up, or being a gofer for the construction crew, is low risk. Working as crew doing trench work, masonry, framing, sheathing, roofing, running cable and pipe, insulating, interior covering, and final hookup are more exacting, physically exhausting and can be potentially dangerous.
"You may be dead, Jinn, but your sister is not. I’d prefer she stay that way, as I’m sure you’d both agree. Beyond any labor law concerns, I’d feel awful if someone got hurt as a result of my project. I intend to help as much as I can, but I have limits to my knowledge and abilities. What can you ladies do that makes you valuable to me?” I inquired.
“I’m small but tough, and have worked with Operations in the deep sewers, cabling projects, maintenance, plumbing, electrical, mechanical systems -- you name it. I’m not bothered by foul odors, I don’t scare easily, and I’m serious on the job. My late sister is much the same, except she has several advantages over most workers,” said Jade in a rapid-fire, confident style.
“I’m as strong as any normal person, but, because I don't have a body, I’m invulnerable to most hazards and don’t suffer from fatigue. I can transfer myself to various objects, and can change my size and shape as needed. I’ve guided cable through conduits while inside the conduit. I can become so small I can pass easily into wall cavities using any small hole and can see in total darkness. I can be your eyes and ears in places you otherwise can’t easily explore. I can float in the air, and orientation to the ground is irrelevant to me. I did a lot of ceiling work and cable pulling for Samantha Everheart’s apartment in Kane Hall tower; Jade helped some, too,” Jinn said while slowly floating into the air.
“Impressive credentials, Jinn; I’ll ask Sam about you two. Thanks for not jumping on the ‘you may be dead, Jinn’ line. The moment I said ‘dead Jinn, I was afraid someone would do a bad Star Trek joke,” I said.
“You mean like ‘You grab the tricorder, I’ll get the wallet?’ Are you interested, Joanie?” asked Jade, with a smirk on her face.
“Thanks a lot ‘Bones’. If your references check out, I’ll be glad to hire you. Operations has offered to do most of the construction work. They said they have students on work-study, and my project would be a great way to demonstrate their skills. I do have a few more questions. When are you available during the remaining school term, and are you staying on campus this summer?” I asked.
“We’re wards of the state. We’re here through child protective services, and have no where to go. We may visit the family of one or more of our friends this summer. Both Billie Wilson's and Nikki Reilly’s families have offered in the past. Jinn and I are kinda friends with the Tanaka’s -- who are Charlie Lodgeman’s friends -- so we could see them this summer with Billie, but nothing is set in stone,” Jade replied.
~~She may be the younger sister, but she’s clearly the one in charge. ~~
“You know some of the Mystic Six? I am impressed, Jade. I only know Charlie, but if they’re anything like him they’re good people to count as friends. I’m seeing Charlie tomorrow; I’ll ask him about you two as well. We have a research project to do for Operations,” I said.
As I finished, Jade's eyes went wide; her sister’s response was difficult to gauge.
“You’re the one,” Jade said in a tone of awe.
“The one what?” I asked.
“Rumor has it one of the newer staff can time travel; not just clairvoyance, but the real thing. The press says you can stop time for a while, so it must be you. That must be how you got those strange cats,” she said excitedly.
“So, you know of my smilodons, George and Gracie? My friend, Pinky here, is helping me train them. Most crooks fear police dogs; these two should make Bricks soil their pants,” I said and giggled. “Please do me a favor and do not spread this around, Ladies. I’m at Whateley as much to escape potential kidnappers as to complete my mutant training,” I cautioned.
“Sis, that explains her holding the Meridian Chair; everyone’s been speculating how an unknown got a prestigious research position. A time traveler would be a natural choice for a historical researcher. If you can travel far enough to obtain live smilodons -- wow!” Jinn remarked excitedly.
“That also makes me a criminal’s dream girl, so be discreet. They’d love to have me under their control, or worse to dissect in their labs. In addition to my time powers, I’m a high level regen. They’d love to figure out how that works,” I said in a serious tone.
“So would I,” muttered Jade.
“Did you say something, Jade? I didn’t quite hear you,” I asked.
Jade appeared nervous for a moment, then as quickly seemed confident.
“What I was trying to say was you must be like my roomie, Billie Wilson. She’s a high level regen and almost indestructible,” Jade said.
“I can be beaten up easily; I’m not superhuman, but I heal fast. I’ve been close to death twice, and it hurts like Hell as I recover. That’s why I’m building a custom house. It will be easier to break into an army tank than my house by the time I’m done. I owe it to my future family,” I said.
“You’re not, ah, pregnant are you, Joanie?” asked Jinn, hesitantly.
“No, just planning for the future. My boyfriend has to graduate from college first,” I said and smiled.
~~Graduating from middle school and high school would help. Why did I fall for Eric? I must be crazy, but then why does it feel so right? ~~
“We’re security conscious, Joanie. Being small for my age, people think they can push me around, so I have to defend myself. My sister, Jinn, is tough in a fight; she has to be, as those with avatar powers have tried to enslave her,” Jade said.
“The greed and disrespect of some people shocks me; you’re dead and people want to harm you, Jinn? That is sick beyond words. I’ll check with Stan and Morrie, and if they say you’re good, you’re on. Maybe we can teach each other something new about security.”
I stood and gave Jade a hug which she accepted graciously, though she blushed. I wasn’t sure how I should handle Jinn until she offered her hand to shake. Her hand felt normal but cold, and I thought I felt the vibrations of a complex mechanical linkage moving behind it.
“I won’t have a vehicle to transport everybody for a few days, but if the weather is nice we’ll meet here at this table eight AM this Saturday and walk over to the farm. It’s a little over a ten minute walk, and I can give everyone the overview of my intentions for the place. I’ll pay for lunch afterward, so it’s not a total waste of your time. Is that satisfactory?”
“Sounds fair, Joanie, we’ll be here,” said Jade.
“Wear work clothes and tough shoes; the farm house and barn are a mess. Until Saturday, Ladies,” I said and bowed.
“A word of advice, Joanie, don’t let Tennyo -- that’s Billie Wilson -- try out for your band unless you intend to do the best of Yoko Ono,” Jade said, then, giving me a feral grin, she walked off giggling as her sister hovered along side her.
“That girl will be a heartbreaker someday,” I said softly, to no one in particular.
We finished eating; Pinky and I gave the smilodons a quick walk around campus and training session before we each went off to our respective dorms for the night. I reviewed the Operations materials describing the planned buried cable route and the magic hot spots that needed our ‘research.’ I went to bed early so I’d be well rested though it took some time to fall asleep -- nerves, I guess.
* * * *
April 20, 2007
I rose early on Friday morning, got in a quick run, ate a big breakfast, showered, ‘decompressed’, and had to shower again. I was wonderfully relaxed when I met up with Mr. Lodgeman -- oh yeah!
“Mr. Lodgeman, are you ready?” I asked, languidly.
“Joanie, you seem more relaxed than usual. Are you okay?”
“I’m great; I may have over done the decompression. Sorry, but it was so much fun....”
“You can concentrate on the task at hand?” he asked, suppressing a smirk.
“I’ll be fine, this way my ‘side effect’ won’t be a problem so soon.
“That takes half the fun out of today’s ‘research’, Joanie. Where do you want to start first?”
“I nearly forgot, Charlie, Dr. Tenent says I have a shell of magic surrounding me; I guess I’m a something of a magic sinkhole. I’m told it’s the residue of other’s spells, I don’t generate it, and it doesn’t interact with me. Will this be a problem, will it reveal my presence to any magic users we observe?” I asked still enjoying my afterglow.
“I thought you had a mystical aura, it’s obvious now that I know to look for one. I’ve never seen one as confused as yours, but I believe I can mask your ‘signature,’ Joanie,” he said.
“Shall we begin, Charlie?”
We had several hot spots to check out. Operations gave us excellent intelligence to work from, and I homed in on each incident with unerring precision. My urges were building, but were well within my tolerance as each ‘trip’ was brief. By early in the afternoon we were on top of Emerson Hall, in position to observe the last two hotspots; actually it was one physical hot spot, but with two separate and powerful events.
“That’s almost it, Joanie. Only two more quick ‘trips’ to the near past and we’re home free; I’m impressed,” he said, and bowed at me.
“You made it easy, Operation’s intelligence was spot on, and you were efficient in gathering the needed information. I was merely the chauffeur,” I said in a husky voice.
“Thanks for the smooth ride, my dear. Will you be okay? You sound, um, on edge,” he asked.
“No, I’m a bit aroused, but functional. Let’s finish up quickly so I can recover.”
I went for the feeling again, and in moments we were looking down at the suspicious grove of trees near Emerson. It was late at night, and early October from the look of the trees. Through my night vision binoculars/camera I saw a boy in deep concentration surrounded by various markings. Charlie whispered that it was part of a warded circle designed to obscure him from observation. Because we’d arrived soon enough to see his preparations, we could see through his charade. I couldn’t shake off the feeling we were not the only observers here.
“Charlie, I think we’re being watched. It’s just a feeling but something seems odd,” I said.
“Maybe, maybe not, the magic energies around here are difficult to read. I don’t sense anything specific, just a possibility that others are watching. I wouldn’t worry, Joanie,” he said.
~~I must be paranoid, yet I swear we’re being watched. Calm down, Joanie, you’re letting your imagination go wild. Still, there was that strange-looking mink or fisher we saw a couple times. This last feeling is stranger yet. I am paranoid.~~
Charlie explained that the boy was gathering and weaving a complex magic spell from the naturally present energies. To me it was unintelligible gibberish and strange hand movements. Charlie whispered that the ugly pottery statue was a focus or anchor for the spell, and helped to protect the spell crafter should something go wrong. I began to notice a faint glow near the boy. I might not be magically gifted, but he was controlling so much magic even I could notice something was odd.
A Security officer walked up to the boy and placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. Through earphones linked to the mini-machine gun microphone we shared, I could hear them speaking.
“Hey! What are you doing out here this late, kid?“
“KID? WHO DARES!” the boy replied angrily.
“OH SHIT!” he cried out as he lost control of the spell and the magic exploded.
“What was that?” I asked Charlie after the ruckus ended.
It had been hard for me to follow what happened, but one moment the officer was there, the next, he wasn’t. I thought I saw the officer floating over the ugly pottery object; the magic enveloping him then flashing out of existence. I hoped my binoculars/camera captured it, it happened so fast. The boy and his odd paraphernalia disappeared, too, until Charlie did some thing that broke through some of the magic the spell caster had woven. I saw an athletic woman of approximately 20 years of age lying naked on the ground, probably unconscious, her body glowing slightly. I sharpened the focus of my night vision binoculars, the glow faded out and.…
“Where did the Officer … Ghod, that’s Lex!” I cried out.
I wanted to go and help her, but Charlie admonished me, and made me ‘bounce’ us to the next incident in time. This time there was no doubt in my mind as to the participants’ identities. That same teen wizard -- ‘Warlock,’ Charlie later explained -- was preparing another spell when Lex walked up to him, gun in hand. Lex aimed at ‘Warlock’ to get his full attention.
“Have you still not realized that you cannot harm me? You are becoming a nuisance slowly but surely,“ said the boy in his arrogance.
“You made a mistake, kid.“ He saw the boy flinch at that. “You intended to control me, and I will never let this happen again. You will have to face the music, I made sure of that,“ Lex replied with cold resolve.
Lex swung the pistol away from Warlock, and shot the ugly pottery thing instead. I witnessed a massive explosion of magic -- dust, smoke, and light flew out in all directions. It was a while before I could see them clearly again. I saw Lex lying wounded on the ground next to the most sexually attractive woman I’d ever seen. Hot did not begin to describe her. I turned and confronted Charlie.
“You knew, you bastard! You knew Lex was transformed by that sick boy wizard, and you told me nothing! Why?” I asked angrily, and in tears. “This explains Lex’s odd behavior, her evasiveness when asked about her past, her lack of comfort in her good looks, and her sexual preference. I could have helped her; why didn’t you tell me?” I said as I shook with frustration.
“What could you have done differently, Joanie? The destruction of the focus made the spell permanent, though it broke Warlock’s hold over Lex. The boy had put a spell on Lex that made her essentially non-existent to nearly everyone on campus. In shattering the focus, Lex was freed from the boy’s control, but she paid a high price for her freedom. The boy wizard, Richard Hillman, code named Warlock, paid a much greater price. His intent was to turn Lex into a lust crazed bimbo, his living wet dream. The backlash when the focus shattered fed back into Mr. Hillman and turned him into the very lust driven creature he intended to curse Lex as. You need not feel sympathy for the boy; he got exactly what he’d intended for Lex.”
“Poor Lex, no wonder she’s such a mix of contradictions. To knowingly buy her freedom at the cost of destroying the only way back to his old life; how can she stand it?” I asked, as I fought to control my emotions.
“Your fate is not entirely dissimilar, Joanie. The primary difference is you knew early on there was no way back, and your new body predisposed you to accept your change. In contrast, Lex had hopes of changing back, and her soul was not comfortable in her new body, but the risk of being Warlock's mindless sex slave forced her hand. It’s been hard, but Lex is coming to terms with her new life. Only a handful of people know: the Chief, Ms. Carson, Ms. Hartford, several in medical, a couple students who helped Lex, Officer O’Brian, myself, and that’s about it. I would have told you, but Lex values her privacy. This goes back to before her transformation. The past is past; she knows that. She’s chosen to go on with her life as she sees fit; it’s not easy for her, but she’ll make it. She’s a survivor,” said Charlie.
“Does her family know?” I asked.
“Her mom does; her dad died while Lex was under Warlock's influence. She’s not alone, if that’s what you fear,” Charlie said calmly.
“What do I do, Charlie? What do I say?”
“Be honest, but discreet. Lex will understand it was an accident. I suspected this might happen when I saw the list of magic hot spots they wanted us to investigate. The last two magic incidents corresponded to the estimated times for Lex’s magical encounters with Warlock, but we couldn’t be certain and Lex’s recollections are limited. I’d have spared you finding out this way, but Operations needed the information. With this they can decontaminate the site and proceed. Let's return, make our report, and then you can decide how to tell Lex. I have faith you’ll be fine.”
“I hope so; I don’t want to add to her burdens. Sometimes she acts like life has conspired against her, she’s so depressed. Then, just as suddenly, she’s this witty, wickedly mischievous, vivacious, and fun loving young woman. I hate it when that Lex goes away. I wish I’d met him when he was a man, he must have been someone special.”
“She’s just as special, perhaps more so for having gone through this. Be her friend, and support her in her chosen path; that’s all I ask.”
We returned, turned in our data, made our reports, and I went off to my afternoon classes. Yes, dear d/j/w, I did spend some time recovering from my ’side effect’, but our quick, accurate time trips kept that to a minimum, regrettably. An idea occurred to me how I could trick Lex into taking me to Berlin to get my new truck, and then I’d talk to her while we were alone together. We were scheduled to patrol together that evening, so I had the opportunity. Now all I had to do was wait for the perfect moment.
* * * *
I had a quick, late lunch. The gang was in classes, but I did get to talk with May Lee.
“Joanie, I’m glad you made it. Did everything go well on your ‘research trip’?” she asked.
“Charlie and I got everything done, if that’s what you mean. Sorry May Lee, I’m a bit down because I accidentally learned something about a friend. I feel guilty; I know I shouldn’t, but I do,” I said.
After a few bites of my lunch, I didn’t feel much like eating. I pushed my tray away, still disgusted with myself. May must have noticed the unhappy look on my face.
“I’ll not pry, but be honest with the friend. They know you’re a good hearted person; they’ll forgive you,” May said gently.
“Now you’re holding my hand; thanks, May. How’s Anna?” I asked and smiled.
“Your medical people are finishing their tests today. They had a couple mages, or witches, or something like that look at her. It was all very odd,” May said.
“Was one of them Dr. Ophelia Tenent?” I asked.
“I think it was; she did the oddest things with her hair, like the strands were extra hands for her,” May said.
“That’s her; she’s one of Whateley’s top magic experts, and a real witch. If they brought her in, they might be considering using a thaumatologist in Anna’s treatment.” I speculated.
“I think that’s what one of them was. What’s a thauma ...?”
“Thaumatologist, May. It’s a person who can alter a person physically using magic. It’s not without risk, but the results can be remarkable. I know of one person who changed from a male to a beautiful, complete, younger female through magic, but not voluntarily,” I said, regretting my words the moment I said them.
“The secret you accidentally discovered? I’m sorry, Joanie,” May said.
“I’d make a lousy spy; I can’t keep my mouth shut. I’ll work it out with her, I promise, but don’t you repeat this to anyone,” I requested.
“Centerfold's honor,” May said as she saluted me with her hand shaped like a rabbit’s head.
I stuck my chest out proudly and saluted her back, then giggled.
“Please give Anna my best, and keep me informed how she doing. Would you have me paged when she’s up to having visitors? I’d like to spend some time with both of you when she’s ready.”
* * * *
I stopped by Operations and found out where Stan and Morrie were working. They were deep in one of the tunnels dug in the 1970’s, installing some equipment I didn’t recognize. I waited until they stopped what they were doing before interrupting them.
“Guys, do you have a moment?” I asked.
“Hi Joanie, what can we do for you?” Stan asked.
“Did you inform two girls, Jade and Jinn Sinclair, that I was looking for help with my housing project?” I asked.
“Great workers; I wish all our student employees were so dedicated. That’s why we told them to see you,” said Morrie.
“Then they’re good?” I asked.
“They’re the best. What did they tell you they were capable of doing?” Morrie queried me.
I repeated what they’d said; Stan and Morrie shook their heads.
“Did they exaggerate? Your body language says they didn’t tell me the truth,” I asked.
“No, if anything they understated their abilities. I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. The girls are better than some of our newer apprenticed staff. If they say they can do something, believe them. I’d love to hire them on after they graduate; they’re that good,” said Stan with obvious pride.
“You think we’re that good?” said a voice behind me.
It was Jinn emerging from inside a large conduit. She was not in her normal body form, but the voice was unmistakable.
“Is that you, Jinn?” I asked in surprise.
It was disconcerting talking to her like that. She was unrecognizable as a person, more an amorphous cylindrical shape, formed from that same, modular, fabric she’d worn earlier. Behind her she pulled a bundle of cables taped together, and attached to her by a small, but obviously strong, mechanical hand. Not really a hand so much as a five fingered clamp, or bizarre drill chuck. It was clear this ‘machine’ was Jinn when she spoke.
“Joanie? Oh, you said you’d talk to Stan and Morrie. Excuse my shape; I was pulling cable. I’m good at it,” she said.
“Good? She’s the best we’ve ever had, and the tech types have sent us all kinds of specialty robotic devices to do this sort of thing. Jinn beats them hands, well, whatever down,” Stan said smiling.
“I’m sold. Remember to stop by my table in Crystal Hall tomorrow at eight AM, so I can show you the farm and my projects. Tell your sister she’s got the job, too.”
“We’ll be there. Excuse me, I have to go and change. I’ll see you at eight sharp,” Jinn said and she flew -- I really mean flew -- off.
“You’ll get used to her doing that, Joanie. We did,” said Morrie as they went back to work.
* * * *
I checked on my mail, and found I’d received a script and background material to prepare me for the NOVA Special.
~~They must want me, to overnight this. ~~
I spent several hours reading it. I found it all fascinating, and not just because I’m a mutant. They included a request that I demonstrate my time stop as part of a segment on powers. They’d heard of the soda can demo I’d done for Playboy, and thought something similar would be educational and catch the viewers attention. I was to think it over and call them with an answer, preferably by this coming Monday. They wanted to start shooting my segments before the end of the month.
I ate an early dinner, took care of the cats, and dressed for my shift that evening with Lex. But I had this call to make first.
“Terrace Hill, how may I direct your …’
“Rose, it’s me; put Eric on,” I said impatiently.
“Sure Joanie, you’re calling early for a Friday,” Rose, the Governors aid commented.
I was on a first name basis with much of the household staff; I wonder why?
“I’m pulling security duty tonight so it was now or midnight,” I replied.
“Be safe out there; okay; here’s Eric, Joanie,” Rose said.
“Joanie! Thanks for calling, I was worried you wouldn’t,” said an excited Eric.
“And why not? I promised I would, and I intend to keep my promise,” I said.
“This magazine said that you were seeing this guy and….’ Eric stopped; he sounded upset.
“Eric, I work with men and a couple of my student friends are boys, but you’re my only one. Call MSG and talk with Big Red or Gin, they’ll set you straight; I gave up women for you. Do you know how hard that was for the man I used to be? You know what my MSG girl friends look like; would I break up with them and then cheat on the reason I broke it off with them?” I pleaded with Eric.
“You like me that much, Joanie?” Eric asked.
“Eric, I love you that much. Those papers and magazines love gossip and rumor. Your Dad and Grandpa are in politics; ask them about the press and celebrities. Eric, if I was ever stupid enough to break up with you, it would be in person, and not after the fact. Feeling any better? I promise I’ll come to visit you this summer -- sooner if my schedule allows -- but I can’t guarantee anything while school is still in session, sorry,” I said.
“Okay, I believe you, but it hurts not seeing you. Bye, sweet Joanie,” Eric said, and hung up.
~~I forgot to tell him about my farm! ~~
* * * *
“You seem unusually quiet this evening, Joanie. What’s the matter? And don’t say nothing is wrong; I can read you like the proverbial book -- a tall, busty, and oversexed book,” Lex asked, an hour or so into our shift.
~~Damn, she senses something is up; the humor must be to help me relax. It’s time for brutal honesty. ~~
“I was going to ask you for a ride when it came time to pick up my new truck, and spring my secret on you then. You’d be a captive audience and all, but I can’t,” I said, berating myself in my mind.
“It can’t be that bad, Joanie; what has you so upset?” she asked with sympathy.
I looked around to make certain we were alone, then I spoke.
“I know Lex; I found out during the 'research trip' I did with Charlie today for operations; forgive me,” I begged.
“What do you know, Joanie?” Lex asked with some worry.
“I saw a man attacked magically, and he became you. I’m so sorry Officer Jenkins,” I said, and then lowered my face as I couldn’t stand to look her in the eyes. “I’ll understand if you don’t wish to associate with me anymore,” I said as I sniffled away.
I had to sit down on a bench to try and regain some control.
“Joanie … Joanie, its okay,” Lex said softly.
“No it’s not,” I blubbered, “I violated your trust, Ghod forgive me!” I cried, and tried to get up and run away.
“Ah crap!” Lex exclaimed as she grabbed me, and held me tight. “Calm down! It's okay, Joanie. I prefer my past to stay in the past, but it was an accident. I take it Charlie Lodgeman was with you at the time?” she asked.
I nodded and continued to sob quietly.
“Charlie knows; so do a handful of others. It’s not like it’s this great secret. It will get out someday. In a way it’s a relief I don’t have to lie to you, Joanie, but the alternative of telling everyone is worse. So long as you keep this to yourself, it’s okay,” Lex said graciously, as she released her bear hug.
“Are you sure? I’ve spied on you and stole your greatest secret; how can you forgive me?” I asked Lex as my tears slowed.
“What a monumental ego you have, Joanie, thinking everything that goes wrong is your fault,” Lex said in mock outrage, and then she smiled.
“It isn’t? You mean I’m not a goddess?” I asked, then I fell to my knees laughing.
“Joanie, that’s not dignified. Get up, that’s and order!” Lex said. I laughed all the harder, then she lost it and joined me on the ground, laughing wildly.
After some time we got up, brushed ourselves off, and continued our patrol. We walked in silence for some minutes, and I spoke.
“I would like you along when I accept delivery of my truck, Lex,” I said.
“I’d like to see your new truck too. If I’m available I’ll come,” Lex replied.
“That’s perfect, that way, if we take one of the Security vans, Pinky, George, and Gracie can come.”
“NO! Not the feline furniture filleters. I’m not transporting those carnivorous couch killers in a department vehicle.”
“You forgot serial sofa slayers, Lex,” I said, then snickered. “But it would be fun, and they obey Pinky,” I whined.
“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Lex replied.
“I suppose I should wait until they’re used to car rides, and have more training,” I admitted.
“I’ll come if I can; I would like to see your new toy, but let’s not take the cats,” she said, and grinned. “It might be worth it if only to see the look on the sales person's face, Joanie, though if it’s a guy, I suspect he’ll be too busy looking about here,” Lex said and pointed at my chest.
“You’re right, Lex,” I said and chuckled. “I’ll take them when they’re bigger, and used to riding in vehicles.”
Lex got this devilish grin on her face.
~~Oh shit, I didn’t? ~~
“They must be used to riding by now, but I hope they don’t get any bigger. You’re top heavy enough now Joanie. Anymore and you couldn’t stand up,” she said then exploded in laughter.
“I was referring to the smilodons, you pervert,” I snapped, and then I broke up.
The rest of our shift went well. A couple of kids had broken curfew, and we had to break up their ardent make out session.
“You know, sexual relations between students is a violation of the student code,” I said formally. “Be more discreet next time, and wipe off the lipstick from your faces before someone sees you, okay?”
The girls giggled nervously, but did as they were told.
“Thanks, Officer Brown, we will,” said the taller of the two.
“Joanie, okay? You make a cute couple, but be careful, please,” I said and they walked off happy we didn’t turn them in.
“You’re getting soft, Officer Brown,” Lex said.
“I couldn’t see the sense in busting them, sorry Lex,” I said.
“Neither did I. Let's finish checking out the west sector, then we need to report,” Lex said in a cheerful voice.
That night I slept the best I had in days.
* * * *
April 21, 2007
I skipped my morning run in favor of a training session with Pinky and the smilodons. We were working on their obedience training and getting them used to crowds. I think the early breakfast crowd in the Crystal Hall was surprised at our dining companions. They behaved perfectly -- the smilodons that is -- and got some raw sirloin pieces as treats, one of their favorites.
“Thank Ghod they still are doing well on that dry lion food; I’ll feed them raw meat if I have to, but the kibble is far more convenient,” I confessed to Pinky.
I’d made arrangements with Security to board them for the day and night; one of the K9 officers would work on their training to keep them from getting bored and stalking the wily sofa bed. I was ready to take then to Security when my prospective crew arrived early.
“They are so cute! Can I touch them? I’ve seen you and Pinky with them coming in and out of Poe, but I’ve never had the courage to ... you know,” asked Jenny.
“Go ahead, Jenny. Be gentle and they‘ll behave. Guys, girls, this is Jenny Chang, also known as Steel Lotus,“ I said and we all introduced ourselves.
“Have any of you eaten yet?” I asked, and they all shook their heads no. “Get something good and filling, or get something to go if you’re not a morning person. It will be several hours before we’re back, and I don’t have anything to eat out there. I’m not certain if the water is on, though Dr. Bellows place is down the road from mine and we can get a bathroom break there if we ask nicely. Cheryl, here’s my card, ring up the crew on me -- no exceptions,” I said.
I had a happy bunch of kids after that announcement. We ate; they all grabbed some sodas to go while Pinky took the smilodons to Security. I set a brisk pace, and we were at my farm in ten minutes flat.
* * * *
Stan, minus Morrie, met us at the farm house.
“Where’s the Mrs.?” I joked. Jade looked shocked until Stan laughed.
“Off with the girls, quilting. He doesn’t love me any more,“ Stan said in a silly falsetto.
I broke out in giggles; the rest of the crew caught on and laughed.
“He’s in the barn going over some details with a consulting structural engineer. There’s some concern about powder-post beetle damage to the timber frame,” Stan said.
“That’s bad; I was hoping to save most of the barn,” I replied.
“I may have a solution, Joanie. On Sam’s, I mean Officer Everheart’s apartment project in Kane, I got to work with a girl named Fran Barnes. She can manipulate natural materials like wood and stone better than a master sculptor can clay. She could reform any damaged wood to better than new condition; ask Sam,” said Jinn.
“Jade, you’re quiet. What have you got to say?” I asked.
“Jinn worked on the apartment more than I did, but she’s right. Fran Barnes would be a great choice. Be warned, she does like natural themes. Ask to see Sam’s apartment; most of the stone and wood work is hers. She was responsible for the balcony and new window openings in the tower walls as well,” the petite teen said.
“Thanks for the FYI, ladies; I’ll ask Sam later. Now let me describe what I intend to do, and don’t be afraid to ask questions. There is no such thing as a stupid question; what’s stupid is getting hurt because you didn’t ask one.”
We spent a good two hours going all over the farm house. I was happy to see Stan and Morrie had anticipated my needs and had gotten power restored to the farm so we had water and lights. It did mean we’d have to turn it off as demolition progressed, but overall it was a welcome surprise.
The barn tour was quicker as there was less to see despite this being the bigger project. Cheryl asked one of those stupid questions that wasn’t stupid.
“Joanie, what are you doing about the other buildings -- out buildings, I think they’re called?”
“I hadn’t thought about it much. The machinery shed looks relatively new; I may make that into a garage or storage building. The large chicken house could make a good garage for the farmhouse; my grandfather did something similar years ago. I do need a home for my kitty cats, any ideas?” I asked.
That proved a smart question on my part, the kids came up with all sorts of ideas, and some sounded practical. One shocked me in its logical simplicity, and I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it.
“This may seem silly to you, Ms. Joanie, but you never mentioned a recording studio, or music practice room. All the big singers seem to have one; why not you?” asked Mystor of all people.
“But I don’t … I’m not a … why would I …” I was stumped.
“Joanie, it’s perfect! The band could practice here on weekends. We’d never have to fight for space with other student bands, and the smilodons wouldn’t be lonely,” said Pinky in rapid-fire fashion.
“Mystor, come here,” I said, wiggling my finger at him to come to me.
“Yes, Ms. Joanie?”
“That’s Joanie, dear, and thanks,” I said, then I gave him a kiss that would peel paint.
“Um, you’re welcome?“ he said, half out of breath and pleasantly confused.
“Don’t I get one?” asked Tom.
“No, I prefer Suzy,” I said and gave her a nice hug while I whispered something in her ear. She giggled and smiled as I kissed Tom on the cheek. “Tom, I told her it’s okay for you to date each other, but supervised at first. You two have to tell her parents, though,” I whispered.
He hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe, and then gave me a kiss on the cheek that was so sweet I began to forget why we were here. I turned my head to face him, and was about to kiss him back, when Suzy got my attention.
“Hands off the merchandise!” she said, pulling us apart, and holding Tom’s hand.
“Sorry, for a moment Tom reminded me of this boy I know,” I said as I blushed with embarrassment and softly chuckled.
We got back to Whateley in time for lunch. While they ate I got copies of each student's schedule. We set up a system so I could notify them when they were needed, and they could inform me when they couldn’t make it. I made a mental note to ask Sam about Ms. Barnes and any other workers she could recommend. With Sam’s, and Operations’ information, I’d know the best suppliers and equipment dealers to chose.
~~I have money to burn, but I need to do this right the first time. ~~
* * * *
During lunch I got a page from May Lee. After lunch I spent an hour visiting Anna and May Lee in the campus infirmary. Anna had undergone an exhausting battery of tests, including several needle biopsies done to check the exact nature of some suspected scar tissue surrounding her breast implants, and other tests to analyze the composition of the permanent makeup she’d been given. This was critical to deciding how to best restore Anna to her natural look.
“How are you holding up, Anna?” I asked.
“So-so; sometimes the doctors have good news, sometimes they don’t. They think I may have to have surgery followed up with some touch up work by a thaumatologist, but they’re not certain yet,” Anna said while smiling, but I could see she was stressed.
“Why the bed rest?”
“I reacted badly to a test,” Anna said quietly.
“My sister freaked when they hypnotized her to help her remember what those people did. We found out Anna was drugged and raped several times the very day she met them. This was just prior to her first photo shoot and film. I’d thought it was a more gradual process; she was on drugs continuously from hours after she first met them, up until the moment I rescued her,” May Lee said with anger in her voice.
“It was too much to bear, and the doctors had to sedate me. May Lee’s been my rock, without her I’d be …” Anna said, crying as May Lee squeezed her hand.
“You concentrate on getting well. We’ll get the bastards, I promise. When you’re feeling better let me know. I was hoping you’d be well enough for a sleep over with a bunch of teenage to 20ish girls tonight, but your health comes first.”
“Could I come? I can’t stand the boredom. The doctors were going to let me go to our guest room on campus if they thought I was calm enough,” Anna said, looking at me like a little girl begging for mommy to buy her a doll.
“Let me ask. The sleep over is at the rental flat in Dr Bellows house; maybe if he’s downstairs?” I speculated out loud.
An hour later Anna was cleared to attend, provided she was escorted to and from the sleepover, and after she was given a slow release, long acting tranquilizer. It was low dosage, just enough to keep her from having a panic attack, and she was fitted with a remote body monitor. In the event something happened, Whateley and Dr Bellows would get an instant alert to the problem.
* * * *
I stopped by Security before I left for the Anderson's. Lex was getting ready for her evening shift.
“Are you okay with baby sitting Tom tonight? No way could he be at a girl’s sleepover; he’d drool himself to death.”
“It will be fine; the crew in sensors will keep him busy for hours showing off their gadgets to him. I promise we’ll treat him like he’s one of our own,” Lex said.
“Speaking of that, he’s at the stage where he wants to date girls, and he has this one particular girl in mind, my niece,” I said looking uncomfortable.
“You're not getting all protective of her, are you, Joanie?” Lex teased me.
“Funny, Lex. I need a big favor; I want you and any of the other women officers you trust to give him a crash course in the rules of proper dating. At his age, his hormones probably have his libido up in the stratosphere,” I said.
“Slightly below yours then?” Lex interrupted.
“Exactly!” I shot back.
~~Bet you didn’t expect that answer, Lex. ~~
“I’m happy he finds Suzy desirable, but I don’t want to have to call my cousin and say, 'guess what, you’re going to be a grandmother,’” I said.
“I won’t be entirely comfortable with it, but I can teach him the rules. I’ll show him how to be a gentleman, Joanie,” Lex said.
The bait was taken, now to set the hook without Lex feeling it.
“I have one other request. You won’t like it,” I said cringing.
“It can’t be that bad, Joanie, ask me,” she said, falling for it.
“He’s a terrible kisser.”
“What!” Lex shouted.
“Hear me out, I’ve seen him. He’s either so timid it’s pathetic, or he’s a charging tongue-o-saurus; there’s no in-between. I’d teach him, but Suzy might be offended. Could you?”
“NO! You don’t know what you’re asking,” Lex said noticeably agitated.
“I know exactly what I’m asking, otherwise I wouldn’t ask. You don’t have to practice with him, just critique his performance. He can kiss the back of your hand, or a mirror if it helps. I don’t want him hurting or disappointing Suzy, she’s family,” I said twisting the knife.
“I’ll consider it, but if he thrusts his tongue in my mouth....” Lex warned me.
“He’ll be on his best behavior, I promise.”
~~It’s not lying; I have my fingers crossed. I know the rules. ~~
* * * *
I talked to Tom shortly before he was expected in Security.
“Tom, you will be on your best behavior. Many of the officers are my friends, too,” I said.
“Hey, they have guns; I’d better behave.”
“Okay then, but be careful around Officer Luther. She’s well; she’s not her old self at the moment,” I said carefully.
~~Okay, it’s deceptive but true; she used to be a guy. ~~
“What’s wrong with Lex? You’re her friend, tell me,” Tom asked.
~~Almost there. ~~
“She, well, they had a fight and she and the boy are not together,” I said, sounding as if I was sad at the thought.
~~Still the truth, she and Warlock are definitely not a couple. ~~
“Boy?” Tom asked.
~~Got yah, Tom, now to set the hook. ~~
“Lex had this intense relationship with a male student, but it went terribly wrong. Her entire life changed because of the boy, and she’s still not back to normal,” I said.
~~I am such a good actress and not a lie out of my lips. ~~
“Is Lex over him?” Tom asked.
“I can honestly say she doesn’t love him. He took something precious from her during a night full of magic, and she can’t forgive him,” I said trying hard to not break up.
~~Misdirection and a hint of double entendre’; I love it. ~~
“Be careful, her feelings are on edge. She needs a boost to her ego. I want you to act the inexperienced and awkward boy around her. I don’t know how exactly, maybe make up a story? Ask her how a boy should treat a girl on a date, or ask her how to properly kiss a girl. You can say it’s so you can date Suzy and not make a mess of it. Please do it for me, Tom. Lex is a good friend and she needs this,” I said, emphasizing the last three words.
‘I promise, Joanie, I’ll make her feel desired and loved,” Tom said.
“You make sure you do that. Tom. I’m counting on you,” I said as he walked into Security.
I ran back to Poe for my sleepover stuff, and to laugh myself silly.
* * * *
I left early to help set up. Tina and Chris Anderson had done a marvelous job preparing for the party. They had lots of food and snacks ready, and coolers full of well-iced soda and water. They’d cleared out the dining room and had futons piled up along one wall. Pillows and blankets were stacked high on Chris’s bed along with extra towers and soap and such.
“We’ve got lots of stuff to do, Joanie,” Tina said excitedly. “We’ve got a bunch of cool, sorry Joanie, kewl chick flicks we can watch. Your school friends will have a blast, and so will you. You know we’d prefer a more ‘adult’ sleep over, but Chris and I are happy you came. Okay if we join in?”
“Absolutely, I invited two special guests to the sleepover, May Lee and her sister Anna. Anna’s had a bad time this last year, and I want to cheer her up. They’re both gorgeous, funny women; you’ll like them,” I said
“The Playboy model and her sister; I know them. Remember I was there in Administration when they came in, Joanie,” said Tina sounding hurt.
“That was for Chris’s benefit, Tina. I’m sorry if I upset you; come here, girl,” I said and opened my arms.
I gave her a loving hug, and a kiss on the cheek.
“You’ll find someone, Tina; you too, Chris. I know it sounds corny, but I know these good-looking, identical twin, projecting empaths back in Wisconsin, we’re talking college boys here, girls,” I said, thinking of the Platteville Pair.
“Maybe, but I still prefer you, Joanie.” said Tina.
“Well. You always did have good taste,” I said.
“Oh you!” they shouted in unison.
* * * *
The party lasted until late in the night; poor Dr Bellows must not have slept well. We ate, played silly games, and danced to tunes the Andersons played on their sound system. I picked up a couple good dance moves from the girls. May Lee had this killer techno-pop routine, and Cheryl surprised me with some of the sexiest moves outside of an exotic dance club I’d ever seen.
“That’s positively sinful! Where did you learn to dance like that?” asked Lonnie.
“My Dad’s an old-fashioned Southern Baptist minister, and his church frowns on dancing, so naturally I rebelled,” she said.
“Huh? Really?” asked Lonnie.
“Got ya! Dad’s a lawyer so we have lots of money. I took dance classes for years. Ballet, tap, modern, you name it; I love dancing. My older brother used to practice his club dancing with me; I got the moves from him. I just sexed them up a bit,” Cheryl said.
The one bad part of the sleepover occurred a little before midnight. They put on the radio at eleven; several of the girls wanted to hear the weeks top 20 countdown. I tried not to listen, but they kept shrieking every time my name came up, which it did several times.
“Joanie!” Tina, that’s Tina Smith, shrieked.
“What is it? And not so loud, that hurt!” I said wincing.
“They’re about to announce the top three, and they said it‘s something special,” Tina said nearly bouncing with excitement.
“Number three must be a disappointment to hot newcomer Joanie as this is the third week in a row her recording has been stuck at number three. Don’t cry for her, music fans, this makes the fifteenth week since becoming a professional singer less than thirty weeks ago that she has at least one song in the top three. And for the fifth week in a row the top two songs in the nation are both by Joanie. With this, Ms. Brown has five songs in the overall top twenty in addition to five of the top twenty on the country chart. I salute you, Joanie, and thanks,” the DJ said before playing my song.
“If anyone asks me to sing, I’ll kill them,” I said and laughed nervously to hide the shakes.
Pinky must have noticed, and came over and hugged me.
“It's all right, Joanie, I won’t let them harm you,” she said softly.
“What’s wrong?” asked Anna, who’d been happy and bubbly all evening.
“Joanie’s stressing out. Fame both attracts her and scares her. I think the music countdown overwhelmed her,” Pinky said.
Anna wrapped her arms around me and Pinky. I sat there on the rug sandwiched between the girls as my anxiety ebbed away.
“I’m sorry, girls,” I said as they had all gathered around the three of us on the floor. “I’m emotional some times, and the radio show got to me. I love entertaining; it’s so satisfying to make people happy, but the fame scares me. I’m a target as a time stopping mutant, and being a famous and rich singer doesn’t help. What scares me most is one of you, or my family, will get hurt because of me. It’s silly, but it’s the way I am. I guess my mind remembered only the bad aspects of my fame, and I lost it,” I said somewhat agitated.
“We know the risks, but we’re still your friends, Joanie. I say we cheer you up. Anyone for truth or dare?” asked Suzy, then she blew me a pretend kiss.
* * * *
We got up late; it was almost noon when we stirred Sunday morning. To be fair, we did stay up until dawn. We got dressed, ate, helped Tina and Chris clean up our mess, and put the futons and other stuff away. Next we went downstairs, and did Dr. Bellows’ lawn and weeded his garden and flowerbeds. We even hand washed his car, though that got silly as it was an unusually warm day and degraded into a parody of a wet tee-shirt contest. Yours truly did not get wet as I am fast and can stop time. So I cheated -- sue me!
Then they ganged up on me; they noticed they were all soaked yet I was bone dry. Pinky and Chris got me from behind with a full bucket each. I was soaked, the suds stinging my eyes, and I was deliriously happy. We cleaned up from that, and Dr. Bellows offered us some treats for ‘being good girls, and not waking him and his wife too often.’
“Joanie, a moment of your time please,“ the doctor asked as we prepared to leave for campus.
“Sure, Doc, what’s up?” I said and munched a pretend carrot.
“That’s the worst Bugs I’ve heard in ages,” he said.
“That wasn’t Bugs, that was Yoda doing his impression of Bugs,” I said, and chuckled as Dr. Bellows rolled his eyes.
“Thanks for inviting Anna and May Lee to your sleepover; it did them good to get out and just relax. Ever consider becoming a therapist, Joanie?”
“I could never do it; I’d get too wrapped up in my patient’s troubles. I’d drive myself crazy,” I said, “and don’t say, ‘It seems a shame to take a car for such a short trip.’”
“It depends on the weather.”
“Huh?”
“The car makes sense if it’s raining, or freezing out,” Dr Bellows said. “I could teach you how to avoid over identifying with your patients without becoming too detached from them.”
I chose not to answer that joke as I had too much dignity to sink to such depths. Plus my retort would violate the Johnny Carson 'three jokes in a row on the same subject' taboo.
“I’m flattered, but I wear too many hats as it is. Thanks for being so patient with us last night, Doctor, and I promise to see you professionally soon. I had a brief episode of panic last night when I heard how well my records are doing. Maybe it brought back memories of my kidnapping, or the ferryboat? I lost it for a while, but my friends snapped me out of it. I still think we should talk; it frightened me how fast the panic came and went,” I said.
“We will, anytime you’re ready, Joanie.”
We got back to campus, and Tom looked at me strangely. Lex left a cryptic message for me that the duty officer gave me when I retrieved my smilodons.
“Do you have any idea what Lex meant?” I asked after reading it.
All that the note said was, ‘Thanks!’ and a single red rose was in a vase attached to it.
~~What does that mean?” ~~
* * * *
April 23, 2007
The morning of April 23, 2007, dawned damp and wet. We got one of those weird combinations of weather fronts you can only get in this part of the country. A cold, damp air mass from Labrador was duking it out with a warm, soggy air mass from the Gulf of Mexico, while a branch of the jet stream was stirring thing aloft. Add in the comparative warmth of the Gulf Stream, and you have the perfect recipe for fog and rain. Less than a hundred miles from us, in Maine, they were getting a late season snow storm. One hundred miles to the south it was 70 and sunny.
My friends and I did our morning run down in the tunnels. They’d decided to continue to tag team me, so I didn’t wear them out. It was more for fun than anything else. I did it to keep my mind and body attuned to each other. Pinky did it for exercise, to burn off some of her lingering frustrations from her mutation, and to hang with me. Tom and Tina often ran with Pinky and I. They weren’t enhanced physically; they weren’t exemplars or regens, so exercise was even more to their benefit. On a campus filled with supers and exemplars, to be out of shape was suicide. Suzy, likewise, was not an exemplar, but she’d long been in the habit of walking or running to keep her body in shape -- a shape that Tom kept a close eye on. Around quarter to eight we quit to shower and meet for breakfast.
We ate a hearty breakfast; we’d burned a lot of calories running, and broke up to go to our respective classes. My only morning class wasn’t until ten, so I took George and Gracie out for some training and exercise.
My experience with housecats was there had to be something pretty damn interesting outside to induce them to go out on the wet ground in a heavy rain. George and Gracie LOVED it! I should have realized they’d be used to it; they were from the near arctic-like grasslands that spread across much of the northern hemisphere during the last ice age. Luckily for me, my lightweight poncho shed the rain without a leak yet ‘breathed’ comfortably.
~~ Bless you Ms. Rogers ~~
I had a difficult time getting them to come inside; they were having such fun. We were practicing retrieving objects that I threw, or cached under leaves and such. The speed they could reach as they ran was phenomenal for their size, and their tree climbing ability was a marvel. Pinky had them well trained, and they returned to me quickly when called. The tasty treats we gave them helped in that regard. Amazing what they’ll do for a nice chunk of sirloin, or a piece of dry food coated with touch of anchovy paste. I could see they were having such a good time I let them play a bit. The way they rough housed made me glad I was not a juicy mastodon at the mercy of their pack. There wasn’t a puddle safe from their lethal pouncing. The few remaining leaves from last fall that dared to blow across the grounds soon joined their ancestors, viciously shredded by my twin terrors.
We came in after an hour or so, and all three of us took long showers. The smilodons hogged the shower on me. I had to start another for myself. I spent considerable time brushing their coats, and brushing mine as well; having hair that hangs down to your butt is high maintenance. Maybe I’ll go for a shorter ‘do’ someday? Nah!
~~ I wonder if Eric would like it if I got a pixie cut. ~~
My morning classes went well as can be expected on a dreary day. Boring! To be honest, my mind was on other things like why did I not tell Eric about my farm? Am I afraid it will scare him off, my getting all domestic on him? He has to understand the farm is unimportant; what is important is us. When did I become such a love struck puppy? Was I always this way, but circumstance never let it express itself? The few times I did get serious about a girl as a man, I was overwhelmed by the sensations and sabotaged by my own inaction. I was not inactive as a girl, that was for sure.
A time worn saying back in Wisconsin goes, ‘If you don’t like the weather, just wait an hour.’ In New England the weather is as changeable, or worse. To my joy, the fog lifted, the rain stopped, and the sun shone intensely. By late morning the pavement was almost dry, and the temperature was into the upper sixties, simply glorious spring weather.
Lex got tagged for extra duty that afternoon when someone called in sick, and Charlie Lodgeman was busy, so I had to travel to the dealership on my own. It was better in a way; I could devote more time to what Fordâ„¢ wanted from me without interfering with Pinky’s school work.
* * * *
I ate an early lunch, then got dressed for the ride. I packed a change of clothes in my panniers, tied them on my Harley, and rode off for Berlin. I planned on arriving at the dealership sometime before one PM; it was a pleasant day and I’d allowed ample time.
I was enjoying the fresh air and emerging spring scenery when I felt the presence of something malevolent in a clump of woods near the road, not far from my farmhouse. The feeling was so intense and chaotic I had to pull off to the side of the road and stop to clear my head.
I sensed a moment of agonizing pain, inconsolable grief, and then a wave of exponentially increasing rage. Suddenly the rage cut off, and was replaced by emotionless cold. There was something vaguely familiar in the feelings, but I couldn't tell how far back, or forward, in time the scene originated.
“Was that a precognitive dream, or did my erratic empathic gift pick up on some fight near here?“ I thought out loud.
The disturbing impressions soon faded, I shook off my disorientation, got on my cycle, and continued on toward Berlin.
* * * *
To be continued
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_11_rev_5_Janetpost.doc | 122 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 12
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Joanie gets her truck. The school band trys out new members and she picks up more clean-up crew. Joanie meets a Doberman with a strange name and it's trainer. Joanie gets advice from Sam Everheart about her house projects. She calls MSG for the latest on the Ultra-X investigation and talks with Gin's youngest sister, formerly one of the bad guys. Ms. Hartford gives Joanie a key to why Pinky's mom hates mutants and has a disasterous phone conversation.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter deals with home renovation and buying a truck, and may not be suitable for younger readers but if you’ve read my stuff you know it’s not graphic and is often silly but you were warned. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Detailing by Itinerant
Additional proofing by Janet Nolan
Chapter 12- 4X4-Lord Mr. Ford What Have You Done, Home Improvement 6, The New New Avengers 6, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 1
Whateley Academy Dunwich, Berlin NH, Boston MA, April 23-24, 2007
April 23, 2007
Bad weather had delayed the transfer of my truck to Berlin. The same storm that made the morning so wet and gray at Whateley had dumped 5 inches of wet snow to our west a couple of days earlier. They couldn’t get the truck from the Buffalo, NY area to Berlin until Sunday. The dealership and the custom accessories people worked late into Sunday night, and part of Monday morning, to get it ready. Mr. Ford was taking a personal interest in my vehicle and used his *influence* to speed things up. I guess he didn’t want his publicity goldmine to be disappointed.
I arrived in Berlin a little before one o'clock PM, still shaken by that frighteningly vague, empathic daydream I’d had. I decided to discuss it with the gang later on the chance it was a precognitive vision. Despite my lingering worries, I got caught up in the glorious spring afternoon and was eagerly anticipating seeing my truck. I rode into the dealership and noticed several photographers and camera technicians busily filming me.
“Ms. Brown, over here, please!” called out Frank, my salesman. A thirty-something man in a high-priced suit stood next to him. I rode up close and parked my cycle.
~~I’ve seen that man on TV. He wouldn’t! ~~
“Good afternoon Mr. Ford. You didn’t need to come out for me. I made a deal, and I’ll stick to it,” I said, smiling while shaking my head in surprise at all the fuss.
“No, Ms. Brown, your champion, Senator Johnson, said you were absolutely trustworthy, and I was I fool if I didn’t thank you in person. Joanie -- I hope I may call you that -- we couldn’t waste the opportunity. Your rise to fame has been meteoric, and I hope your relations with Ford will prove as spectacular,“ said Mr. Ford.
“Meteors burn up or crash into the Earth; are you sure you wish to be associated with one?” I asked, and grinned.
“The Senator was right; you don’t take your success seriously. Perhaps meteoric was the wrong word, but we’ve made no mistake. You’re no flash in the pan; you’ll be around for the long-haul,” he said with conviction.
“You don’t know how true that is,” I thought out loud.
“You said something, Joanie?” Mr. Ford asked.
“I was thinking out loud. I’m a Midwestern girl, but I love this part of the country enough to plan on living here. I’m converting an old farm house into a rental property, and a barn into my dream home. I’m preoccupied with it,“ I explained.
I was informed later by Mr. Ford that the lifetime free service and repairs would be extended to my Focus. To them it was nothing much, how long will a person keep a car? I planned to get my money’s worth and then some.
~~I can see it now. “You bought this truck five hundred years ago, Joanie, and it needs a what?” The Ford service technicians will learn to loath me. ~ ~
“That explains the F250 crew cab. So many tall men and women buy them for the headroom or for the status a big vehicle represents, but whatever the reason we’re, or should I say I am, glad you choose Ford,” Mr. Ford said cheerfully. We chatted for a while as the cameras recorded everything.
I used the dealership’s employee break room to change into a more appropriate outfit for the ceremony and the ads they wanted to film -- bib overall cutoffs. I suspected the Oshkosh-by-Gosh people would not be too upset with my alterations. I wore a demi-cup bra and a man’s styled short-sleeved work shirt, my hair clipped in back, and the sexiest steel-toed work boots you’ve ever seen. The fetish shop back in Madison had the Steve Zink people make them up special for me, complete with a non-skid, oil-resistant sole, steel safety toe and insole, a built-in 3 inch rise in the heel, and ankle supports.
Okay, so it’s not an appropriate outfit for such a ceremony, well not traditionally, but I looked so good in it, and no one would connect me with Whateley. It wasn’t totally out of place; think of all the women models used over the years at the major car shows. My outfit was a cross between ‘Daisy Dukes’ and Pamela Anderson’s ‘Tool Time’ costume on ‘Home Improvement.’ Without the boots it could be a one-piece swimsuit. I walked out to the cameras and Mr. Ford started laughing.
“Y ... y ... you're serious about the farm project, aren’t you, Daisy Mae.” I giggled at his Lil’ Abner joke.
“I am, though I admit this outfit is slightly extreme. I can take it off if it’s a problem,” I said and started to unhook one suspender.
Mr. Ford eyes bulged out, for real. “Th … th … that’s not necessary … and I think Mr. Hefner would object.” He paused for breath. “Please, Joanie, don’t wear that on your jobsite; that is dangerously distracting, or the ‘other’ outfit either,“ said Mr. Ford as he calmed down.
“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist,” I said with a wide grin on my face.
“It’s mostly light demolition work -- removing bad plaster and the like -- cleaning up after the workers, and chasing for last minute supplies. The heavy stuff I’m leaving to professionals. May we get on with this? Places to be, things to do,” I said, as I flashed a huge smile at the gathering crowd.
They made a little ceremony out of the signing over of the title. They’d registered the truck for me and mounted the plates. The real plates were secured out of sight under the front passenger seat; these were temporaries for my protection. It was a suggestion of Frank’s, and he got a scorching kiss from me when I found out. I think he’ll be less condescending with future female customers after that reward.
I had a short, private conversation with him between the filming of the ads, and I told him how poorly he treated me when we first met and how much he had improved.
“That idea with the plates was thoughtful. Frank, so you deserved a kiss. You can be a great salesperson; I know it. Listen to your customers and pause to think before you speak. Once you knew what I wanted, you were a dream; before that you gave off sexist vibes. I’m a sixties child, Frank -- you can tell, can’t you?” I said and he smiled in response. “Use your knowledge with a touch of class, and you’ll go far in sales or whatever else you want to do. For practice, why don’t you try listening to the finance major in your office? You two might hit it off if you can ditch ‘Mr. Macho,’" I said.
I have suspicions we weren’t as alone as I thought, because later that day the college gal from the office came up to me, gave me a hug, and said, “Thanks.”
Between ‘takes’, Frank and various mechanics described all they had done for me. Most of the reliable but low tech storage batteries were replaced with the latest reversible fuel cell technology. This air/fuel cell combined storage and power production in one package and made this an all electric truck. In storage mode it converted the waste products from power generation into fuel gases and oxygen, which were compressed and stored. It did not suffer in performance or driving range as electrics historically did. The cells could use compressed natural gas, propane, alcohol, gasoline, or even diesel in a pinch.
The drive motor/regenerative breaking units used the latest in high-temperature superconductive materials and bucky-ball impregnated bearings to boost their efficiency and horsepower. The new drive train trimmed over five-hundred pounds from the truck's curb weight and increased its cargo capacity.
With the Z rated tires they’d included, the truck could do 0 to 60 in less than six seconds and topped out at over 160 mph with a load, despite the wind resistance inherent in an uncovered pickup. With the hard bedcover in place, the rear section contained a pop-up *flap* that acted like a spoiler or rear wing. With the hard-cover removed other tricks boosted performance. If the ‘bed’ was not filled too high, at speed a rollershade like device would extend a super-fabric cover. Retained by recessed tracks along the top of the bed this *soft-cover* could enclose much or all of the cargo area. A portion of the core of the tailgate telescoped upward then tilted back. This spoiler boosted traction and kept the rear-end on the ground just like the hard-cover *flap* -- both pushed the top speed much higher. Corvettes would have a hard time keeping up under those circumstances. The outer-rear quarter pannels in combination with the tailgate spoiler would deploy as dragbreaks to maximize high-speed stopping power exactly like on a jet aircraft. I was shocked when they explained it to me. My mind makes the strangest connections sometimes.
~~Why am I thinking of Slappy Squirrel? Oh! ~~
“My Ghod, I’m ‘The Little Old Lady from Pasadena’. I know that was a Dodge in the song, but you understand,“ I said in my surprise.
“There are songs about Fords, Joanie. I can get you copies if you like,“ said Mr. Ford, with a chuckle. He was clearly having a great time.
Oversized anti-lock brakes, traction control, and other high-speed handling features were added as part of the police package along with ceramo-metallic laminate armor for the passenger compartment. The glass was the latest in optical grade ceramics sandwiched over some new plastic based on bucky tubes. It was as clear as Lexan but far stronger. This gave the truck a resistance to armor-piercing weapons that only tanks could approach a few decades ago. Anti-gravity systems were used in a limited role: to help stabilize heavy loads and ease loading and unloading, improve handling, boost traction and absorb some of the energy in collisions to protect the passengers. The passenger compartment was re-enforced and equipped with multistage airbags and other advanced safety features.
“FYI, Joanie, your truck has the same type of armor as the new Presidential limousines we’re building,” said Mr. Ford with pride.
“My truck is better armored than the President’s limo?” I asked.
“It’s as well armored as the current Presidential limos, but it’s much lighter in weight. Oh, those Z rated tires have the latest in drive flat sidewalls. You can drive at up to 60 mph for a minimum of one hundred miles on a completely flat tire. These features will soon be standard on all our the top of the line armored products,“ he finished.
The accessories were better than I expected as well. The cycle carrier and loading system was fully automatic and could unload to either side as well as the rear. I only needed to get the bike within range of the device, activate it, and it did the rest. The towing package was heavy duty, but light in weight and self-storing when not in use -- it folded up under the truck -- unlike the rigid mounted kind that can damage cars in collisions. The kennel for the smilodons was sturdy, easy to disassemble and reassemble without tools, yet provided great shelter and protection to the animals. The police/emergency package included powerful lights and an electric remote-controlled winch mounted above the front bumper. I was very pleased with all they had done.
“I’m so happy with everything. The truck and the accessories I’ve received are far above what I expected,“ I said, grinning, as we finished filming the ads.
“Check this out,” said Mr. Ford.
He pressed the buttons on the keyless-entry key fob in a particular sequence, and the truck started driving to us. It maneuvered around the camera technicians and other obstacles easily and stopped just feet from us.
“That was a demonstration of our latest auto drive system -- that was the homing function. The same system allows the truck to self-park and to drive itself on most highways. It senses the edge of the road and other traffic and drives accordingly. You only need to set the maximum speed. We don’t advocate relying on it for that purpose, it’s more to prevent you driving off the road in snow, or having an accident due to driver fatigue or inattention. As a test, we did drive a vehicle with this system cross-country and, except for a professional test driver behind the wheel as a precaution, it did all the driving. We told the GPS navigation system where to go, and it did everything else. We’re very proud of our engineers' work,“ said Mr. Ford.
“This is a far more expensive a vehicle than I agreed to. I’m grateful, but curious; why?” I asked.
“You’re the best singer there is today, the best in ages, and you have done your best to help people in time of peril. I’ve seen the video of the rescues you made. You deserve our best effort -- that and the Senator said he’d push legislation to give sweeping powers to the EPA to set and enforce stringent fuel economy standards for all motor vehicles, including heavy trucks, if we didn’t sweeten our offer,” he said and laughed.
“He would at that,” I said, and broke out in giggles.
Mr. Ford and the dealership owner offered to take me out to dinner, but I begged off. I would have loved to eat at the Box-T again and catch up with Julie Anne’s parents, but time was too short.
“Thank you, but my friends are waiting for me back at school. I’m on duty tonight with Security, so I must run; perhaps another time,” I said as I made my goodbyes and drove off with my cycle secure in its carrier. I drove slowly at first, getting a feel for the handing. Except for some modest tire noise, the truck was extremely quiet due to the electric drive system. I decided to try out the collision avoidance and auto-drive systems another day. I did take it up to 100 briefly on a wide open stretch of road, and it handled like a sedan at 40. I was soon back at Whateley. I rushed off to the King Annex, where I found the core of my new band already in practice. A new girl was playing along on the xylophone and she sounded good.
“Cindy, you’re in History 103, Introduction to Mutant History, second period with me, right?” I asked.
Cindy was the girl who was so concerned for me when I sat in the teacher’s desk and acted like the class delinquent the Monday before. She became one of the best participants in discussion after I admitted that I was the substitute instructor.
“Yes, Joanie; I heard you say that you were still holding tryouts for your band so here I am. Why are you looking so happy -- I mean, happier than usual? If you smiled any wider your head would fall off,“ Cindy joked.
“I got my new truck today. That means I can start renovating the farmhouse and converting the barn on the farm I bought,” I said.
“I can see you being happy about the new truck, but happy about construction work?” Cindy questioned.
“It’s my first home, and apart from the exterior shell and the timber frame it’s a blank canvas. My hand will be on every aspect of its design and construction -- it’s my baby,” I said and smiled.
“It’s your dream home… It’s an adult-sized Barbie doll house!” Cindy said and laughed.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“I suddenly remembered, Joanie, you are a Barbie doll. I bought a special edition Joanie ‘Barbie’ as a Christmas present for my younger sister. I’d like to be on your cleanup crew, but I’m allergic to house dust,” Cindy explained.
“There’s a lot to do outside, and we may need a gofer. If your allergy isn’t too bad, I am providing dust masks, and I’m renting portable fans to vent the building. You don’t have to be on my work crew to be in the band though,“ I said.
“I’ll think about it; I could use the extra money. I’m on a full scholarship, but that doesn’t cover lab fees and other unusual expenses. Mom raised me by herself, so we don’t have much in savings. I was surprised you’re still holding tryouts; I thought you’d be full up by now,“ Cindy said.
“I think Joanie intimidates the students,” said Pinky. “They get nervous because she’s such a successful singer and because she’s with Security. Joanie’s the sweetest girl I know, but they can’t see past the fame, or her quick trigger fingers on those Tazers,” Pinky said and giggled.
“I only use them as a last resort, or when I feel like it,“ I stuck my tongue out and blew a raspberry. “Besides the xylophone, what else to you play, Cindy?” I asked.
“I was in the school orchestra before I came to Whateley. I’m a percussionist. I can play kettle drums, chimes, vibraphone, marimba, and lots of special effects like temple blocks, sleigh-bells and slide whistle. I’m a fair drummer and a decent alto, if I may say so,” Cindy said confidently.
"I’m a fan of Frank Zappa’s music and some modern jazz. You can never have enough percussionists when it comes to popular music these days,” I said. “Cindy, this is embarrassing, but what’s your code name?”
“Barbie Q, I’m an energizer and manipulate fire,” she said.
“Not Incindra?” I asked.
“That’s too close to a registered super's name, and look at me. I’m a six foot tall, slim and stacked blonde -- Barbie fits, don’t you think?”
“Doh! It’s so obvious; I guess I’m more blonde than I thought … We could be sisters, you know … What was I saying? I like forgot, whatever!” I said, and giggled. They looked at me, trying not to laugh. “I am such a girl sometimes,” I said; now they all giggled or snorted. “Sorry for getting here so late; it took longer at the dealership than I expected.”
“That’s okay, it gave us time to try out Cindy. She’s good; she demonstrated on Lonnie’s drum set and sounded great. Cindy will be a great backup to Lonnie,” said Pinky. Apparently Pinky had been running ‘the show’ in my absence.
“Hi, Lonnie, I’m glad you could make it. Gang, Lonnie’s a magic type and was most helpful to me recently. What do you think of everybody here, Lonnie?” I asked.
“Pinky is right; Cindy is smoking. Suzy’s great on piano and pretty slick on electric organ and synthesizer. Her singing is the best. She must have had lessons, because she sings like she’s had professional training,” said Lonnie.
“Mom taught me, and I did have some professional training. Lonnie’s a fair singer herself. I thought Jenny and Pinky's voices were awesome,” Suzy said and blushed.
“Just so everyone here understands, Suzy’s mom was a professional singer, but ended up a banking auditor as she couldn’t make a living of it. It’s a tough business. She’s very good singer, though; I’ve heard her,” I said.
“Last time was at your Mom’s funeral, I … I did it again, sorry,” said Suzy looking sad.
“You know Suzy’s mom? I heard you’d rescued Suzy; heck, half the campus must know that by now. Peeper’s been spreading the word that Suzy is ‘hands off,’” stated Lonnie.
“The less you know the better, but, yes, I know her family,” I said.
“Family, I understand. I have secrets I need to protect too,” said Lonnie.
I see Tom and Tina Smith made it; did anyone else come?” I was disappointed in the turnout.
“Cheryl, the Crystal Hall cashier, got stuck filling in at her job, so she can’t make it tonight. She sent word through Jenny Chang she’s still interested. Jenny plays a hot fiddle, Joanie, and sings well too. When Pinky said you wanted us to learn some old country tunes, Jenny said she played the five-string banjo. She ran back to her dorm to get it and is off in the instrument repair shop tuning it. Tina played her twelve-string guitar and did some Joni Mitchell for us. She’s quite competent but Tom …” Lonnie winced.
“I came to give Tina moral support, and because I know many of you -- you’re all cute, especially you, Suzy. Um, you too, Joanie,“ said Tom. He smiled at me, or was it Suzy? “I’d like to help in some way, but I’m not musically gifted,” he said.
“That’s putting it mildly; my brother sucks,” Tina said and laughed.
“He has a limited range, and he needs training, but Tom...“ Poor Suzy was trying.
“Be honest, Suzy. It’s best,” I said softly.
“Tom, I’m sorry. You're bad, but not everyone has singing talent, maybe you play something?” Suzy asked in desperation.
~~The girl has got it bad. She’s coming to the staff gynecologist to go on birth control if I have to hog-tie her. ~~
“Sorry, I never learned, but you could use a gofer. A drum kit, even an electronic one, needs setup and take down, and there are the music stands, the sheet music, the chairs, and Suzy’s synthesizer. Cindy must need help too. I can be a big help and maybe I can learn to play something,” he pleaded. He looked so sincere, and I saw Suzy looking at me with those same puppy dog/kitten-in-the-rain eyes Mel uses to such effect.
“Okay, okay, I’ll find some use for you. Put away those eyes, Suzy, they’re dangerous,” I said and shook my head in my hands.
“Thank you, you’ll not regret it, Joanie,” exclaimed Tom, as he ran over, picked me up, and hugged me hard.
“Tom, let me go!” I half shouted, half laughed.
He looked so embarrassed afterward; it’s rare in my experience to see a guy blush like that. Suzy laughed so hard she dropped the sheet music she was holding. The light came on over my head.
~~Is this part of some bizarre practical joke to get even for Tom’s night with Lex and company? No one’s said anything to me and that’s suspicious. ~~
I pulled Tom back into me and kissed him on the cheek.
“That hug was kind of nice, but my boyfriend might object, Tom,” I said and gave him a fierce glower for all of a second until I snickered.
“What do you think, girls? A tight Speedo, some high-heeled copwboy boots, and Tom’s our pole dancer!”
“Joanie!” yelled Suzy, but I could see her thinking as she wet her lips.
* * * *
Cheryl managed to make it anyway, so we got the chance to hear her play. She blew a wicked cornet, a mournful French horn, and her sax was to die for. Stop snickering, dear d/j/w readers or you’re out of here. And I thought I had a filthy mind.
“You said you played alto sax, I quote, ‘not as well’ as the horns. You lied to me; you're great on the cornet and French horn, but you are a ghodess on the sax,” I said and gave her a quick hug.
“I didn’t lie! I don’t play it as well; I play it better,” Cheryl said and laughed.
“I deserve that for all the Brittany Spears gags. You’re in if you want, Cheryl. You agree, gang?”
They all gave their enthusiastic approval. We spent the next 30 minutes playing Bill Monroe’s ‘Blue Moon of Kentucky,’ a true crossover hit. I was pleased that they all could sight-read music, and they picked up the tune quickly. Each time we played we were noticeably better than the time before. We didn’t have a mandolin player, but my Les Paul, suitably tweaked, was a fair approximation.
After this one song, I knew this group held promise, and I was damned sure I’d do my best to help them prove it. Tina Smith was a competent singer, and her style complemented Pinky and Cindy’s range and style of backup singing. Jenny was a revelation -- how did such a petite girl hit such low notes? Suzy could match me note for note, flawlessly, except on the extreme ends of my range. She clearly had her mom’s talent, and then some. We tried a few times with Pinky and Jenny singing lead and yours truly helping the rest on backup; that worked well too. That gave us some added flexibility and ensured I would not hog the spotlight too much.
Tom was grinning with happiness at how well his ‘girl’ sang.
~~After Suzy goes to the gynecologist, he goes to the vet to be neutered, spayed, and fixed -- I’m taking no chances. ~~
* * * *
When we finished practicing, I offered to show off my new truck to them. Cheryl showed her big city origins; she thought it impractical.
“That’s going to be hard to park and expensive to run,” she said.
I demonstrated the auto park feature, and opened the hood to let her see the reversible fuel-cell system.
“It’s the latest in electric drive-train vehicles. It’s multi-fuel capable and highly efficient. I’m not buying it to show off like so many Hummer owners; I will use this to haul people, and supplies, and my cycle. And I need something to transport the smilodons to and from the farm,” I said; I showed them the kennel in the truck bed.
“You’re going to drive your smilodons around in that? The other drivers will crap in their pants when they see them. Sorry about the language, Joanie,” said Cheryl.
I showed off the synth-leather heated seats and the built-in food cooler/warmer in the console between the front seats. And they just had to include the latest satellite radio and premium sound system -- I wonder why? It was getting late when we went to eat. By six, I was at Security and starting my overlapping shift.
* * * *
A package was waiting for at the main desk. I signed for it and locked it up after giving it a brief glance. It was the results of a background check I had requested on Pinky’s parents. I only had time to read the overview, but it was not encouraging. At best, the father was uninterested in his daughter, as he and Mrs. Conners were drifting apart due to her increasingly radical, anti-mutant beliefs. He was turning to other women for “solace” -- by that euphemism, the investigators meant sex.
~~Guys, I know I look 17 but you don’t need to tone down the language for me. But still, that was sweet of them; I should give them hugs … Son of a …! I bet that’s why they did it. Ooh they are sneaky! ~~
More likely he’d been unfaithful since sometime before Pinky mutated and used her mother’s anti-mutantism as an excuse to cheat.
I patrolled with one of the K-9 officers, and she put her Doberman through its paces. She was good and so was the dog. Despite the temptation of several rabbits we spooked, the dog never left her side. She demonstrated its ability to detect forbidden items, as it easily found a small sealed plastic pipe she’d buried earlier that had a sample of an illegal substance in it.
“Do you think my smilodons will be able to do that?” I asked.
“I don’t see why not. I’ve worked with your friend, Pinky; they are quick studies and remember their lessons well. We’ve started them hunting for buried treats, and they seem to have sensitive noses. Time will tell, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Felines are supposed to be hard to train, but these two are nearly as well behaved as Fifi,” she said.
“FIFI ?” I screamed, then burst into giggles.
She held on to her dignity for a whole second before laughing joyously. We held onto each other to steady ourselves until we’d settled down. Fifi stood rigidly at her side the entire time; Dobermans have no sense of humor, I guess.
“He likes it, and it confuses the perps -- Fifi as the name for a male police dog? They expect Bruno, Spike, or Killer,” she said as we started walking again, interrupted by sporadic, recurring giggles.
* * * *
April 24, 2007
After an uneventful shift, I took care of the kitties and went to bed. I had odd dreams that night. I kept thinking back to the disturbing daydream. Something terrible happened or would happen at that spot. I was frustrated as most of what I had was only feelings, and little else. It was as if I held the key piece to a puzzle but I didn’t know which puzzle it was from.
At some point I woke in a cold sweat, twisted up in my sheets. From the way the smilodons were looking at me, I had been screaming. Although I had added soundproofing to the room and door, I woke my nearest neighbors who checked to see if I was all right. After assuring them it was a nightmare and apologizing, I changed my bed linens and went back to sleep.
This time I dreamt of that Goth girl -- Sara, the demon princess. She said my fantasy was a bit tame, but she obliged by turning into Eric and we … Normally I shower after my morning run; this time I showered before -- I reeked of sex. I changed my sheets again and showered. No sense confusing my friends about my nighttime activities. I have got to have more dreams like this last one or get laid. I was feeling so fine; I was silent as I ran. Often I’m a chatterbox, too much energy I guess. Pinky noticed I was in an odd mood.
“Why are you so quiet, Joanie? The excitement of your new truck wore off already?”
“Yeah, Joanie, what gives?” asked Tina Smith.
“I didn’t sleep well, I had a daydream on the way to Berlin yesterday and it worries me. I think it was a precognitive vision, but I don’t know what it means. It may have happened in the past, but something happened or will happen in or near the woods a little past my farm, and it was bad. Not much upsets me, but this was unlike anything I’ve ever felt, even when I had guns pulled on me in robberies as a man. My property is fine, as is the way from the farm to Whateley, but there is, or was, or will be something down that road.…”
“You are worried; hell, Joanie, I can sense that deep-down you’re terrified. You are one spooked girl,” said Pinky. ”I promise, Joanie, I will not go past your farm down that road unless we go as a group with you, okay? And Tina and I will pass the word on to the rest of the gang, right?” Pinky asked, and Tina nodded.
I was relieved they took my concern seriously and I was glad Pinky didn’t ask why I felt so good otherwise. I was not keen to explain what I’d done in my dreams.
* * * *
After my morning classes, I talked with Sam in Security about her Kane tower project. I’d seen her apartment a couple times and marveled at the craftsmanship. Though the natural theme was over-the-top by my tastes, I had to admit the work was first rate.
“I’ve seen your place; it’s not my style, but it’s beautifully constructed. I got a tip from the Sinclair girls, Jade and Jinn, that a girl named Fran Barnes can manipulate natural materials; she ‘persuades’ them to change shape. The girls said Fran did most of the wood and stone work in your apartment. Also, Fran cut the window openings and built the balcony, and she did this all through the use of her mutant powers. Jinn further mentioned something about Fran making the materials ‘flow’?”
“Fran did that; she’s a remarkable talent. I’m encouraging her to get formal training as an engineer and architect. It has to be natural material though. No plastics or steel. Why are you interested in Fran, Ms. Brown?” she asked.
Sam paused; her expression went blank for a moment. “… the southwest most quarter-quarter section of the southwest quadrant of town section 12 contiguous with the northwest most quarter-quarter section of the northwest quadrant of section 13 to the banks of Whateley creek inclusive, I understand. That’s enough, Hive. So you bought the Hennessey place and are applying for permits,” Sam said, then a smirk spread across her face. “You’re planning to renovate the farmhouse first, then the barn will be converted into your dream home. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got all domestic on us, Wild Child,” Sam said with a Cheshire cat smile. It was unnerving to say the least.
Sam had an odd sense of humor from all those years in combat -- all very hush-hush -- and sometimes gave me the willies. I was glad we were on the same side.
“I mentioned the barn has powder-post beetle damage, and Jinn said Fran might be able to repair that and make the wood as good as or better than new,” I said. “And what the hell did you mean by ‘Wild Child’?” I snarled in a bitchy tone.
I placed my hands on my hips and pouted defiantly, not the effect I intended. I meant to sneer menacingly, but it came out this sexy pout. I could see my reflection in one of the glass walls of Sam’s office. To Sam’s credit, she didn’t even flinch before continuing.
“She can do that and more; just give her a supply of wood, or stone, or whatever of sufficient size for the finished project, and she does the most amazing things with it. She cut the window openings in the Kane tower walls by ‘flowing’ the stone like the Sinclairs said. It only took a few minutes per opening and they’re holding up fine. You saw the bathroom grotto in my apartment -- that was her work.
“As to the other question, ‘Wild Child’ is what a few of the officers have nicknamed you. They know about the magazine, Ms. July -- remember we provided the security for your photo shoots. Given the outfits you wear sometimes, it seems appropriate. The Chief and I are discouraging the more lurid descriptions. Your nude photos will end up inside some of the lockers, I’m afraid,” Sam explained.
“I’m in some of the lockers now on those pop star posters; it’s no big deal. I want and need Fran for repairs to the original structure. It’s in my interest to save as much of the old building as possible. I must be careful not to spoil the ‘historic appearance’ of the farm or whatever phrase the local zoning board uses. The historic preservationists get real antsy when you alter the look of existing buildings in this part of the country. The guys from Operations -- who surveyed the site -- say the barn sits on a gneiss piece of rock ledge. Sam, I just made a geology joke; you could help by laughing,” I said.
“When I hear something funny I will,” Sam replied.
“Could Fran convert that into a monolithic rock foundation and basement? I’ll also need your input on security features. I was kidnapped last Halloween, and I need to feel safe in my home. I hope to have a family someday, and I want them kept protected, too. Now is the time to design with security in mind, and Sam, money is no object if it brings a significant increase in safety. I’m not taking anything for granite,” I added.
~~Come on Sam, this is my *A* material. *A* as in awful, be honest, Joanie. Ghods, why did I say *that* last one. ~~
“I have some time off tomorrow; I’ll drive over and draw up some plans. I know you’re not comfortable using a gun, thus your preference for the Tazers. I’ll devise a plan that doesn’t depend heavily on your ability to shoot,” Sam said. She looked me in the eyes and had a worried expression on her face.
“Joanie, I advise you to get over that feeling; you may need to use deadly force at some point. You’re too prominent a mutant and celebrity not to be at risk. If you won’t do it for your self, consider the danger you present to your loved ones. What if to save them, the only choice was to kill; what if that loved one was Eric?” Sam asked.
I gasped and my heart pounded. I struggled to keep control.
“How?”
“Hive keeps me well informed on any news that relates to Whateley. Don’t deny it. Your heart rate doubled within seconds of hearing his name. I’m deadly serious; your loved ones are targets,” Sam said.
“I will if I have to, but I won’t like it,” I replied.
I was angry at Sam for what she said and angry at myself for forgetting the risk I posed. I feared for their safety and for my ability to restrain myself should the worst happen.
~~If any of my friends, no … if anyone at all is hurt or dies because of me, Heaven help who did it, for I will show them little mercy, and none to my self. ~~
“Good, you realize the importance of this. I don’t like killing either, but sometimes it’s necessary,” Sam replied seriously. She began to smile and I saw that wicked twinkle flash in her eyes. “Joanie, if you keep making jokes like that last one, you will be putting your life in danger … from me,” Sam said and laughed.
I debated saying something like, “Gee, Sam, I was just getting my rocks off,” but that would have been tempting fate.
“Is there anyone else who’s good at construction? Operations said they will provide some work credit students for my projects,” I said.
“Ask for Harry Wolfe: he’s big, strong, and a genius with mechanical devices. He looks just like his name, right out of a werewolf film, but he’s a gentle soul. With Jinn and Jade that‘s everyone I worked with, except Stan and Morrie,” she said.
“Who do you think did the preliminary engineering survey?” I retorted.
“They’re a couple of good eggs and experts on Whateley’s below ground secrets -- trust them, Joanie,” Sam said.
“I do, Sam. Um, one last thing, where's …” I tried to say. I think the smirk forming on my face gave me away.
“Darren and Tabitha; I wasn’t born yesterday, Joanie,” Sam said, and prepared to dismiss me.
~~I may have to call in the big guns -- my Dr. Sara -- for a *consult* on this one. Sam is going down. I’ll make her laugh at one of my jokes if it takes all year. ~~
“Before I go, how am I doing as an officer? I’m not a full-time professional like you, but am I pulling my own weight, or is everyone being nice to the hopeless bimbo?” I asked.
“You’ve improved dramatically. You came into this without having gone through the military or a police academy and that’s a big disadvantage. Your mutant abilities make up for some of that, and your 49 years of life experience are a definite advantage. I agree with Chief Delarose that we should keep your duties light and continue training. Once we team you with your smilodons you’ll be a serious asset for night patrol, crowd control and apprehending violent offenders. The Chief said you have a good intuitive grasp of detective work; your youthful appearance is a huge edge.
"We won’t push you too fast Joanie; we are professionals. Don’t let anyone say you are not pulling your weight here; you are an asset to the department. Think of it; if all goes to plan, in a few months Whateley will have the first C-9 -- or is that S-9? -- police team in the world,” Sam said.
I snickered softly.
“You cracked a joke? And for me? Sam, I’m proud of you! Thanks for the advice and encouragement. You’re not the kind to butter-up a person, so I know that evaluation was honest. I owe you; how about we go out hunting this fall? The guys in the department say you love it. We can take the smilodons and have a great time. I’ll bet they make excellent retrievers once they are trained,” I said.
“But retrievers of what, ducks or duck hunters?”
”What? You don’t have a mastodon season in New Hampshire?” I asked in mock surprise.
Sam pointed for me to leave, so I walked out giggling. As I turned down the corridor to leave, I thought I heard Sam laughing.
* * * *
Operations was working up plans for my project so we could settle on a design and estimate the necessary supplies. I used the interval to check with MSG that afternoon on the progress of finding the people responsible for the Ultra-X-Amine homologue attacks. I was worried about the lack of any word on locating Tom and Tina’s missing parents. The odd line Suzy had shouted about not going back made no sense. Was it the fevered ramblings of her mind during burnout, or was there some significance to her words? Dr Bellows had *read* all three of them, and passed his findings on to MSG as they were officially part of the investigatory team. I was out of the loop and wanted in. I called MSG’s HQ.
“You have reached the offices of the Madison Supers Group. We are unable to answer your call at this time. If this is an emergency press zero for the operator otherwise wait for the tone and leave a message.”
~~I love answering machines.~~
-- BEEP! --
“Pickup the phone you lazy bums, it’s Joanie! You know, the tall sexy one who’s getting seriously pissed at talking to a machine …”
“Joanie, calm down, it’s Glacier Girl. Great to hear from you, um, why are you so upset -- what gives?” Her voice screamed ‘I am woman, take me now.’ Mind you, my voice isn’t much better.
“GG, any word on Tom and Tina Smith’s missing parents or the creeps who slipped the kids the Ultra-X-Amine make-a-mutant Mickeys?” I asked.
“Joanie, you watch way too many old movies. Best lay off the old detective thrillers. Impatient for results are we? It’s only a few weeks into the investigation. It’s rarely like on TV,” GG said.
“Suzy’s my niece! Of course I’m fucking impatient, and Tom and Tina are friends!” I said with anger.
“Temper, temper, Joanie; you need to relax. Have some sex, dear. We’ve looked for commonalities in the children’s backgrounds and that of their parents. We’ve looked at places they’ve been to, activities, social clubs, and conventions, whatever. Suzy’s fevered ramblings about not going back may have paid off. All three of them attended a national honors camp for gifted middle school and high school students in the sciences. It’s the only connection we could find between them. The camp was held during Christmas break at a large convention hotel in St. Louis, Missouri.
“At the camp, they participated in a genetics experiment. Each of the nearly one-thousand students gave blood samples for analysis. The testing lab is legitimate, but the tests done and the way the results were used was not normal. The students were told this was a test of genetic markers across and along ethnic lines. They were told the experiment would look at hair color, skin tone, height and weight, and not much else. The samples were subjected to a thorough scan for suspected markers for so called mutant genes. Some of the tests are not yet FDA approved. Not everyone who has the marker genes becomes a mutant, but the more you have the greater the likelihood, though the odds are still low. If you don’t have them you’ll almost certainly never become a mutant. The MCO uses such tests to uniquely identify each registered mutant. Several specific markers were supposed to be a secret known only to the MCO and a select number of researches. Our Dr. Sara and her mentor, Dr. Otto, are members of that elite ‘club.’
“Of all these students, only a dozen tested had twenty or more of the forty-two suspected markers, and only three had more than 35 of them -- guess who?” she asked.
“My new friends?” I suggested.
“Bingo! Pretty damn swift aren’t you, Joanie. By the way, you have all 42 markers now, but a test of a DNA sample from some of your old male clothing showed you had just 21. When Dr. Sara said you got the best of all the best gene combinations of your possible selves, she wasn’t kidding. By the odds, you would normally never have mutated. Because of the way your mutation changed your genes, you will likely give birth to mutants. Some of the markers are in the mitochondrial DNA, and only the woman’s mitochondrial DNA carries on to their children, not the male's.
“We’re trying to track down the doctor and two nurses who took the samples. The originally scheduled team had a traffic accident on the way and never made it. The replacements had all the proper paperwork, but hours after the science camp ended they and their records disappeared,” GG said.
“The accident smells of being staged to make a switch in the staff,“ I said.
“They all suffered broken legs, and all were similar fractures and inconsistent with the damage to the vehicles. We suspect they were drugged at their motel, had their legs broken by a doctor, then placed in their damaged vehicle and revived. The police who later interviewed the victims of that crash say their recollections around that date are all fuzzy,” said GG.
“The news on the Smiths is not good. The police techs found blood splatter in the family house. It was partially cleaned up but still detectable,” she said.
“Could it be from an old accident?” I asked.
“The DNA was too intact; there was no measurable degradation in the chains. The blood was fresh, Joanie, from during or just after the twins’ mutation. It doesn’t match the childrens’ types, but it does match the wife’s. Her blood type was on file at the hospital where the twins were born. The father’s was not known but can be guessed at from the twins’ and mother’s types. The large area of the splatter suggests the parents were forcibly abducted and injured during the attempt. I’m sorry; we’re trying, but it doesn’t look good," GG explained.
“Any luck on the Ultra-X-Amine homologue end of the case? The two hit men from the ferry must have provided some information,” I queried.
“They were contract ‘muscle’, Joanie, they don’t know much. The one Gin turned into a little girl is trying hard to help by remembering every detail she can, no matter how small. She was an ex-MP and US Army Ranger, and had a clean service record. She thought this was a government freelance assignment. The other one is a thug, and we had to ‘persuade’ him, but he knows little. The contract to kidnap or kill Suzy was awarded anonymously, and through various intermediaries, to prevent the buyer and seller from direct knowledge of each other. They know nothing of the Smith’s abduction … Hold on moment, Joanie.”
“Yes … She does? … Wait a moment and you can ask her,” GG said to someone in the background.
“Joanie, Gin here. I have someone who wants to talk with you. Go ahead Katie, I’ll be right next to you if you get scared,” Gin said in a soothing voice.
~~Katie? Gin’s never mentioned anyone named Katie. ~~
“Ms. Joanie,” it was a young girl’s voice. “I’m Katie, Gin’s new sister; I was the man who tried to shoot you and the girl you rescued. Please forgive me, I was told I was stopping a dangerous mutant terror … terror … terr … Gin! I can’t remember the word. I’m scared!”
“Terrorists, Katie. You're doing fine; continue, dear,” Gun encouraged him, I mean her.
“That’s no excuse for what I did. I want … I need to tell you this now. My mind, my old mind is fading; I’m forgetting things. My memories of being a man are becoming like a dream. I have to tell you while I still can. Sis, I mean Gin, is nice to me and the family is so good. They bought me this kewl girl’s bike and the cutest jeans with Hello Kitty on them,” Katie said then giggled.
~~Must be the spell changing her. ~~
“Are you happy? It must be confusing losing your adult memories and acting like a little child,” I said.
“It’s bad sometimes, when I can’t do something that I used to do so easily. It’s hard being a little girl at times. Mostly I’m happy. I’m so happy I could burst. Gin tells me it’s the spell, but I don’t care; I’m happy for the first time I can remember. I … Goodbye, Ms. Joanie, tell the girl you saved I’m sorry. I hope I’ll see you someday, but it will be the new me then, the girl,” Katie said.
“I forgive you, Katie. Those people didn’t care who they hurt. You’re a victim as much as Suzy. That’s the girl’s name, she’s my niece -- my cousin’s girl -- and I’ll tell her how remorseful you are,” I said
“Remores …?”
“Remorseful; it means you’re sorry for what you did. You keep being the best girl you can, and maybe I can be your favorite rich Aunt. I have friends in the music industry, and I can get you posters and stuff from your favorite singers. If you’re very good, I’ll bring Suzy to meet you. You can give her a hug and tell her how sorry you are,” I offered her.
~~Sweet girl, I hope she grows to be as sweet a woman. ~~
“You can do that, Aunty Joanie? Gin, Aunty Joanie promised me presents and a visit from her and a friend if I’m good,” Katie almost shrieked.
“That’s because Joanie’s a nice lady, and she’s also Joanie that singer you like to listen to,” I heard Gin say.
“Oh my, you’re my favorite! Don’t worry I’ll be the best girl I can be. It’s okay being a girl, I’m young and pretty and I feel happy … Oh, I’m sleepy. I get sleepy a lot now. Bye Joanie … thanks,” Katie said. I could hear sounds in the background, but I wasn’t sure what they were.
“Joanie, Gin again. Katie nodded off; it’s a sign the magic is still changing her. Before you say this is identity death, it’s not. Katie will retain all or most of her adult memories, but they will be like dreams, as she said. Her old personality comes and goes, but she’s increasingly a girl now.
"I’m not a cruel sorceress; in an emergency she will remember and have access to adult skills that can help. If she sees someone injured, her military first aid skills will return. The same with spotting and avoiding danger; she’ll have to do them in a growing girl’s body, but the knowledge will be there. She got sleepy because she was trying so hard to remember when she was a male so she could make a proper apology. He had, and she has an intense sense of honor; she’ll be one special woman when she grows up. She told me she had to talk to you while she still remembered what she’d tried to do, or it wasn’t an honorable apology,” Gin said.
“Are you sure Katie will be okay?” I asked
“The spell is working exactly as it’s intended. She’ll still be her self, ‘his’ consciousness won’t fade, but ‘her’ soul will match her body. She was transgendered to a considerable degree. It was like a bad movie cliché, she was ‘overcompensating’ for her desire to be a girl by going into those macho professions. I feel like I should wash my mouth out with soap for spouting that Hollywood Freudianism,” Gin said and snickered.
“You’ll get over it. Have some sex; that seems to be GG’s prescription for relieving stress. Gin, please, no cheap come back about needing it in the form of a deep injection,” I said.
I imagined making a face like a little girl praying, my palms together, the thumb and fore-finger touching my nose and chin. I looked like one of those figurines they sell in the chain discount stores, or so I did in my mind.
~~I have got to get a video phone. ~~
“I would never stoop to something so crass; I’ll just seduce the starters on the basketball team. I can play the nymphomaniac cheerleader,” Gin said and giggled.
“Gin, with your level of energy, you had better make that the marching band,” I quipped.
“Oh, that was downright bitchy. You’ve gotten worse since you left us; Dr. Sara would be proud of that comeback. Joanie, Katie’s a good child. I’m proud of her; she’s learning Hmong so she can fit in better with the family and our relatives. She asked me to teach her, on her own initiative. She’s picking up the language like a sponge, as well as learning to act like a girl. She’s an exceptionally bright child, she’s smarter than me, I think. The family loves her and has accepted her wholeheartedly. They know she’s as much a victim of those bastards as the kids are, and you nearly were,” Gin said.
“You see to it she’s a happy child. That’s kind of why I’m calling, in addition to checking on the investigation. I’m helping with a case involving sexual and child slavery, mind control, illegal pornography, and money laundering. The victim is the sister of one of the Playboy models I met. If the crooks learn I’m involved, my friends could be at risk. I’m sending a detailed email to Red and Dr. Sara and to the Williams-Johnsons to warn them. Pass the word to the rest of MSG and the hospital staff, please; these people are suspected murderers,” I said.
“Will do Joanie; oh, GG has a question,” Gin said.
“How the hell did you get to be Miss July, Ms. Scrawny Butt? I’ll admit you have a great bust and the face of a Madonna/whore, but that middle-school girl’s ass and those skinny limbs? It doesn’t fit with the rest of you. Where are your womanly curves? Have you no pride?” GG asked in jest.
~~This is a challenge; you’re going down bitch. ~~
“GG, I’m built like swimmer or runner, albeit a busty one. I have an athletic build with a firm, youthful, and sexy ass -- not your refugee-from-a-rap-‘booty’-video butt. There is nothing wrong with being voluptuous, I wish more women had such figures -- I was a man -- but GG, you are plain greedy. There are skinny girls out there praying for a little cleavage, some ‘meat’ on their bones, and you go out and hog all that lusciousness, Shame on you,” I said perfectly straight-faced, then I fell apart laughing.
“I’m ticked off you got the centerfold and I didn’t, though I’m in the issue. Most of the MSG women are except for Carrie, but you know her mom’s wishes,“ GG said.
“You made the issue? What section?” I asked.
“They said most of the photos are by region; MSG is in the ‘Best of the Mid-west’. I’ve seen some of the proofs. I am so glad Dairy Maid wears those bib overalls most of the time -- wow, what a figure! She’s nearly as hot as me. We have you to thank for this, Joanie. The way you raved about us to the photographer team that shot you got them to check us out on their way back to California. We’re getting generous model's fees as a result. Many of us have college debts to pay off despite government aid as members of the Wisconsin National Guard.
“They took photos of Dr. Sara; they were so impressed with what you said about her, she got a mini pictorial to accompany the interview she gave on mutants. I never thought a lab coat could look that sexy. She looked better without it. Sara is outstanding -- the epitome of brains and beauty. It’s unnatural, Joanie, there’s not a sag or wrinkle on her anywhere.
"Did you know she interned as an Army surgeon in Vietnam in the 1970’s just before the fall of Saigon? Sara’s nine years older than you, John. Remember, she had to tell me about your past so I could protect all your old public records. That took guts and pride for a 58 year old woman to pose in the buff. If she looks 28, that’s a stretch. I think she agreed to the nude shots to impress Senator Johnson. That may be why he’s been sneaking into town so often,” she said.
“What have you heard, GG?” I asked with excitement.
“Nothing, but then I don’t live in her building,“ GG said and paused.
“What?” I shrieked into the phone. GG chuckled.
“He stayed the entire weekend -- the Senate was in recess. They spent most of the time in her apartment, or so Carrie said. Dr. Sara has been awfully perky since then. She’s glowing like a newlywed, and she’s dressing sexier, too -- still classy, but sexier. Red says Sara is acting like she’s fresh out of college and not a thirty-years plus veteran,” GG said in a happy tone.
“I think it happened because of me. I encouraged Joe and Sara to get together; but I never thought they’d move so fast. Ghod, I told Joe to go to Madison and give Sara a good screwing only this last Thursday! To think he took me at my word and so quickly! I’m not complaining. It’s about time the two of them found that special person; they are great people and deserve some happiness. It’s I didn’t expect they’d be so enthusiastic about my, um ‘suggestion’. I thought I was the one with the rampant libido.
“Remember to pass the word around MSG about a possible backlash from my investigating those slavers, okay GG?” I asked her.
“You got it, Joanie, I’ll warn everyone who knew you. One last thing; how are things between you and the school boy?”
“We’re not together as much as I’d like; we only can do it for an hour every Friday night. And that’s talk on the telephone, Ms Nosey,“ I said and hung up.
* * * *
I had some time left before my band was to meet, so I read over the report on Pinky’s parents. Security had been thorough. They’d checked in the various on-line databases and police records for any references to the two. Their findings combined with Ms. Hartford’s recollections in a disturbing way. Ms. Hartford said her sister was a happy child, but took it hard when Amelia mutated.
“My sister could not accept that I was a mutant; she kept looking for a cure for my condition. We drifted apart more than we might have otherwise. She joined a 'families with mutants' support group; it didn’t help as she refused to believe I’d always be a mutant. I wish I could tell you more, but we haven’t talked much for years, Joanie,” Ms. Hartford said.
~~Hartford called me Joanie; she must be serious about this subject. ~~
The report stated that Pinky’s mom next joined several groups that claimed to be researching a cure, then later the church the Most Righteous Reverend Darren Englund is affiliated with. He believes being a mutant is a gift from Ghod if you believe precisely as he does, or a sign of the devil if you disagree. He is not a well-liked man on campus, but he is on the board, so what is a mutant to do? As self-righteous as he is, the sect she joined after Pinky’s mutation is worse. An offshoot of Englund’s group, they believe a mutant is a sub-human, and becoming one is proof your soul is corrupted and beyond redemption.
The father increased his time on the road after Pinky mutated; his credit-card records suggested he’s been seeing other women for some time. There were numerous bills to florists, confection shops, and even strip clubs.
Someone knocked on my door; it was Pinky. She’d come to give the smilodons a walk before band practice. I hid the report and casually asked her if she remembered her mom ever getting flowers or candy from her dad, but she had no such recollection. George and Gracie waited patiently as we put on their harnesses, they love going out. I waited until she was gone, then I took out the report once more.
I decided Dad was a dead-end. He’d not been close to his daughter, and he was likely estranged from Pinky’s mom. If he did have a steady woman, what woman would want a teenage child that was a reminder of her man’s previous lover? Pinky being a shape shifter compounded the problem.
My hope for reconciliation was to appeal to the young girl inside of Pinky’s mom, who had lost her older sister Amelia to the ‘mutant scourge’. If I could build on that and reach her, maybe I could slowly get them back together. If I could shatter her prejudice about mutants, Pinky would get back her loving mom. It was worth a try.
I called from my room on my cell while Pinky was still out giving the smilodons a walk along the edge of the campus woods. It was a reward for their good behavior -- no dead couches in weeks.
“Conners' residence, Mrs. Conners speaking,” she answered.
“Mrs. Conners, I’m Ms. Brown and I’m one of your daughter’s teachers at Whateley Academy. May I speak with you?” I asked as politely as possible.
“You may, but I won’t change my mind,” she said defiantly.
“And why do you say that, Mrs. Conners?”
~~Marvelous! Here I’m trying to be diplomatic, and I sound like a cut-rate psychiatrist. ~~
“You’re trying to persuade me to take my daughter back, to forgive her, Ms. Brown,” she said.
“Yes and no, Mrs. Conners, I’d like you to get together. I don’t like seeing families torn apart. She misses you and is a model student despite her heartache. You can be proud of her; she’s earning high marks in her classes and is mastering her mutant abilities. She’s no threat to herself or others, if she ever was one. She should remain at Whateley, as we have the best people and facilities to make a successful woman of your daughter, but it would do her good to see you from time-to-time. If finances are a problem, I’ll gladly help drive her to see you. I lost my mother to cancer almost two years ago, and it hurts me still. I’d love to see a mother reunited with her child,” I pleaded. “You have a lovely daughter, Mrs. Conners.
“I had a lovely daughter until her sins turned her into that abomination. So she’s a model student; the Devil can assume a pleasing shape. She’s a sinner and a liar,” Mrs. Conners said with venom behind it. I could hear the hate in her voice.
“A liar?” I asked.
“She persists in slandering her doctor, claiming he’s a child molester and that he raped her. He’s a Ghod-fearing and honest man.”
I restrained myself from the urge to say something nasty.
“Mrs. Conners, I have contacts in the local police and with the Boston court system, and I assure you the evidence supporting your daughters claims of sexual assault by the doctor is convincing. There is solid evidence he assaulted other children under his care; the man is a child predator,” I said calmly.
“Lies and fabrications! The so-called evidence is all faked,” she said loudly.
“Mrs. Conners, a federal judge was a direct witness to some of the doctor’s crimes. Are you claiming the judge is a liar?” I asked.
“No, he was deceived by that mutant Jezebel, that Joanie. The woman goes out in public in scandalous clothing and sings songs that glorify wanton sex and the devil. She probably had sex with the judge and is controlling him with blackmail or the dark arts -- she, with the help of my ex-daughter, the lying whore.”
~~This woman is a fruitcake ... WHAT DID SHE SAY?! Calm down Joanie; you’re doing this for Pinky. ~~
“Mrs. Conners, I assure you that every song that Joanie sings is suitable for a general audience, except for Black Leather; that one is maybe PG13. The government wouldn’t let them be broadcast if they were obscene. Her costumes, though often revealing, were acceptable for broadcast on a major television network.
"And, lastly, how dare you call your dear child a whore and a liar! You call yourself a mother after denying your only daughter comfort in her time of need and disavowing your own sister Amelia.
"I am a virgin, you prejudiced fool! I am ‘that’ Joanie, and I have nothing to be ashamed of. You, dear lady, had better see the light or there will be a special place reserved for you in hell. I’m not certain if there is an afterlife, but in your case there had better be. One lifetime is not enough to punish a hypocrite such as you. Good day Madam!” I shouted and slammed the phone down, not easy with a cell.
I turned to see the smilodons cowering and Pinky staring at me, tears streaming down her face.
* * * *
To be continued.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
 Timeout_3_chapter_12_epost.doc | 116.5 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 13
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
The suprise conclusion of that disasterous phone call. Joanie's student band gets together and picks a name. She finds the public and private images projected by one member differ greatly. Joanie's niece describes her powers testing and *other* issues, much to her aunt's embarrassment. Fran, Jinn and Harry discuss Joanie's housing projects. She preps for her NOVA hosting. In Boston Joanie films for NOVA and meets a Englishman who often is seen in association with a large blue box.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter was word processed on equipment that word processes peanuts, soy, eggs, milk, wheat and fish. Those with allergies are advised to read with caution. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Proofing by Itinerant
100 proof by distilling
Designated driver and additional proofing by Janet Nolan
Chapter 13, Congratulations, It’s A Girl 2, The Sabers, Home Improvement 7, Who’s on First 1
Whateley Academy Dunwich, Des Moines IA, Boston MA, April 24-28, 2007
April 24, 2007
I slunk onto my bed and wept.
“I’m an idiot, Pinky,” I gasped through the tears. I desperately wanted to give in to my emotions and let it all out, but I had to make it up to the girl.
“I was trying to reason with your mom, and I blew up on her instead. I’ve ruined it for you!” I said choking back my sobs.
Pinky sat down next to me and put her hands on both sides of my face, forcing me to look at her. Her eyes locked on mine, and I saw she was smiling despite her tears.
~~She’s happy? ~~
“I overheard the last part of your cell call. I never told you, Joanie, but I have excellent hearing -- better than most people. It improved when I mutated. It’s not like I have a super sense, but I did hear the phone call clearly, not that I meant to listen in. I heard my mom say those disgusting things about the judge and you; if she’d said that to me, I’d have slapped her in the face, mom or not. How dare she say that about you!” Pinky growled indignantly, and then she started to cry again. After we both had a good cry, and lots of hugs, we settled down.
“I promise I’ll try again, Pinky. Despite her delusions, she is your birth mother. Your Aunt Amelia says her sister reacted badly when she mutated. From what Amelia said, when you mutated your mom couldn’t handle it. To her it reminded her too much of when she ‘lost’ her sister to the same ‘scourge’. I don’t think she’s a bad person; she's just so mistaken in her beliefs that it’s hard to find a point of mutual agreement — some common ground. She refuses to see the old Pinky that is still the core of the new and improved Pinky,” I said and smiled. Pinky laughed.
“Without that to build on -- that common ground -- it will be hard to convince your mom to admit her errors and support you. I have a gambit, a plan, but it’s risky. Who is the instructor at Whateley who says, ‘lack of information can be deadly?’”
“That’s Mr. Anderson; he teaches a survival class for those who seem to attract trouble and aren’t good fighters, or those who can’t control themselves once in a fight. I had him when I got violent and was using my empathic powers to start brawls. That’s why they put me in Hawthorn; I was doing it in my sleep. I haven’t had an episode since we met. At first it was because I had a target for my anger, you, Joanie. Then after I tried to …” Pinky paused to compose herself, “I wasn’t so angry anymore once I knew I had a true friend. Dr. Bellows says it’s because I’ve learned better ways to resolve my problems, and I have higher self-esteem. It’s also because I made myself a vow that I’d be the best possible mutant I could, so you would be proud of me. I know that sounds like the rationalization I used when I tried to harm you -- is that the right word, Joanie, rationalization?” she asked.
“If you mean to come up with a logical sounding reason for doing something you know is wrong, yes, that’s a great word,” I said.
“I rationalized that in trying to hurt you, I was earning the respect of my Aunt. It’s not like that this time, Joanie. I’m doing it for the best of reasons. I’m doing this for me; I want to respect myself, and I want to earn the respect of others like you and Ms. Carson. Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting, Joanie. What were you telling me, something about a plan?” Pinky asked abruptly.
“I called the Senator so he would contact his judge pal. I’d call myself, but I want this to stay a secret for now. They’re long-time friends so their getting together is not suspicious. The judge has a friend who’s a Massachusetts children’s court judge.
"Through that Massachusetts judge, I’m getting papers drawn up that, if your mom signs, relinquishes all her parental rights over you. The court will then assign a guardian. If need be, the two judges will go to court for me and have your mom declared an unfit mother. I’m hoping the scare will make her realize what she’s losing and shock her into fighting for you,” I said.
“Who will be my mom if she loses or signs the papers? I’m not yet fifteen; I can’t be on my own,” Pinky asked.
“Me, silly, and I’m making provisions for your Aunt to be my backup. We may not see eye-to-eye on many things, but she stood by you at your lowest point and that counts for a lot with me, Pinky,” I replied. Pinky smiled intensely.
“I heard you stand up for Aunty, and I heard you tell Mom how bad she was to disavow her sister, my Aunt Amelia. I’m going to tell Aunty what you said. ...You sure you’re okay now? It’s almost time for dinner,” Pinky said, and gave my hands a friendly squeeze.
“Let’s feed the smilodons, then go. I wish the call had gone better, I’m sorry dear,” I said and gave Pinky a motherly hug -- someone had to.
~~I hope to hug my own daughters someday. Did I just think ‘daughters’, plural? Oh ghod I did. I hope you don’t mind a big family, Eric.~~
* * * *
We stopped by administration before they closed for the night to check my mail. I had received a nice, handwritten note from Mr. Ford via next day mail thanking me yet again for choosing their product. He said their advertising people had made an initial review of the photos and film. They thought the combination of my looks, the sexy outfit I wore, and the joy in my expression as I looked over the truck would boost sales to young women and males, a coveted group.
I also received my NOVA script and a letter requesting I come to the Boston studios ASAP to record my voiceovers and film segments. If I preferred, they thought they could do much of the voice work at Whateley. I would need to do some green-screen shots in the studio, but the opening sequence introducing me could be done at Whateley, or even my farm as some of the This Old House crew and cast would be available soon -- thus killing two birds with one stone. They felt a shot of me at the Whateley gates, or in front of the Crystal Hall, would make a great visual without compromising my security. Mr. Hefner had kindly sent copies of some of the campus shots they’d taken of me on to the PBS NOVA office, and the staff thought Whateley projected the right blend of old and new.
The miniseries producer wrote: “We hope you can be in Boston this weekend. If you can make it, please let us know, and we’ll have a full crew on to make the most of your time. We look forward to working with you, Ms Brown.
"We are also curious about those odd ‘cats’ of yours. We are currently busy researching in preparation for a NOVA special on early humans in North America, with emphasis on their impact on the flora and fauna. Frankly, our chief paleo-biologist consultant couldn’t believe what she thinks she saw in the video, and she’s a top expert on the Late Pleistocene. She said something about smilodons and asked how we faked this. Then again you are at Whateley; I’ve had dealings with the academy before. I understand that strange, inexplicable things are the norm there”
I was glad to hear from them, as I was serious about getting out the truth about mutants, and it sounded like fun. I also received a letter from Minnesota from Garrison Keillor, apologizing for not writing sooner and asking if I was available to appear on the radio show again anytime soon. The Des Moines, Iowa, show had received outstanding reviews, and the cast felt I was a great sport for coming on the show unprepared. What he wrote about Pinky had me in tears.
“That delightful young woman, Ms. Conners -- your school friend who sang back up -- is most welcome. The band all commented on how professional she was and of her wondrous voice; not that you’re a slouch in that department, Ms. Brown. I understand your security concerns, and we will work with you to satisfy them. Please consider an appearance as your combined voices brought me to tears with their power.”
~~If he were any nicer I’d swear he wants to have my baby. That’s a thought -- a 60 year old man pregnant. ~~
“What are you giggling about Joanie?” Pinky asked as we slowly walked to dinner.
“A letter from that radio show we were on; read it,” I said.
She read and returned it. I could see her reaction; she was shocked.
“They thought I was professional, and they want me back?” Pinky asked, astonished.
“Uh-huh! Girl, I told you were good. If the show comes near New England, maybe our little band could go on. That reminds me, are you taking summer school? It doesn’t look like you can go home to your mom anytime soon. The smilodons could do with a friendly face around, as I will be off campus several times this summer. I’d love to have you along, but I’d worry about my furry babies. Lex and Security can take them for a few days but, with you they’re in good hands,” I said and Pinky laughed.
If I was the momma smilodon, she was their favorite older sister, and she clearly returned the feelings.
“I also need someone to run the band practices when I’m gone. Mr. King will help, but I’d like to see each of you take an active role in running some aspect of it. I’m supposed to be a teacher, not some gad-about that flits in and out of here. Learning by hands-on-experience is one of the best teaching methods.
“I promised Babs I’d be there for the birth of her twins. That should be in August. It will be educational for me, Pinky; I hope to be a mother someday,” I said wistfully.
“That could be sooner than you’d like, if you don’t control yourself around Eric,” Pinky teased, as we neared The Crystal Hall.
“Pinky! I, well, I mean Eric and I …”
“I knew it; I can see you’re aroused already. Your nipples are like bullets at the thought of him. Joanie, get your hand away from there, you’ll go blind,” Pinky whispered and giggled.
~~I’m doing ‘that’ in public! I’ve snapped. Eric, get out of my mind … Great, now I ‘have’ to think about him, whether I want to or not. ~~
“That’s dirty pool and you know it. Wait until you fall for someone; I’ll remember this,” I said, and faked a witch's cackle. Pinky simply giggled all the more.
* * * *
The band was waiting at my favorite table, tables actually; they pulled several together so we could sit as one group. Everyone made it, including Cheryl, the cashiering horn and sax virtuoso, to my pleasant surprise and shock.
“Cheryl, I thought you’d be stuck cashiering?” I asked. I stared at her; something was way different about her appearance.
“I told my supervisor I had a chance to be in your student band, so she found another student who was willing to swap some breakfast shifts for some dinner shifts. I can guarantee you Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and maybe every other Thursday. The rest of the week, I’ll have to show up late or cut out early depending on when you practice,” Cheryl said, with hardly a hint of her tough-boiled ‘Joisey’/Fran Dresser accent. Her voice was steeped in refined culture and sensuality.
“A deeply-plunging, v-neck, silk blouse/cashmere sweater-vest combo, with a mid-thigh body-hugging skirt, nylons and dress sandals, earrings and make-up, topped off with your hair in a French-braid; what’s with ‘the works’? And what happened to your accent?” I asked, astonished.
~~Cheryl usually dresses like a Tigerbeat junkie-cum-ghetto-fabulous wanna-be; tonight she’s a classic fashion plate -- those legs and that cleavage! Where did all that come from? And her voice! She doesn’t sound like a Fran Dresser clone anymore; she’s sounds more like an upper-class version of J-lo, but sexier and lower pitched. Ghod, I think I’m getting aroused! ~~
She looked sheepish for a moment, but recovered.
“When you decided to let me join your band, I wasn’t going to play the wise-ass, bubble-gun chewing secretary to your sex goddess, Joanie. The tough-girl act is so I don’t get hit on at work. I figure with your looks, there should be some pretty choice rejects available after you turn them down -- girls as well as boys,” Cheryl said without batting an eye.
“So you’re joining my band for access to a better pool of sex partners?” I asked, not certain of what she meant.
“That, and I love the music. If I can learn something from you about stage presence and how to handle a crowd, I figure I’m ahead. I’m not a slut, but this way I can scope out some choice boys and girls without seeming like a girl on-the-make,” she said honestly.
“I’ll tell you one thing, Cheryl. I won’t call you Brittany Spears anymore. You’re way too good looking for that. If you can teach the other girls to dress and talk like that, our band won’t need to play a note. We could walk on stage, bow, jiggle, and get a standing ovation -- I am impressed,” I said, and I meant it. Cheryl cleaned up nicely.
~~Who knew a Venus de Milo was hiding under all that tacky? ~~
“Everybody, eat up. As soon as we’re done, we’ll go over some of the songs I’d like us to learn -- the artists and types of tunes I’d like us to concentrate on at first. I’d appreciate your feedback. I was a middle-aged guy until last summer so I’m not up on all the hot, current artists,” I said trying to convince them I wanted and valued their input. It was as much to remind me to give them a chance. I didn’t want my enthusiasm inhibiting theirs
I spoke my peace for maybe ten minutes, then let them think about it while we finished our meal. We slowly walked to the King Annex and talked over our plans. Cindy -- AKA Barbie Q, our newly added percussionist -- spoke next.
“Joanie, I joined, and I’m sure the others joined, because we’re interested in the older music you enjoy. Now that I think of it, Cheryl’s idea about the groupies works for me, Joanie, -- guys in my case. As to music, I also enjoy some of the more recent songs and performers. I think we should go with what you suggest for now, and as we get a feel for what we’re capable of, then we can try the new stuff. As far as your not being familiar with the hot, current artists, hon’, you are one of them. There is no one hotter than you, Joanie.
“What is that old song lyric, ‘everything old is new again’? Joanie, you’ve made old music new. It bothered me as a little girl, and it still does, how the big radio chains and record companies hold back innovative music because they can’t see its potential. Then they go crazy, promote the crap out of the new music they hated six months before while they drop established artists because they are ‘out of favor’. If you refuse to distribute and play someone’s music, of course they’ll be out of favor. Your producer and label were gutsy to take a chance on you, but then you did provide them a lot of free publicity. And it doesn’t hurt that you’re pleasant to look at,“ Cindy said and blushed.
~~At first Cindy sounded pure hetero, but after that last comment… Not another bi or lesbian mutant? This is incredible. As I guy, I hardly got a nibble from the girls, now I’m the Chef’s special. And I had to take myself off the menu! Eric, if you so much as look at another girl...~~
* * * *
We played for an hour, then I broke it up. I didn’t want to push them too hard and spoil their love of music. A couple complained.
“Why’d we stop, Joanie? We were smoking,“ asked Tina.
“Same here, Joanie, why did we stop, it was fun,” asked Jenny.
“We stopped so you could have some free time to yourselves and so you didn’t get to feel this was a chore. I want our practices to be fun. If not, I don’t think we’ll play as well. We also need to think of a name for our group. First off, you can’t use my name in any form what-so-ever, deal? I want this to be ‘our’ band, not ‘my’ band,“ I said and smiled.
“That’s why we took turns singing lead on Bad Moon Rising; you want us all to be featured,“ said Jenny confidently.
“Am I that obvious?” I asked.
“Uh-huh! Joanie, I could tell you were up to something,” Jenny said.
She had taken a cue from Cheryl, un—buttoning some buttons and re-tying her school blouse into a Daisy Duke, farmer's daughter look. She’d slipped off her sweat-pants to reveal her gym shorts and her shorter but equally attractive legs. I felt almost dowdy in my hell-for-leather outfit, like some later-day Honor Blackman.
“That’s exactly why I had you take turns. I’m famous enough; why should I hog the spotlight? You all have exceptional talent; you all deserve a shot at some recognition,” I said.
“If your name is out, how about something that describes the group over-all; what do we have in common?” Cindy asked us.
“What about 'The Mutant Babes'? It’s accurate,” said Tom.
“Thanks, Tom, but we need something that flows well and is easy to remember,“ said Suzy. “Maybe 'The Sexettes', something to do with there being six of us and how hot we look?”
“Not bad, Suzy, but I worry about emphasizing the sex angle too much. We want to sing to our audience, not have an orgy -- as much as my teenage libido screams otherwise,” I said, and we all giggled, even Tom -- well, he snorted more or less.
“Animal and place names are popular, that and acronyms,” offered Jenny.
We toyed with that for a while but the acronyms either were painfully strained or filthy -- at least the *good* ones were filthy. Pinky said something that clicked.
“Thinking of animals, what about George and Gracie?” Pinky asked.
“George Burns and his comic genius wife, Gracie, may be dead, but their names might still be registered trade marks or copy-written,” I reminded them.
“I was thinking 'The Sabertooths' or plain 'Smildons',” Pinky said.
“Why not 'Saber', or 'Sabers'? 'The Sabers' could be anything: your feline friends, Joanie, swords, or a famous series of fighter-jets from the 1950’s,” replied Tina. “Sorry, but dad was a history buff,” she said and I saw her fight back the sniffles for her missing parents.
“It’s short and sweet; I like it. And that’s the band name I’m referring to. Don’t you dare go on about, um, male appendages,” I added quickly.
“We wouldn’t dare, Joanie. And I know you like them big,” Pinky said, and mouthed ‘Eric’ so only I could see her. Before I could scold her, or relieve my abruptly building sexual tension, the band members spoke in rapid succession.
“'The Saber Band', or 'Sabers', I like it, and we have two ready mascots, if Joanie will let us use them on occasion,” said Cindy.
“'Sabers' works for me,“ said Jenny, “and Joanie’s kitties are so cute for extinct carnivores.”
“'Sabers'?” asked Pinky, as she *called* the vote.
“'Sabers',” they said as one.
“You realize, girls,” I said as I gave in once more to the silly side of the Force, “we’ve just called ourselves a bunch of pussies.”
“Oh you!” they shouted, and we broke up for the night, giggling like the schoolgirls we are while Tom snickered.
* * * *
April 25-27, 2007
The rest of the week flew by.
I did my usual routine of a 7AM run with Pinky and an increasing number of the Sabers. I think they’d concluded my sexy figure was in part the result of my exercising, so the girls decided to get in on the benefits. Tom tagged along to protect his sister, Tina, and ogle the girls -- in particular Suzy. Suzy confided to me that she was in the midst of a major growth spurt. The doctors told her the mutation had kicked her puberty into overdrive. She would likely end up several inches taller and, um, better proportioned than she otherwise might have been. Apparently, she was a low-to-moderate level exemplar as well as a mimic. This worried the part of my brain that was playing substitute mom for my cousin. Suzy was already of average height for an adult woman, had a cute, cherubic face and traffic-stopping curves for a high school junior.
~~And she is still growing? ~~
“You’re in a growth spurt with that body? It will be a full-time job to keep the boys off you, Ms. Suzy Sexpot.” She giggled at my joke. “Did you want to go on the pill? Your mom said for me to watch out for you. You’re going to have sex soon, if you haven’t already. Campus medical is generous in handing out condoms despite the ‘Official’ no sex between students rule, but I’d like the peace of mind knowing you have additional protection,’ I said carefully.
“Joanie, I can wait; I’m no slut,” Suzy snapped back.
“I didn’t mean to imply that, Suzy. Back when you finished recovering from your burnout and were being evaluated at the Mutant Wing in Madison, Pinky and I went on to Iowa, to visit the governor and his family,” I reminded her.
“Pinky told me you’re very close to them, especially the girl you saved, Melissa, and her brother Eric. She said you and Eric are, well, practically lovers,” Suzy said and blushed.
“She’s not lying. I almost had sex with Eric, I mean full vaginal intercourse, and it started out as a quiet night watching DVDs with Mel and Pinky. Eric and I fell asleep on a couch snuggled together, and the next thing I remember we were subconsciously masturbating each other and burning to do it -- to have sex; at least I was. If Pinky hadn’t brought us to our senses, I don’t know if we could have stopped. It felt so good; I know I didn’t want to stop. Poor Eric must have felt similarly confused. I could have gotten pregnant; I was at my peak fertility and knew it but didn’t care. At that moment the only thing I could think of was Eric and our pleasure. Nothing else mattered; we were in our own universe. Suzy, I could have been charged with child molestation and that didn’t stop me. I still feel dirty, yet we did nothing wrong. But if we hadn’t stopped… I shudder to think of the consequences.
“Be careful. You’re one torn condom way from being an unwed mother, and all the hardship that entails. If you feel uncomfortable, I’ll go with you. I can’t go on the pill, or any other hormones as my body burns them off so fast, but I can give you moral support,” I offered.
“Let me talk to Mom and we’ll see,” she said, and I handed her my Whateley Security cell phone. Christine Kenner and her husband were on speed dial.
She talked with the parents, and they with me; Suzy got the go ahead to get on the ‘pill.’ Cousin Christine thanked me for persuading their daughter to get contraception. While we waited for her gynecological exam and the prescription to be filled, Suzy explained to me what she was learning about her power and how they were training her to handle it.
“It’s been great, Joanie, they gave me a special tutor because of my abilities. Every other day I try to copy a new power for her. The first day I watch as the person I’m to copy demonstrates their power and explains how they control it. Then I touch them and after a minute or so, I am them, down to every freckle and …” Suzy paused and giggled nervously. “The first couple of times I copied boys, it was a shock. How did you ever stand being a boy with your … penis doing ‘that’ all the time -- it’s distracting and sometimes painful. That’s part of why I like Tom so. I notice that I’m doing that to him, but he never complains. I know it must drive him crazy not being able to relieve himself.”
~~I don’t want to hear this; I don’t want to hear this, I don’t want to … ~~
“That’s more *detail* than I think I need,” I said and blushed. Suzy giggled and smiled.
“I embarrassed you? Joanie, the teenaged sex goddess is blushing at my describing male reproductive parts?” Suzy said, and broke into a laugh.
“You’re my, you know, niece,” I whispered. “Of course I’m embarrassed, but proud too. If you're honest and open about this, it proves you’re an honest and open-minded individual. I respect that,” I said, calming some.
“Then you're about to respect me all the more,” Suzy said and grinned wickedly. “I played with it once, to see what it’s like. I prefer it as a girl, but it was so intense. There’s the sense of power you feel knowing that hot fluid pulsing out of you can make babies. Oh, Joanie, when I copy them, I’m not circumcised but I can be, if they tell me. That surprised my doctors at first, but since I can copy a power and not have to copy a person’s form it makes sense. Same goes with tattoos and piercings.”
~~I do NOT want to hear this! ~~” La la la la la …”
“Joanie, take your fingers out of your ears and stop going la la,” she said and giggled. “On the remainder of each first day, I try using the borrowed powers. On the second day, I use the powers but retain my own form. That’s one lesson we keep going back to, as it helps with my control and manipulation of the finer details,” Suzy said with graphic honesty.
As for my reaction to Suzy’s ‘honesty,’ I was, well, I should have been sweating, if I was not this tough mutant girl. I blushed a bright shade of red, though.
~~And I want to have children? How will I react if one of mine tells me something like this? ~~
“I, ah, that was honest and forthcoming, Suzy. What powers have you copied so far?” I asked.
“Let’s see: I’ve been an energizer -- I sure was hungry later that day. I’ve also been a flyer -- that was scary at first. I’ve copied a low-level magic user and one warper-class, a density shifter. Um, Joanie, I need to copy a time-sensitive, like a precognitive or clairvoyant or …” Suzy looked embarrassed now.
“A time-manipulator, you want to copy me? I’m honored but it could be dangerous; you know I time travel, and my time stop is not as innocent as it looks,” I said.
“I know it will expose some of your deepest secrets to me, but it’s important. I do love you; I would never hurt you, Joanie,” she said sweetly.
“Okay, but we do this with lots of supervision, and you don’t practice my powers when I’m not around — in case something goes wrong. Word of warning, I have a pesky libido; think you can handle it?” I asked, and we both snickered.
“I’ll tell my instructor, and she can work it out with you and your supervisors. Think of it, twin Joanies walking around campus -- imagine the fun we can have.”
~~Oh, the humanity!~~ I thought as images of burning dirigibles played in my mind.
* * * *
The rest of the week, I carried out my usual routine, the morning run, breakfast with the gang, classes, my staff related activities and the like, as usual. I also enlisted help from the band to help me memorize my lines for the upcoming NOVA mini-series on mutants.
~~If I find I’m doing this with any regularity, it would be wise to take acting lessons. I should check out our campus drama club. I understand they are quite good. ~~
I received the final architectural and engineering plans for my projects, courtesy of Stan, Morrie, and their colleagues in Operations. Sam Everheart made good on her promise to provide detailed recommendations for the needed security features. I made plans to take the entire crew to the farm early Monday morning to begin clean-up and demolition. I’d gotten permission from Elaine Claire in student services to hire my student helpers after signing innumerable liability releases and after providing proof of insurance or the ability to pay should a child be injured on the job -- like that would be a problem for me. There was more paperwork involved in hiring my crew than in buying my 53 acre farm.
I met with Fran Barnes and Harry Wolfe at eight o'clock Friday morning by my truck outside Administration, and drove them to my farm. Jinn said she would meet us there on her own. Unfortunately her sister, Jade, was busy this morning with Operations. I brought the plans along to discuss with them. Sam had recommended all four of them, including Jade, and Stan and Morrie had agreed. I thought I’d pick their bright, young brains for ideas on how to proceed.
“Ms. Brown,” said Harry Wolfe. He looked just like his name, all seven feet of him.
“Harry, what did I say when we got in the truck?”
“To call you Joanie, as Ms. Brown was your mother,” he said sheepishly. For a big, hairy monster of a young man, he was well mannered.
“Okay, Harry, what were you saying?” I asked.
“This is a nice truck you have; I can improve it, if you’ll let me,” he offered.
“Will this void my free lifetime repairs and maintenance policy?” I asked.
“Free lifetime repairs and maintenance? What did you do to get that?” he asked.
“I became Ford’s latest ad spokesperson on the cheap,” I said, and smiled.
“Well, if you ever change your mind, I’d love to work on the baby,” he said, and smiled back -- scary with his face.
“Fran, you’re awfully quiet. Why?” I asked.
Fran was a tall, willowy girl, close to six feet tall, and wore a body-hugging outfit in Earth-tones. It suited her perfectly and not just her figure.
“I was taking in what you told us earlier; I can see your project done in a natural motif,” she said.
“You see everything that way,” joked Harry.
~~Did his parents name him Harry to be funny? Even I’m not that bad. ~~
“I saw what you did for Sam’s apartment. That was great work, Fran, but could tone it down for me,” I said.
“In what way do you mean ‘tone it down’?” Fran asked.
“Sam said she’s encouraged you to take up architecture and engineering. Are you familiar with Frank Lloyd Wright and his concept of Organic Architecture and the Prairie School?” I questioned her.
“I’ve begun studies in those areas, and yes, I’ve seen some of his work. I love how his buildings blend with the landscape rather than try to impose themselves on it,” Fran replied.
At that moment we arrived at the farm. Jinn flew in and joined us soon after. I got out the blueprints, and we discussed what I meant. After we’d finished going over the plans we walked to the barn.
“This is the big project. I want to preserve the building, but build a highly secure, comfortable, and inviting home within the existing structure. Sam drew up the security plans and Operations the building plans. Fran, Sam said you can ‘flow’ materials. Harry, Sam said you are a genius with mechanical things. Jinn, I saw how you can change your shape and get into tight spaces; the cable pulling job you did was impressive. Can you three make these plans work?” I asked.
“I like what they suggest, though I can improve on it. I don’t see any unsolvable problems,“ Harry said.
“I noticed the exposed slab of gneiss under part of the barn, and the survey says it’s under the entire building. I can use that to build a solid stone foundation and finish stonework. This could be fun,” she added.
“Whatever Fran and Harry come up with, I can help get it done. Don’t let my being dead fool you,” Jinn said, hovering.
“Will excavating a basement and escape tunnels be hard? Sam said you cut flawless window openings into the tower for her,” I asked Fran.
“It’s an exponentially bigger project. I may need to do it over many days to avoid straining my powers, but I can do it,” Fran said in her soft, natural voice.
“I though you could use the excess to give me stone floors in the wet areas — kitchen, laundry, bathrooms — and build walkways between the buildings. Any leftovers could pave the loading areas in the driveway,” I suggested.
“No grotto?”
I shook my head.
She frowned, then smiled.
“How about constructing a stone-lined hot-tub/spa/sauna in one of the out-buildings and maybe a decorative pond outside somewhere?” Fran beamed.
~~Oooh, Eric will like this. ~~
“Sounds like fun; I can run the pipes and wires easily. My sister can give you some clues about what works and doesn’t in a hot-tub,” Jinn said and kind-of blushed, hard to tell with that all-white powder that covers her invisible skin. I understand from my Security connections Jinn can simulate skin quite well but doesn’t always do so.
~~Smart girl, don’t show all your cards.~~
“Jade is familiar with hot-tubs?” I asked in surprise.
Jade looked so young to me, barely an adolescent by her height, though I knew otherwise. I’d checked the school records of my hires as a precaution, both for their sakes as much as mine. In their eagerness to earn some cash they might have failed to tell me something important, say being violently allergic to house dust. I’d found Jade, to my surprise, was nearly fifteen. There was something odd about her, something that didn’t fit with the confident attitude she’d demonstrated in the few times we talked. It was a vibe, a feeling but that was all. I wondered if I was letting her diminutive stature fool me, but still…
~~Hum? She doesn’t seem the hot-tub type to me. She’s far too serious and definitely not preoccupied with showing off her body, unlike some on campus ... Great, I just think I diss’ed myself in my own mind. ~~
“She’s been invited to a few all-girl parties. The big thing is privacy, or so she says,” Jinn finished.
“That has merit; draw me a rough sketch, girls. Harry, you help them work out the systems, and we have a deal. I plan to start on Monday, as I’m busy this weekend. I’ll be in Boston doing some TV work,” I said.
“You’re going on TV?” Harry asked.
“I’m to host a NOVA mini series on mutants. For some reason they wanted me,” I said, and giggled. “Sorry, I do that a lot, part-and-parcel of being a permanent 17 year-old,” I finished.
~~Ghods, I hope they don’t think about what I just said. ~~
“Sam warned us you’re an odd one, but then Whateley is full of odd people,” Harry said and laughed. It would have been funnier if not for his fierce looks.
“You’ll take some getting used to, Harry. I wasn’t sure whether to laugh along or run in terror when you laughed just now. By the way, I think the gray fur suits you -- very Brooks Brothers in a Brothers Grimm way.
"Jinn, tell your sister I’d like her input. Nice outfit, Girl. I take it Harry had something to do with it; your mechanical hands are surprisingly nimble,“ I said, noticing her entering something in a PDA, at least I thought it was a PDA. “But Fran’s the truly scary one here. All those greens and browns; you look like a refugee from the Girl Scouts, though in your case it’s the Girl Scouts of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition. Goes to show, clothes don’t have to be flashy to be attractive,” I said, and smiled.
“And that’s coming from Miss July? Harry, Sam was right; this gals a loony. We’ll get along fine, Joanie,” Fran said in a tone that could charm the birds out of the trees.
We talked over wages, settled on a figure, and drove back to campus with Jinn flying wingman to my truck.
* * * *
By Friday evening, I had tried the patience of my friends, but was well prepped for my duties. I told them so at a small party they threw for me in Tom and Tina’s dorm room.
“Joanie, here’s to you! May you conquer the silver screen as you have conquered the music business,” Tina said as we raised our ginger-ales on high.
“It’s only a science special; we’re not talking Cecil B. DeMille here,“ I said.
“Don’t stop me, Joanie, I’m on a roll,“ Tina said, and giggled softly. “I mean it, Joanie, you will make it big in the movies; it stands to reason,“ Tina said seriously.
“What my sister means is that you had no intention of being a singer and entertainer. It all started by accident at the birthday party with the Karaoke. That was last September; your first CD was released on Halloween. It’s only six months later and you’re the biggest thing on the charts, no one is close. I’ve listened to your CD’s and seen you sing, both on TV and in person. As good as you sound, it’s better when we can watch you sing. That’s not just because you’re so beautiful; you light up the stage. If you can translate that to acting, you’ll need that new house of yours to hold all the Oscars you’ll win,” Tom said, smiling confidently.
“It’s just a narration and hosting job, that’s all. I have no plans to be an actress. Let up, would you, please? Given my mutant *baggage*, who would want me for an actress?” I pleaded.
By the end of the party, I healed any frayed nerves I’d given my friends from helping me rehearse for the mini series. I had been obsessed with my preparations, but they forgave me. I promised them similar favors should they need them in future. I got a good night's rest and left at dawn for Boston, having made arrangements for Pinky to take care of my Mighty Mewing Mastodon Maulers.
~~Ghod I love alliteration. ~~
* * * *
April 28, 2007
I drove my truck to the Boston PBS studios. The executive producer of NOVA had sent me detailed directions and a map to help me navigate Boston’s confusing road network, along with a picture of herself so I could identify her. She met me in the secure parking garage that serviced the facility, a post 4-01 requirement — the Fools Fight -- and made stricter since 9-11.
“Ms. Brown, thank you for coming. Are you familiar with your script?”
I recited several minutes’ worth of my lines in response. She looked pleased with my effort.
“I’m taking this hosting seriously. I want mutants to be portrayed honestly, so I’ve put considerable effort into my preparations,” I said.
“The staff at 'A Prairie Home Companion' said you were a quick study; they weren’t kidding. If you are as familiar with the rest of your lines, we should get all this done in a few weekends,” she said, smiling.
“I intend to give it my best. I do have selfish motives, as I am a mutant myself, but I also value honesty. I don’t want us sugar-coated or demonized; I want the straight, unvarnished truth,” I said as seriously as I could.
“We pride ourselves on fairness and accuracy, Ms. Brown. Is there anything I can do for you before we start?” she asked.
“Yes, call me Joanie. When I hear Ms. Brown I half expect to see my late mother. I’m plain, old, Joanie, or you can call me your High exulted majesty, the Devine Goddess of Womanhood if you like,” I said and giggled uncontrollably for a while. The executive producer didn’t blink an eye.
“Are you always so somber? You need to lighten up, your Majesty,” she replied.
“That’s your high exalted majesty, peon!” I barked.
We both got the giggles and walked while propping each other up as we traveled down the corridor to the studios.
~~We’re going to get along fine. ~~
* * * *
She introduced me to the mini-series producer and the production team. We spent hours going over the script then shot test footage in the afternoon. They were pleased with the results, and said we could start the actual filming tomorrow. We went over some of the technical aspects of the green screen and the off-screen narration. This went on into the early evening, then we broke for supper.
I suspected I might be wined-and-dined so I packed a few things. I wore my favorite, the LBD from Eric’s school dance, and added an off-white cashmere cardigan. I finished it off with sparkly hose, heels, and an art-nouveau diamond earring and bracelet set in platinum. If I was going on display for the Boston blue-bloods, I was going well armed. I was driven to a seriously upscale restaurant located in one of Boston’s classiest hotels. The executive and mini-series producers were waiting and introduced me to our dining companions, one of whom I recognized immediately.
~~What is he doing in Boston? ~~
I was not one for intrigue tonight. This was way too coincidental.
~~I smell a set-up. ~~
“David Tennant, what are you doing in Bean-Town?” I asked in a cheerful voice. “You didn’t travel in that big blue box did you?”
The entire table stared at me, David and the other man laughed.
“I’m a long-time Doctor Who fan, so sue me,“ I finished.
“The gentleman with Mr. Tennant is an executive producer with BBC Wales. We do cooperative ventures; the NOVA mini series on mutants is one example,” my executive producer explained.
“So David is here to help narrate, this is such a treat. Do we get to work together?” I asked, smiling, but I suspected they were here for other reasons. I was nervous with anticipation -- or was it arousal?
~~I took the bait, guys, set the hook already. ~~
“You watch Doctor Who?” David asked, surprised.
“Absolutely, I’ve been a fan for years and have watched the new series within hours of it premiering in England. Amazing what you can get off the Web these days. Oh, and I didn’t do it myself, that could be illegal. I have a commercial set of the first season of the new series at home,” I said.
They are at my sister's house, as they are hers, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Would you like to see us filming?” the BBC executive asked.
“In England, I mean Wales? I haven’t been overseas since my mutation, but I do have my mutant card and passport. To be honest, I’ve only been as far as Canada and Hawaii.”
~~Bless you for thinking of that last item, GG; I never would have. ~~
I couldn’t stand it anymore.
“You’re here to ask me to make a cameo appearance on Doctor Who,” I accused them, but smiled.
“That was our intention,” started the BBC exec.
~~What? Uh-oh, Joanie! No, no, no, no, no …~~
“The official cover for our trip is David and I are here to attend a Doctor Who/science-fiction convention to promote the series. The true purpose of our trip was to persuade you to do a cameo, but that has changed. Our current lead actress, the Doctor’s companion, was in a traffic accident a few days ago and won’t be fully mobile for months; she broke her hip. Mr. Hefner sent us videos of your interview and campus photo shoot along with news footage of your more public exploits. We received this prior to her accident. That was why we wanted to do the cameo. After her accident, we were scrambling to find a replacement when David suggested we look at you again,“ he explained.
“You want me to be a companion in the series?” I asked, not at all happy. A tiny piece of my mind was ecstatic, most of the rest was aghast.
“You’re not interested, Ms. Brown? It is only for the last three episodes,” David asked.
“Of course I’m interested, but how would we pull it off? I have responsibilities to my employer, my students, and my friends at school. What would I say to them, ‘Sorry, off to Great Britain, ta-ta?’ I don’t treat friends like that. I feel bad enough being here for a few weekends to record for NOVA, and I’m a few hours drive from the academy here,” I said in an indignant tone.
“We will accommodate your schedule as much as possible. It is only the last three episodes and the necessary scenes could be completed in two weeks of hard shooting. If you agree, we intend to rewrite the script with your talents in mind,” the BBC exec explained.
~~I have a bad feeling about this. I’d better check it out. ~~
“How skimpy a bikini will I be almost wearing?” I asked. “I remember Nicola Bryant and her string bikini; I never imagined I’d be the next companion you stuck in one of those tiny suits,” I said.
“We were thinking more along the line of you singing or maybe doing a variation on the soda can demonstration but considering the Playboy materials …” The producer got this wicked grin on his face.
~~Me and my big mouth! ~~ Among other things.
* * * *
To be continued
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_13_proofed_4.doc | 108 KB |
Timeout 3- Continuous Play - Chapter 14
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Permission:
Joanie films more NOVA and tests for that BBC Wales show. She's ambushed by a paparazzo and agrees to be the companion of a TV doctor. Babs and Joanie have a life-changing phone call. Our heroine meets a PBS legend and is filmed for This Old House. Work begins on her farm housing project. Joanie plans to teach a unique history seminar and gets bad news about the Smith's twins patent. Pinky reveals why Whateley labled her a dangerous student.
Andy Warhol said,"In the future, everyone will be famous for 15 minutes." What if your 15 minutes came late in life, and fame decided to never let you go? Could you survive the circus your life would become?
Timeout 3-Continuous play: 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)."
Another chapter in part three of my TG/sci-fi/superhero/magic and the whole nine yards epic. I’m much better now than when I started this, though comma useage is still confusing; ask Itinerant. Your constructive criticism and advice always helps. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, John from Wauwatosa WI, 2005-2006.
Adult content advisory: this chapter was word processed on equipment that uses the Windows XP Pro operating system, therefore all errors are not my fault, it’s the software, honest. And there is some adult content too, so be warned.
Timeout 3
By John from Wauwatosa
Hands thrown up in the air over my typos by Itinerant
Pain management by aspirin in large doses
Suffering in sunny 70 to 80 degree weather, Janet Nolan. And she proofs too.
Chapter 14, Who’s on First 2, The Sabers-Regrets, This Old Farm House, Advanced Field Tripping for Dummies, Welcome to Adulthood
Whateley Academy Dunwich, Des Moines IA, Boston MA, April 28- 30, 2007
April 28, 2007
“No way! And if you’re even thinking of me sunbathing topless I’ll...”
I thought I saw a smirk flash on their faces for a moment; it was hard to tell in the low light of the restaurant. I was shouting, and the other dinners were paying attention; I think the “topless” reference *peaked* their interest.
“You misunderstand us, Ms. Brown; I was referring to your singing. We will, of course, use your lovely body to full effect, but nothing tasteless or tacky. Doctor Who was and is a general audience show. It may be a bit harder edged than in the past, but this is hardly the Playboy Channel,” the BBC exec said.
“Yeah, I’m due to be on that soon and wearing less than that bikini I was griping about; sorry,” I said, and started to giggle.
This whole conversation had suddenly become surreal and funny to me. They relaxed, laughed politely at my reaction, and the interest in our table waned.
“Ms. Brown,” he continued.
“Call me Joanie, please. I’m little ole’ Joanie, well not so little,” I said and gestured at my chest. “If yah got um, flaunt um, and Girl have I got um,” I said and relaxed, my humor saving me once again from taking myself too seriously.
“Joanie, Doctor Who is one of the top rated programs in England and is doing phenomenally well world-wide,” the exec said.
“Yeah, but it’s on cable in the US, and some of us don’t like paying for our TV and still receiving ads; I know I don’t,” I explained.
“We intend to offer it to PBS at a reasonable fee after it runs on cable; we do wish to broaden our audience.”
“Well, in that case, okay. I have to run this by my employer, and it all depends on when you can shoot this,” I replied.
“It will take a couple of weeks to rewrite your scenes and the related scenes. Since much of the show involves only the aliens and/or the Doctor, those won’t have to be changed and can be shot first. Anytime in June would do, as long as we are done by the beginning of July,” he explained.
“Summer school starts at the beginning of July, so that could work. I do have other commitments in June; how long did you say this would take?” I asked.
“If you work hard, and study your lines before your arrival in Wales, two weeks hard shooting will do. Help us, Joanie, by using your ‘charm’ on the union representatives … If you explain to them how you need to get back to the States, we may be able to extend each days shooting hours to accommodate you. We might get it done in less than two weeks with luck. Let’s face it, would any one turn you down?” the exec asked.
“I’m not having sex with the union representatives; that’s out. I have my standards. But an orgy, with treacle and clotted-cream ....” I said trying to rattle him.
“You are incorrigible, Joanie. Mr. Hefner said you had a wicked sense of humor -- half schoolgirl, half night club comic. That is another reason why we want you. The current stories are darker than in the past, but that’s all the more reason for a leavening of humor at appropriate points,“ said David Tennant. “Please come and work with me; I promise you’ll enjoy it. The Welsh are proud of the production and are bending over backwards to help us,” he explained.
~~Lord, give me the strength to resist such straight-lines. ~~
“It’s tempting; the guys in my old sci-fi club will freak when they find out I’m in it. Don’t look at me like that; they know me as Joanie, not my old self.
"It’s a marvelous opportunity, but I don’t know if I can. I’d have to make numerous arrangements to be able to come. I’m in the middle of rehabbing a farmhouse and building a home; there are my cats to consider. I have a dear friend due to give birth to twins this summer; I need to be there for her. I am a friend, mentor and confidant for a number of students -- one student in particular. I can’t just pack up and go. Give me a few days to talk with Administration and my friends, and I’ll give you my answer,” I said.
“We talked with Ms. Carson earlier, and she has no objections. We offered to pay your school compensation for your lost services; she was most appreciative,” the BBC exec said. “Will you test for us tomorrow? It will take a few hours of your time.”
“I can promise you that much, but only to show you how bad I am as an actress.”
“We saw the footage you shot for NOVA today; you’ll be fine, Joanie,” the BBC exec said.
~~Why does that not make me feel any better? ~~
* * * *
April 29, 2007
We shot the tests on Sunday morning; the crew cost them a fortune in overtime, or would have if I hadn’t ... I only flirted a little -- gees dear d/j/w; don’t get your keyboard in a bunch. It didn’t take much effort to flirt; my low-cut sundress did most of the work for me. Anyhow, that one camera girl was a hottie. Amazing how well a crew works if they are motivated -- no, I didn’t cheat on Eric, tempting as she was.
Late Sunday morning, we began shooting some of my NOVA scenes. I’d had a nagging feeling since forming our band that something was not right. It hit me as I narrated a particular scene about Gross Structural Deformity, or GSD. All the band members were attractive, most were exemplars or, if not, at least better looking than average. I had intended the band to be open to all, and that talent, personality, and availability would be the only criteria for membership -- if you played or sang well, could get along, and had the time, you were in.
I’d forgotten that those with GSD or other physical conditions that made them stand out -- odd coloration, wings, tails, fur and so on -- had likely been abused and teased cruelly. They had learned to assume the worst from others; it was likely that talented people chose not to try out for the band, assuming they’d be ridiculed. My good looks probably reinforced their fears; what would a hot babe like me want with them? I felt small; the triumph of being offered a role in a popular TV series faded to nothingness in my mind. I resolved to atone for this oversight once I returned to Whateley. At a minimum, I vowed to make friends among them; there had to be some great kids trapped in those unusual bodies.
About one-ish we reviewed my NOVA and Doctor Who footage; I had a hard time watching my own work. The NOVA people were pleased and said I was great. I admitted I did look confident on camera; hell, I was making love to the camera. I said as much to the others.
“Isn’t that too much? I think I went over-the-top on this.”
“Are you uncomfortable with your performance, Joanie? You shouldn’t be, you were perfect; you came off as confident and enthusiastic -- a perfect host for the show,” said my mini-series producer.
“I still think I was seducing the camera.” I was not convinced I’d done well.
“Trust me, Joanie, if you can do that with me on Doctor Who, you’ll be smashing,” Mr. Tennant said, smiling broadly.
“You folks are the experts, not me. I’ll be happy not to crash and burn,” I said glumly, then I giggled.
“You were having us on, Joanie,” said the BBC exec.
“Yeah, I had to have some fun today. Everyone was great during the filming and thank you for that,” I said. “I enjoyed the experience immensely and that scares me,” I said and giggled again, this time from nervousness.
~~Is the BBC executive leering at me? Nah, must be my imagination. ~~
“Why do you think I’m an actor? The feedback from the audience is like a drug,” explained Mr. Tennant.
“Marvelous, and me with an addictive/compulsive streak. I can see myself standing on a street-corner saying, ‘Hey, Mister, five seconds clapping for a blow-job?’ ‘Euw, an applause junky, no way lady!’” I joked, but deep inside I was worried -- would I abandon my friends to the ‘drug’ of performing?
The PBS and BBC people must have been impressed by the footage, as I got the VIP treatment from both camps. If they’d sucked-up any harder I’d have been in a full vacuum. Mr. Tennant spoke glowingly of the entire BBC Wales/Doctor Who production staff and told me his take on the three shows we would do. They described the storyline as we rode to a late lunch at that classy hotel we’d dined in the night before.
The proposed story line would connect all three episodes. It involved aspects of anti-mutant bigotry, alien races and a race to recover surviving Time Lord technology. Earth was a cross-roads of this race due to the Doctor’s and other Time Lords frequent visits to the planet.
My character was a young, human mutant, who was a college student studying in the emerging field of exobiology -- the study of life on other worlds. For relaxation she sang with a local band and was getting some recognition as a performer. This regrettably made her a target of the radical anti-mutants. It also was an excuse for me to sing on the show, most likely in some sexy outfit. Can you say ‘type casting’, boys and girls? Ghod, I miss Mr. Rodgers.
A radical anti-mutant group aligned, unknowingly with one of the alien races, bombs the lab in an attempt to kill her. The explosion exposes my character to samples of Galifrian genetic materials a clandestine government agency was testing surreptitiously. Her mutant physiology makes her compatible with it, and she is slowly transformed into a Galifrian, a member of the Doctor’s destroyed race of time travelers. This makes her the greatest prize of all, the only known living female of her species. She becomes a target for destruction or slavery by races that feared the Time Lords as she could begin the restoration of that ancient race.
The Doctor becomes involved when my character's body begins to change into a Galifrian, and this is detected by his TARDIS time-ship’s telepathic circuits and later his own abilities to mind-link. I thought it sounded promising, and I would get to see a foreign country -- maybe even visit where my ancestor John had lived.
“Is there a chance I could see a little of the country? I realize we won’t have much time, but I’d love to see something, maybe a castle or some historic sites? I’m thinking of maybe Caernarfon Castle. I remember watching Prince Charles investment as the Prince of Wales via live TV relayed by the Early-bird satellite.”
They looked at me oddly for a moment; the BBC producer was looking at me, too, but not for the same reason, I thought. I chose to ignore it for the moment, though I was beginning to regret dressing so provocatively. It was one thing to do so at Whateley, or even back at the Mutant-wing and UW-Madison campus, but it was not appropriate for here, I began to believe.
“Remember I’m older than I look, and the live world-wide broadcast was a big deal in my day; its routine stuff now,” I said, trying to remain professional.
“Looking at you, Joanie, it’s hard to remember you’re the oldest person here. You have me beat by several years,” said the BBC executive.
~~Yeah, I noticed you *looking* too. Has he never seen breasts before?~~
~~Why am I so angry? There’s no reason for it. Oh, Mr. BBC staring at my boobs is annoying, but I did choose to wear this sexy dress. Then I don’t believe that nonsense about dressing provocatively inviting rape either. Rapists rape, flashy clothing might make you more visible, but it’s no excuse. But, on-the-other-hand, he’s used to seeing attractive starlets in skimpy clothes, the dirty old … Joanie, calm down! Why am I suddenly so irritable? Of course, that’s it; I’ve been trying to remember something important I meant to do the other day, but what was it? Ghod I hate it when I forget things. ~~
While I’d been thinking, the BBC executive collected his thoughts, then smiled. “I do believe we can find a ceremony to attend. If you can come for the last two weeks of June; you can see the opening of the Welsh Parliament on your last day. Scotland and Wales have limited self-rule now, you know, Joanie. The festivities are colorful and drip with history,” he said happily.
“You’ll have a great time; the Parliament will be opened by Prince ...” David started to say. At least he was looking me in the eyes.
“... a prince royal, you may or may not recognize him in the States,” interrupted the BBC exec. “I hear Charlotte Church will sing for the ceremony.”
“Charlotte is a marvelous singer -- one of the best there is. I’d love to see her perform,” I said. “It would be a treat for me; thank you for thinking of it.”
”There are excellent connections from Cardiff to Boston via Gatwick or Heathrow; you can be home the same day. What do you say, Joanie?”
“I’m your girl.” ~~But if you don’t stop leering, I may get violent. Damn, I feel frustrated. ~~
“We’d like to film some publicity footage for ....”
“Deal’s off!” I said in no uncertain words to the BBC exec.
He seemed shell-shocked. So was I, afterwards. ~~Where the hell is this anger coming from?~~
“Are you f...n’ crazy? The last thing you or I need is advance publicity of my appearance. Why not go with the old ‘mystery guest star’ or ‘promising new actresses début’ or something like that. Plastering my name all over will only give the lunatic-fringe, anti-mutant groups time to organize a more effective protest of my appearance; I am a prominent mutant after all. I will do the show only if the first time the public sees or hears of my name is in the opening credits. Use something simple like ’Joan Brown’ or ‘introducing Joan Brown’. The reaction of the fans will publicize the repeats and following episodes. Word of mouth is a powerful advertising tool, and by the time the loonies react it will be too late,” I suggested.
I swear I saw the wheels turning in the executive's head. That’s an expression, not a new mutant power, but you understand. Meanwhile I was confused as to where all that vitriol came from; I rarely was cross at anyone since my mutation. Something was seriously wrong but what?
“You may have something here, and it certainly saves on the budget. Speaking of money, how much do you want per episode? We can’t pay a lot, but the pay is not trifling,” he said, and David nodded in agreement.
“Union scale will be more than sufficient; I don’t need the income to be honest. I do ask that you donate my pay to one or more of your local mutant support groups in Wales; I’m sure they need the help,” I said.
“Beautiful and generous; are you seeing anyone currently, Joanie?” David asked.
~~Strange, he seemed a bit other-side-of-the-fence on the show, but then first impressions are just that. ~~
At least I was calmer now that I’d blown of some steam.
“I’m flattered, David, but I do have a person I’m trying to remain faithful to,” I said carefully.
“If he, or she, has your heart they must be something special,” he replied.
“Special doesn’t cover it.”
~~Try adding underage, schoolboy, and potential prison time, and the picture is more complete... And I wouldn’t change it if I could, but then good things are worth waiting for — at least four years in our case. Ghods, I’m such a romantic. ~~
It hit me why I’d been so cranky.
~~Eric! I forgot to call Eric on Friday night. Shit, how will I ever make it up to … oooh? Yeah, that would do it! No! Get *that* out of your mind. Remember, girl, you promised, absolutely not until he’s 18. Do you want to go to prison? No wonder I’d been such a bitch; I was projecting my anger with myself onto him … My, aren’t we Freudian today, Joanie. ~~
The extreme range of expressions on my face must have been like a living *neon sign*, advertising my feelings for this unnamed special someone. I wanted our relationship to remain private so I maneuvered them off that track.
“Why not broadcast the three shows as two broadcasts. One episode the first time to whet their appetites, the second they get the smorgasbord of the remaining two,” I suggested. “Oh, I’d like a DVD copy of the three shows prior to broadcast. I want to tease my sci-fi club friends. I know about copyright and all.”
The exec looked hesitant, and at my cleavage again. I slipped into full-blown sex-kitten mode.
“No one will touch them, oooh ... other than me,” I requested, while using my cleavage, body and voice to their sultry best.
I looked past my *victim* and noticed several nearby patrons had stopped in mid-bite, and their busboy was walking away awkwardly, as if his pants didn’t fit right. The specific response I wanted didn’t take long.
“God, Joanie, how do you do that? One moment you were businesslike and matter-of-fact, and moments later you were this living wet dream. Could you ease up on it as I fear I’ll soon do something embarrassing in my trousers? I haven’t felt this way since my first date with my future wife. That was the finest bit of acting I’ve seen in years,” the BBC exec said and loosened his tie; I suspected he wanted to *adjust* something else, but we were in public.
“It’s not exactly acting; I have an intense libido ...” I gave that a moment to sink in, then I whispered in that husky tone, “Take me now, stallion.”
His eyes fluttered for a moment as a strained expression transformed his face, and he quickly looked embarrassed in the extreme.
“Pardon me, may I be excused?” the executive asked politely.
He rose from the table and hurried to the gents, holding a napkin in front of his ... I giggled myself silly as he disappeared.
“Joanie, that was shameless,” said David Tennant.
“He deserved it; my eyes are up here, not slightly below the top of my bust-line,” I explained. “I hope all Welshmen aren’t perverts.”
“He always was a breast man; you should see his wife. She used to be a 'Page Three' girl.”
“And you, Mr. Tennant?”
“David, please. My parents taught me to never objectify women, not that I didn’t notice -- a lot. You are an exquisite woman, Joanie.”
“How sweet of you, David,” I said, and I gave him a hug and a kiss.
I noticed flashes going off, but I wasn’t sure who was being photographed.
“What was that about? Who was being photographed?” I asked.
"Us, I’m afraid. I recognized the photographer, but too late. He’s a paparazzo that follows me around looking for shots he can sell the tabloids," David said, ashamedly and with a hint of anger at the fleeing intruder. “I forgot you’re not used to this sort of thing; some of the worst ones,” he pointed surreptitiously at the retreating photographer, “are little better than parasites. I’m so sorry, Joanie,” David said in explanation.
I could see he was furious at the photographer’s intrusion but David was too expert a player at the publicity game to react foolishly. I, however, was a novice and on the verge of losing it.
“That bastard! I was kissing you! I played right into their hands, didn’t I?” I exclaimed.
I was angry and anxious; I felt like panicking. Part of me wanted to run after him, knock him to the ground and stick that damned camera where the sun doesn’t shine. Part of me wanted to hide. I had to stay in control.
~~Shit, what will Eric think? Oh Ghod! And after I didn’t call him on Friday; he’ll think I’ve dumped him ... Calm down, Joanie, concentrate. You can salvage this. ~~
“I have one last request: no dining out, not even to get a lousy fast-food breakfast sandwich while I’m in Wales. A closed set is non-negotiable. I’m not dealing with those ... parasites,” I snapped. I was disgusted with myself for being careless.
“Whoa, calm down, Joanie,” said my PBS mini-series producer. “I’d think by now you’d be used to it.”
“Not when it may hurt my closest friends. The last thing I want them to think is I’m a slut,” I said, upset and close to tears.
~~Damn, but I feel like I could be one so easily. This new body, this new life is more complicated than I ever imagined. I’m beginning to understand how so many girls end up unwed mothers in their teens. Hurry up and turn eighteen, Eric. ~~
“We’ll come up with additional cover. We can say David was here in conjunction with the NOVA special, doing some narration and the like. It’s thin, but it should do. Don’t worry, Joanie, we’re professionals,” the local PBS executive producer said.
* * * *
Around two o'clock, I called Babs from my hotel. They’d rented my room for Saturday and Sunday. This gave me a place to dress and relax before heading back to Whateley; I could stay overnight if I needed the rest. I explained to her about the offer to guest star on Doctor Who, and that it meant I’d have to go to Wales for a couple weeks in June. I also told her about the paparazzo following David and the circumstances behind the embarrassing photos. I so wanted to tell Eric. I felt guilty about Friday and wanted him to know how much I missed him.
Babs explained that Eric had not yet returned from an out-of-town scholastic event. His grades had always been good, but they had improved noticeably in the last few months. They were so good he’d been encouraged to participate in this scholastic competition by his teachers. Babs made sure I knew what she knew -- it was due to me.
“Joanie, Eric worships you.”
“You mean candles, mystic rites, and animal sacrifices?”
“Girl, control yourself -- and I wanted to say that,” Babs said, and giggled. “My son is dead-serious about it. He’s keeping to the exercise program with his dad; he’s careful what he eats, like an athlete in training. He has never studied harder in his life. I’ve received calls from his teachers asking what we did to motivate him. Bob and I say, honestly, ‘he’s trying to impress this special girl.’ Mel joked to me she thinks space aliens replaced him with a clone,” Babs said calmly.
“Mel would say something like that; she has your sense of humor, Babs. How is she? I’d like to talk to her.”
“On Sunday afternoons Mel meets at Lisa’s house with the girls from the November sleepover. It’s the weekly meeting of the Official Joanie Fan Club; Mel is President,” Babs said and giggled.
“Her being President was a given, Babs. Tell her I’m happy for her,” I said and laughed.
“The girls even wear special club clothes; an oversized sleep-shirt with your picture on it and bunny slippers. That’s over their regular clothes; it’s not a sleepover but they like to remember. They spend several hours answering questions from your fans; Mel says they have lots of fun doing it. They have an official FAQ sheet on you posted to the Web; don’t worry, my dad reviewed it to make sure it protects your family. Lisa’s family has a special high-speed link your Mr. Karaoke provided them to a server bank at a local internet provider. The girls decided Lisa’s was best, as the family owns a business here and are unlikely to move. We’d host it, but you know how fickle politics can be; it was the girls who figured that out.
“They hold live chat sessions, twice a month, on Saturday nights. The girls you met on the train are often online with Mel and her friends too. Your Mr. K hired a tutor in computers and web page maintenance to help Mel and her friends. They are learning useful skills and are having fun,” Babs told me excitedly, then she moaned softly.
"What was that, Babs?”
“Joan or John kicked me ... ooh, they did it again. They are energetic babies; sometimes it’s hard to sleep, they’re so active.” Babs hesitated, then she spoke in a way that worried me. “Joanie, you know I trust you, and I’m sure someday you will be my son’s wife. I want to be a grandmother; I want to be surrounded my children, and their children -- your children. It‘s just, I ... I’m scared, Joanie," Babs said.
“Scared of what, Babs?”
“Of dying; that I’ll never see these babies, my twins. Promise me, if I die, you will raise them as if they were your own,” Babs said, and quietly began to sob.
“Babs, dear, it’s probably all the stress and hormones talking. I’ve read how some women suffer terrible depression after they give birth; I don’t see why you can’t have problems before the birth.” I was guessing on this last bit, I’m no expert on pregnancy, but I hoped it would calm her.
~~I’d better ask one of the doctors on campus about that to be sure; I don’t know enough to tell if this is normal or if something is seriously wrong. Babs’s emotional state has me worried, and I will be pregnant myself someday. ~~
“I know it’s irrational, but my gut, my instinct, tells me something will go wrong, and I’ll lose the babies and die. I can’t shake the feeling,” Babs said, distraught.
“Have you told your doctors, or Bob?” I asked.
“Bob tries to cheer me up, and he made sure the doctors tested me thoroughly. Physically, I’m in excellent condition for a 35 year old with twins; mentally, they say I’m having a mild case of anxiety. With the babies, they are reluctant to prescribe anything, so I get daily checkups and they gave me relaxation exercises. It helps, but I still get overwhelmed. Could you come and visit me, Sis?”
“What? SIS?”
“I’m so sorry; I didn’t mean to say ... yes, I did mean that. Joanie, I don’t know when it happened, but I think of you as my sister -- the younger sister I never had,” Babs said, sounding happier.
I was confused.
“Your younger sister, Babs? I’m 15 years older than you!” I exclaimed in amazement.
“Joanie, hear me out. I had to grow up fast after mom died. I barely can remember her; I was so young when she died. Dad tried to give me a normal childhood; he tried so hard. I had a great nanny, a college girl; she’s his personal assistant now. He spent lots of time with me and took me to parks and fun places. I got to play girls sports and took dance lessons -- anything I wanted. But he couldn’t give me what I wanted most, a brother or sister. I told him I missed mommy, but it was okay for him to get a new mommy. Dad couldn’t; he loved her too much.
"When I entered puberty and blossomed, I became his escort to major political events and concerts. The press speculated he was grooming me to replace him in the Senate. It was at one of these events after I graduated high school that I met Bob, and you know the rest. We got married soon after we knew I was pregnant, and I had Eric while I was still in college. I stayed on to finish my degree; Dad and Bob were so supportive. I love my kids and husband; I wouldn’t give them up for anything. Despite all this, and all their love, my silly little girl dream survived.
"Joanie, part of me still wanted that older brother or younger sister. Then you came running into our lives in that sexy-hot leather getup of yours. I swear something clicked in my mind as we rode in the limo, and we talked about your period. It was like you were my much younger sister sharing a girl secret. As I think on it now, that’s when I started to think of you as my younger, prettier sister. Then after Mel’s birthday party when the news broke, and I learned you’d been a middle-aged man, I couldn’t believe my good fortune. To wait 35 years for a brother or sister, then you *both* save my child, I ...”
“Somehow I’ll come, Sis,” I said trying to remain composed. I could hear Babs sobbing.
“You okay? Speak to me, Babs ... big sis?
“I ... I ... I’m okay, those were happy tears, little sis,” Babs said and laughed a little.
“Let’s not overdo it, Sis. Remember, if I am your sister, marrying Eric would be incest. That would not make Eric, or me, happy at all. But if you want to think of me that way, I’m honored. You know that means you get two sisters; you get my younger sister too, though she’d be your older sister and mine as well. Did that make any sense?” I asked, and giggled.
“Made perfect sense to me, but then I’m silly like you, Joanie Sis. That name needs work, but I’ll figure it out. Thank for letting me vent. These mood swings are terrifying, but Bob has helped me though them. Unfortunately it’s fundraising time, and as Governor the party demands he do his share. He’s out until late tonight on the rubber-chicken circuit and yes, Joanie, I trust him. I may be a fat cow, but I am the randiest fat cow in town. Bob’s a happy man.”
“If the mood-swings get to be too much, tell Bob. I bet he’ll come running. I don’t know how soon I can come out; I’m busy filming for NOVA in Boston each weekend for the next couple weeks. I might be able to sneak in to Iowa on a weekend later in May. I’ll definitely come for a week or two in June, probably the first half. The rest of June, I’m overseas in Wales,” I told her.
“I’ll tell the kids not to say a word about the Doctor Who filming. Joanie, you will call Eric and explain about the photos? It would mean so much more coming from your, dear. I know you’re faithful and would not knowingly do anything to harm him. In his heart he knows this too, but teenage love is tricky,“ Babs said sweetly.
”Tell me about it; I’m stuck with it for eternity, more or less. If you feel out of control, or even stressed, call me any hour, day or night. I may grumble, but I’ll be there for you,” I assured her.
“Why not say 24/7? By the way, Sis, you just said you could be stuck dealing with teenage love for more than eternity. That sounds a tad impossible,” Babs ribbed me; I was glad she was feeling like her old self.
“I said ‘Day or night’ because I hate 24/7. And there are things that take longer than eternity; such as finding a clean restroom in an Irish pub on St. Paddy’s day in Chicago. Goodnight, my dear sister Babs,” I said and laughed.
“Good night, Sister,” Babs said contentedly.
* * * *
It was nearly three PM when I checked out and was chauffeured to the PBS station to retrieve my pickup. The executive producer rode with me.
“Nice of you to come, but all I needed was a safe escort to my truck.”
“Do you have to leave immediately, Joanie?” she asked.
“I want to get back well before dark; the roads near school are twisting and narrow, and we’ve a lot of wildlife in the area.”
“Could you wait half an hour? I checked while you were resting and refreshing yourself, and found some of the TOH crew are available today,” she said with enthusiasm.
“This Old House?” I asked. She nodded in reply. “That would be great! We start demolition tomorrow. If they want something other than my photos of the farm prior to the work, tomorrow morning is the last chance,” I explained.
“Great! Thanks for mailing those preliminary building plans to us, it gave their producer a guide for setting up a tentative shooting schedule. We’ll stick to the same weekend filming schedule for NOVA and the TOH crew can stay in New Hampshire for several days during the week. An hour or so per day filming with you will do for that. They’ll set up time-lapse cameras and keep a camera operator on-site. When something major is about to happen call us, and we’ll get the talent back up there ASAP,” she replied.
“The camera crew will stay in Dunwich?” I asked.
I hadn’t been listening closely, and I missed a big detail she’d revealed.
“Or Berlin, they’re both close by. The TOH crew will also shoot your NOVA opening scenes at your farm and Whateley. I have the crew at the station already, and the talent can meet us there -- are you game?”
“Go for it,” I said.
“Wonderful! This will save us time and money as we shoot the first of the shows at your farm,” she said.
“First of the shows -- you mean shows as in more than one? I thought you were filming bits here and there, and it would end up as a one or two-part celebrity home visit?”
This was not as I had expected.
“I screened your test footage for the TOH producer and director while you were busy with the BBC filming. The producer is scrambling to re-arrange the 2007/2008 show schedule to give your projects more exposure. That you don’t expect any donations allowed us to get this organized quickly, though I’m certain our contributors would jump at the opportunity. I was told your project had interested TOH, but the production schedule was set. Seeing your test footage changed their minds. TOH will do a full series on your farm, possibly the majority of the season. The other projects can be broadcast later than planned, or used for a fund-raising special,” she said.
“But what of...”
“We know about the need for Whateley and its students to remain safe from undue scrutiny. We are willing to sign an agreement similar to the one you have with Playboy. We will protect your secrets.”
“Okay, I’ll take that as your verbal agreement to my request for secrecy. We can sign a formal one as soon as my lawyer drafts it. I’ll fax it to you and you can overnight it back.
I looked at my watch and was concerned at the time.
“The crew from This Old House needs to get here soon, or I’ll have to meet them tomorrow at my farm,” I said.
“No problem; here we are at the station, and I see everyone has made it here ahead of us”
She made introductions; I noted a man with a familiar face in the background. The TOH technical people explained what they intended to do. Using a lowlight, auto-stabilized, hand-held HD camera, they would interview me about the project as we drove. The camera/sound man’s equipment was self-sufficient, but could get plenty of power from the DC and AC receptacles in my truck as required. One operator was all that was needed. The rest of the film crew would follow my truck in a station van.
“Are you sure this will work?” I asked.
“We’ve done this many times, Ms. Brown, I mean Joanie, and in vehicles not nearly as well equipped. Just concentrate on your driving, you don’t need to look at the camera; I have some special tricks and lens attachments to get good profile shots despite sitting in the back seat,” the camera technician said.
The whole time the technician spoke, the familiar, wiry, middle-aged man stood watching us intently. He smiled as I’d seen him do hundreds of times on TV as he came over to me and shook my hand.
“I’m Norm Abrams; I’m one of the hosts on This Old House,” the wiry contractor/woodworking expert said. I could hear the Boston accent in his voice.
“I think I’ve heard of you,” I said, and laughed. “Okay guys, let’s go, but I do drive aggressively at times.” I had to warn them, but I wasn’t about to admit my truck could outrun most sports cars. “Before I go, I need one last thing. Hugs and kisses; you were great,” I said and smiled.
I hugged everyone, saving David for last; the BBC people had delayed their departure for me as they were keen to impress me with their courtesy. I whispered in his ear, and Mr. Tennant and I played Hollywood screen lovers -- it was safe, we were inside the secure garage.
When we came up for air he said, “Mah word, Miss Joanie, your ministrations have stirred mah affections most delightfully.”
I thought he did well, too. I whispered in his ear again. We walked towards our waiting vehicles.
“I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I said, then I giggled and looked over my shoulder. “I always wanted to say that line.”
We got into our respective vehicles and drove off, the station van following my truck at a discreet distance.
* * * *
“What do we do now?" I asked Norm Abrams and the camera/sound technician.
“I’d like you to describe your projects; I have notes from my producer that describe key aspects of you projects, so I can ask intelligent questions to guide you. Don’t worry if you make mistakes, or say something you shouldn’t -- that’s what editing is for,” Norm said.
~~What, making mistakes or correcting them? ~~
We talked casually, while I drove though the troublesome Boston traffic. He asked about my career, what I was doing at the Academy, and my plans for the future. We had decided that we’d call Whateley ‘the Academy‘, as it was technically correct yet didn’t give away where we were. Once we were free of the heavy Boston traffic, we began the serious filming. I described my projects in detail: why I’d purchased the farm, my construction plans, and what my long-run intentions were. He explained some of the technical aspects and challenges the builder -- our Operations department -- would face.
“Our viewers will see some unconventional building materials and methods at your projects. I’m eager to see them myself," Norm said in a convincing tone.
“The Academy has a student body that spans the widest range of mutant types and abilities of any school in the nation. There are many devisor/gadgeteers among them, and with so many mutants here having major powers, by necessity the Academy has become a research and test facility for advanced materials and processes. This helps with their education and minimizes the damage some of them might inflict on the infrastructure or their fellow students. Some of the features in my home are only now coming to market. Some are not yet out of the development stage. I’m taking advantage of this because it’s available and it helps educate the students involved,” I said.
“Students?” Norm asked.
“Much of the work will be done by work-study students supervised by licensed professionals from the school Operations department. This will be a final exam for several of them,” I explained.
“Will you be putting any sweat-equity into the projects?” Norm asked.
“I intend to do as much as I can, at least until this June. I’ll be tied up with out-of-state commitments most of the month. I’ve organized a student pop band, they plus several other student friends of mine, will work with me as a light demolition and cleanup crew. They will all be paid by me for their efforts. The Academy is terribly expensive to attend; the nature of the student body and their needs makes it so. Any extra income is welcomed by the students. They will also be guests at my home in the future as I hope to remain their friend after they graduate.”
“What are your long-term goals for the farm?” Norm asked.
“To build a home to entertain my friends and family, a retreat in times of stress, a place to pursue my hobby, and a loving home to raise a family,” I explained.
“You have children?” he asked.
“No, not yet but I want to more than I ever could have imagined. I’ve dreamt of having children and putting down roots. I do love being at the Academy," I said.
“And you do what there?” Norm asked me.
“I teach history, mostly, but I also take classes as a student. I’ve been a woman and mutant less than a year, and I desperately need instruction in both. Mind you, a few of my friends think I have the woman part down pretty good, but there are things I need to work on.”
~~Like how to keep a long-distance relationship healthy and how to, um, make babies. I know it in theory but I need practice sooo bad, lots and lots of practice. Stop thinking like that, Joanie, or you’ll assault the TOH men, and that would be dangerous while driving.~~
“I do historical research, and I substitute teach a wide range of subjects, including music. I’m a proud auxiliary member of our Campus Security force. I fund-raise, and I sing on the side -- it’s my hobby,” I said and grinned.
“Your most recent fund raising activity I’ve heard about. For those who don’t know, Joanie posed for Playboy magazine to raise several million dollars for the school scholarship fund. Could you auto ...”
“... graph your copy? Okay, but it doesn’t come out until May,” I explained.
“I feel it’s my civic duty to buy a copy,” he said.
”Me too,” said the cameraman.
We got a complete overview of my projects shot during the drive. We first stopped in Dunwich to get them lodging. Next, I took them to campus so Whateley Security could issue them guest passes and copy the tentative shooting schedule. That way Security would know when to expect the camera crew, both here at Whateley and at my farm. When on campus, the TOH people would be escorted continuously to preserve the anonymity of the students and faculty.
We stopped by the farm for a quick tour -- enough so they knew what to expect on Monday morning. As a courtesy, I drove them back to Dunwich. They could have traveled in the station van but it was full of equipment and only comfortable for two.
On a hunch, I called the private number of the Ford dealership’s owner. He promised to have a new F-series pickup delivered to the TOH crew at their hotel by 7:30 AM, Monday, even if he had to help transport it there personally. The This Old House people would get to use the truck for free; the opening shots of Norm and other hosts arriving in the pickup was considered ample payment for the rental. Ghod bless product placement.
* * * *
I was back on campus at dusk. I checked in with Security, then checked on my smilodons. They were happily playing with Pinky, and the female K-9 officer’s male Doberman, Fifi. The cats and dog got along great; I hoped it would remain that way when George and Gracie each weighed five times as much as the dog.
“George and Gracie are a couple of pussy cats, aren’t you dears,” the officer said as they let her scratch them behind the ears and on their bellies -- very trusting on their part.
“I wish to point out these are apex predators, and nothing preyed on them until humankind came along. They are not pussycats ... come to mommy my little snookums!” I said in baby-talk. They came over and purred like chainsaws as I crouched and we rubbed against each other. That’s me and the smilodons, silly d/j/w readers.
"'My little snookums’, Joanie? That’s a strange name for apex predators, but what do I know? Come, Fifi, time for a brushing and din-dins," she said and Fifi walked perfectly at her heels as they left.
* * * *
April 30, 2007
I got up early, did an abbreviated morning run, then met my cleanup and demolition crew for breakfast at 7:15AM.
“Good morning! I see everyone is here. Hi, Cheryl, you're looking chipper,” I said cheerfully.
“Morn,” she grumbled back, then started worshiping her huge cup, make that reservoir, of coffee. It had to be at least a quart.
“32 ounces of coffee? Girl, you’ll be so wired Superman couldn’t catch you,” I joked.
“Not morning person,” Cheryl said in a cryptic monotone.
She paused and chug-a-lugged more coffee. Some of the kids were aghast. Cheryl yawned and chugged even more coffee. The caffeine began to kick in.
“It’s not all coffee. It’s one-third of a cup of ice from the soda dispenser, skim milk poured over that until the ice not quite floats and a couple packets of sugar. Then and only then do I fill the cup with coffee. The ice cools the coffee so I can chug it. The milk and sugar make it taste good and easier on my stomach,” Cheryl explained more and more rapidly.
“So you like coffee the way my late grandmother and I do. Kewl Cheryl!” I exclaimed.
I could see several kids squirming, sticking out their tongues, and pretending to gag.
“It’s a big time saver not having to wait for the coffee to cool. Think of it as a do-it-yourself power drink, or an upscale iced-coffee drink Starbucks would charge a fortune for. Finish up; if you’re staying past nine, or can’t eat this early, grab a sandwich to take with you. We leave for the farm in five minutes; meet me in the Administration parking lot,“ I announced.
* * * *
We gathered by my truck. Mystor hadn’t seen it yet and thought it was ‘bad’ -- as in good. White boys should not try to do ghetto slang; it sounds terrible.
“Thanks for the compliment. Remember, your work today is to pay me back for my clothes; you never did restore them,” I said, as I frowned at him.
“I was showing off for the class, and I shrunk them too much. I can’t generate that much magical energy; I’ve tried, Joanie. I’m very sorry, that was a hot ... I mean that outfit looked good on you,“ he said.
“I thought it was sexy, too. If you work hard today, I’ll pay you from tomorrow on and we'll call it even, okay?” I offered.
“Thanks, Joanie!” he shouted, then he ran up and kissed me hard -- really hard -- and that hug....
~~My Ghod this is wonderful, I ...~~ I snapped out of my rapture.
“Mister Mystor, that was taking liberties with faculty; I could have you expelled,“ I growled in a so-so impression of Charles Laughton in Mutiny on the Bounty. He looked heartbroken. “I won’t say anything as you kiss very well, but in future don’t do that. I’m spoken for. If you’re looking for a girl, Lonnie here is in that magic class with you. Why not ask her out, or are you chicken?” I teased him.
“I did, and she turned me down cold,” he whispered.
“Were you dressed in that Goth outfit, and acting cock-sure like you did in the magic class?” I asked.
“Yeah, a guy needs a rep,” he said.
“Be yourself, Mystor; drop the macho posturing and dress nice for a change. You’d be good looking if you dumped the Goth look. It doesn’t suit you, trust me on this. The blue jeans and work shirt you have on today are much better, don’t you think so, Lonnie?” she blushed and hid behind another kid. “I’ve done my good deed for the day. Listen up, everyone! Would some of you please get in the Whateley van that my friend Chris from the motor pool is driving? When that’s filled, the rest get in my truck. And away we go!” I say in a singsong voice.
”What?” “Huh?” “Eh?” and variations on that theme assaulted my ears.
“Jackie Gleason used to say that after his opening monolog on the TV variety show he starred in back in the 50’s and 60’s. I would have used ‘We’re burning daylight,' but that supposed John Wayne quote is so overused.”
* * * *
We finally got to the farm, where Stan and Morrie demonstrated the safety gear, and the proper ways to handle power tools, crowbars and such. They checked everyone for proper fit as they issued the gear; I would reimburse Operations later. This would save having to drive everyone to the nearest hardware store or building supply center.
I gave everyone a quick overview of the project, then Stan described the next several day's activities. A few kids had to leave for early classes at eight, but could come back in the afternoon for several hours. Chris drove them back to Whateley, and provisions were made to shuttle kids back and forth as necessary. Operations transferred the Sinclair sisters to my project, instead of their usual duties as student employees. Stan and Morrie felt the two were seasoned workers now, and ready for extra responsibility. The girls were to be used wherever and at whatever they would be of most use. That meant they were the utility infielders of the student construction crew and would get lots of extra hours -- as much as the labor laws allowed. The girls needed the money badly as they are wards of the state.
“Fran! Harry! Glad to see you made it out here on your own,” I said.
“Stan and Morrie brought us. I had an idea to make disposing of construction trash easier and cleaner, and Fran is helping route the system so it doesn’t interfere with her excavation and stonework efforts,” Harry said.
“Harry’s idea will keep the worksite much cleaner and safer, Joanie. We’ll have it up by early tomorrow; you’ll love it,“ the willowy girl said.
“I’ll leave you to it; I need to get back to class. Security can find me at any time if I’m needed.”
Most of my cleanup crew had 9 o’clock classes and left with me. The remaining work crew -- the Sinclair sisters, Fran, Harry, and others from Operations -- began preliminary site preparations. The TOS people did some limited filming while we were there, and made plans to mount several time-lapse cameras that would capture views of most of the action. I did see Stan and Morrie being filmed as they explained to Norm Abrams what the next phases in my project entailed.
* * * *
I attended my morning classes and taught one history course. Next up was a noon meeting I’d scheduled with the current head of the History department, Dr. Joshua P. Bakers, the former head, Dr. Jean Alden, and Dr. Korolev, from what department I’m still not sure. No one wanted to be the permanent head of the history department so they rotated the duty several times a year.
I had invited Circe; she teaches both magic and history, but she’s unpredictable and didn’t make it. I’ve not dealt with her much and it’s probably a good thing. She has a temper and a quirky sense of humor that can cause troubles. Jean used to be John until he pissed Circe off by serving on one of the Plymouth Colony witch trial juries. Anyplace else, I’d think Jean was kidding me or a loon, but at Whateley I’m willing to believe her story. Jean’s was the young *doe* in the department until I came. Jean and I got on well; I think our *similar* pasts helped.
“I think it’s time I do some serious research, and fulfill my obligations to the Meridan chair and this department,” I explained.
“You’ve been quite helpful filling in as needed, Joanie,” Jean said.
“But I should be doing more. I need to get going on the mutant histories and artifacts archiving, or find the staff to do it for me. It’s been over four months since I arrived; I’m settled in. With Sergei’s help, I know my time-travel capacities well enough to try some *working* trips. I feel like I’m wasting space by holding the Meridian chair if I’m not doing significant research, or assisting others in theirs. I’ve already let several projects related to *show business* reserve some of my time for the next couple months; it’s high-time I set aside some time for historical research,” I said firmly.
“I understand your motivations; what do you have in mind?” asked Korolev.
“I am arranging for you to teach several courses this fall, Joanie. I’m sure you can be up to speed in time to be effective teaching. Your substitute work has been exemplary,” she said. “That includes courses you know little or nothing about. Dr. Ophelia Tenent, Caduceus, has told me several times she’d like you to teach or assist in her classes on a regular basis. She said something about your total naiveté helping force the students into trying novel ideas,” she explained.
“That should go over great. I’ve already been stripped naked by magic and subjected to a lust/compulsion spell. What next? Sorcery to make my boobs grow and my IQ lower? These are mutant teens we’re talking about here; teens in general are apprentice perverts. Having me teach magic to teens is like letting a bunch of pyromaniacs loose in a fireworks store,” I said firmly; remarkable acting on my part, don’t you think?
“You don’t believe that now, surely,” Jean replied.
~~Thank you, Ghod! ~~
“That was in jest, and stop calling me Shirley,” I said, and began giggling.
“You’ve seen Airplane! a few times, haven’t you, dear?” she asked.
“A few, but not as many times as Young Frankenstein,” I replied grinning.
“I had to ask,” she said half-moaning. “I feel you are ready to teach your own class, Joanie. The department and I are eager to help you as needed.”
“I was thinking of combining some time-travel related research with an advanced seminar for our top students or even some of the faculty. I’d like to offer it as a summer course, if possible. That’s where Sergei comes in,” I explained.
“What may I do for you, pretty lady,” Korolev said turning on his bearish charm.
“You know my time travel capabilities and limitations better than I do. Could you and my department head devise a series of research trips, possibly to Whateley’s past, or some other nearby site?” I asked.
“We could do this, but to let more people know of your ability is dangerous, Joanie. I would not want to see you hurt,” Sergei said.
“That’s why I need you to build me a lightweight but convincing fake time-machine. If they think it’s the machine and not me ...”
“... your secret is safe,” Dr. Bakers finished the sentence for me. “What do you think, Sergei? Can we pull this off?” he asked.
I was amazed, Dr. Bakers didn’t usually talk much with me; I’m too silly for his tastes at times. That pipe of his is both comforting and annoying. It makes him look like a kind-hearted grandfather, but the smell. I swear he chooses tobaccos on the basis of how irritating the smoke is to others. Today’s blend struck me as a delightful mix of flue-cured burley, tear-gas and VX. Fortunately I’d drank a large coffee that morning, the poor-man’s answer to the atropine injector.
“How soon do you need it?” Sergei asked.
“I’ll need a synopsis for Ms. Carson in days; it’s already late for adding to the summer school schedule as it is. The actual time travel need not take the entire summer session; they will need time to write their papers for me,” I added.
“There are aspects of Whateley’s and the greater Dunwich area's prehistory which are not well documented. The early days of our mutant school have disturbing gaps in the records. Much of the former private college’s history is poorly documented -- the college’s records are appalling incomplete. We know almost nothing from before the college was built. Operations would love to have a more complete map of buried mystical objects on and near the campus. Whateley and the surrounding region were, and are, something of a magnet for such things. I’m confident we can come up with something worthwhile, Joanie. I’m proud of you, girl. I was hoping you’d take some initiative in the department,” Jean said, and Joshua nodded his concurrence.
“Thank you, both of you. I’m busy with my farm project, and wouldn’t have the time to do this properly. You're good friends,” I said and hugged and kissed them. Korolev’s response was, delightfully enthusiastic.
“My, you Russian men kiss well; are you equally good as lovers?” I teased.
“Don’t tempt me, dear lady,” he said. I looked downward and noticed the *measure* of his temptation.
~~Woof! ~~
* * * *
I was assisting with a mid-afternoon class on power theory. They needed someone to demonstrate warper-class powers, and my time stop demonstrations are always show-stoppers. And no, that wasn’t a joke.
“Timeout to Security, Timeout to Security,” my secure cell phone police radio squawked. I acknowledged the message and hurried to Security.
I was surprised to see Chief Delarose there, as he usually takes the night shift.
“Joanie, I wanted to be here with you for this. Your friends at MSG, with assistance from the FBI, have unearthed news regarding Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” he hesitated, “and it’s not good. I’ll let them explain.”
We went into his office for privacy and security. I sat down and tried not to feel ill. He anticipated this as, instead of sitting behind his desk, he sat next to me on a couch. He didn’t say anything, but gave me a look like, 'Okay, daughter, be brave for your Dad.' Dr. Bellows, and several senior Security officers, joined us. The Chief pressed a remote, and we were on videophone via a camera/microphone unit built into a big flat-panel screen on one wall.
“Joanie, Chief Delarose, ladies and gentlemen, my name is Glacier Girl, and I have news on the Ultra-X-Amine homolog investigation you need to hear. Brace yourself, Joanie, we’ve got Tom and Tina Smith’s parents,” she said and she didn’t sound happy. I tried to ignore the unspoken and clearly unpleasant portion of her message -- that they were dead, or near to it.
“Great news, GG, I’ll tell Tom and Tina ASAP; they’re desperate to hear anything regarding their parents,” I said excitedly.
“Wait, dear,” she said.
~~Dear...? ~ ~ “What’s wrong? You’re scaring me, GG,” I replied.
“We found them, but too late. Their father is dead; their mother is in critical condition and may not make it, though the doctors are trying,” she said.
“What, how, where ... Oh shit, just tell me!” I wailed.
“From the evidence at the scene, the parents had been tortured and beaten to reveal where Tom and Tina had been taken. A printout on the Wisconsin Paranormals and Mutant Facility was found at the site. We think that’s how they knew to attack the hospital.
“It was due to a combination of hard police work and pure luck that we found them. We got a description of a panel-van that was seen loitering in the neighborhood around the time of Tom and Tina’s burnout and the parent’s disappearance -- thank God for nosy neighbors. We alerted the police and sent out search teams.
"An officer, visiting his relatives at their Dane County farm, mentioned the van. They recalled seeing one like it at an abandoned farm down the road. They thought it was hunters and hadn’t reported it, as the landowner often lets hunters on the property. The officer called it in, and we rushed out to meet him.
"The parents were left chained in an abandoned farmhouse basement. No food and precious little water -- an old leaking cistern allowed the mother to get something to drink as her chains had just sufficient slack. The husband’s skull was fractured; he died within a few days of their abandonment. She was almost unconscious and could not speak when rescued -- the result of starvation, stress and a broken jaw.
"I’ll have nightmares of that place I’m sure. It looked like they intended to set fire to the house, but it’s planting season and a farmer renting the land and outbuildings must have disturbed them, and they left. If the farmer had only gone in the house, maybe ... but we’ll never know. The dad’s injuries were severe; we still may not have saved him. From the savageness of the beatings -- and other evidence -- we don’t think the parents cracked; you can tell Tom and Tina that.
"Gin has called in her magic friends, and Dr. Sara and a team of specialists are doing all they can. We took Mrs. Smith into the mutant wing for her protection. It’s the length of time since the injuries and her fragile mental state that’s the problem. The brain activity is normal, if understandably agitated, but physically she’s bad. The next 48 hours will tell the story,” GG said.
“What do I tell Tom and Tina?”
I was crying softly; the twins were family to me and my friends.
~~My family! ~~
“What of the Kenners? Are they at risk? If they are harmed I’ll ...” I practically was screaming into the videophone. Chief Delarose wrapped an arm around me.
“Stay calm, Joanie. You can’t help Tom or Tina if you lose it,” he said in a fatherly tone.
“Joanie, are you alright?” GG asked, sounding very concerned.
“Yes, I’ll hang on for the kids,” I said, as I fought back the tears and rage.
“Tell Tom and Tina the truth, but don’t let them alone for any length of time -- not even to go to the bathroom. This added stress could make them suicidal,” cautioned Dr. Bellows.
“Your relatives are safe, Joanie. The FBI had the Kenners under 24/7 surveillance, soon after you rescued their daughter Susan. It’s costing a fortune, but this is now a top-priority case. The Ultra-X-Amine homolog is a danger to national security. Mutants made to order, or a mass outbreak of mutant burnouts, would be a nightmare, and they know it. GG explained.
“We figured you’d be worried for your cousin’s family, so I contacted a North Carolina supers group, and they are assisting in protecting the Kenners. Several members of MSG and the GMMO -- The Greater Milwaukee Mutants Organization -- are taking turns watching your aunt and uncle, Suzy’s grandparents and your various cousins on that side of your family. We have a team watching your dad and sister, too. We care for you. Joanie; we won’t let you and yours be harmed in anyway, if we can help it,” GG said.
“Thank you, GG, um, Janice. That means a lot. I’d better get it over with and tell Tom and Tina, “ I said with increasing sadness in my tone.
“I don’t envy you. Viewing the parents was grim; telling their children will be worse in some ways. If I have any news on their mother I will call, day or night. Hang in there for us, Joanie; we’re counting on you. There is some good news: the FBI lifted prints, and got possible DNA and fiber samples from the abandoned farmhouse. We think the criminals slipped up. I’ll let you know however it turns out,” she said.
“Does the mother know her children are safe?” I asked.
“She’s drifting in and out of consciousness; we’d love to sedate her to ease her suffering, but she’s so weak. A mild dose of tranquilizers is all we dare give her; thankfully we have access to telepaths and empaths. Our friend Carrie has managed to communicate with her by telepathy and told her the children are safe with you at a mutant school out East and well guarded. The mother is relieved to know they are safe; it makes what happened to her husband and her have some meaning -- that they didn’t suffer in vain. Their mental conversation confirmed the evidence found at the crime scene; the parents never told the kidnappers anything. I hope to God the mother makes it; the woman and her murdered husband deserve medals. Carrie is doing her damnedest to encourage the mother to fight for her life -- she’s devoted to her children, and maybe that will make the difference. It will be a long recovery, and that’s iffy at best, Joanie,” GG said as we broke-up the video call.
I talked it over with the assembled officers and Dr. Bellows; I would break the news to the twins at our late afternoon band practice. Meanwhile, we would prepare for the worst: one or both of the Smith children panicking. I contacted the Anderson twins, and they agreed to meet me at the practice so I could use their trained empathic/telepathic talents to calm Tom and Tina. They were willing to stay on campus overnight with the twins, if needed.
* * * *
Next, I needed to enlist the help of Tom and Tina’s friends. Fortunately Pinky was to meet me at my room in Poe to exercise the smilodons prior to our scheduled band practice.
“Pinky, I need you to help me this afternoon at our band practice and probably for a considerable time after. I have news regarding the kidnapping of Tom and Tina’s parents. I’ll explain as we run the cats through their paces. Can I count on you, dear?” I asked.
“They’re dead or in bad shape, Joanie, I can tell from your expression and you are radiating pain and sorrow like a lighthouse -- empathically speaking,” she said, as she gave me a hug. I suspected the hug was for both of us.
* * * *
We spoke carefully, making sure no one could overhear us, as we put the smilodons through their exercises. I explained what I’d learned of the Smith’s parents, and of the plan for telling Tom and Tina. I’d devised it on the advice of Security and Dr. Bellows: I would tell them without sugar-coating it that their dad was dead and their mom in the hospital badly injured, but safe. Immediately after and for how ever long it was needed, my friends and I would do what we could to comfort Tom and Tina and would enact a strict buddy system. No matter what Tom or Tina did, one or more of us would be with them at all times, no exceptions. That included the bathroom. Dr. Bellows would let us know when it was safe to end our suicide watch.
Pinky spoke carefully. “I’ll do what I can. It’s unfortunate the kidnappers found the printout about the hospital, but that was the logical place to take them in the Madison area, so it eventually would have been a target,” Pinky said calmly, but I could see she was troubled.
“There is one good thing in all this horror that Tom and Tina can cling to -- their parents’ devotion to them. They proved this as few parents can, Joanie. To be tortured and not give out their children’s location is something to take pride in. Whatever happens, the twins have that fact to cling to.” Pinky paused to wipe her eyes. “The fact that their mom and dad faced death to save them makes me think the twins would not consciously dishonor their parents by committing suicide. That doesn’t mean they won’t commit suicide without thinking; you know, act on an impulse. If we can get them to remember the sacrifice their parents made, and remember their love, they’ll want to survive.” Pinky looked about to say something but paused instead. She had to dry her eyes once more; she was clearly distraught.
“That’s very sound reasoning. How did you think of that?” I asked.
“From my own experience and all my sessions with Dr. Bellows; you also talked a lot about your time in Madison and at the Hospital, so I knew it was the only one in the state for the more extreme cases. The kidnappers would have figured out eventually that Tom and Tina were taken there, printout or not. Torturing the parents was unnecessary and sick,” she said, wiping her eyes again. “I pray the mother recovers, Tom and Tim need her. To lose both parents after the sacrifice they …”
Pinky stopped, and began trembling, she was in agony. She looked into my eyes, then fell into my arms, sobbing. She tried to speak but her crying kept cutting her off. Her mouth would open but nothing except her sobbing came out.
“What’s wrong, dear? Tell Joanie; I can’t help if I don’t know what is wrong. Don’t be embarrassed; there is nothing you can say that will make me love you less,” I said as gently as I could. I swear I sounded just like my mother comforting one of us as little kids. Pinky’s sobbing eased some and she could speak, though she struggled.
“Their mom and dad … they were … he died … she saw him … Oh god, she hates me!” Pinky’s sobs stopped for a moment and she got tense in my arms.
This was scarier than her sobbing. I didn’t know what to do.
“What is it, tell me. Please, my child?” I begged Pinky. She twisted in my grip and looked back in the direction of distant Boston.
“MOM! Why do you hate me?” Pinky wailed and was wracked with sobs.
I feared she might hurt herself with their violence. I did what I could to comfort her and vowed no one would hurt her again, not my baby.
“Cry it out Pinky; I don’t mind. I need you to be strong for your friends; I need you to be strong for yourself and for me. Let it all out — let the pain go,” I said. I was crying too. I hadn’t felt this bad since my mother died.
~~I have to talk to the Senator soon; this situation with Pinky’s mother must end NOW, one way or the other. It tears me apart to see my Pinky like this. ~~
I hugged her like my mother did me when I was hurting as a child -- gently rocking us back and forth. I held her tight and hummed bits of songs I remembered from my distant, half-forgotten childhood. They were fragments of memories, as insubstantial as ghosts, but they comforted me and my dear friend. They were the strangest tunes, incomplete and barely remembered: Ham and Sam, Do Your Ears Hang Low, The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and something about an old lady who swallowed a fly. I gently coaxed us both back to a happier state of mind. When she smiled at me and my silly songs, I knew she was okay. I noticed the smilodons had moved closer and seemed to be guarding us. They appeared to relax as we returned to normal.
“I knew you were a special girl when we first met. Don’t ever lose that; don’t ever be afraid to feel,” I said, as we walked back to Poe with the cats neatly at our sides.
* * * *
Pinky surprised me with what she said next. I swear sometimes she’s several steps ahead of me, the way her mind works. We were back in my room when she spoke.
“I know you don’t approve of unauthorized mind control, Joanie, but if it gets bad -- really bad -- I know enough to telepathically implant a compulsion that will make Tom and Tina become violently ill should they attempt to harm themselves or if they seriously think of committing suicide. The effect would temporarily incapacitate them. I know it’s wrong and dangerous to tamper with other’s minds. I’ll only do it if there is no choice,” Pinky said as she fought back tears.
I was shocked at what she said, and what she claimed she could do with her powers.
“No wonder Administration put you in Hawthorne; making people blind with rage must be easy in comparison,” I replied.
“It was worse than that, Joanie. I was empathically projecting my emotions on others, sometimes in my sleep. Dreams can be violent and the effect I had on others was terrible. There were fights breaking out for no reason, and more disgusting things, too. When several girls nearly got raped due to my uncontrolled powers, I was put in my current room; it blocks mental transmissions, thus my nightmares couldn’t harm others. Those episodes stopped after I had you as the target for my frustration.
“Your becoming my friend, after all I tried to do to you, drained the hate from me, Joanie. Not that I still don’t have a temper sometimes, but it’s a normal one now. Dr. Bellows says I won’t have to stay in my room much longer if I keep up my exemplary behavior -- his words, not mine,” Pinky said and smiled. She was her normal, happy self now.
“I have the good Dr. Bellows on standby, and the Anderson twins will be with us, but thank you. We may need your mind trick if things go poorly, Pinky; that was well reasoned and thoughtful on your part. You’re a true friend to Tom and Tina. Thanks for explaining why you were placed in Hawthorne; that was honest and I’m sure it must have brought up unpleasant memories for you. Remember, Pinky, they are inverters; you could be hit with whatever mind powers you use on them. Be careful, you’re precious to me, like a sister or daughter ... nothing sexual. Sorry, that sounded stupid,” I said, but I thought, ~~I sounded like Babs did. Do I think of Pinky like she’s my ... daughter? ~~
“You’re the prettiest girl I know, Joanie, and I am bisexual, in more ways than one. I beat you to that one, didn’t I, Joanie?” she said and I pouted. “I see you as family, too, damn it,” she said, and giggled. “Let’s get George and Gracie settled in and then we’ll do what we have to for Tom and Tina,” Pinky said with conviction.
“Before we do that, we need to get cleaned up. Your face is a mess and I was wearing mascara and eye-shadow. I must look like a refugee from a clown convention,’ I said and giggled softly.
“No, Joanie, you’re too pretty; you could never look bad. Though you have a head start on a bitchin’ Goth look,” she said and laughed.
* * * *
To be continued in Timeout 4.
| Attachment | Size |
|---|---|
| Timeout_3_chapter_14_5aj.doc | 155.5 KB |
BornFreeTime -- a fan fiction for the Whateley Academy universe
Author:
Audience Rating:
Publication:
Genre:
Character Age:
TG Universes & Series:
TG Themes:
Other Keywords:
Permission:
BornFreeTime -- a Whatelely Academy Fan Fic by Rose_2
One minute you're a happy pair of siblings, the next your mommy is dead and you are in a strange land living with a new mommy and even stranger creatures. Experience a day at Whateley Academy throught the eyes of a pair of adventuring time-displaced smilodon cubs and their equally strange new mommy.
Born Free Time
This is fan fiction for the Whateley Academy series. It may or may not match the timeline, characters, and continuity, but since it’s fan fiction, who cares? To see the canon Whateley Stories, check out either Sapphire’s Place,
(http://www.sapphireplace.com/stories/whateley.html) or the Big Closet (http://bigclosetr.us/topshelf/taxonomy/term/117).”
This story comes courtesy of Rose_2. She has generously offered it for use in my Timeout Fan Fic. I think this qualifies her as the President of the George and Gracie fan club. We have tosssed this back and forth for some time and it’s been fun. It’s been interesting for me to look at my Joanie through a different pair of eyes, the two smilodons. Rose _2 gets the credit for most of this piece.
As always, your constructive criticism and advice helps us improve as writers and to make our stories better. This is an exercise in the joys of creativity and in appreciation of the wonderful Whateley Universe. Any violations of copyright, trade mark or use of real people or incidents are purely for purposes of humor or parody and done solely for the free enjoyment of the reading public. All rights reserved in perpetuity, Rose_2 and John from Wauwatosa WI, 2006-2007.
Adult content advisory: this story may situations and topics unsuitable for young minds or your sanity. Some content is of an adult sexual nature, so be warned. Okay, there is no such content in this story. I’m such a tease.
Born Free Time
By Rose_2 with assistance by John from Wauwatosa
GEBPRized by Janet Nolan and apprentice.
Rose_2 and my special thanks to the talented authors Bek D. Corbin AKA Chaka, Dr Bender AKA Sara Waite, Heather O Malley AKA Miyet, Warren Wheeler AKA Samantha Everheart/Hive and all those who created Whateley Academy.
* * * *
Mid morning at the Whateley Academy campus
Thursday April 26, 2007
Two young men entered Poe Hall through the door to the kitchen at the back of the house. Rampage and Blue Streak walked through the Poe kitchen and into the front hall and quietly started climbing the stairs.
“Blue Streak, are you sure this is a good Idea?” asked Rampage. “Now that we’re out of that podunk jail, we should get out of town.”
“Of course, first we get revenge against that bitch and it will all point to that fool Peeper,” laughed Blue Streak. “Then we get to New York and hook up with a big time syndicate and we got it made.”
The diabolic duo made their way to the linen closet that was converted to be the room for Joan Brown, student, substitute teacher, auxiliary security officer, pop idol, etc. Sometimes, Joanie wasn’t sure how many hats she wore.
As Rampage bent down to prep the digital still and moving picture cameras, Blue Streak bent to pick the lock on the door and stayed just like that. Standing around the corner, Mrs. Horton and Chief Delarose were also standing perfectly still as Joanie AKA Timeout froze time in the hallway.
Joanie walked up to the two criminals, who weeks earlier had tried to beat her to death, and last night escaped from the local county lock-up. Whateley Security had immediately gone on full alert awaiting their likely return. Fubar, the staff psychic expert, had alerted security of their approach. When they had crossed the woods onto the campus, they were then covertly tracked until they broke into Poe Hall and trapped themselves.
Joanie attached electronic four point restraint cuffs to the wrists and ankles of the two. She let normal time resume for the pair.
“What the hell, you again, bitch?” shouted Rampage, who tried using his brick strength to break free. Blue Streak tried escaping in the confusion. But his speedster ability was useless as the electronic restraints tangled his limbs.
“You two, resisting arrest again? Sorry, but,” Joanie said and gave him what appeared to be a swift kick between the legs with a steel toed boot. She pulled her kick at the last possible moment and never touched him. She just lightly brushed his pants, making no contact with his manhood. Rampage's mind did the rest as it reacted to prevent his imminent castration. He involuntarily tried to cover himself. A stunned Blue Streak was an open target and she did remember what they had tried to do to her. An equally well faked kick resulted in both Rampage and Blue Streak doubled over in imagined pain and struggling to maintain their balance due to the restrictions of the four-point restraints.
~~I so wanted to kick them for real, but it felt too much like a cheap shot... but then they had tried to kill me. Damn it, that’s right. They tried to kill me! I ought too ...~~ She thought.
“Consider yourselves lucky I don’t have any wire and a lineman’s pliers on me. If you thought the virtual boot hurt ...” ~ ~There, I’ve twisted-the-knife* sufficiently. I feel so much better now. Virtual revenge is nearly as good as the real thing, and much less messy. ~ ~ Joanie had them so mentally off balance, they had not yet realized they were not hurt.
“What did I do that was so bad you two had to try and kill me? Are your egos that fragile you can’t stand that a weak little girl defeated you in a fair contest? If you had used your brains in that endurance run, you could have beaten me easily. The smart move would have been to run close behind me, enjoying the view, then sprint past me at the very end. Remember, it’s blondes who are supposed to be bimbos, not boys,” she said and giggled. Then, Joanie got serious. “ I’m sorry about the boot to the, you know, but you did try to escape,” Joanie said and released the rest of her time stop. Rampage and Bluestreak just stared at Joanie, furious at being made fools of again.
Time resumed its forward movement when Joanie stood next to the Chief and Mrs. Horton. Rampage fell forward and Blue Streak went face first into the door, both spewing a string of curses at each other and Joanie when they saw her.
“What was that, Joanie?” asked the Chief.
“My knee-strike needs work; I think I’m aiming too high,” she said, pouting apologetically and giggling softly. Her emotions were mixed, she hated violence and felt bad about hurting the boys, but she felt satisfaction in making them pay. They had resisted arrest after all, but she still felt guilty.
Mrs. Horton in true form scolded both for their bad language. Two additional security officers moved the two criminals down to a waiting armored car painted in Whatley Security colors to transport them back to the county facility. Now Whatley personnel would be back up for the county officers, at the reluctant request of the correction facility.
Chief Delarose extended his right arm gentlemanly towards Mrs. Horton, “If you will come with me we can take your statement and put this matter behind us.” As they walked off Joanie reminded herself that the Chief was a class act.
~~Always the gentleman, the Chief, and what a great ass. Save that for the next call to Eric, Joanie. Eighteen is only four years away, hang on, Girl. You’ve waited 49 years, what’s four more?~~
* * * *
Ignored at the time, two rambunctious smilodon cubs were playfully pouncing on each other. George sprang from his perch on the remains of a couch that the cubs considered their own and just missed Gracie as she rolled away. George’s flight was stopped as he collided with the no longer locked door which vibrated open!
The two cubs while weighing 18 and 20 lbs each still had the thoughts of the kittens that they were treated as. So with inquisitive minds and rooms to explore, George and Gracie were on....
Born Free Time
Gracie is closest, so she boldly walks through the door while George is shaking off the collision with the door. She smells people and “the new Mommy. Why didn’t she come and play with us? I would really love a scratch on the back of my neck,” thinks Gracie as she rubs against the door jam. “The new mommy looks odd compared to the old mommy, but she scratches nice.”
“They went this way,” thinks George as he runs toward the stairs.
“Boys,” thinks Gracie as she climbs up on the window sill to look out. She saw the gentle grassy hills some squirrels and robins, but no mammoths like the old mommy told her about. “Hey, wait for me,” she merowed and chased after George.
George stopped and turned at the sound of Gracie’s merow and the two cubs tumbled down the stairs together. The cubs came to a stop tumbling into the doorway of the kitchen. George's sensitive nose picked up a smell from the trash can.
“Oh, that smells good.”
The senior girls had had a pizza party last night and the trash can was over flowing with pizza boxes. George pushed over the trash can to find a feast–five boxes with stale, cold pizza and a pile of anchovies that had been pulled off the pizza. The cubs devoured these delicacies. Gracie suddenly growled, or tried to when George went for the last of the fishy stuff and startled George who tumbled backwards through the back door.
It seems security had forgotten to secure this door. But the alarm did go off, scaring the cubs and alerting security that a security door to the building had been opened. With Mrs. Horton on her way to security with the chief, there was no one in the building to silence the alarm or to answer the repeated calls the security officer on watch duty made to Poe Hall. Pursuant to department policy a security officer was dispatched to investigate the alarm.
George and Gracie did not know what caused the noise, but were scared and ran across the field behind Poe Hall. George and Gracie stopped running after their sprint across the field lead them to a side entrance of Kane Hall. The two cubs lay panting on the sidewalk.
“You were so scared, running like that,” Gracie teased.
“Oh, and you weren’t right beside me, trying to keep up,” George snarled.
Once the cubs caught their breath, they started looking and sniffing around when George spotted a squirrel.
“Gracie, look, I’m gonna catch that squirrel,” said George.
“He heard you, now you’ll never catch him,” responded Gracie.
“Wanna bet?” and the two cubs were off chasing after the squirrel as it disappeared over a small hill.
The cubs found themselves at a outdoor test range where two teams of freshmen gadgeteers were competing. One team had built a small tank that could burrow underground for short distances. The other team was defending against the tank with twin laser cannons mounted on a scale model fortress like the one in the movie Starship Troopers. The field the size of a basketball court was littered with piles of concrete rubble to simulate battlefield conditions. The two teams were sitting in separate control rooms watching simple targeting monitors, not video screens.
“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. RANGE B IS ACTIVE, RANGE B IS ACTIVE. DO NOT ENTER,”
sounded from the loud speakers, not that it meant anything to George and Gracie as they crawled under an undermined section of a metal stockade fence chasing a gray squirrel. Luck and skill were with the squirrel who doubled back and scurried up and over the fence.
At this time the tank had began burrowing into the ground. George saw the tank and said “There it goes, lets get that squirrel,” and George was off like a shot chasing after the little tank.
George reached his quarry just as the tank had managed to dig itself under the surface of the field. The students had made their project light weight and maneuverable, but they had not contemplated a determined Smilodon in their design. To George and Gracie, the progeny of successful mastodon predators, a RC tank was great sport.
“You wont get away from me,” was George’s thought as his teeth griped the rear of the tank and pulled it free of its freshly dug tunnel.
“Silly boy, he didn’t catch a squirrel,” was Gracie’s comment, but as that thought was made, the twin lasers at the fortress fired at the tank AND George.
George yipped and ran for the safety of a big hunk of concrete as the poorly aimed shot singed the fur of his right ear.
“You can’t hurt my brother like that ,” Gracie hissed as she charged the fortress. Leaping from rock pile to rock pile, she was faster than the targeting computer could track.
The tank, not to be left out, fired at the fortress narrowly missing Gracie, who while not its target had almost reached the fortress. George, seeing this, growled–well tried to–“Nobody attacks my sister but me,” as he pounced on the tank with all of his 20 pounds landing with one paw on top of the gun barrel.
As the little tank shifted position to fire again, George lost his balance and fell off of the tank.
Gracie had reached the fortress and with her front paws swatted both miniature cannons turning the guns toward each other. At that moment all three weapons were fired, or at least the students tried to fire them. Both of the fortress laser cannons fried each other as the tank’s gun backfired as the barrel had bent under the weight of George's pounce.
The two cubs ran back to the hole under the fence as the twin explosions shutdown the testing range. The only witness of the event was an unmanned digital camcorder set up for classroom critique
* * * *.
“Officer O’Fallon to base, I have entered Poe and found the back door open, also the kitchen looks like some raccoons got into the trash. I’ll do a sweep of the premises and secure the back door O’Fallon out.”
As O’Fallon walked through the building, he saw all the doors were closed and locked except for one of the linen closets which had a bulletin-board attached to its door. He closed and locked that particular door and continued on with his search of the building, thinking it was unimportant.
* * * *
Again the cubs found themselves laying in the sun on the cool ground, panting to catch their breath, this time in a field of wildflowers. As George lay sprawled on his back soaking in the morning sun, Gracie was watching a multi colored butterfly land on the petals of a flower. She crouched down in her stalking posture, creeping closer to the flower when the butterfly suddenly took wing. Gracie happily danced in the flowers, reaching her fore paws up after the butterfly. Not to be left out, George joined in the dance with his sister. The cubs danced and jumped in the flowers as more and more butterflies rose up to fill the air.
The butterflies seemed to be leading the cubs over to the King annex where Joanie and Mr. King were discussing the music selection for The Sabers' rehearsal. Mr. King was explaining the snack he was preparing.
“Now, for a proper peanut butter and banana sandwich you have to use a cast iron skillet. It is just not possible to create this sandwich using a microwave oven,” authoritatively stated the caped teacher as he placed the sandwich on a plate to cool. “Not like that sandwich they tried to pass off at Crystal Hall.”
Joanie was trying to hide her giggle at how seriously he took the preparations by holding her fingers to her lips as if in thought and nodding politely.
~~Ghod, he takes being Elvis seriously, you don’t suppose he really is? I was a man, stranger things are possible, aren’t they?~~ she thought.
Joanie struggled to keep from laughing. Just then the sound of a commotion in the hallway drew them out of the room. Two girls were yelling obscenities at each other over who had the right to date a particular boy. Next came a masculine yell of “cat fight.” Mr. King paused on his way out the door only to turn off the hotplate under the skillet. Joanie was already on her way towards the shouts. The office door closing behind them caused the cooking smells to momentarily surge out of an open window.
The window in the room had to be open while Mr. King was using the hotplate. So as the butterflies lead the cubs across the field, Gracie caught the scent of cooking coming from the open window. The puff of hot peanut butter and banana scent was just too enticing. With two bounds and a leap Gracie caught the window ledge with her forepaws. A little clawing with her rear paws and she was in the room and on the counter under the window. Right behind Gracie was George who joined into the search to find something to eat.
Gracie pounced on the sandwich and George dug into the jar of peanut butter. This made a great snack for the cubs; unfortunately they did not know how to open the refrigerator to get to the cold milk to help wash it down. So George and Gracie decided to eat and run towards the forest where their senses told them there was a river flowing.
The cold river water was very refreshing after eating the sticky peanut butter. Soon after drinking his fill, George started walking out onto a fallen tree trunk that stretched over the river. Looking down into the water he saw fish, more specifically trout. Lots and lots of trout schooling together under the fallen tree trunk. George licked his lips thinking of eating fish, but tasted more peanut butter still in his fur around his mouth.
Gracie climbed up on some heavy roots of the overturned tree after she saw George looking at the water hungrily.
“Fish! Gracie, look at all the fish,” said George.
Gracie purred as she extended her claws, baby claws that they were, and raised her paw to swipe at the fish.
At that moment George slipped on the wet tree trunk, falling into the cold water scattering the fish in all directions.
Gracie swung her paw at the fish, missing wildly and causing her to tumble into the water, too.
The cubs, now wet, did not give up trying to catch the fish. Their splashing around chased the fish towards the bank. The lion cubs emerged from the cold stream looking like soaked house cats, but proudly holding a trout in their mouths.
“Mua phyh hii buggr,” George mumbled proudly with a mouth full of thrashing fish which translated into, “My fish is bigger.”
Gracie laughed openly at her brother. “In your dreams,” declared Gracie after spitting out her fish as she went to work opening up her fish like it was a sofa.
After eating the cubs version of trout sushi, they both lay down together in a nearby meadow to rest and dry, and soon were deep into a little cat nap.
* * * *
While George and Gracie were sleeping the day away, Joanie was at security answering LOTS of questions. Mr. King, Mrs. Horton, Ms. Hartford and The Erector–the last being the instructor of the Freshman Gadgeteer class that was using Range B that morning–all had questions for her.
Mrs. Horton: “Joanie the kitchen is a filthy mess.”
Mr. King: “My peanut butter-n-naner sandwiches and supplies are gone.”
~~He is clearly ‘all shook up,’~~ Joanie thought and giggled silently. She was trying not to get too upset at her impromptu and confusing interrogation.
The Erector: “My students worked hard on this test”
Joanie looked bewildered; she had expected to help process two empaths for fighting in the hall. Instead, she got called into Chief Delarose’s office and was feeling ambushed. The Chief was letting everyone have their say, though Joanie was tempted to use her power to interrupt the chaos into which the room was descending. Ms. Hartford was standing quietly in the corner, farthest from Mrs. Horton, with a sinister looking smile on her lips. Joanie was about to use her power to get some peace when Ms. Hartford spoke.
“Chief Delarose, would it not be prudent to capture these felines first before more damage is done?”
“Yes, yes of course,” he said as he keyed his intercom, “Jones, broadcast to all units: Be on the lookout for Timeouts two, um, lion cubs, traveling together or alone.” Feeling the absurdity of the situation the Chief added, “they are unarmed, but considered destructive, though Not Dangerous. Apprehend without violence,” he added with a sigh.
Joanie gave the Chief a big smile and a confused Ms. Hartford a hug.
All available security personnel whether on foot, in vehicles or wearing flying packs joined in the search for the cubs. Also, the Peacekeepers were called out to help in the search for the cubs. Stan and Morrie were sent down into the tunnels in case the cubs had gone underground. Joanie first went to Siegel Hall to get The Sabers to aid in the search.
Outside Whitman Hall, two security officers, either one of which looked like they could bench press a Buick, were walking along the shrubbery calling for the cubs.
“Here George, here Gracie,” called William Keerock.
“No, no, Will, you’re being too forceful. You’re trying to catch a cat, not a dog,” Lenard Vulcaine corrected. “Logically, you need to be more subtle”.
“Subtle hell, give me a clear shot with my Tazer and I’ll have those cats,” William said quick drawing his Tazer.
As the weapon cleared leather, Miyet sprang from behind a bush snatching it from Officer Keerocks hand.
“In the name of Bast and as a provisional member of The St. Louis Six I can not allow you to harm a cat in that manner,” stated the cat girl “What is your badge number? 1701, I’m going to have to report this to your superiors and PETA...
Miyet proceeded to give Officer Keerock a piece of her mind about his lack of respect for the animals of Whateley and the cat world in particular.
Officer Vulcaine held back all emotion while watching Miyet give his partner a good dressing down. He activated the personal micro camcorder to save this event to share with others.
* * * *
The maximum effort security put forth reminded some of the staff of the time in 2001 when Ms. Hartford had ordered Miki caught. ~~We all know how well that worked, maybe Miki has seen the cubs?~~ wondered Mr. Miyagi, the head groundskeeper
* * * *
Chief Delarose was monitoring the progress, or lack there of, in the operation to capture the cubs, when he received a call from operations. “Go ahead, Morrie,” the Chief called into the radio.
“Aye, Captain. At least the wee beasties haven’t got into the machinery,” answered Morrie in a baaad imitation of a Scottish accent.
“Morrie, why are you trying to sound like an episode from Star Trek?” asked the Chief wearily.
“Because Stan and I flipped a coin and I won,” stated Morrie proudly.
* * * *
While everyone was searching for George and Gracie, the cubs were taking a leisurely stroll through the woods. Their senses seemed to be called by a chorus of voices. As they traveled deeper into the forest the plants seemed to bend out of the way to lead them on into the forest. They walked up to a small grove of trees that once they stepped inside, magically became so much bigger than was physically possible. In the middle of the woods were a waterfall and a sparkling pool. Next to the pool was a great oak tree, a tree so old it seemed to have the knowledge of the ages. The cubs lay down next to the tree as though they were destined to be in this place.
* * * *
Later in the day when the cubs exited the woods, they were a little more energized but, calmer in appearance. Their day had been one grand adventure and a successful one so far. In their delight, they forgot about the dangers they had faced. They forgot about the tall two-legged creatures with the long stone tipped sticks that had killed their old mother. They forgot having been cold, hungry and terrified when another two-legged creature came and grabbed them - their new mommy. New Mommy was a two-legged creature, but a good mother to them. They accepted her as an honorary smilodon. Being but cubs, the day’s excitement and the time in the grove had pushed the bad memories to the back of their minds. This was understandable as was their frequent hunger. They had a lot of growing up to do.
George and Gracie were sniffing for something to eat after their big day of exploring the area around Whateley Academy.
On the loading dock behind Schuster Hall beneath Crystal Hall sat an empty cage that had contained a billy goat that had been Sara Waite’s breakfast. There was no longer even the scent of goat left in the cage. However, there were some bits of egg, sausage, grits and scrapple, also some yankee pot-roast, mo go gi pan and broccoli with cheese sauce which had fallen into the cage when it sat next to the trash cans. George, thinking with his stomach, went right up to the cage and crawled through the opening to get at the tasty snack that awaited him. As he stepped in, he tripped the latch causing the door to lock behind him.
“Hey, what’s happening,” called George as the lock slammed shut. He made a few cub growls as he shook the cage trying to figure out how to get out of his predicament.
Gracie bounded up onto the loading dock. “Silly, what are you doing in there?” asked Gracie.
Some more growls that turned to whines and finally George pouted, “Please get help and get me out of here.”
“I’ll go and find The Mommy,” Gracie said and ran down the side of the building.
* * * *
Two members of Team Kimba were already in The Crystal Hall waiting on line for their dinner.
“I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” Sara commented, famished after the workout she had been through.
“Well, if Mr. Ed comes walking up to the table you can take your meal to go,” Toni replied. Toni had selected teriyaki chicken breast, baby peas and wild rice. Sara was given lion cub in a cage.
The cafeteria staff was used to the bizarre nutritional requirements of some students and staff. This evening’s meal started out smoothly and serenely. The calm, if you can call a cafeteria full of teenagers calm, was about to be broken by two unexpected problems. First the morning shift had failed to remove the shipping tag when setting an empty cage out for pickup. The second problem was that the cafeteria dockworker had not been informed the delivery truck was delayed. These two minor problems became a big one because the cafeteria staff was short handed. The harried worker who retrieved the cage from the loading dock saw, “For Sara Waite,” but missed seeing the rest of the tag which read, “breakfast entré, one goat, male.”, because it was smeared with scrambled eggs. It was not his fault as this was not his usual duty. He was just a student busboy. Once placed on the conveyor belt, no one checked the label again the machinery read the bar code on the old label and routed the cage to Sara Waite.
Pinky happened to be walking by the Team Kimba table at the right time when she saw Sara extending a tentacle into the cage at her feet. Now most people would look away when Sara was eating, the sight while common was still very disturbing. But, Pinky for some reason did not turn away. Pinky instead turned and looked right into the cage and recognized George staring back in confusion and fear.
“Nooooooo!” screamed Pinky as she leaped at Sara.
The tentacles retracted back into Sara’s hand as Pinky’s body landed on the cage shielding George from harm.
Toni helped Sara back to her feet from where she had fallen backwards when she was startled by Pinky. Sara was visibly shaken when she realized that this was not some ill creature destined to be destroyed, but George.
Toni was looking around for The Don or some other Alpha expecting it to be one of their half baked evil plans.
Pinky was fighting with the hasp on George’s cage, frantic to get her kitty friend out of his trap.
Brittney Spears–AKA Cheryl to most everyone else on campus–the cashier was on the phone to security, “That’s right a lion cub in the cafeteria, could you send Officer Joanie Brown; tell her Brittney Spears said for her to come to Crystal Hall immediately, her friend Pinky is in a situation and is protecting what looks like a lion cub.
* * * *
Gracie was running around to the front of Schuster Hall when she spotted Officer Samantha Everheart coming out of the building. Sam saw the big kitten and reached down to catch her.
Meanwhile Gracie was trying her best to communicate with the human while avoiding the hands grabbing for her.
“HELP!! My brother is trapped, please come help, PLEASE!!!”
While Sam was still trying to catch the cub HIVE broke in. *Everheart Unit, I have analyzed the feline’s vocalization and have come up with a possible match from the broadcast you watched last night. It is similar to that canine breed collie announcing that, “Timmy had fallen down the well.”*
Sam was slowly crouching down to appear less threatening to Gracie and said, “I wish I knew what you wanted little one, but I don’t speak cat.”
*It may be possible to communicate on a crude basis. It should be possible to ask it to lead us to the problem.*
“You mean we ask the Smilodon, 'Show me?'”
*Precisely.*
“Ok. Well, do it.”
Suddenly Sam found herself making several oddly catlike sounds and scrunching her face in a very strange manner.
“What did you do to me?” she thought to HIVE.
*A visual message to reinforce the vocalization, more precisely, feline body language,* Sam thought she heard the stored VR copy/simulation of HIVE’s creator giggle. Sam and HIVE were slowly merging into a single consciousness. Their internal dialogs were nearly instantaneous or even subconscious, but sometimes the mischievous spirit of HIVEs creator came out to play. Fortunately as in life, Sam’s and the late Doctor’s personalities complemented each other.
Gracie turned and ran for the loading dock where she had left George, thinking, “I hope she follows me, I could barely understand her.”
* * * *
When they reached the loading dock, George and the cage were gone.
Sam arrived and found Gracie sniffing around at the boxes and barrels stacked on the platform making mewing noises.
“That better not be cat laughter I hear,” warned Sam, but whether to Gracie or Hive you could not tell.
Gracie caught a scent and crawled through a door that a conveyor belt traveled through.
Just then, a truck with the sign Critter Catchers pulled up and two men unloaded a cage containing four large chickens.
“Officer did you see a cage around here? The kitchen staff is supposed to leave the empties right here,” asked the truck driver.
Sam snatched her radio off her belt quickly calling, “Base, tell all units the lions are in Crystal Hall. Repeat the lions are in Crystal Hall!”, and pushed through the door next to the loading dock. Once inside, there was an elevator and stair leading upstairs. Sam climbed the stairs three at a time with an ease that was impressive even for Whateley residents.
* * * *
Chief Delarose had been on his way to Crystal Hall since Cheryl had called for Joanie and entered the dining area as the sound of crashing dishes came from the kitchen.
Gracie leaped through the pass through window from the kitchen landing in a large dish of spaghetti on the serving line. With a single jump she cleared the Plexiglas sneeze guard and ran between the tables looking for George. Sam did not need HIVE’s help to track Gracie with the marinara sauce trail she was leaving.
Gracie leaped onto a table to look around for George and jumped off of the table and right into Ms. Carson’s arms smearing spaghetti sauce down the front of her cream colored suit. She managed to hold onto Gracie as Pinky walked up to her holding George. As Ms. Carson stood there Chief Delarose and Joanie arrived and both cubs meowed for their Mommy.
“Chief Delarose, I want these two animals securely leashed and then assemble everyone involved outside my office in fifteen minutes,” stated Ms. Carson in a extremely calm voice that left no one relaxed. She then left for her private restroom to try to clean the mess made of her suit.
* * * *
After Ms. Carson returned from the restroom now wearing jeans and a Whateley Academy sweat shirt. Ms. Carson waited until everyone was assembled in her office before she started. “This entire campus has been disrupted today and I want to get to the bottom of it. I will ask questions and I expect answers. When we are done, then you may ask your own questions,” stated Ms. Carson, it wasn’t necessary for her to ask if everyone understood.
“First, Chief Delarose how did the cubs get loose?”
“We never checked Joanie’s room or the kitchen’s back door after apprehending the escapees” confessed Chief Delarose.
“Mrs. Horton, was any real damage done to the cottage's kitchen”
“No a good scrubbing is all it should take to put things to right again. Also those ladies knew they were to take out the trash after their party and not leave it in the kitchen. They know food waste attracts animals,” admitted Mrs. Horton.
“Mr.Oshman, would you please play the tape? Mr, Oshman? Bernie, I am not going to call you The Erector, it’s not a dignified codeword - too easy to misconstrue... I don’t want to hear any snickering... Mr. Oshman, play the tape.”
Everyone turned to look at the aerial photo of the campus behind Ms. Carson’s desk as it became a flat screen TV. The picture was showing Range B from above and the left as the tank started across the field using the cover of the rubble. Suddenly, a squirrel appeared on the fence and right behind it came the cubs. George then attacked the tank and Gracie defended her brother from the fortress when it fired and missed at him. The explosions were the end of the movie.
“I guess if the fence had been in proper repair the cats wouldn’t have gotten in,” was The Erector’s reply.
“And aren’t your student’s supposed to walk the perimeter before a test?” questioned Ms. Carson.
“Yes, we were lax in our responsibilities,” he admitted.
“Mr. King, any destruction in your office?”
“No just a great sandwich gone to waste,” he complained.
“Ms. Hartford, were there any injuries from the fight between students in Crystal Hall?”
“No injuries, no fights, either. Ms. Conner simply stopped Ms. Waite from consuming the male lion.” Everyone grimaced at the word 'consume' as they all knew how Sara consumed her food. “But no altercation occurred,” Ms. Hartford reported.
“Well then, I rule that if Miss Brown is willing to make restitution, then no disciplinary action will be taken. Any questions? Good.”
Ms. Hartford cleared her throat, “Chief Delarose, you have a student waiting for you in your office with a complaint against an officer. Also, you may need to contact ‘The St Louis Six’ and PETA may be calling you.” She seemed almost to smile when she finished. Chief Delarose seemed less enthused with the news.
* * * *
Joanie was sitting out in the administration cubicles with Pinky, Sara Waite, Toni Chandler and two lion cubs trying to act all innocent, “George must really be affectionate, the way he is licking his sister,” Sara commented.
“It’s not affection, he likes that spaghetti sauce she’s dunked in,” laughed Toni
Both cubs were now wearing their harnesses and held securely by leashes.
“I need to get you two out to the farm. You’re too big to stay in my dorm room anymore. You're nomadic hunters of the sub-arctic grasslands, you need room to roam, but with the explosion we won’t be moving for awhile. Sorry, little ones,” Joanie said to her wayward cubs.
The door to Ms. Carson's office opened, letting everyone file out of the impromptu meeting. Ms. Hartford asked the girls to come in to the office. Once everyone sat down Ms. Carson spoke, “Miss Waite, Miss Chandler, you both did not have to stay. We had your statements already.”
“We are here to show support for Pinky, uhm, Miss Conners,” declared Sara.
“She was just protecting George,” added Toni.
“Well Pinky is also free to go, I just need to speak with Ms. Brown and, no, you're not in trouble either, Joanie,” Ms. Carson said warmly. “Not much trouble,” she added with a laugh. “We are sure that no rules were broken, but your furry friends did cause a lot of trouble. You need to clean the kitchen back at Poe and pay for the items on this list to replace what George and Gracie destroyed.”
Joanie glanced at the list seeing various electronic parts, peanut butter and such. The last item was a cream suit with a suggestion to order it through “Rogers Fabric Boutique” for one Ms. Elizabeth Carson. Joanie winced when she read that last item.
“I want to know,” asked Sara delicately, “I know George was not meant to be my dinner so what happened?”
“Oh, the truck had a flat tire. Your chicken dinner is waiting upstairs,” answered Ms. Carson
* * * *
After returning to Poe Cottage, Joanie changed into her running clothes and headed down to the kitchen to clean up the mess left by her kitties. Once there, she found Mrs. Horton holding off The Sabers, who had come to clean the kitchen for Joanie. “Ms. Brown knew she was responsible for those animals when she brought them here,” stated Mrs. Horton sternly. “It is her responsibility to clean the Kitchen.”
“Mrs. Horton is right; George and Gracie’s mess is my mess to clean up. And I guess I am a Big Girl,” Joanie said wiggling her breasts.
“Just when you were making such a good example,” Mrs. Horton said disappointedly.
To be continued?